Aphter: 22

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"simon." It was a soft whisper in a girl's voice. Although it registered in some part of my brain, it didn't wake me. Then I felt someone shaking my arm lightly. "simon," she whispered again. I woke up, but not happily. My eyelids were like lead, my entire body was sore and I was freezing. I looked up and saw Sam bending down in front of me, her hand on my arm. "Are you awake?" she asked.

"No," I said, but I started to move anyway.

"Careful!" she snapped, and I remembered that Amy was leaning up beside me, sound asleep. "Can you pick her up?" Sam asked, reaching down and gently tugging on Amy's jacket until she got the zipper together and zipped it up almost to her neck.

"Yeah," I said, and Sam put her hands behind Amy and held her up while I stood. I bent and, with a loud groan, picked her up.

"Shh!" Sam snapped again, her forehead wrinkling into a frown. "Be careful, Simon!"

"Okay," I mumbled. Sam was driving a little, white, four-door SUV. She walked over quickly and opened the back, passenger-side door and I laid Amy inside as carefully as I could. "She's pretty tired," I said. "I don't think anything could wake her up right now." When I was sure she was situated, I closed the door and turned to get in the passenger seat, but Sam was blocking my way, staring at me. "What?" I asked.

"Simon, you're my friend. I just..." she glanced up and down at my clothing, which was pretty rumpled, and she looked up at my face. I knew I was red-eyed with dark circles. I had a couple of days of stubble growth. My hair probably looked like a greasy mop. "What's going on, Simon? I mean, you look like hell. You look like hell on a bad day, Simon. And this place isn't even open. And this little girl is with you. And..." She reached out and straightened the collar of my jacket which was tucked under in the front. "I feel like I'm helping a damned kidnapper or something, Simon!"

"What?"

"What! What am I SUPPOSED to think, SIMON?" She was yelling. "What the HELL are you doing out here with NO CAR at fucking MIDNIGHT with this little girl?"

"Shh," I said. "It's fine. She's just staying with me until her mother gets back."

"Bullshit!" She stared at me, clenching and unclenching her jaw, her lip starting to quiver a little. "Who leaves their kid with a guy like you, Simon? WHO?" She glared at me, waiting for an answer. I shuffled around a little, feeling terribly exhausted. Just as I started to open my mouth to answer, she went on. "Nobody, that's fucking who! There's not a person in the world who would leave a kid with you, Simon! I can't believe that!" I was surpsrised that she was so upset. She put her hand flat on the middle of my chest and, leaning in, looked me right in the eyes. A huge tear ran down her left cheek. "Make me feel good about this, Simon," she whispered.

I sighed, wishing the damned car had just been here and we could be back at my place right now. Still, I felt bad for Sam. She was helping us out and she was right. What was she supposed to think? "Look, her name is Amy Montagne," I said. "I can show you where she lives, if you want. We can wake her up and she can tell you that everything is okay. I know this looks weird, but..." But what? It is weird. "You just have to trust me, Sam."

She stopped clenching her teeth and looked down at her hand on my chest. I could tell that something I said had helped a little. "Okay, let's go," she said, turning to walk around and get into the car.

I climbed the passenger seat and closed the door. The comfort of the seat was like heaven. "When did you get this car?" I asked after she got in.

"Is it really her birthday?" she asked, ignoring my question. She started the car, slammed it into reverse and punched the gas, the tires squealing, and then slammed onto the brakes.

"Hey, careful!" I snapped, grabbing the hand-hold by my head. "There's a kid sleeping in the back, remember?"

"Shit!" Sam whispered through her teeth. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, wiping her checks with her hands and trying to calm down. I reached into my pocket and tried to hand her a handkerchief, but she just wrinkled her nose and raised her eyebrow. "I don't think so," she said as she put the car into drive and stepped gently onto the accelerator. "Thanks anyway."

I grinned, not blaming her, and put the handkerchief back into my pocket. "Yes. It is, apparently, her birthday today."

"And you didn't do anything for her?"

"Well, I didn't know it was her birthday, Sam. She didn't say anything about it and I don't make a habit of randomly asking people if it's their birthday."

"And her mother didn't tell you, 'Oh by the way, today is her birthday, so take her out for a beer or something?' when she left her with you?"

"No..." I started.

"No, of course not. This makes perfect sense to me."

"Sam..."

"WHAT? No, this is just perfect, Simon!" She fell silent, finally.

"Look," I said, after a pause, "Amy and I have had a rough couple of days. The truth is, she didn't even remember that it was her birthday until this evening."

"Was she sad? When she remembered, did she cry?" Sam asked. "That's so sad."

"No, she didn't cry. I'm sure she was sad, though. What little kid wouldn't be sad about that?"

"I know, right?" she whispered. I heard her sniff and I looked over at her. She was crying again. "Simon, please," she said. "You called me and woke me up and I'm really freaking out here."

"Okay," I said. "Okay, I'm going to tell you the truth, but you're not going to believe me."

"Okay," she said.

"Okay." I took a deep breath, wondering how to begin. "I'm helping Amy," I said. "Her mother is missing and I'm helping her." I stopped there and waited to see how the conversation would develop.

"What do you mean?" said Sam. "Helping her do what?"

"Find her mother, I think." I knew when I said it that it sounded weird, but I wasn't sure what else to say.

"You think?"

"Yes. I'm not sure. I only know that I'm supposed to help her."

"Supposed to help her."

"Right."

"Are you a cop?" she asked. "You're not a cop, Simon. You're some kind of handyman or something, I thought."

"I'm a Repairman," I said.

"Right. So isn't it the cops' job to find missing people?"

"I don't get the authorities involved in these things, Sam," I said. "It doesn't work that way. I just do what I'm supposed to do to help people."

"To help people?" She sounded completely incredulous. "Don't you help people with, like, plumbing and building and fixing things?"

"Fixing things, yes," I said, "but not plumbing and building. I'm not that kind of Repairman."

"Not that kind of Repairman," she repeated.

"Right."

"So, what kind of Repairman are you?" she asked.

"I do odd jobs."

"Odd jobs."

"Right," I said.

"Like, what sort of odd jobs, Simon?" She sounded less hostile, like I was getting through to her.

"Pretty odd, usually."

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Comments

[toadman]

Hey man, this is developing quite nicely. Keep it up dude.