"I know. So, you're watching me now." He looked at her sideways. "I'm saying I notice things. It's different."
"Sure it is." He almost smiled. "Almost. I'll call a buddy," he said. "He can come jump it or pull the alternator."
"I'm good." Clare nodded. She pushed off the truck and started walking back toward her porch, still barefoot. Then she stopped, turned halfway around. "Hey," she said.
"When you get a minute today, if you get a minute, could you help me with something?" "What?" Curtain rod. My drill died. Darius stared at her.
Died how? It just she made a vague gesture with her free hand. It stopped working. Claire, what did you charge the battery? A pause.
That's a complicated question. Darius looked at his truck, looked at her, looked at his truck again. Yeah, I'll come by after I deal with this. She smiled quick and genuine, and went back inside. He stood there alone in his driveway, holding a mug of coffee someone else had made and felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.
He wasn't sure what to call it yet. His buddy Marcus showed up 45 minutes later in a rusted Tahoe with a bad catalytic converter and the personality of a man who had been awake since 4:00 a.m. And found that hilarious for some reason. Tell me again why you don't just buy a new truck. Marcus said not for the first time in their 20-year friendship.
Because I have a mortgage and a daughter and a gutter that needs fixing. Your priorities are incredible, man. Truly. They pulled the alternator. Marcus drove him to AutoZone.
The part was 189, which brought Darius's checking account to -12 until Thursday, which meant the shoe situation was going to require some creative accounting from his savings. She tried not to touch, which meant this was going to be one of those weeks. He did not share any of this with Marcus. Not because Marcus would understand. Marcus had been broke plenty of times, but because Darius had spent so many years carrying weight quietly that he'd almost forgotten he was carrying it.
It had just become part of how he stood. They got back by 10:30. Installed the alternator in the driveway. Marcus left with a slap on the back and a promise to come by for the game next Sunday. Darius washed his hands at the outdoor spigot, dried them on his jeans, looked at Clare's door, he could just not go.
She'd probably figure out the drill or call someone else's or leave the curtain rod in the box for another 6 weeks, which honestly seemed fine. He picked up toolbox from the garage and knocked on her door. She opened it in 3 seconds like she'd been nearby. I thought you forgot, she said. I was dealing with my truck.