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“I would start the lessons now except that we just ate,” he said. “I don’t want to cramp up and drown.”
“I think you would be safe, since we’re not near any water except in your kitchen sink,” I pointed out, “but maybe it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Exactly. I like how you’re looking out for me,” he answered. “That’s mutual, ok?”
He was still smiling, but the last thing he’d said had seemed serious.
“I don’t need anyone to look out for me,” I said back, serious also. “I’m doing fine.”
“Just in case. In case you ever needed a hand, I would be around. For example, if you needed help with brush trimming so that you have a view of Laurel Lake again. Or how the handrail on your front step is shaky. That’s something I could deal with.”
“Really?” This was very interesting information. “How do you know how to fix things?”
“That was what my father did. I used to come with him to jobs and that’s how I learned.”
“He was a contractor?”
Bowie shook his head a little. “He never could get himself organized enough to get a license for anything, not even to drive. But he was handy and I learned how to use tools, how to make do with what you had, and how it was almost always better to fix something rather than to get a new one. He firmly believes in old junk.”
“You said he loves garage sales.”
“My father has an eye for crap,” he agreed. “The house is still full. I’ll come home, organize everything, hire a housecleaner, and then next time I visit? It’s back the way it was, a wreck. They’re set in their ways.” He glanced around his nearly empty room. “Who’s to say what’s better?”
“Maybe there’s a balance,” I suggested. “I like the old stuff in my house but it’s also a lot to keep up. Just one time, I’d like to drink from a glass without a chip in its rim, or not have to tape the front handrail together. It won’t hold any more screws.”
“I think the wood is rotten out there, maybe on the whole porch. Y’all don’t have gutters and I saw rainwater puddling everywhere.”
“Oh.”
“That’s also something that I could fix, if you’d take my help,” he said.
“Really? You wouldn’t mind? I know how busy you are.”
“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t mind at all. But I do expect payment, in the form of dance lessons.”
“You keep talking about it…” I looked at him meaningfully.
“I hope you’re not implying that I won’t follow through.”
“Well…” I trailed off again and raised my eyebrows higher.
“Let’s watch more of that show. They’ll inspire me,” he said, and we took our former places on the couch to catch up on the modern dance and swing episodes of “The Last Dancer.”
“I bet you could toss me up to the ceiling,” I said as we watched a couple struggle to learn a lift.
“Next time we go swimming, let’s try it,” he said. “I’m not going to have as much time now that we’re in-season, but we could figure something out.”
“I’ll be back in school next week,” I mentioned. “My schedule’s going to change a lot, too, when that starts and the bakery closes for the summer. I’ll have different hours at the NGS to work around my classes.”
“We’re busy.”
“We are,” I said, nodding. “By the way, the next time you come to the grocery store, Martha will have cookies for you. She liked how you did your own bagging.”
“I knew that would come in handy again,” he said. “I’ve gathered a lot of skills that I can apply to life after football. Did I tell you that I used to be a snake catcher?”
I shuddered. “You told me you didn’t like rats, but snakes are ok?”
He started to expound on the differences, things about gnawing teeth and dripping rodent saliva, but I shuddered again and interrupted him. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore and I also don’t want to be around you if you’re using your snake-catching skills. What other jobs have you had?”
