Truck Me All Day Long

by J. D. Walker

  I waved him on his way. “Glad to help. See you in the morning, Derrick.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I watched through the open blinds as Derrick ran to his dusty 2002 Subaru Legacy and took off. It was getting dark out, since the days were still short. I would be happy when spring arrived, and the time changed.

  I glanced at my watch and realized I was going to be late for dinner with Brandon if I didn’t hustle. After shutting down the computer, I turned off the lights and locked the door to the office. I hopped into my truck and hightailed it home for a quick shower.

  * * * *

  The IHOP was bustling as usual when I arrived. I searched the restaurant for Brandon and found him sitting in a corner booth. Even from this far away, he was a sight for sore eyes.

  I walked over and sat across from him on the plush seat. “Hey, Brandon.”

  He graced me with a hesitant smile. “Adrian. How are you?”

  “Fine, fine.” This was how our conversations typically began. I studied him for a minute. He’d lost weight over the last few months, and his long-sleeved shirt—an olive green that was a favorite of mine—hung looser on his solid frame than I was used to.

  “Things okay with you?” I asked.

  Before he could answer, the waitress arrived and took our order. We knew the menu by heart.

  Once she left, he answered, “Yes and no.” Okay, that was different. I decided to wait on him to elaborate instead of pestering him like I would have in the past. Go me.

  The silence stretched for some minutes, causing me to worry a little, until he blurted, “Yesterday was my last day at the pharmaceutical firm. I’ve decided to become a chef.”

  “You what?” I yelled, and immediately regretted my words. Brandon looked at me in shock. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few people turn their heads to stare at us.

  I shook my head. “Forgive me,” I said in a lower voice, “you took me by surprise, and my response was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”

  Brandon raised his beautiful, thick eyebrows in surprise. “Since when do you apologize for something, ever?” That stung, but it was the truth. I was always the last person to admit to wrongdoing.

  I grunted. “People can change, you know, even stubborn asses like me.”

  He leaned back in his seat and watched me. “I would never have thought to see the day when Adrian Mitchell said he was sorry.”

  I was embarrassed now and felt my face heat. “Yeah, well, get used to it.”

  He let me squirm for a few more uncomfortable seconds then said, “I’ve been unhappy with my job for a long time, okay? And I had to face the truth of that, and man up. I made a decision as to what’s best for me, without asking for anyone’s approval.” Meaning mine. Now I feel two feet tall.

  “I see.” I sat back as our meals were placed on the table.

  Once the server left, Brandon continued. “I’ve been taking night courses at Le Cordon Bleu School in town for months now. I recently applied for, and landed, a job as a line cook at the Taqueria near the freeway. I’ll be able to work around my school schedule. I start on Monday.”

  He bit into a mega monster cheeseburger and moaned, reminding me that my blue cheese and bacon burger was getting cold. We finished half of our food before either of us spoke again.

  “So, this’ll make you happy?” I asked and wiped my mouth before grabbing a French fry.

  He smiled, and my heart warmed to see it. “It’s a start. I’ve learned a lot about myself and what I really want out of life—and love.” He gave me a pointed stare then continued, “The things I like, the things I don’t.” He sipped his Pepsi. “Want to hear about them?”

  I was ecstatic that Brandon was willing to share so much with me. It had been too long since we’d had such a personal discussion. Trev had been right. I just had to be patient. It was worth it now that we were finally making progress. “Go ahead.”

  Before he said anything further, the waitress came back and asked about dessert. In the past, I’d always declined, citing calories and weight gain. Tonight, however, I decided to chill out.

  “Share a treat?” I offered.

  Brandon looked at me as if I were a lunatic. “But you’ve always been so vocal about sugar and our waistlines.”

  “That hasn’t changed, but once in a while won’t kill us.” I turned back to the waitress. “A strawberry crepe, please. Wait.” I glanced at Brandon. “That okay with you?” Brandon appeared surprised, since I hadn’t assumed for the both of us, as I would have done, before. He nodded.

