Paper Cranes (6 page)

“W
hy do I get the sneaky suspicion I’m being baited right now,” I eyed Lee incredulously.

“No, not baited at all. I’m just a concerned citizen of society who wanted to make sure you got home okay. Is that so wrong?” he said as he carefully leaned against my decrepit beauty.

The sad part about it, I knew my beauty wouldn’t start, and yet I didn’t care. If I could only have one more minute with Lee, I would be a happy, happy girl.

“Well, go on. I want to see you start her up,” he looks at me speculatively.

“Fine. I will,” I said a little sassy. The last thing I wanted was to be reprimanded by Lee. Not even JoJo spoke to me that way.

Trying to extract my keys from my purse, my bum hand seized and involuntarily released the keys. Crashing to the ground, the tangled metal lay there for a while as I stared at them. This was incredibly embarrassing, yet Lee was taking zero steps to assist me. I couldn’t tell if he had little manners or was trying to teach me a lesson.

I struggled for a minute to retrieve the keys while I held my handbag away with my good arm, however I couldn’t convince my hand to stop acting like a total asshole. I could wrap my hand around the dangling trinkets, but not actually picking them up which was frustrating since this was supposed to be an easy task.

I was beginning to grow frustrated as I lifted my head to meet Lee’s glare. He wasn’t looking at me with sympathy, but with his arms still crossed across his chest.

“A little help?” I stated as I scowled in his direction.

“No,” he said matter-of- fact.

Standing straight up, “No? What the hell does that mean? You’re not going to help me?”

“Nope,” he snickered. “I will not allow you to give up or become the victim, Kat. You want it so badly; you fight for it and make it happen. So, no, I will not help you.”

“Lee, I can’t pick them up, just help me.”

“No.”

Furious, I leaned down again and tried again. And again. And again, until I pooled all my strength, anger and frustration together. Like Thor and his anvil, I lugged the keys up, pushing my handbag back and tossing them at Lee.

“Asshole,” I cursed.

“Call me an asshole all you want, Dove. You want sympathy, go somewhere else because I ain’t dishing it out here.”

Lee was right. A couple weeks ago I was fighting and didn’t even know I had ALS, why should a couple weeks turn me into some pathetic excuse of a woman? Self-loathing wouldn’t make the situation any better or go away for that matter. Maybe Lee did have some redeeming qualities after all.

“You’re a big girl, there you go,” Lee eyed me as I climbed into my car. This asshole didn’t have a clue what I was going through. He was probably court ordered to do these stupid meetings.

As I climbed into the cold cab, I noticed everyone else had vacated the parking lot, leaving Lee and I to ourselves.

Great!

This was everything afterschool specials warned me about, only this ‘stranger’ was mouthwatering. I wonder what they would say right now?

Silently I said a prayer as I closed my eyes tightly, turning the key over. I couldn’t tell if it was a prayer asking the car to start, or a prayer for it not to. Grabbing a ride from Lee didn’t exactly sound like a bad idea to be honest. I wanted to feel the inside of his truck, what it smelt like. Did it smell like him? Was he clean or dirty? You could tell a lot about a man by the way he treated his car.

“Sounds like you should have brought it to me. Maybe this time you’ll listen, hmm?”

“What are you, my dad now? I don’t need a lecture tonight, Lee.”

“I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you had just listened to me in the first place.”

“As much as I would
love
to continue this little back and forth bs, I really need to get home. Can I catch a ride with you?”

“Sure, only if you promise to have your car towed to me tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said as I extended my hand out to shake his hand. They were surprisingly warm, probably from being tucked under his arms for so long. The flesh was scared; worn from the long days at the shop I assumed. Hands like these were made to be under a hood all day long. They were perfect, even if they weren’t all over my body. I’d take the risk.

I was trying to act casual, but my inner Kat was screaming right about now. I jumped out of the Beetle, yanking the key out of the ignition. Lee extended his hand again in order to help me out of the car. I’ll give him credit though; he was a gentleman. I had learned from a young age that men were to treat their women as queens, or princesses from my Aunt V.

My Aunt V practically raised me when my parents passed away. She was always the best storyteller. Her princesses always got their happy endings, even though she had not gotten her own. Dad left us when my mom was pregnant with me. He wasn’t ready to be an adequate Father, so instead he flew the coop. His idea of being a father was sending a child support check. After that, I never heard from him again.

It was years later I found out he had died of an alcohol and drug overdose. When I was kid, I used to get cards from him, but even those were few and far between. You could tell when he had been drinking when he sent them. Even at seven I could tell. His script was chicken scratch, marked up like a rough draft edits, and even my name was misspelled at times. One would think Kat was easy enough, yet somehow Cat appeared here and there.

Communication began to dwindle throughout the years, which didn’t bother me near as much as I thought it would. My father, Ken, probably did me a favor by doing this. The heartache would have been greater had he cut ties all at once. As a kid it barely affected me, but not nearly as much as it affected my mother.

