“Here is your ride. His name is Vinnie”
A 2008ish black beat-up SUV pulls up in front of Stage One where my Subaru will be investigated, prodded, tickled, rearranged and rehydrated, an expensive auto spa day.
Quick decision, front or back? I head for the front. I don’t want in insult Vinnie. He is not a chauffeur.
Thin and 20 something, Vinnie wears a black sweat shirt, the hood pulled over his head virtually obscuring his face.
Dark green and blue tatoos cover his forearms. He gives the appearance of a lurker caught on surveilance camera. Or, maybe a turtle.
“Hello, thank you for doing this.”
“Hello, you are welcome.” He turns towards me revealing a scared face full of red blotches. He looks vulnerable under his protective shield.
It is a warm, sunny day. The wind through the open windows beats against my face and blows through my hair so it looks electrified. We are silent as we head down Route 9W. Should I engage? Should I leave him alone under his protective shroud?
In the side mirror, I get a glimpse of my wild white hair and wrinkled face, obviously grandmother, or great grandmother material in his eyes. We are foreign to each other.
Silence. I notice my body tensing and energetically aiming toward the passenger door, building an invisible wedge between us. Not how I want to be in this world, or with people unfamiliar to me. I take a deep breath, sink into my seat. “Stay open,” I tell myself.
“Are you a mechanic at Stage One?”
“Oh no! I do the detailing.”
“I didn’t know they did that.” Do I detect a flicker of pride? More silence.
“I like the music. Is it a tape? Well, (I catch myself) I am showing my age. We don’t even use CD’s anymore.” I want to show I am not TOO ancient.
“No, but vinyl is coming back.”
“Do you have any?” Maybe he is a collector. “Oh no”
Maybe he is a musician. Maybe he lusts for vinyl but can’t afford it. I am beginning to warm up to Vinnie.
We arrive at my building. “I’ll have to come in for detailing.” I promise as I climb out of the SUV.
Vinnie smiles.
I particularly noticed, in this lovely description of an encounter, the moment when the narrator notices her own body language and makes a conscious decision to change it. Great details throughout.
ReplyDeleteI was sure I'd left a comment here an hour or so ago, but it doesn't seem to be here so here it is (again?): Tightly crafted, with the interior and the exterior in just the right balance
ReplyDeleteEnjoying the attention to detail...looking like a turtle...how vulnerable under his protective shield...body language instinctivly moving away yet feeling sad for this odd young man. The author both protective yet sensitive and caring. Beautifully crafted!
ReplyDelete