  I finished the order. “One crepe and two forks, please.” She wrote it down and then cleared our table.

  Brandon gazed at me in wonder. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s not bad, right?” I stared at him, hoping he understood I was trying to do better.

  “No, not at all.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, as I said before, I hated my sales job. But I love to cook, and always have. It made sense to pursue something that didn’t make me miserable.”

  Thinking back, I remembered all the instances where he’d mentioned wanting to feed people for a living. I’d just glossed over it as a silly daydream, and a waste of his talents, as far as I was concerned.

  “Also,” he continued, “while I know how much it hurt you that I cheated, it hurt me even more to know that I had it within me to do that to you—to us. I was a coward, and I should have talked to you about what I was going through. I learned that about myself, too.”

  I cut in. “I may not have listened or been understanding about—” He raised a hand and I shut up.

  “The point is, I took the easy out, and I apologize sincerely for putting our relationship in jeopardy.” He swallowed. “You know me, Adrian. I’m a laidback kinda guy. I’ve realized, after all these months, that while I don’t mind being the less dominant partner in a relationship, I still want to have my say. I’ll probably end up deferring to the other person, but I want my opinions to be heard, and respected.”

  The waitress returned with our dessert, and we both dug in. “Yours are better,” I said after savoring a bite, thinking of the few times that I’d let him make something similar for us at home. Let him. Jesus.

  “Yes, they are.” He winked at me, and I was taken in by this new, self-confident Brandon.

  “I admit to being pissed at what you did,” I said around a forkful of strawberries and whipped cream. “It hurt me and I had a hard time getting past that. But after a couple of months went by, and a lot of soul-searching, I figured out that I didn’t make things easy for you—for us to work in the long run. I didn’t know how to tell you that, before, and I feel really bad that it’s taken me this long to say so.”

  “Do you mean it?” He wiped his mouth on a napkin after finishing his half of the dessert.

  “Of course I do. I’m not saying all this just because I miss you desperately, though I really, really do. I love you, and always will. But I’ve had a lot of time to think and get advice from a friend. So, let me just say this: my name is Adrian Bartholomew Mitchell, and I’m a controlling, self-righteous bastard, like my grandfather before me. I’m working on changing that.”

  Brandon’s chin quivered, but his voice was steady when he said, “That’s…thank you, Adrian. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

  “I’m not saying this will happen overnight,” I hastened to add. “I will slip up, but I want you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to get us back to where we were before—better, if that still interests you. I’d love for us to be in an equal partnership, sharing and loving together.” I gazed at the table, my emotions burning me from within as I tried to master them.

  I felt a touch on my arm. I looked down at Brandon’s broad fingers, then closed my eyes briefly. Even so light a touch was felt deep inside my soul.

  Brandon cleared his throat, and I refocused on his smiling face. “So, if I said I wanted to top sometimes in the bedroom, you’d be cool with th
at?”

  A snort escaped me. “When the time is right. All I ask is that you be gentle.” I grinned at him and was pleased to see the rosy blush creeping up on his light brown skin. I still had it. “Does this mean you’re coming home soon?”

  “Truth is, now that I’ve quit my job, I won’t be able to afford the Residence Inn much longer on my lower salary. Would it be okay with you, my moving back in? I’d use one of the spare bedrooms to start with, and pay for room and board.” Was he kidding? Fuck, yes!

  “Sure you can, but why the spare bedroom? And room and board, you never did that before. Don’t you want to—”

  “I want to start out slow,” he interrupted. “We’re getting to know each other again, on even ground, and I think we should take our time. You agree?” My libido said “hell, no!” but my brain and heart knew better.

  “Whatever you need to be comfortable with us being together again—eventually—in every way, is fine with me. I’m just happy you’re willing to give us another chance. And I swear to you that I’m working on being less, er, me.”

