To Catch a Falling Star (16 page)

“It actually feels good to have something to fill my day.” I lie. What feels good is to have a reason to be near her.

We continue to eat, and I enjoy the meal and the company more than I should.

When Mel stands up to clear the kitchen, I stand with her.

“Let me help. It’s the least I can do. Thank you for feeding me again. I could get used to this, you know,” I say, bringing the plates to the sink.

“Ella, do you have homework?”

“No, Mommy, I did everything after school.”

“Go take a shower then.”

Before she goes, she grins at me. “Again tomorrow, right, Uncle Tarry?”

“Same time, same place.” I grin back, like an idiot. I can see I’ll never be able to say no to Ella.

“Ella really likes you.” Mel dries the plates I hand to her.

“I have a feeling she likes everybody,” I say.

“True, she does. But there is something else. It’s almost as if she is drawn to you.” She stops and ponders that before moving to put the plates away.

“Come to think of, I feel a weird connection to her. She reminds me of myself when I was a kid.” I confess, promptly regretting it. I don’t feel comfortable speaking about myself, especially about anything regarding my hollow childhood.

“Thank you for helping her. It’ll be an experience she’ll brag about for the rest of her life, ‘Tarry Francis taught me to play the guitar.’”

I don’t like the way Mel puts it. It implies that I won’t be around for long. And, confusingly, I don’t like the thought of not being around.

FOR TWO WEEKS, I establish a routine. I train with Lucas at the crack of dawn (who would have thought?), I drive Mel to work, compose, go for a jog, and have my therapy with the preacher. At the preacher’s request, I now refer to him as Dan. He has dragged me to the church’s food bank, where we talk as we pile donated cans and other goods onto shelves. I’m okay with it, as long as Dan gives me credit toward my counseling hours. Soon, I’ll have to report to the judge so he can free me to come and go as I please.

Every afternoon, I pick up Mel and Ella and we spend part of the evening at their house. It’s the best part of my day and, with my addictive personality, I wonder if I can give that up.

After faithfully training with Lucas every morning and eating Mel’s delicious meals, to my surprise, I’ve gained two pounds. I beamed when Mel complimented me on the way my skin has some color. I hope she didn’t notice how stupidly happy I was from her comment.

Hiding the car issue from her family has become an ordeal and we have to wiggle—yes, lie, to avoid getting caught. Mel insists keeping it from her family. During a Sunday dinner, Ella almost spilled the beans. I diverted the conversation, saying I had been teaching her to play the guitar. Everyone accepted this as a reasonable reason for my constant presence at Mel’s house. Ella even performed the happy birthday song I taught her. I was incredibly proud of her.

The autumn air started to get brisk and the leaves began to change. It might sound cheesy, but I feel a change inside me as well. But I’m not foolish enough to expect it to be a live-changing, aha! moment. Or one of those inner-self, soul-searching la-la things Dan always talks about.

I tap on the kitchen door and enter before I hear an answer. Mel leaves it unlocked for me now.

“Good morning, Mel.” I sit on the stool. A plate of food awaits me.

“Good morning to you.” She smiles. “Let me go check on Ella, she is running late.”

Knowing I’m also late this morning, I shovel down the food. I don’t want to miss walking Ella to the bus.

When I take my last bite, Ella runs my way. I kneel down to hug and kiss her. “Good morning, sunshine. One of these days, I’ll just have to compose a song inspired by how bright you are,” I say and she beams. It melts something inside me.

“Can I help you com-mi-pose? How do you say it?” she asks, donning her sweater.

“Compose.”

“Ella, where is the coin jar?” Mel opens and closes the cabinet’s doors.

“It’s on the desk. I used it for my math homework the other night and forgot to put it away.”

“Okay, honey.” Mel scrambles to put on her jacket and we walk to the bus stop. A sharp pain slithers inside me. This afternoon Mel gets her car back, so this is my last morning with them.

I wrap my arms around Ella. “Have a good day, sunshine.”

“Bye-bye, Uncle Tarry.”

Ella hugs her mom, dashes into the bus, and then waves at us from the window. I feel bereft and, yes, very confused and disappointed to know I won’t have an excuse to come back tomorrow.

We walk silently to the house. Mel strides to the locker and retrieves her gun. Yep, my dick gets painfully hard. As usual, I discreetly adjust my pants.

“Just a minute and I’ll be ready.” She strides to the desk and fishes money from the coin jar. She counts the money and thrusts the rattling coins on her pocket. She fills her thermos with coffee, then we leave.

