Chapter 5

Bobby rode his bike to Jill’s. His mother was still upset about the picnic she was going on with Prudence and Ted. He knew that, because she had burned the pancakes she served him that morning. He hoped she calmed down enough to have some fun.

He had an assortment of tools in his bag because he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to work on. Jill met him at the door in exactly the same outfit she had been wearing the last time he came over. Since he had made specific comments about that outfit, he suspected she was up to something.

“What do you want me to work on?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” she said. “I didn’t actually get you here to do any work.”

“Oh?” He set his tool bag down.

What Jill Trimble wanted, since about noon, the previous Wednesday, was to parade in front of Mark Trimble ... pregnant. Mark, while he was married to her, had been the stereotypical jealous husband. Part of her mistake was letting him get in her panties before she walked down the aisle. He assumed she’d let others do the same thing. After they got married, he’d asked her over and over again if she’d done this, or that, with anybody else. Later, he’d berated her if she even talked to another man, or looked at one for more than a few seconds. During one shouting match he’d called her a slut. What hurt the most was the fact that Mark wouldn’t even try to get her pregnant, while he obviously did the opposite while he cheated with Nancy. His lies at the diner proved, to her mind, that he was still insanely jealous of any other man paying attention to her, even though they were no longer married.

So she was quite convinced that, if she got pregnant, especially if she wasn’t married to anybody, it would be what would hurt him most. And the last thing she wanted to do was get married again. She was a firm believer in the old adage “Fool me once ... shame on you. Fool me twice ... shame on me.”

It was a half-baked plan ... one born of frustration, anger, and the spirit of revenge. She knew she was good looking. She’d already been hit on a number of times since her divorce, but the men who hit on her were not suitable, in her estimation, to help her with her plan for revenge. She couldn’t just go out and troll in bars. She was not a slut, despite Mark’s conviction that she was. It was while she was serving a young man who came into the diner that she thought about the handsome young man who had repaired her washing machine.

Not only was he handsome, but he was a real gentleman too. He’d looked at her. She’d caught him doing that a couple of times, though he didn’t leer, like the others. He was honest about things too. When he scolded her about wearing revealing clothing, she’d been angry, at first, but then she’d realized that what he’d said made sense. She had no idea that, once she’d decided to do this crazy thing, and started thinking about finding a mate, that her basic female mind would look for the best genetic standard in the tribe of men around her. Bobby was the only man she’d met who stood head and shoulders above the other candidates, in that way. All she knew was that, as time went on, she thought of him more than all the others.

What she didn’t know was how to go about seducing him. She’d never tried to seduce anyone before. It had always been the other way around. As a first step, she wore the clothing he’d warned her about wearing. It was an instinctive move.

“What did you call me here to do?” asked Bobby.

Now she was stuck. He was here, and she was here. She looked at him, and her heart gave a little flutter. He really was so handsome, and strong. Her belly started fluttering too, as she looked at his hands, and wondered what they’d feel like on her body.

“Can’t we just spend time together and have fun?” she asked, unable to think of anything else to say. With him so close, her mind was roiling and it was hard to think. Still, her voice had clear overtones that Bobby recognized as being sexual.

“Well, I suppose we could do that,” he said, cocking his head. “Except you already told me that’s not what you’re interested in.”

“Can’t a woman change her mind?” she asked, defensively.

“Sure she can,” said Bobby. “Women do that all the time. Sometimes they even have a good reason for it.”

He was trying to lighten the mood, because, as she talked about having fun, her demeanor was very, very serious. Something strange was going on here. He could tell that. It was almost like she was flirting with him, except that she wasn’t acting like any woman he’d ever seen while she flirted.

The joke flew right over her head.

“I thought you liked this outfit,” she said, looking nervous.

“I do,” he said.

“Then don’t you want to try to kiss me, or something?”

He stared at her.

“No,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked. She looked less nervous now, but more confused.

“Have you made any coffee this morning?” he asked.

She blinked. “No.”

