Hayden Maragos (hayden_maragos) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-12-11 20:51:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | hayden maragos, mallory quinn |
Broken Down
The front yard was almost grassless, and Mallory reminded herself that Hayden lived in the bottom half of the house and not the top. She'd been by Abandon Ship! earlier only to find him not there, but the day bartender had been nice enough to direct her. She walked up the concrete path to the porch, rapped lightly on the door. Hopefully he wouldn't be too pissed about her interrupting his day off.
"At least it's for a good cause," the redhead muttered. "To me it's a good cause anyway."
Hayden sprawled on his couch under the lazy circulation of his ceiling fan. A Magnum, P.I. marathon played on the television. He got sucked in around lunchtime and two hours later he was still watching. Halfway into the first episode, he had drawn an uncomfortable parallel between Tom Selleck's shorts and his own and gotten up to change his pants, just in case they looked anywhere near that tight. Or short. Otherwise, his brain stayed on autopilot. A bag of ruffled potato chips rested on his stomach, a glass of Coke on the table behind his head. Periodically, he reached backwards and awkwardly maneuvered it to his mouth while trying not to spill.
He heard feet on the porch, but figured they belonged to his neighbors or the mailman. When somebody knocked, he hefted himself up and peeked between the window blinds over the couch. He recognized the head of red hair. "Mallory?" Not like she could hear him. Crumpling up the bag of chips, he swung his feet onto the floor and opened the door.
"Hey..." He smiled, albeit confusedly.
"Hi. Um, hi." Mallory had never been to Hayden's house before, and she self-consciously shuffled her feet on the all-weather carpet that covered the porch. "Sorry if this is a bad time, but...Kyle? Is that his name? He said you were home today and told me how to get here. I hope that's okay." Over his shoulder, she could see the television running a commercial for Stouffer's frozen dinners. Ridiculously, it made her hungry. She'd already been sick once that morning. She would try for lunch later. "The, uh, the truck died. I can't get it to start. If you're not hugely busy, could you come with me and take a look at it? I don't think it's anything serious, and I can walk to work, but I'm going to need the vehicle for later. Could you spare a few minutes?"
"Yeah, sure. Um..." Hayden rubbed his head and looked around. "Come in for a sec. I need to find my shoes." He held open the door for her. The living room was a small space, stuffed with a beige couch, his entertainment center, and a bookshelf. Nothing else fit. "Have a seat." He rolled up the potato chip bag and hoped she didn't find herself in a pile of crumbs. He wiped a few yellow flecks off his t-shirt and disappeared into the back of the apartment.
"How've you been?" he called. Originally, the house was a single-family home, but the owners converted it into two apartments. His living room was an old formal, front room. What used to be a sizable den was now his bedroom. He rooted around for a matching set of tennis shoes.
"Busy. Work's picking up a little, plus there's been house stuff to deal with. I think Ms. Graves wants to do some painting, put a new coat over some of the scuff marks. The place could use it." Mallory turned her attention to the television, where Magnum was interviewing someone on a tennis court. His mustache looked fake. Did they have hairpieces that looked like mustaches? She could hear Hayden rummaging around beyond the doorway. "How's life treating you today?"
"It's good," he yelled from his closet. "Finally got the day off." After unearthing his running shoes, he returned to the living room and sat down. The last time he'd worn them, he apparently kicked them off, because the heels were pressed down and the laces had knots in them. Hayden worked on the shoestrings. "If you don't mind my asking... why does your house have scuff marks?" Smiling a little, he stuffed his left foot in the shoe. While his fingers made the loops, he scoped out the flat surfaces of the room for his wallet and keys.
"Before I moved in, there were these college kids who lived there, and they liked to play basketball in the driveway, put up a hoop for them to shoot baskets. Sometimes the ball would bang up against the house on the way up, and between that and the salt in the air it did a number on the paint job. Ms. Graves, she's the landlady, she wants to fix the place up, make it look nicer. As long as it doesn't mean a rent increase, it'll be fine by me."
