Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!! If I knew how to swear, this would probably have been the right time. I wanted to kick and scream and throw an absolute tantrum.
"Mommy?"
"Jared, what are you doing out here? I told you to stay in the truck!"
"I looked and there weren't any carth and I never did thee a flat tire before." He squatted down frog-like to survey the offending tire, scrutinizing it with his undivided attention. His little eyebrows pulled together in such a serious way that I had to smile mid mind-tantrum. He finally stood and turned to me, beaming. "But Mommy, only the bottom part ith flat. The retht of the tire'th not flat. You can drive on that part!" He hugged me with four-year-old abandon, having solved the weighty dilemma for me.
"Oh, sweetie, I wish I could but it doesn't work quite that easy." I hugged him back. "Now, you hop back in the truck where you'll be safe so I can put a different tire on. I'll have to jack it up in the air so you'll have to be inside if you want to go up with it." The prospect intrigued him and he joyfully hopped back in the cab of our little pick up.
I peered down the road in both directions hoping to see any sign of help in the form of a car. Nothing. I had changed plenty of tires so that wasn't exactly the problem. But today, of all days! I always wore jeans and a T-shirt with a flannel shirt as a sort of jacket. It worked for me. It was kind of my trademark. Today, though, I had wanted to impress Jared's grandmother and her family. They were always nice to me but sometimes I thought they didn't approve of my job, my clothes or where we lived. Today for Jane's baby shower I had on what I referred to as my "school girl dress." It was baby blue eyelet batiste with long sheer sleeves and a little white collar and cuffs. It was a close-fit sheath and very short. I could hardly move in it, let alone change a tire and I certainly didn't want to arrive with my dress covered in road grime. The spare tire was under the bed of the truck.
Some things just can't be helped. I opened the door of the cab to get the tire iron and jack from behind the seat.
"Are we gonna be too late for Auntie Jane'th party?" Jared's worried little eyes greeted me. "Will the be mad to me?"
"Don't worry, Sport, Auntie Jane will understand. Besides, she loves you so much she would never be mad at you!"
"OK. Do I get to go up now?"
"Not quite yet. I've got to get the other tire first." I closed the door and again looked down the road for any signs of help. Drat! I fitted the right end of the iron to the mechanism that wound the chain down that held the tire. That part was easy. Back to the cab.
"Jared, take Auntie Jane's present out of the plastic bag and give me the bag, would you? Thanks, Sport."
I ripped the bag down one side and across the bottom after chewing my way through the edge. I carefully spread it on the ground under the truck and scooted myself under to undo the tire. I hauled the tire and myself back out. My hands were black but when I carefully inspected my dress it still seemed clean. I backed up and tapped on the door with my heel. "Jared, honey, give me a baby-wipe, would you?" Thank heavens I always kept those in the truck to clean up his hands and face. I scrubbed at my hands. They were still black, but I didn't think anything else would come off of them. I stuck my head back in the cab, "Hop in your booster seat and buckle up; I'm going to jack it up!"
I chocked the tires with foundation bricks I kept in the back for emergencies then fitted the iron to the first lug nut on the tire. It wouldn't budge. A car went by. I grunted and strained 'til my arms and back hurt without so much as a hint of movement. Six more cars went by. I needed better leverage or more strength. I reached in the cab, grabbed another baby wipe and cleaned my hands then I grabbed my skirt at the hips and hiked it up almost to the bottom of my panties. At least that way I could get my foot up to the iron. I grabbed the side of the truck, jumped up on the iron and give it a good hop. The nut turned slightly and fortunately I was quick enough to keep myself from falling. Three more cars went by. Two of them actually slowed down to look but no one stopped. Every nut came off the same way . . . hard. I finally put the jack under the rear axle and started pumping. "Yeah!" I could hear Jared in the cab clapping. At least someone was enjoying all this.
I quit counting cars and got the new tire on, turning on the lug nuts just to keep them in place before jacking the truck back down. Using the same hopping technique, I had two of the nuts on tight when an eighteen-wheeler slowed and pulled off in front of my truck. A guy got out.
"Could you use some help?" All kinds of sarcastic, caustic answers came to mind but when I turned I didn't say any of them. Instead, insanely, I smiled. It wasn't that he was particularly good looking or anything, it was just that . . . well, I can't possibly explain it, but he made me want to smile.
"Thanks," I said, "I've almost got it."
"I see that now, but let me put those few last nuts on for you and I'll toss the dead one in the back end. I can at least do that much! You don't want to get your dress dirty." He smiled back and we stood there momentarily before I remembered my dress. I could feel the color as it rose up my neck. I was standing there practically sans dress! To make matters worse, although I'd been caring for Jared and myself without help for a year and a half, I suddenly felt like a "helpless female." Do dresses do that to women? I mean, can you change as a person simply because you change clothes? If so, I was never going to wear a dress again!
"Hey," Jared's voice hailed from the window, "who are you? My mommy'th not thuppothed to talk to thtrangerth!"
"Hey yourself, Sport," he laughed to Jared and held out his hand for Jared to shake "man-style", "I'm not a stranger. I'm the good guy. You should have known that. My name's Nathan."