  It hit me, then, that if I bared myself a little bit, it would go a long way toward easing Brandon’s fears about our prospects.

  “Hey, I’ve never told you about my grandfather, have I? Aside from the fact that he raised me and left me the trailer park in his will?” The waitress stopped by briefly to take away our dishes, and I asked for coffee, which she brought expeditiously.

  Brandon blinked at my question. “No. You’ve never shared much about your past. You know more about me and my family than I do about yours.”

  It was time to change that. “Andrew Bartholomew Mitchell was a mean bastard. My parents died when I was eight, and he took me in. He was my dad’s father. Now, while I appreciated having a roof over my head and food to eat, I often wonder if I’d have been better off in the system. He made me pay for the privilege of his care, daily. He knew just how far he could push, then reel me back in. I was like a puppet to him.”

  I drank some coffee and ploughed on. “I learned all about manipulating people from that bastard. He was a master at pulling my strings. I left that place as soon as I was legal and never looked back until he died, and an attorney tracked me down about the will.” Even now, I clenched my fists and strove to calm my breathing as I remembered some of the things he had done to me. I jumped a little when I felt a hand rest on my knuckles and I looked up to see Brandon’s sympathetic eyes staring at me.

  “Fuck, Adrian. I can’t even imagine how that must have been for you.” I relaxed and turned my hand over to clutch his briefly before letting go.

  “While I did endeavor to be nothing like him, obviously I picked up more than I thought. I have a single-minded focus when it comes to work, and that’s fine, but doesn’t translate well with intimate relationships. In the past, I assumed it was because the other guy couldn’t handle it or wasn’t mature enough to make things work. But after you…Anyway, when I read Grandpa Andy’s will, I was shocked to see he’d left me the trailer park and money to keep it going. Despite how grim my childhood was, I’d loved that place, exploring the woods, interacting with the residents. I don’t know why he did it, maybe it was some kind of penance from a bitter old man who’d taken out his hatred of living on me, but here we are.”

  “That explains a lot,” Brandon said, stroking the side of his cup. It was a habit of his when he was thinking, something I recalled fondly. “I admit that I like to have a dominant partner, most of the time, and when I met you, you had that in spades. It’s what attracted me to you in the first place. I just didn’t realize how deep that went.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “Am I a lost cause, do you think?”

  “No! Of course not. But, we both need to be more open with each other, and talk about stuff. We never did that. It was always one-sided.”

  “Agreed.” I pulled out my wallet to pay for the meal since the waitress had brought the bill with our dessert. “You coming over tonight, then?”

  “First thing tomorrow, if that works for you.” I did a happy dance on the inside.

  “No problem. You know I’m up with the birds, usually.”

  He rolled his eyes at me and stood. “Yes, I know. Another reason why I didn’t go into baking. They get up too damn early to pound flour. I gotta have my beauty sleep.”

  I chuckled and got up as well. “Not that you need it.”

  His smile was shy and sweet. I hadn’t seen that side of him in forever. I vowed to make things work this time, and if we had to be roommates for years until he was comfortable, I was game. I prayed it wouldn’t take that long, though.

  We walked to the door and I held it open so he could pass through. Brandon’s SUV was closer than my truck. I held back once we arrived at his vehicle, as he unlocked the door and climbed in.

  He lowered the window. “I’ll be there around nine in the morning.”

  “Great. I’ll move the small stuff you left behind into the spare room and you can set it up the way you like it.”

  He shook his head. “It’s so strange to hear words like that coming out of your mouth.”

  I felt my cheeks heat, though he probably couldn’t see it. “Yeah well, I’m trying, all right? Geez.”

  He chortled. “I can live with that. This was nice, Adrian. Thanks for dinner and for listening. Be patient with me while I get my head on straight?”

  “I’ll give it my best shot, Brandy.” I used the nickname he absolutely loathed.

  He looked at me with a pained expression. “No, no, no. Don’t start that again. You know how much I hate it when you call me that.”