Hayden looked up. "She cutting you a break on the rent for fixing it up?" He put his foot in the other shoe and made quick work of a double-knot. Repairs on his current rental property got taken care of by the landlord, which he was happy about. "Once, I made the mistake of helping my upstairs neighbors fix a plumbing emergency," he said. "I had some pretty good motivation. I didn't want their toilet water pouring through my ceiling." He straightened and pushed his hair back. "Afterwards, they acted like I was the on-call maintenance guy, like when the air conditioning broke at three in the morning. I don't know how to fix that."
When he stood up, he spotted his keys and phone on top of the television. Hayden stuffed them in his pockets. He was really glad he changed out of the gym shorts before Mallory arrived.
"She said she'd knock off fifty dollars if I touched up the paint. I was thinking about adding some decorations in the front yard, but I wouldn't know where to start. It'll never be a showplace, but it could look less weathered." When it seemed apparent that Hayden was ready to go, Mallory rose from the sofa and stepped towards the door. "I really appreciate this, by the way. All I know how to do is pop the hood and glower at the engine as if that will make it start."
Hayden turned the lock and pulled the door shut behind them. "Don't get me wrong, I plan to do some glowering." Outside, the weather was mild, the sky pale blue with contrails. He heard a neighbor's moped buzzing along the road, sounding about as powerful as a push mower. The island was so small that most people got around on bikes. "My tools are in the Jeep," he said, pointing at the badly rutted driveway. The weathered porch steps creaked under their shoes. "I don't know where you live. Should we drive or walk?" He stopped beside the driver's side door. If it was close, he'd just grab the toolbox.
Hayden scratched his cheek and watched Mallory. Even though they were just getting to know each other better, he's started to notice things, like a little crease she got between her eyebrows when she was thinking hard. Maybe it was because he often caught her at the bookstore, but she seemed to be thinking hard a lot lately.
"Walking is fine. I live on Greene Street, it's only about four blocks from here. I need the exercise anyway." Since regaining her bearings after the commode-hugging session, Mallory had rinsed her mouth out, then eaten some soup to settle her stomach.. According to the books she was reading, broth was best for nausea. The breeze ruffled her hair, felt good as it wafted over her face. She was still putting off telling her mother. Maybe in a couple more weeks. "Did you teach yourself the fine art of maintenance?"
He hauled out the toolbox and started towards Greene. "Nah. Some of it I picked up in high school. I took this class, kind-of a hybrid between shop and an auto-mechanic workshop. They had a partnership with a vocational school. And then my parents had a hobby farm, too." Inside the hard-shell box, metallic things shuffled around and knocked into each other. "I guess it was weird. Both of them were really into the learning thing and then they just moved out to the country when I was four. My dad stays on my case about going back to college for a second degree."
He looked at her. The sun played around with her hair, making pieces of it look gold instead of just red. "Did you go to college?"
"I was going for a literature degree at UNC, but I took on too much and my RA said I should take some time off to figure out if I really wanted to continue on with school. I would like to go back, I just don't know when." The redhead tucked her hands into her pockets, pulled out a piece of lint and watched it blow away. Hayden was taller than she was, the toolbox bumping lightly against his leg as they walked. "What was your first degree in?"
"History," he said. He reached across his chest and fiddled with his t-shirt sleeve. "But I wasn't smart about it. I picked out my major just because I liked the subject, but I didn't have a clue what I wanted to do with it. I had a summer internship at a museum once, but those jobs are like..." He shook his head and laughed. "Really rare. Unless you want to be a guide or work in the gift shop."
His tennis shoe kicked a rock ahead of them. When he caught up to it a second time, he sent it into a car tire. "I tried teaching but... ehh." The sound was low and raspy in his throat, like the whole idea of it got stuck there.
"I'm not sure a degree in literature is actually good for anything except for teaching either, but I've always enjoyed reading and learning about well-known writers. I just jumped in too fast and it got away from me. But I guess there's nothing wrong with just studying something you're interested in, even if the 'real world' doesn't know what to do with you afterwards." She paused long enough to cross the street, then asked, "What brought you all the way down to the Keys?"
