This is a series in Romance. Not much Romance in this chapter. (But it was really fun to write. Yes, it is part of the story.)
***
It's late in the evening and Colleen isn't home yet. Tonight she's working overtime at the nursing home to get caught up on her bills. She asked me to meet me at her apartment so we could get to the Sam's Club to pick-up a new battery tomorrow morning. I kept telling her that she had a 4 year battery that was approaching 5 years and batteries die a sudden death without any warning now. She made it to work on time only because she called a co-worker that went out of her way to pick her up.
The nursing home is only a couple of miles from her apartment. That's a lot closer than my trailer that's 40 miles away in the next county over. It's bad enough that I drive rigs for a living. It's worse that I have to play chauffeur on my days off, fuck it. Colleen gave me the key to her apartment and told me to make myself at home. She's getting dropped off after 10 and maybe we were going to go dancing and a little something extra later. She really knows how to keep me happy and that battery can wait until tomorrow morning.
Colleen's a different kind of person. In the past several months, she's told me a little bit about herself. She was in an abusive marriage and had to run away. The ex has poisoned her kids against her and she lives in fear of what he might do to her. He sounds like a real bastard. I'd take out just about any man that hits a woman and destroys the mother daughter bond. I'm not a violent man, but I'd make exceptions.
I could sit here and watch cable, or... I could go to Sam's club, buy the battery for cash and register it under Colleen's name, Colleen Welsh. I hate wasting my time as much as I hate watching cable. What was that song? "57 channels and nothing on". Stupid scripted reality shows, biased pundit based news, what's the latest stupid thing out of Washington, who is screwing who? I'm fuckin' tired of all that shit.
Then in the past 2 months, I met this lady Colleen. She's different. She's been through hell with her divorce and her kids turned against her. What did she say on our third date? "Havin' a hard time makin' ends meet." and she cried. I hate having people in pain, people that don't deserve it. That's why I'm here tonight. And that's why I'll go to the Sam's club and pick up a new battery for her and install it tonight. That way we can go out tonight and forget about the world.
Locking the door to her apartment I started walking out to the small parking lot. There is a young woman rolling a heavy 5 gallon pail on its edge. It's heavier than she can carry. That young girl looks kind of familiar, but I don't give it a second thought until I see her stop in front of Colleen's car. I edge over to where she's stopped at, and I first smell, then I see that the pail is full of pig shit. It is sloppy, urine laced, fragrant warm pig shit. I've hauled enough loads of pigs to market to know what pig shit is all about.
At ten feet away I call out, "Excuse me miss, what are you doing?"
She jumped from the sound of my voice. Then she saw that I was 8" taller, 100 lbs. heavier and holding a phone on her taking video. She gave me a dirty look, then a look of resignation. In a voice that reeked of defiance and failure, she said "I was just going to give my birth mother a present."
"Who's your birth mother and why does she deserve 5 gallons of pig shit over her car?" I paused, "Could you at least first tell me your name before we go any further? I won't do anything if you don't. Does that work for you?" She eyed me suspiciously until I put my phone away. I sat down on the bed of my pickup that was parked directly across from Colleen's car.
Reaching into the cooler that I had on the pickup's bed, I pulled out two Cokes. Not that shit diet coke. Ain't gonna drink that plastic. This also ain't Pepsi country. Dr. Pepper, well that's ok for some people, but no Pepsi. Leaning forward, I held one of them out to her. "Would you want one of these while we talk. If you mother is Colleen Welsh, then that's her car."
Not quite trusting me on one level, I could feel that she also trusted me on a different level. I didn't have enough time to figure out which was which. To help her along, I sat cross legged on the tailgate and motioned to her to sit at the other end.
"Yea, that's the name she's using now." She paused, "that's her fourth name change since I was born." She eyed me wearily. "So let me guess, you're Brad, the trucker." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.