  I faked innocence. “Who, me? I don’t know what you mean.”

  He gave me a baleful stare. “Right.”

  “Go on. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Adios, Rihanna,” he said, teasing me with the nickname I’d earned because I sang the artist’s songs and danced on tabletops when I got drunk. I started to reach over and smack him upside the head, but he raised the window too fast. I flipped him off instead.

  He grinned at me, started the engine, and backed away. I watched as he drove out of the parking lot, feeling hopeful for a change.

  * * * *

  I was wide awake at four o’clock on Sunday morning. I had a busy day ahead of me with Brandon moving back in, Derrick and his brother getting settled, and fixing Sara’s plumbing issue.

  I’d never needed an alarm clock to get up. My body was automatically alert around the same time most days. It wasn’t that I enjoyed being up so early. I couldn’t help it, therefore I accepted it.

  It had been after ten last night when I’d arrived home. I’d spent an hour changing the sheets, dusting, and vacuuming the bedroom Brandon would use. The bathroom had only needed a quick cleaning, and I’d put fresh towels and soap in there, too. On my way home, I’d even bought the shaving cream and razors that I knew Brandon preferred, as a way of showing him I meant what I said. His happiness was important to me.

  Before I did anything else this morning, I needed to check on Derrick’s unit and make sure everything was still in good working order. I’d cleaned it thoroughly last month, but I wanted to do a once-over anyway. Yeah, I was a bit anal. Sue me.

  I made myself some coffee and put on a ratty hooded sweatshirt and old jeans while it brewed. I glanced around the place. Everything was spotless, just the way I liked it, as did Brandon. Well, maybe I had assumed that, and he had done things my way to keep the peace. He could be a slob, for all I knew.

  Around five o’clock, I took a flashlight and made my way toward the first task of the day. Most of the other residents were light sleepers and early risers, like me. Bud was sitting on his doorstep smoking a cigar, and Sara was moving around in her kitchen. I waved at them both.

  The trailer that Derrick and Joey would be using was still fairly tidy. It only needed some dusting. I took care of that, double-checked the plumbing and wiped down the bathrooms. All the appliances were functioning
as expected. I was done by seven, which meant it was now a decent hour to go over to Sara’s unit and fix the leak in her bathroom.

  It was almost nine when I was done, and as I was walking back to my place, Brandon pulled up in his SUV. My heart leapt at the sight of him stepping out of the vehicle, a small smile on his face, his thick hair disheveled as if he’d run his hands through the curls hundreds of times.

  “Morning,” I said. My breath was visible between us. God, he looked good. Smelled great, too.

  “Hi. Cold out,” he replied, rubbing his glove-less hands together.

  “Yup.” I cleared my throat. “Everything’s ready for you inside. You need help with anything?”

  “Nope, I got it.” He opened the trunk and grabbed a large suitcase. “I’m hungry, though. You had breakfast?”

  “Not yet. Been busy with a couple units.” I followed him inside my—once again our—home.

  “You want me to make something? I don’t mind,” he said. I didn’t either but decided not to take advantage of his innate generosity.

  “I don’t really have much in the refrigerator, sorry to say. But I think there are a few eggs left, and half a loaf of bread. I’m going to Waffle House in a bit, if you’d care to join me. I’ll go shopping for groceries afterward. Make a list of what you want and I’ll pick it up.”

  “Okay.” I watched him walk to the spare bedroom to put his things down. It felt so good to have him back with me, even though it was in a roommate capacity for the time being.

  When Brandon returned, he said, “I want to pay four hundred a month for rent from now on.”

  “Why do you insist on—?” I started to argue, and then I remembered that he felt he had to do this. If I wanted to show him that I’d changed, that I was supportive, then the least I could do was respect his wishes.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  He studied me for a second. “You’re really willing to let me do this?”

  “It’s not about willingness or letting you do anything, Brandon. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. I need to learn how to not smother you with my choices or decisions.”