"I don't know. I guess I was just bored and looking to blow off some steam for a year." Hayden passed the box into his other hand, flexed his fingers around the handle. "Then I got stuck here. They call it getting sand in your shoes." They passed a yard full of miniature windmills and plastic fowl. The bird wings clicked when they spun. It was the sort of tacky yard ornamentation that looked awful anywhere but at the beach. "I think I'm still kinda waiting for something," he said.
His neck itched. He reached up the scratch the healing bite marks and said, "Did you hear what happened at the bar last week? I mean, did Kyle tell you?"
"No, he didn't mention anything, but he was kind of distracted. I showed up while he was helping unload the beer truck, so he didn't have much time for me. What happened?" It was a vaguely disturbing thought, that she might end up getting sand in her shoes as well. She wasn't sure she wanted to get 'stuck' anywhere. Then again, she and the Little Stranger might not have much choice for a while.
It wasn't an easy story to tell, but Hayden had gotten plenty of practice over the last week. The more he went over the incident, the less sense it made, and the more convinced he was that his mind filled in fictional details. It was dark on the patio and being bitten freaked him out. "You know those people who pretend they're vampires?" Hayden asked. He shook his head, like the idea was nuts. "Well... this woman came in and got wasted. After she climbed on the bar, I took her outside to get some air and she bit me." He gestured at it. "On the neck. When I pushed her off, she acted like I should've been turned on by it or something."
"My God, are you all right?" Mallory stopped in her tracks and gently tugged aside the fabric of Hayden's T shirt to get a better look at it. The punctures looked clean rather than ragged, almost like large needle marks. She looked up at his eyes, back down at the wounds. "Did you call the police? It'd be an assault charge if nothing else. She must have been really drunk."
"I'm fine," he said, tilting his head so Mallory could see the marks. "She must've filed her teeth or something." He waited a few seconds and stood up straight again. Absent fingers went to his neck and rubbed at the spot. "I called the cops, but she was already gone, which is good because I didn't want her hanging around afterwards." He looked at his fingertips, like he half-expected to find blood on them again. "The thing is..." He laughed under his breath, trying to make light of it so she would, too. "Afterwards, I actually thought she was a monster. It was probably just my subconscious trying to help out my ego. I had a hard time prying her off."
He shook it off with good humor. "There's a thing you don't hear guys say a lot."
"Sounds like you've got a fan," the redhead said, taking a step backwards so that she was out of Hayden's immediate bubble. "Glad you're okay. She was probably high on something, but if she shows up to apologize, don't let her get too close. Just in case." She started walking again, pushing aside the troubling thoughts the sight of the bite marks had caused to surface. To change the subject, she said, "I can't believe Christmas is only two weeks away. Doing anything special for the holiday?"
"Ahhhh...." He winced, as if it was a loaded subject. "Not this year. I flew up to New York last Christmas to see my parents, but I don't think I can trust Mike to get things done at the bar, so I'm hanging around. I tried to convince my parents to fly down here and crash for a few days, but they're not into it." Honestly, he would miss the snow and the giant tree his dad cut down, but it wasn't worth having to stay on the phone the whole time checking up on Mike.
"You?" He didn't know enough about her, Hayden thought.
"I have holiday phone calls to make, but I don't think I can afford a trip back home this year," Mallory said. This would be the second holiday she'd be spending away from her parents, but the money thing was proving to be insurmountable for the time being. "I'm going to put up a little tree at the apartment and string up some lights, maybe bake something. If you want, you can swing by for a while. I'd like to get to know more people down here, make some friends."
She would have to get in touch with Hannah, too, in that case, and maybe even Isabelle. It wouldn't be the same as being at home, but it would be a decent substitute. "Do your parents teach?" she asked Hayden. "It sounds like they'd fit right in at a college somewhere."
"Really?" He nodded his head about stopping by. "Yeah, I might do that." It beat laying on his couch watching It's a Wonderful Life by himself, or hanging out at work just because he was bored. He saw a truck down the street. Or at least, one he recognized from the parking lot of The Next Chapter. "Good call. My dad's a Geography teacher," he answered. "My mom leads fitness classes at a gym. It's kind of weird." He scratched his cheek and gave her a sheepish look. "She's always hopping on new fitness trends. Last month, she told me they were doing pole dance aerobics. I bet my dad's pretty psyched."