“Well, go make some, and let’s talk,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk!” she said impatiently. “I want to...” She didn’t finish, not because there wasn’t anything on her mind. She didn’t finish because what was on her mind was so undefined that “get pregnant” just sounded crazy.

“Okay,” said Bobby, folding his arms across his chest. “Then take off all your clothes.”

“What?” Her eyes darted around.

“Take off your clothes,” Bobby repeated. “I want to see you buck naked.”

Bobby’s choice of words was significant, in this case. Mark, especially when he’d been drinking, loved to say “I want to see you buck naked!” Making her strip for him had been one of the games he had played that established his domination over her. He had liked to order her around, especially in the bedroom.

She felt white hot rage suffuse her body and scowled ferociously.

“I will not!“ she almost yelled.

“Then make some coffee,” said Bobby, “and let’s talk about whatever it is that’s gotten you all riled up.”

She wanted to throw him out. He was ordering her around, just like Mark had. Her response, though, was complex. When she stood there, and he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her, and then giving her a gentle shove towards the kitchen, habit made her do exactly what he was telling her to do. Her mind was screaming not to do it, and telling her to throw this bum out too, but it was so much easier, just like it had been so much easier with Mark, to just do whatever it was he said to do. This war within her waged for a hundred and twenty seconds or so, while her body went on autopilot, her hands reaching for the coffee filter, and filling the carafe. She punched the on button almost viciously, and turned around to see him sitting calmly at the kitchen table.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” she demanded, out of frustration.

“I didn’t say I don’t want to kiss you,” he said. “I said I wasn’t going to try to kiss you.”

“But you’re a man!“ she blurted.

“Sit down,” he said.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she yelled.

“Please sit down,” he said, his face not changing.

She wanted to scream. Nothing was working out for her. Mark was making her crazy. The men who leered at her were making her crazy. This man was making her crazy. She’d held it all in until now, and she felt panic as she felt her eyes filling with tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of this man, but she knew it was going to happen. In a paroxysm of anger and frustration, mixed with not a little fear that her whole world was collapsing, she ran from the room, seeking refuge in her bedroom, slamming the door and tumbling onto the bed, where she bawled. She buried her face in the pillow, and let it all come rushing out in long, body-shaking sobs.

She had no idea how long she’d been submerged in the sea of self pity that had tried to drown her when she finally stopped crying and rolled to stare at the ceiling. She had settled into a mood of darkness, disgusted with almost everything, including herself. While Mark wasn’t the prize she’d though he was when she married him, she hadn’t been able to keep him. She couldn’t understand why he’d want to get Nancy pregnant, but not her, but that rejection was what hurt the most. If she’d have been calm enough to think about it logically, she’d have been relieved that he hadn’t gotten her pregnant, since he was a piss poor husband, and would probably make a piss poor father as well. But she wasn’t calm enough to do that, and she moved on to berate herself for chasing away the nicest man she’d met since she got divorced. Bobby hadn’t done anything wrong, but she’d chased him away anyway.

With a sigh, she dragged herself off the bed, and wandered, more or less, back to the kitchen. She almost staggered with surprise when she saw Bobby sitting at the table, calmly sipping from a cup.

“I poured you a cup,” he said. “It might have cooled down a little too much by now, though.”

She looked at the cup, sitting across the table from him.

“You’re still here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He made no comment, and just sipped from his cup again.

“Why are you still here?” she asked, her voice louder.

“You didn’t actually ask me to leave,” he said. “If you want me to, I will.”

“No!” she blurted, and then felt foolish.

“Okay,” he said, not reacting to the emotion that had been in her voice.

She had no idea what to do. She didn’t understand him at all. She had acted a fool ... had run from the room like a little girl ... but he had stayed. For lack of anything else to do, she sat down and took a sip from the cup he’d poured. It was cold, and she got up, dumped it in the sink, and poured a fresh cup. She sat down again, and tried to sip, but it was too hot now. With a sigh, she set the cup on the table.

She glanced at him, her eyes almost bouncing off of him in their hurry not to be caught looking at him. It didn’t work. He was staring straight at her face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “It wouldn’t do any good. My whole life is fucked up.”