"Oh. Well, that'th OK then. Do you know my real name too? It'th Jared." Jared solemnly shook his hand and settled back down in the cab to watch. So much for my he-man protector. I laughed. Nathan laughed back. Then he took the tire iron from me and started turning lug nuts on. I grabbed yet another baby wipe and cleaned my hands before tugging at my skirt to get it back to a semi-respectable length.
Nathan threw the flat in the back then collected my bricks and tossed them in, too. "Sorry I didn't come along sooner. I'd have been happy to save you all that dirty work. Hope the rest of the day goes better for you. I noticed a package in the cab. Are you on your way to a party?"
"We were going to a baby shower," I answered although I can't imagine why I volunteered the information to a complete stranger, "Thank you so much for your help."
"Anytime, . . . " he hesitated.
"Martha," I supplied and offered my hand.
"Anytime, Martha, glad to be of service. I'm Nathan Westfield. Hope this little delay didn't make you too late for the shower." He took my hand and squeezed it instead of shaking it then let go and swung down the road, up into his rig and drove away while I just stood there beside my truck and stared.
"Mom-mee! Let'th go!"
I shook my head and hopped up into the truck.
"How come Nathan knowed my thpethial name? Did you tell him? Do you like him? I liked him! How come I never theed him before? What'th a 'good guy?' Are we late for the party? Did Grandma make a cake?" He didn't seem to expect answers and it's a good thing because I didn't have any answers.
We were only a few minutes late for Jane's shower and were soon forgiven. Jared's grandmother, Marian, was always tactful and never mentioned Cal when I was around. Cal and I had married soon after high school and Jared was born three years later. It wasn't his family's fault he turned into a jerk. I divorced him when I found out he had a pregnant girlfriend. Marian and Bruce, Jared's grandfather adored Jared and although a clean break would have been much easier for me emotionally, I couldn't quite bring myself to sever the loving relationship between grandparents and grandson. Marian's way of thanking me was, as she put it, "investing in Jared's future" by paying my tuition at community college. She said it was fair because I still had to do the work. Since I was not going to fight Cal to wring child support out of him, I really appreciated it and was now in my second term. Today, everyone seemed to approve of my dress and decided that it made me look good. It brought out the pink in my cheeks and somehow made my eyes sparkle. It must have been the color.
Two weeks later I found Jared standing behind me. "What're you doing up, sweetie?"
"I need a drink of water. Wow! Are you playing dreth up? Can I play, too?"
"Get your drink of water. Yes, I'm playing dress-up. No, you can't play; it's much too late. What do you think?" I stood up and twirled around. I had on a black georgette dress I hadn't worn in five years and was putting on make up when he came in. I don't think Jared had ever seen me with makeup on.
"Goth, you're beeootiful!" His eyes were big and round and he gave me one of his bear hugs. I poured him a glass of water and held his hand to take him back to bed. "Are we going to another party?"
"I don't think so, honey, I just wanted to dress up, I guess." I kissed him good night and tucked him in. It was true, I did want to dress up. I poured myself a glass of wine, slipped a Mozart CD in the player and curled up on the sofa. I used the remote to turn the music up enough to make it feel like I was sitting in the middle of the orchestra pit.
One month to the day after changing the flat tire I got a letter in the mail along with all the junk mail I usually get. It was hand-written in a careful, blocky sort of style. I absolutely could not imagine who it was from and tossed it in the glove box on my way to drop Jared at the baby sitter's before work. I was, as usual, running late. We lived in the country and I worked at a nursery greenhouse close to home and close to the baby sitter. I liked my job because it allowed me a lot of flexibility so that I could be home with Jared if he was sick and make up time on weekends. I liked my boss a lot, too. She was very understanding.
I forgot about the letter in the glove box and ran across it several days later. Now curious, I opened it as soon as I got dinner on the stove. The handwriting was unfamiliar.
I put the letter on the table by my plate and finished making dinner. Jared and I ate and watched TV before I gave him his bath and put him to bed. I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. I thought about my black dress. I poured myself a glass of wine and picked up the letter. I felt kind of like a little kid wanting to know what's in the packages under the tree. I'm always so rock solid and sensible. I was a bit dismayed by the little girl who really wanted to go to dinner. I didn't take risks. I had too much responsibility and I always had Jared to consider. I don't know what perversity in me compelled me to pick the letter up again and re-read it, but I noticed my hand shaking as I did. I drank another glass of wine and went down the hall to pull out the black dress. Then I dug under the bed to see if I still had a respectable pair of black shoes. I didn't. What I found was a pair of red heels. I had forgotten I even owned them. I slipped them on with my jeans and did pirouette's back down the hall to the kitchen. I felt flushed and a little breathless. I didn't feel at all like myself. I felt like someone else: vibrant, beautiful, giggly, ready to live.
Life is full of possibilities and missed opportunities. Maybe we're supposed to rock the boat sometimes just to see the ripples moving against the current. I don't know. I poured myself another glass of wine. Riesling. I couldn't remember ever having three glasses of wine by myself in one evening but it tasted better than usual. I needed to make note of the vineyard and year. It was exceptional. Maybe I was drunk but I didn't care. I wondered at his right assumption that I had a computer. I turned it on without allowing myself time to think, then sat down to the keyboard:
'Dear Nathan . . .
