All of my writing is fiction and the stories and characters are all products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. Hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.
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As Erika turned the final corner on her way to meet Alison for lunch, the old Chevrolet coughed, jerked, and slowed down. The engine roared to life as she pumped the accelerator, then went silent again. She pulled hard on the steering wheel, fairly dragging the car to the curb by sheer force of will. It bumped against the curb and stopped. Now what, she thought futility.
She was just about to call Alison and her mother when she heard the sound of a loud engine. A glance in her rearview mirror showed a large tow truck stopped behind her. Good and bad. She needed help but had no money to pay for it. She watched a man climb out of the truck and approach the car. Short, unshaven, tattooed everywhere she could see, an obvious chaw of tobacco in his cheek, he shuffled up beside her car.
"Havin' trouble, little lady?" he asked through a yellow-toothed smile, his aroma wafting through the open window. She tried not to let her nose turn up at the smell.
"Yes, the car just stopped," she replied, not sure how to describe what had happened.
He spat a stream of dark liquid; just the sound of it passing his lips causing her stomach to recoil. "Try to start it."
She turned the key but there was nothing.
"Pop the hood."
The hood was right there in front of her but she didn't know how to open it.
"Um," she said, bending to look under the dashboard. She knew it had to be there somewhere.
"Watch out," the man said, leaning in through the window and reaching under the dash, bumping her leg as he did. She cringed, wishing she could be in the back seat, or at least in the passenger seat.
He pulled on something, there was a clicking noise and she could see that the hood had popped up. None too soon for her way of thinking, he retreated from the window and shuffled toward the front of the car, one more spat of dark liquid splattering on the street.
She knew she should tell him she didn't have any money but decided to wait till the car was repaired if that was going to be possible.
He was under the hood for about a minute, then reappeared, heading for his truck, winking at her as he passed. She noticed he had a wedding ring ... and wondered. He returned quickly with a little adjustable wrench and disappeared under the hood once more. She heard some scraping, a few tiny squeaks and he slammed the hood.
Back by the window, he said, "Try it now."
She turned the key and as if by magic, the car was running once more. She gave the little man a huge smile. She was glad it was fixed but it was time to face the music, or whatever else she might have to face.
"Loose battery cable," he said, leaning against the door.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "How much do I owe you?"
He turned and leaned both arms against the car door, his face partially inside the car. Erika tried not to tremble but was only partially successful. He was way too close, and the only way to avoid him would be to slide across the seat — she wasn't going to do that. Somehow she'd survive. They were on a side street with no other people or moving cars in sight. That didn't help her nervousness one bit.
"Little lady, I'm guessing you're a college student which means you probably don't have a pot to piss in." Her body wanted to cringe again, but she couldn't help but giggle at his crude analogy.
She nodded.
"You got five bucks?" he asked, shaking his head.
She dug in her purse and found one of the two five-dollar bills she had. She very gingerly handed it to him.
"I don't usually get to fix cars for anyone as pretty as you are," he said, a semi-leering smile on his face "Just looking at you is enough to make up the difference from what I'd usually charge." He stepped back from the window. "An old car like this, you need to have someone who knows cars look it over ever so often. Keep stuff like this from happening." Another splat on the pavement.
"Thank you, you're very kind," she said, and she meant it. He wasn't at all what she'd expected when she first saw him.
He shuffled back to his truck, left one more dark stain on the pavement, and pulled away, tooting his horn as he did. She noted the name on the door as he pulled past her. Willard Towing. Not that she'd need it, she hoped, but perhaps she could recommend him to someone. She made a quick call to Alison to explain why she was late for lunch, then drove away, very content to be moving again.
"Erika, you going home for Thanksgiving?" Alison asked after they had finished eating and Erika had related to her the story of Willard Towing.
"Yeah. Mom's there by herself and we always have Thanksgiving and Christmas together. Have a great break."
"You too, hon," Alison waved as Erika was climbing into the old Chevrolet that she hoped would get her home safely — mostly just get her home. She wasn't sure what she'd do if something went wrong with the car. With only about seventy dollars left in her account, she was hoping to make it to Christmas break when she'd be able to work and improve her balance.
She drove cautiously, staying just under the speed limit, nursing her gasoline and the car. Finally home, she breathed a sigh of relief and went inside to greet her mother.
The following day was Thanksgiving and Erika was looking forward to a quiet dinner with her mother. No other family was living close, so Thanksgiving was not a big family gathering as it had been when she was little. She missed that, but it wasn't likely to happen again with the deaths, moving, and arguments that had taken place in the last few years. It had left Erika and her mother isolated with no support. Thank goodness for the scholarships or Erika would have been stuck in Spencerville, scrounging for work with almost no hope of anything better.
Erika was up early, helping her mother get everything ready for their special dinner.
"Mom, how'd you get all this food?" She knew her mother struggled to have enough money to meet her expenses, and this looked like a full turkey dinner that they were ready to prepare.
"Aw, honey, I just saved and was careful with everything. We don't get to eat together very often now, and I wanted to have a nice meal."
"Mom. You know I'd be happy with baloney sandwiches," she said, laughing.
"But I wouldn't." She hugged her daughter.
"I know, Mom. That's why I love you."
"Do you love me enough to peel potatoes?"
They worked together and got everything going, doing something very old fashioned — stuffing the turkey with carefully prepared dressing from an old recipe her mother had found.
At last, everything was in process and they were able to sit down. Since it was nearly noon, each had a small snack, anticipating filling themselves with the delicious dinner whose odors were already filling the house.
"I think I'll go out tomorrow and look for some Christmas work." Erika watched her mother's expression change. "What?" she questioned.
"Honey, there aren't any jobs here." She shook her head. "My hours were cut two weeks ago, but they promised I'd get them back before long."
"Are you going to be okay?" Erika got a look she didn't expect, a kind of half-smile from her mother.
"You remember Kirk Smith?" She continued without looking at Erika. "He's always asking me to go out with him ... and I've started accepting."
