I Can Fix That

Chapter 9

Tuesday morning, I ran into the school counselor, Rachel, on my way to class. “Hey, June! Can we talk about Sunday’s bake drive?”

I came to a halt. “Oh, actually, I am lat—”

“Great! Okay, so we have you signed up for—”

Well, I guess I’m going to be late for my parent-teacher conference this morning. I’m stuck listening to counselor Rachel talk about how I couldn’t bring two kinds of brownies because they would clash.

“I mean, we can’t have too much in one food group, you understand, right?” I nodded and promptly blurted an excuse to head down the hall to my classroom.

I seemed to be the first one to be volunteered. Whether it was a bake drive, a car wash, or planning a 5k. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t necessarily mind doing those things, but it wasn’t enjoyable to not have a choice. I rarely had the chance to say no.

Even when I was younger, I was always the one who had to be volunteered to finish the group projects or clean up after class. I wasn’t opposed to any of these things. In fact, I loved helping others and growing in my community, but I did wish I were asked to do something rather than told.

Ironically, on TV, girls with older brothers were always tough. They were able to fix cars, ride a skateboard, or know how to fight. I was the opposite. My brothers made me a weaker person who couldn’t say no to anyone for fear of disappointing people—also known as being a living doormat.

By the end of the school day rolled around, my day had gone haywire. I had chewed on a blue pen that exploded and resulted in my mouth being covered in blue ink—which left the kids to make some pretty funny jokes at my expense. Then I accidentally shook my sugar-free vanilla Coke and was sprayed with soda in front of the other teachers. And lastly, I accidentally said “snot” instead of “is not” and my students had a field day with it.

But, despite my rather tough day, I was looking forward to my dinner tonight. Each moment spent with Grant was an opportunity to figure him out and get just a little closer.

On my way home from work, I ran through the local diner and picked up a couple of sandwiches, soups, and salads. I figured this would do for him. How much does Grant eat?

I thought back to his tall figure and muscular build; there was no way this was enough for him, but I usually never finished my food, so he could eat what I didn’t. The idea of him eating the rest of my food felt domestic, and I couldn’t help but feel comforted by it.

I pulled down the street of my apartment, and as I parked my car, I sighed, knowing the long walk ahead of me.

With my heavy tote bag filled with schoolwork and dinner and drinks, I barely made it without dropping everything. I got to the building’s front doors. Al stood there watching me struggle to pull the heavy door open. He came rushing over as fast as the older man could and immediately apologized.

“I’m sorry, Ms. June. I didn’t see you for a second there. I’m waiting for my new glasses to come in, so everything is blurry right now.” I crossed the threshold and took in Al’s look. I wasn’t used to his face with no spectacles, and his eyes looked smaller and slightly more slanted. The wrinkles around his eyes and smile lines were more prominent, but he looked just as lovely as he did with glasses.

“That’s all right, Al. I like the new look. Maybe get contacts next time!” I smiled at him.

“I’ll consider that, Ms. June. You’ve got a guest up there, and he doesn’t seem to be too friendly. If he starts causing you trouble, you know you can always call our mainline, and I’ll be up there quicker than a hot knife through butter.”

I giggled not only at the fact Al thought Grant wasn’t very friendly but also that he thought he could come up to my apartment ‘quick.’ I nodded at him either way and replied, “He’s good people, thank you for looking out for me.”

Al had been the only true friend I’d made in the building. Most of my neighbors were college students or young adults who seemed to party a lot and didn’t particularly like my energy. I tried to imagine Grant having a conversation with any of my cauliflower-obsessed Gen Z neighbors, and the thought of them asking him his zodiac sign or what his ‘aura’ color was made me want to laugh.

I made it up the elevators and down the hall just to stop right outside my door and see the man himself leaning against the frame.

“Are you okay? I could’ve grabbed the bags from you if you’d called me.” He grabbed all the food from me and then slung my bulging tote bag across his broad shoulders as if it weighed nothing.

“I didn’t know you were here till I got in the building. Also, I’d hate to make you walk that far.” I unlocked the door and let us both in.

“It’s just right here, isn’t it? I doubt it’s that bad.”

“No, I, uh, have to park in an extra lot a couple of blocks down. The neighbors needed my spot, so I started parking down there a while ago.” Midway through my sentence, I could see him becoming angry.

“Are you joking?”

“Um…no? It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t mind. They probably need it more than I do.” His ears practically had steam coming out of them, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so irritated.

“No, June, it is a big deal. This is absolutely ridiculous. Do I need to go have a talk with your neighbors?” I quickly shut the idea down.

“No, no. Absolutely not! I am already on thin ice with my landlord, and I don’t need a complaint filed against me and end up homeless before you finish the house!”

He took a seat on the same barstool as last night and placed his elbow on the counter. “Sounds like I need to talk to your landlord too.”