"Or disturbed, whichever comes first."
They were almost to her apartment, and the sight of the Ford with its hood up made Mallory let out a resigned sigh. Maybe she should just sell the thing, sell it and buy something cheaper and more reliable. It wasn't like she needed so much vehicle to begin with, and with its new proclivity for not starting it might be a plan to look into getting a scooter. "It's just in the lot up here," she said. "I'm hoping it's nothing too disastrous."
"Me, too," he said. "Or I might just end up keeping you company while they tow it." He walked around the front and set his tool box on the pavement. "So what happened when you tried to start it?" Hayden rubbed his temple against his shoulder. He was relieved it was an older, American-made truck. He wasn't all that familiar with the guts of foreign cars. There was little he hated more than not knowing the answer, especially when a friend needed it. "Did it do anything at all?"
"It made this kind of tired-sounding noise, like I woke it up," the redhead answered. "I put half a tank of gas in it yesterday. I think it wanted to start, but maybe there's a short in the wiring somewhere." A shrug, and if she'd been a more neurotic person she'd have been wringing her hands by now. "Think there's any hope for it?"
"There's always hope. It just sort of... depends on your wallet." Hayden fiddled around under the hood for a minute, checking connections to the battery. "Do me a favor. Hop in and try to start it." He waited for her to turn the key and give it some gas. He heard the ignition click and whine a few times, but it wouldn't turn over. After asking Mallory to turn on the headlights, he could see that the battery was working alright. Frowning, he backed out of the shade of the hood. "The bad news is, I think your starter's bad," he said, raising an arm and putting a hand on the hot paint.
"The good news is, I can replace it. I know where we can get the part. I'd just need a couple more things from home." Not thinking, he put his hands on the hips of his shorts and left dark smudges in the shape of fingers. "You got anywhere you need to be?"
"Not for a couple of days. I have a doctor's appointment I can't miss, but like I said earlier walking to work isn't a hardship." Mallory pulled the key out of the ignition, jingled the ring in the palm of her hand before climbing out of the truck. She looked towards the door of the apartment, then down at her shoes. The comment about her wallet raised a dim alarm.
"This isn't going to cost me a fortune, is it? I'm...I've got expenses coming up and can't afford much."
He shook his head. "Shouldn't be much for the part." Hayden closed the hood. He tapped her upper arm with the backs of his fingers. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna charge you for labor." A smile pulled on a corner of his mouth, but it didn't last long. "You okay? It's none of my business, but you mentioned the doctor." He finally noticed the grease on his hands and rubbed his fingers together.
She only hesitated for a second before saying, "I'm fine, got a clean bill of health, as they say. But the doctor said he wanted to give me a bottle of vitamins after my next appointment. Something about needing extra 'ooomph' for the time being." Somewhat shyly, the redhead averted her eyes from Hayden's, studying the truck's fender instead. "I'm just a little, well, pregnant."
Hayden was surprised into silence. He looked at her stomach, then averted his eyes, too. "Oh." Reaching up, he fidgeted with the tag in his t-shirt. He was sweating. He felt a trickle of it roll down his ribcage. "That's not the kind of labor I meant." It was a weak joke, delivered with a smile that tried to make light of things. What should he say? He squinted at the hood of the truck and wondered where the dad was. Maybe the guy didn't know anything about mechanics. "Congratulations," he said. "Kids are great."
"Thanks. I'm still getting used to it, I guess. It's a little..." She waved a hand at nothing, shook her head. Still unable to really describe how she felt about the whole thing, but past the need to cry over it. "And yeah, kids are great." She returned his smile a bit warily, but it managed to reach her eyes. Showing she meant it, she supposed.
After a brief silence, she said, "Want me to walk back with you to get whatever else you need? I could get you a sandwich or something when you get back."
"Nah, it's alright, you stay here," he said. "You don't want to hang out with a bunch of mechanics while I track down the right part." He put his hands in his shorts pockets. "I'll be back in an hour or so. I'll definitely take you up on that sandwich." It sounded a lot better than the hot pockets he had in his freezer.
Hayden backed up a few steps. "Don't worry about the truck, I'll have it running in no time."