Chapter 5 - NamidJayceNamidJayce

Chapter 5

Namid

Three plastic chairs with thin metal legs that look like they might easily collapse are arranged in the shop's lobby against the wall, opposite the office door. I can't imagine there's ever been a need for more than that. It's only ever been Jayce and Jordyn working here, so at most, they'd have two clients waiting on quick things like brake jobs. People picking up vehicles they'd previously dropped off likely just stand at the desk and wait for the few moments it takes to pay and collect their keys; that's what I've always done. Besides, I've seen Jayce's schedule, and the shop rarely has more than three ongoing projects at any given time.

A man I don't know sits in the center chair as I walk in holding two coffee cups. They're ceramic with silicone lids this time. If we're going to keep doing this regularly, I don't want to keep using disposable paper ones. The customer staring at the wall is an older, gruff-looking man, probably in his late fifties. He's wearing overalls splattered with paint and a worn Carhart jacket. His beard is unkempt, and wisps of greying hair peek out from under an old baseball hat covered in what appears to be grease stains. He looks like half the men in town.

The man glares at me as I walk in, and his jaw works as if he wants to say something to me, likely something not very nice. He certainly feels more than slightly annoyed that I'm here, but I smile and nod in his direction anyway as I head for the glass door that leads into the large work bay. I stack the cups on top of one another to free up a hand, and by the time I'm halfway through the door, the man is on his feet, taking a few steps toward me as if he's afraid I'm breaking in to steal heavy power tools while carrying two cups of coffee as a plausible cover. Even someone who can't feel his anger the way I can would be able to feel him glaring daggers at my back through the glass wall that partitions the spaces. There is no way he's going to sit back down until he ensures I haven't come to beat Jayce up, even though I'm clearly inferior in terms of upper body strength. Maybe he thinks I'm here to throw coffee on his face and kick him in the jewels just for sport.

Jayce is standing next to his tool bench with a couple of quarts of oil in his hands, and a shiny new pickup has its hood popped a few feet away.He glances in my direction as I walk toward him, and the heaviness that always seems to seep from his every cell lightens briefly as he greets me with a half smile and sets down the oil to take the mug from my outstretched hand.

Win.

"Thanks."

He studies the ceramic and raises an eyebrow in question.

"I don't like wasting the disposable ones."

Another half smile.

Double win.

I gesture with my head as subtly as possible toward the man I know is still standing at the glass behind me, watching to make sure I don't cause trouble.

"He's going to stare until he's sure I'm not a threat."

Jayce glances up with a frown, and for an instant, anger floods through him as he raises a hand and offers a wave and a pained smile to the man in the waiting room.

"Sorry. I know you don't like people. I just figured since I was going to be here for a bit, I might as well bust out an oil change."

"Don't be sorry. It's your business. And it's not that I don't like people. I mean, I can get overwhelmed when there's a few, but it's more that..."

I force on a smile and shake my head as I realize what I'd been going to say might sound like I feel sorry for myself.

"Never mind."

"No. What?"

"Well, it's more that most people around here don't like me than I don't like them. No one has ever forgotten how I ended up here. In truth, it's not going to do your business any favors to have people see me here with you regularly." I shrug and sip my espresso. "I can come alone if that's better for you so that you don't have to come in on Saturdays, and so people don't see me here. If you trust me with a key anyway, I mean, I know you don't really know me or anything."

Jayce stares at me silently, and I wonder if I've overstepped my bounds by suggesting that I'm trustworthy enough to be in his shop on my own.

He takes a step toward me, and I have to fight not to back away. I don't think he'd do anything to hurt me, but he feels upset, and it's just instinctive for someone who's spent their whole life basically alone.

He's close now, less than arm's distance.

"You're serious?"

I stare at the lid of my cup and pick at the rim.

"I'm sorry. You don't know me; of course you wouldn't trust me to be here on my…"

His hand falls heavily onto my shoulder, and I jump before I can stop myself.

"That's not what I mean."

His voice is the same deep rumble it always is, but there's a softness to it I've never heard before. Normally, it sounds like he can barely manage to choke out his words through a throat filled with glass. But these flow almost easily. Like they aren't a fight. Like he means them.

"You think I care if people know you're here? You're the only one in this entire town who has lifted a finger to do anything other than offer pitying looks since it happened."

I raise my eyes to search his face, overwhelmed by the rush of gratitude and concern that flows through his touch. I think he might actually be concerned for me, not because of me, and I'm not really sure how to process that.

He squeezes my shoulder.

"Come with me."

I follow him through the glass door, helpless to even consider declining. The moment he opens it, his demeanor shifts. His soul is still just as filled with anguish as it's been since the moment I met him, but on the outside, he appears to be brusque and confident and stubborn and in charge of the world.

"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me."

He starts talking the moment he opens the glass door and doesn't stop until he's escorted me the twenty steps through reception, and I'm settled in the office behind the desk.

"Truly, I don't know what I'd do without you, and bringing me tea is just above and beyond. I'm so thankful for your friendship, Namid. Just let me know if you need anything at all."

I'm so overwhelmed at the fact that his words feel genuine that all I manage is a stuttering, "Thank you," as he half closes the door on his way out and makes his way back to the shop.

"You'll only be another ten minutes, Bob." His tone is deep and harsh once more, almost threatening.

While I know that it's not the best professional decision on his part to welcome me so openly into his shop, I'm grateful. While folks in town are generally polite to me, aside from Ken, no one has ever actively made me feel wanted in this place during the decade I've lived here.

I try not to eavesdrop on their conversation as Bob pays and picks up his keys not long after I've settled in with the books. Instead, I focus on my work, although there isn't much to do aside from balancing the accounts. It's only been two weeks, and there aren't any bills to pay this time. It takes me less than an hour, and I reluctantly admit to myself that Jayce really only needs my help once a month.

When I make my way out of the office, I find Jayce sitting at the reception desk with his feet up on the counter, poking idly at his phone.

"I'm finished already. Honestly, you probably only need me to stop by once a month if you'd rather have one of your Saturdays back."

He drops his feet and quickly stands, slipping his phone into his back pocket.

"I don't want to be an inconvenience to you; you're doing me such a huge favor as it is, but if I'm being honest, I think I might get a bit anxious letting things sit for a whole month and just hoping it all works out okay when you come in. Is it too much for you to come every other week, even though there isn't a lot to do? I'm happy to pay you more. "

Warmth rushes through me as I let myself pretend he's asking because he wants to see me more often than once a month.

"Every other week is no problem at all for me."

Relief floods through him.

"So…" He looks oddly nervous. "Would you like to maybe get a second coffee with me?"

I know the smart thing would be to say no and limit our interactions. His feelings are so overwhelming that sometimes it's hard to separate them from mine. Sometimes, it's hard to even tell which actually are mine because while I feel the depth of his loss and sorrow whenever he's around, I also feel sorrow of my own for everything that he's been through. They play off each other, combining and swirling into a whirlwind. Being around him is like getting caught in a tsunami. It's overwhelming and exhausting and emotionally decimating.

Still, I can't deny that a small part of me is thankful that he was so kind when I first reached out to him in the cheese aisle. I've always been happy with my quiet life, and I've rarely felt the need for more than my friendship with Ken. The occasional interactions I have at the store and the coffee shop have always been more than enough for me, and while I have no desire to suddenly walk into the bar and try to befriend half the town while dealing with the onslaught of their emotions, the warmth in my belly that accompanies Jayce's smile and his occasional kind words surprises me. Even though I know it's likely the wrong choice, I want to spend as much time with him as I can.

"I'd really like that."

I know I'm grinning like a moron. I really don't care.