“I can’t really disagree,” he said. “I don’t really know you well enough for that, but from where I sit, it looks like things might not be as bad as they are for some.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Well, you have a job, and a nice house. You managed to get rid of a loser husband. You’re still young and pretty, and you’re intelligent. That’s not such a bad hand to hold.”

In fifteen seconds he had pointed out five things about her that she hadn’t taken the time to appreciate. She was almost shocked by his casual references to the positive things in her life that she had forgotten about during her pity party.

“Why did you stay here?” she asked, impulsively.

“I figured you needed somebody to talk to,” he said.

“You’re the strangest man I’ve met in a long time,” she said.

“Why?” he asked. “Just because I care?”

“Why do you care?” she asked, her voice tense.

“I care about a lot of people,” he said. “Does it offend you that I care about you?”

“No,” she said, defensively. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. You don’t even know me.”

“That’s another reason why I stayed,” he said. “I’d kind of like to get to know you.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t kiss women I don’t know, or feel something for,” he said.

She blinked. When he’d said he wouldn’t kiss her, she’d just assumed he was rejecting her.

“I had a bad week,” she said, finally, testing the waters.

“Why don’t you tell me about it,” he suggested.

She started haltingly ... slowly ... describing what had happened, and how it made her feel. Like a snowball rolling down hill, she gathered momentum. Her cry had helped, but this was like spewing out stomach contents that were contaminated, and making her nauseous, and, by the time she was finished, she felt like she’d vomited all over him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth, unconsciously. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I don’t mind,” he said softly. “You did have a bad week.”

Then, because she felt so comfortable with him, she told him the rest of it ... her plan for revenge ... and why she had acted like she had acted when he arrived.

He smiled, and she felt terror that he was going to laugh at her, and say something like “You really thought I’d want to make you pregnant? You silly slut!”

But what he said was, “I knew something was wrong. You weren’t acting like yourself at all.”

Again she was amazed. Instead of telling her what she was acting like, he concentrated on who she really was.

“That’s a pretty poor reason to bring life into the world, you know,” he said, bursting her bubble.

“I know,” she said. “It was a stupid idea.”

“It was a brilliant idea,” he said, throwing her for another loop. “It’s not a good reason to have a baby, but it’s a brilliant idea. I’ve known guys like him, and it really would drive him crazy.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“Oh yeah.” He grinned.

They sipped at the coffee for a little while. She felt a lot more comfortable, and a lot less tense and upset.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“Sure.”

“I thought you thought I was ... um ... sexy,” she said.

“I do,” he responded.

“So, when I threw myself at you ... why didn’t you...” She didn’t finish.

“I told you. I don’t kiss women I don’t care about. A kiss is something kind of special, to me. Would you kiss a tree?”

“No,” she said, almost giggling at the thought. “But you do think I’m sexy?”

“I’ve always thought you were sexy, even before I met you,” he said.

“How could you think I was sexy before you met me?” she asked, confused.

“Your picture ... at school,” he explained. “I had a lot of fantasies about the girl in that picture.”

She remembered his comment, in the square, about seeing her picture at school. What ran through her mind was of a kid, staring at that picture, like boys stared at pictures in Playboy. She looked at Bobby. He was no kid. Not by a long shot. She felt the butterflies in her stomach again at the thought of this specimen of manhood dreaming about her.

“I think you’re kind of sexy too,” she said, without thinking.

He grinned.

“So ... what do we do now?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“I brought my tools,” he said.

She felt her mood dip, a little. She knew he wasn’t rejecting her, but it felt like he was. She gave herself a mental shake, and stood up to act like an adult.

They went through six little jobs, with him showing her what needed to be done, and then either doing it himself, or having her do it. She didn’t realize it, but, as he asked casual questions, he got most of her childhood out of her, and a number of stories about her life as a high school student. She hadn’t gone to college, choosing instead to marry the quarterback, right out of high school. She realized now that that hadn’t been the smartest thing she’d ever done. It was responsible for both her failed marriage, and the job she was stuck in, and would probably be stuck in forever.