Mom took her own life when dad left and stopped being part of our lives. After they were both gone, I was shipped off to my Aunt V until she too died. I was left scared and would’ve been alone if it weren’t for JoJo’s family. Jo’s family saved me from of life of drugs and alcohol. Shit, I may have been dead too or worse in a foster home.

Had they lived, I wonder what they would think of me now? Would they even care?

Snapping me out of my daydream, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” my voice sputtered. I hadn’t thought of Ken in a while. I hated he was infiltrating my brain right now of all times.

Lee opened my door, and offered his hand as I crawled into the cab. It was clean, probably cleaner than my own car. I’m not sure what that says about me, only that I need a deep cleaning as soon as possible. The truck smelled just as I imagined; oil, shower soap and a little pine from his wooden Christmas tree air freshener.

Leaning over the bench seats, I stretched to unlatch the car door for Lee. He reciprocated my gesture by giving me his beautiful smile. God, that smile was mesmerizing.

“Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

“Kat, you don’t need to thank me, but I accept your sentiment.”

I wanted to ask about the cranes, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. There had to be a story behind them, but what did I know. He probably just liked using his hands. They really were great hands, though.

I turned my head toward the window trying to hide the blush that wouldn’t subside as I imagined those hands on my body. These visuals were becoming a little much, especially since the fantasies would never come to pass.
Why wind myself up?

“So where do you live or do I need to break out my phone and retrieve your address?” he chuckled.

“You are more than welcome to break out the photo, but I must warn you. If we use that address, we will end up in a shady part of town where I’m quite confident there are two drug dealers living there now.”

“You little hustler. Well played, Dove. Well played,” he snickered as he cut his eyes between the road and me.

“You never asked if the information was correct, just that you wanted to see it.”

“Why haven’t you changed it? That’s very deceitful if you ask me.”

“Why should I? At least I knew you would never come find and murder me!” I smiled back at Lee.

Now that I was able to sit and stare at him, the more I noticed what a striking young man he was. His tiny brown curls just barely covered a tiny scar he concealed behind his right ear. Probably a battle wound from his childhood. The rigid lines of his jaw were now obscured by a mass of facial hair; speckled with faint salt and pepper, he wore it nicely.

His nose was absolutely perfect, if noses could be perfect. It wasn’t pudgy or angular like a ski slope. It didn’t jet out like Owen Wilson, it was just… perfect. I hadn’t noticed it before mainly because of the facial hair, but he had the tiniest beauty mark on his upper lip, which I thought was strange considering not many men had beauty marks. He must be insecure of it bearing in mind his mustache tried tirelessly to hide it.

The mark was a beacon though. You couldn’t help but follow his prefect nose to his perfect beauty mark to his perfect lips. Lips I wanted desperately to suck, lick and kiss. His top lip was smaller, while the bottom was full and plump, pink from the cold air.

“You know, you’re pretty funny, Dove. I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks,” I said shortly.

“You don’t like compliments, do you?”

“Not exactly. They make me uncomfortable. I never know how to respond. I usually just stand there and stare with a stupid grin on my face, which comes across as being in pain or my diarrhea face. Either way, it’s excruciating for everyone all around.”

As I talked, I studied every line, wrinkle and crease while he drove. Never once did he, himself, feel uncomfortable. He actually seemed pretty secure with everything; confident even.

“Most of the time I don’t feel worthy of such compliments. I could sit here and list every flaw, and then what? Should I ask for a retraction?”

“Never ask for a retraction. Then you just make an ass out of yourself and then you really would have a reason to give the, what did you call it again, diarrhea face?”

“Fair enough.”

“Without giving me your diarrhea face, tell me where you live,” he laughed.

Lee’s laugh was perfect, just like his jawline, his nose, his beard and lips. It was deep and throaty, not a machine gun of squawks, or long, drown out chortles. It was smooth, sexy, deep and alluring. Much like my one and only – Matthew McConaughy.

The more he laughed from the gut, the more his accent appeared. I hadn’t noticed it much, but now it seemed to roll off his tongue like sweet, southern, Louisiana Creole.

“Have you always lived in Louisiana? You have a pretty decent Cajun accent.”

“Lived here all my life. There’s just something about N’Orleans. Maybe it’s the aroma of good food floating out of restaurants, or the streets filled with music, but I love it. I may not have all the money in the world, drive a fancy car and live in one of those mansions in the Garden District, but dammit if I’m not happy.”

There I sat, listening to Lee talk. Watching Lee’s face light up, put a smile on my face. To love something so much and ask nothing of it in return; that’s passion. That’s love. That’s commitment.

The responsible thing to do was to keep this thing, whatever it was, on a friendship basis. There was no need to blur the lines, especially since he was my lecturer. My only problem was the feelings beginning to stir within. They were beginning to become complex, and hard to ignore.