Driving down Post Road Mel asks, “Can you stop at the Starbucks drive-through?” She points to the store.

“Sure.” I glance at her thermos.

“It’s not for me.” She shrugs, fishing her pocket for the coins.

“Listen, I…”

“If you say a word about paying for the coffee, I’ll get out of this car and walk the rest of the way.” She snaps, irritated. Wow, what’s gotten into her? Like the wise man that I endeavor to be when with a snappy woman, I oblige.

“What do you want?” I say, collecting the coins from her hand.

“Grande Café Americano with two sugars and extra cream.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ungrateful or snappy.”

“No prob.” I order, and we wait in an uncomfortable silence.

I hand her the coffee, and she tells me to continue ahead on the road, leading to a beat-up neighborhood.

“This is where I usually patrol,” she explains. “Can you stop at the next plaza?”

“Right there.” She points to a group of men loitering in front of a building. I park the car next to the group, curious of what she is doing. She opens the window.

“Hey, Larry,” she calls one of them. An elderly man approaches the car, and it’s obvious that he is homeless. Immediately I feel uneasy.

“Here is the coffee I promised you. Stay warm, the temperature will drop a lot tonight.”

A sudden lump makes it difficult to swallow. I examine the old man’s face, as he cocks his head and flashes a toothless smile at Mel.

“Thank you, sweetie. And after seeing your smile, I’ll be warm for days to come.”

I ponder what he has just said. Mel’s smile is brighter than a ray of sunshine. Damn, I’ve turned into a pussy, I even think like one. He nods to me and turns, going back to the group of men.

“Thank you for stopping here. Larry hasn’t being doing well lately, his health has been deteriorating.”

“Do you always get him coffee?” I ask.

“Yeah, he hasn’t eaten much, but he’s always up for a good cup of coffee.” She smiles. Warmth swells in my chest. Yeah, I can relate to the comment Larry made about her smile.

“How do you know him?” I ask.

“From the shelter and from patrolling this area. Larry is a good man. A while back, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He’s never been married, has no children or close family. My guess is he has been waiting for death to take a claim, but it’s taking longer than he anticipated.”

“Oh, I know the feeling.” I bite my tongue so hard it bleeds.

“That’s why you OD’d?” She turns to stare at me.

“Just forget it, I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t get your shrink hat on, I’m not suicidal.” I sense her tension. “Listen, my overdose was accidental. Maybe at some unconscious level I wanted it to happen. But I didn’t, nor do I, have any desire to end myself, okay,” I say softly. Though, at the time, I wouldn’t have minded if it had happened.

“Oh, Tarry, I wish I knew the right things to tell you right now,” she sighs. “I wish I could make your pain go away.” She slouches on the seat, laces her fingers together, and stares at them. I hate my fucked up life a bit more. It becomes clear to me, how much it affects people around me.

I pull over in front of the police station.

“Mel, look at me.” I gently hold her chin and force her to face me.

“Every single day you put your brave mask on and face your demands head on. You, alone, have created a happy environment for your little girl. It blows me away how strong and brave you are, Mel. It’s so damn good to see some parents give a shit about the well-being of their kids. You do a damn good job covering your track of sadness, so Ella has a chance at happiness. And that’s more inspirational than any set of words you can utter from that pretty mouth of yours.”

My thumb lightly glides over her trembling lips. My gut clenches with the undiluted desire to lean over and kiss her.

“I, um, thank you. I have to go.” She slides out of the car and marches away without looking back.

Did I just scare her away again? We were making so much progress. A growl rises from my throat. Fuck. I should not have bared my soul to her. After seeing her giving, giving, giving, I just wanted to return some back to her.

For the first time, I have a clear picture of Mel. She’s extremely generous. I heard someone say that the true measure of character is shown when a person does good deeds to those who can’t give anything in return.

In my world, people are always doing something to others. The musical world is a perpetual exchange of favors. But that’s the difference. With Mel, there is no exchange. It’s a one-way deal.

Today, I realize what has being hammering against my face for the last few weeks. Every minute I spend with Mel is a minute she captures a small part of my heart. The only issue is that even though Mel is altruistic, her heart is the only part of her she’s not willing to give away. No, her heart has unmistakably been given away so generously to Tim, that she doesn’t know how to get it back.

AS I CROSS the parking lot, I sense Tarry’s intense eyes following me. My fingers tremble as I open the door to enter the building. I hastily march to the bathroom and ignore the inquisitive eyes of some of my coworkers. Usually I’m friendly but, right now, my heart seeks a moment to recover. I’m hurting and need privacy to compose myself.