They took a break at lunch, and she fed him leftovers from the fridge. He didn’t complain, and she noticed that he spent a lot more time letting his eyes roam around her body. She didn’t mind. Not only that, she enjoyed it. It helped restore her self confidence.

After lunch, there were only two more things that they could do that day. Other repairs needed parts, or tools he hadn’t brought with him. The last thing he tackled was a drain in the bathroom sink that was running slowly. It was in the bathtub. He removed the drain cover and, with a hanger, made a probe to go into the pipe. He fished out a gooey glob of hair that made her go pale. She had to turn away, as he put it in the stool and flushed it.

“You should see my house,” he joked. “With eight women, I’m cleaning out drains all the time.”

“How can you stand it?” she moaned, still feeling queasy.

The drain still ran slow. He plunged it, while she held a rag over the overflow, to seal the system, but it didn’t work.

“I was afraid of that,” he sighed. “I’ll have to go under the house.”

She had no idea where the entrance to the crawl space was, but he walked around the house and found it easily. When he had the panel removed, she stared inside.

“It’s dark, and dirty in there,” she said.

“Yup.”

“You can’t go in there,” she moaned. “There’s bugs and all that under there!”

“Can’t be helped,” he said.

She watched as he wiggled into the hole and disappeared, dragging his tool bag and the hanger he’d used before, after him. Less than a minute went by, but it seemed like a long time to her and she got down on her hands and knees to peer into the darkness.

“Are you okay?” she called.

“I’m fine.” His voice sounded faint.

Another ten minutes went by and he called out to her to close the drain and fill the tub half full. She ran and did that, and then returned.

“I need another hanger,” he called out.

She ran and got that and kneeled at the opening to tell him she had it.

“Can you bring it to me?” he yelled. “I’ve got parts lying on my chest, and don’t want to move.”

“I can’t come in there!” she yelled.

“Sure you can,” he called back. “Nothing to it.”

“I’ll get all dirty!” she yelled.

“Yes, you will,” he yelled back.

“There are spiders!” she complained.

“I scared them all away!” he yelled back.

“Can’t you come get it ... please?” she begged.

“No,” he yelled back. “And could you hurry? There’s water dripping on me and I’m lying in mud.”

She steeled herself and got on her stomach. As soon as her head and shoulders were in the hole, she berated herself for doing this stupid thing, but her stubborn streak drove her on. She was surprised, immediately, to find that there were vents all around the house that let in a surprising amount of light. It wasn’t really all that dark. She could see him, ten or twelve feet away, lying on his back. The ground was dry, at least where she was. It was interesting to see that the house was held up by square columns, made of brick, spread every five feet or so. She wiggled forward, the hanger in her hand, and felt the dirt scrape her exposed abdomen. She had the disgusted thought that she was ruining her halter top and shorts, and should have changed into something else.

She saw the water dripping on him, as she got closer.

“Where is that coming from?” she asked, reaching out to give him the hanger.

“The tub drain isn’t sealing properly,” he said. “I got the cleanout cover off, thank goodness. I need a snake.”

“Snake!“ she screeched, bumping her head on the underside of the floor as she jumped.

“No,” he laughed. “Not that kind. A plumber’s snake is a long cable that you can stick down in the pipes to break up a clog. I’m using a hanger, but it isn’t long enough.” She relaxed, and lay there on her elbows, as he twisted the two hangers together to make a longer wire, and then fed that into a hole in a big, black pipe where the dripping water was coming from.

“Ahhh,” he said, sounding pleased. “I hit something.”

He jerked the wire, moving it in and out of the hole over and over again. Then he moved it in and out more slowly, as if he were feeling for something.

“I hope that’s got it,” he said. “I don’t really want to come back down here.”

“Me either,” she agreed. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into getting under here this time!”

“It didn’t hurt you a bit,” he said.

“It ruined my clothes,” she complained.

“They’re just dirty. I already fixed your washer,” he laughed. “That will solve that problem.”