Page 22 of The Significance of Moving On

“You know,” Chris says when he sees me step out of my car with the carrier of froufrou drinks balanced in my hand. “I just asked the boss man yesterday why he hadn’t hired a woman yet. Welcome to the team.”

Nick laughs the bent over, gut-cramping kind of laugh that I think he might piss himself. I flip them the bird as I pass along with the comeback that teeters on the tip of my tongue just as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

When I fish it out, the missed call screen blinks Demetrius. Not who I was hoping for. But I call back because something might be wrong. She might need me… and I sound pathetic. She might need me? Really, Casey?

“Hey man, what’s up?” I ask when he picks up.

“Just thought you should know that Tal started to have a mini freak out.”

Of course, she did. “Should I come home?”

“Nah, I handled it. But I kept it real.”

“What does that mean, D?”

“Told her that she needs to stop how she’s been treating you and that Kelsey would bust a nut if she quit school.”

“Whoa, you said what?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to thank me. It’s not like she said she’d stay or anything—oh wait, shedid.”

I sigh. “Thanks, man.” Then I take a long sip of my coffee and pinch the bridge of my nose from the brain freeze. “I’ve got to get to work.”

Chapter Twelve

The one person I want to spill my guts too is the very person I can’t. I wish we didn’t have to live this way, strained and uncomfortable around one another, but if she finds out we won’t be living together at all. Who’d voluntarily stay with a monster?

The house is about to get pretty lonely. With Tally not talking to me and Kelsey gone, I don’t think D will hang as often either. Before Tal came along, I was alone all the time bychoice. And now, and now—shit!—this whole situation is screwed up and I know it’s my fault. But I don’t regret helping Tally out for one minute. She’s everything, and Demetrius got a girlfriend out of this mess. Kelsey touched all our lives but he’s downright in love with the girl, woman, whatever.

I get out of the truck—the landscaping job today—and unload the mower from the back. Michigan Indian summers. It’s hot—still about 85° and humid as the inner circle of hell—but I can’t complain because in about three months we’ll be buried knee deep in super-cooled, polar vortex type snow.

This client has a large lawn and is very particular about its maintenance, therefore he always asks for me. I do my job and I do it well, but this thing with Tally has my head everywhere except work. Head in the game, Davenport.

I can’t lose jobs because of a girl.

We roll the truck stopping along the curb of the next client’s home which is literally right next door. It’s all about status for these rich people, I think this guy is a doctor. They all have big lawns which make for nice pay days, but why do they have to be so ostentatious? This house is probably four of my house combined, with that gaudy blond brick and gold everything else. Light fixtures, door handles, kick plates, mailbox, all plated and shining bright. Rich people have everything, which is awesome for them. I never really needed all this stuff to make me happy. Shit, the only thing I do need isn’t a thing at all.

Dammit I just need her to talk to me again.

As I drive the mower around the corner of the house heading into the backyard, I almost run Jess down because of what’s in front of their second garage. Parked all by its lonesome sits my way to fix this mess with Tal, this little Volkswagen Rabbit with aFor Salesign tucked between the windshield and wiper blade. It’s exactly what Tally needs to keep from having to take the bus to school. Unfortunately, my bank statement has dwindled considerably after paying for her brother’s cremation. I’ll make it work. I snap a picture of the sign with my phone before I tackle the yard again.

Of course, now this car is all I can think about and Jesse’s smart mouth yelling at me from over the high-pitched buzz of the weed whacker does nothing to help the situation. Physical labor doesn’t usually bother me. I like the feeling of getting my hands dirty. But today with the sun’s rays targeting my back and Tally swirling around my brain, my shirt sticking to my body from the buckets of sweat I’ve perspired, it takes me about a half hour longer than usual to mow all the grass and we still have the landscaping to get done.

Jesse finishes his half before me. Eight more lawns down and we call it a day.

The rest of the crew meets up back at the office. We lock up the equipment and punch out. The guys want to go grab a beer. After dying outside for ten hours, a beer sounds pretty perfect but I know Tally’s at home alone. I don’t know what to do. If I go home, she still won’t talk to me, not yet at least.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

The guys pat my back making comments about how I’ve been distant all summer, racing to the house wheneverthat chickcalled. I hate them calling her that especially when no one understands what she’s been through.

Nick wants to get going right away, but after ten hours in the hot sun, I need to be clean. “C’mon Davenport, you’re chipping away at happy hour,” he says.

“Then go. If you’re inthatbig a hurry. But I’m not spending the whole evening marinating in my own stench.”

“Fine whatever. Make it quick.” He snaps back. If he thinks he stands a shot with even the most intoxicated bar Barbies smelling like root rot, Nick has a reality check about to be delivered. That’s between him and his higher power. I shake my head and walk back to the showers off the locker room.

Their noises drift away until I know for a fact that I’m finally alone. Shower. Towel dry my hair. Then shrug back into my own jeans and a clean T-shirt and I’m done. Apparently that’s not soon enough for Nick who’s leaning on the horn like it’s a crutch. He doesn’t faze me. Before tossing the ripe, sweaty uniform into the hamper, I reach into the pant pocket and pull out my phone with the phone number from earlier.

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