by Dwayne Phillips
May 2, 2008, 2008-018
Neal
turned his ten year-old red Mustang into the short driveway of cracked
and crumbling concrete. One day, thought Neal, we would move out of
this dump into a nice home in a better neighborhood. That would be one
day, but not now, not soon.
It was 2PM and a Saturday. Neal had just finished an eight-hour shift at the car repair shop. He worked eight hours each Saturday as a second job. All that money went to his wife Joyce. She also worked two jobs, her second on Sunday afternoons. They were thrifty, pooling funds, married only 18 months, and deeply in love.
Neal rushed into the front door of the small house he and Joyce rented. Joyce was one step inside the front door. Neal knew she would be there as she always was. She greeted him with a childish squeal of glee, an equally childish and affectionate hug, and half a dozen kisses on the cheek.
Neal loved coming home on Saturday. He planned something special for his young wife this Saturday. Something he knew she would cherish.
“Calm down J,” said Neal. “We have plenty of time for hugging and kissing. I want to do something for you this afternoon.”
“Oh, not fair,” replied Joyce. “I have something planned for you too.”
“Well, J. Perhaps we can both give what we had planned.”
“Maybe so,” answered Joyce. “I’ll go into the kitchen and be at the table waiting for you. That is where your surprise is.”
“Really? Okay. First, I have to go outside, but I’ll be back.”
With that, Joyce went into the kitchen and sat at the small table in front of a large window. That small table was their dining room. It had a good view of the driveway where Neal’s Mustang and Joyce’s five-year-old Toyota were parked.
Neal walked out onto the driveway. The weather was perfect for what he wanted to do for Joyce. He had planned this for several weeks and walked around the back of his Mustang. He unlocked and lifted the trunk hood. There it was – a complete car cleaning and buffing kit.
Neal loved cars. He loved clean and buffed cars. This is what he was going to do for Joyce. A half hour of washing in special soap, a half hour of rubbing buffing compound onto the car, and then the big surprise for Joyce – a buff job on the car. Neal had loaded a portable air compressor into the trunk of his Mustang. It took a month of planning to find the right day that he could borrow this from the car repair shop. This was a personal favor from his Saturday boss, something Neal had been hinting about for a year.
This was going to be great. Joyce would love this.
Joyce didn’t see Neal removing the items from the trunk of his Mustang. She had busied herself in the kitchen. The table was set perfectly for an afternoon. She had baked chocolate chip cookies that morning using double the amount of chocolate chips. She loved chocolate and chocolate chip cookies. They reminded her of visiting her grandmother when she was a little girl. Joyce’s grandmother always baked chocolate chip cookies when Joyce visited.
Joyce had made a pot of tea for herself and a pot of coffee for Neal. She had been at the coffee shop early that morning to buy a half-pound of freshly ground coffee. It was expensive for her taste and their budget, but today was going to be worth it.
Joyce was ready for the two of them to sit at their small table all afternoon eating chocolate chip cookies, drinking their favorite hot beverages, and talking. Joyce loved to sit and talk with Neal. They talked for hours before they were married, but never seemed to have the time to talk since being married. The double jobs for both of them, the rental house that always needed repair – the two of them did the repairs as the landlord never heeded their requests – life in general was always keeping them busy. They were always too occupied to sit and talk like before.
Today would be different, thought Joyce. Today everything was out of the way. Today they would sit and talk all afternoon. They would love it – this perfect gift she had arranged.
Neal was soaping Joyce’s car. He carefully pushed the suds around on the body of the car. You couldn’t rub hard as that would only grind the dirt on the car into the paint and leave tiny scratches. A few scratches were impossible to see, but over time rubbing the dirt into the paint left marks. Neal was too careful to scratch the paint. Joyce’s car would be perfect when he was done. This was a great gift.
Joyce finally got off the phone. Her mother had called and talked non-stop for 45 minutes. Joyce ran out of patience with her mother and finally told her, “Mom, I am doing something special for Neal this afternoon. Hang up, okay?” Joyce felt a tinge of guilt about being so forceful with her mother, but the afternoon with Neal was too important to her.
Neal, oh my God, thought Joyce. Where was Neal? What had happened to him? She had spent 45 minutes on the phone. Neal was to be outside only for a couple of minutes and then be back in. Everything was ready, the table, the cookies, the coffee – oh no, the coffee. Joyce had forgotten to turn on the coffee pot. She lunged across the kitchen and pressed the “on” button on the coffee maker.
Would Neal walk in before the coffee was made? Joyce worried about that.
But where was Neal? Joyce stretched around the kitchen counter so she could see the driveway without letting Neal she her. What was he doing? Joyce couldn’t see Neal. What she did see was the hood of her car covered with something white. The driveway around her car was wet and had suds on it.
What was Neal doing? Where was Neal?
Neal was on all fours on the cracked concrete. He was putting a special paste on the hubcaps of Joyce’s wheels. His knees ached. He felt a tinge of blood in his pants as he must have scraped his knees while crawling about.
It was okay. It was worth it. This was to be a special gift for Joyce. One last wheel and he would be ready to start the buffer. How long had he been at this? One hour. That was good time. This was going well. Joyce would love it.
Where was Joyce? Neal didn’t expect her to be out here crawling on the concrete, this was a gift for her and she wasn’t to be working at it. He did wonder, however, where she was. Joyce usually came out while Neal worked in the driveway. He could use a cold drink. Maybe he would go inside for a minute before starting the buffer.
Playing with her car. Why was Neal playing with her car? Neal said he would be outside a few minutes and right back in. He had been out there at least an hour. Maybe she would go outside to talk to him a minute and bring him back into the house.
Joyce had one more thing to do to make the little table in the kitchen perfect. She would empty the kitchen wastebasket. Joyce picked it up and went out the back door to the trash bin. She dumped the wastebasket into the bin and walked around the side of the house to the driveway. Neal wasn’t there.
Neal finished putting the paste on the hubcaps of Joyce’s car. He straightened his torso and painfully climbed into a standing position. That would have been easier by placing his hands on Joyce’s car, but that would be a disaster. The buffing compound had set up just right on her car. Touching it at this time would ruin it and require rework. The oil in your skin would be a calamity for the buffing.
Neal placed the rags he had been using carefully back into the trunk of his Mustang. Keep everything in the right place and the job will be easier. That is what Neal’s dad had taught him, and Neal lived by that concept. Neal took a deep breath and walked through the front door into the kitchen. Joyce wasn’t there.
“Joyce?” called Neal. “J, where are you?”
Neal first smelled it - fresh coffee in the coffee pot. This wasn’t the usual coffee Neal drank each morning. This was good coffee, the kind Neal had only at Christmas or other special occasions. Neal’s favorite mug was sitting next to the coffee pot on a serving tray. Neal picked up his mug, poured himself a cup of coffee, added cream – real cream sitting in a small pouring cup – and sugar. Neal sipped slowly. This was good.
Neal turned towards the large window. Maybe Joyce was outside. Neal’s turn swept his eyes across a platter piled with chocolate chip cookies. They looked good, and Neal reached for them.
Joyce walked onto the cracked concrete of the driveway. She stood next to her car looking right and left for Neal. Then she looked at her car. What is this paste all over my car? Where is Neal?
Frustrated, Joyce exhaled, slumped, and leaned back onto the hood of her car. She rested her elbows back on the car smudging the paste with her perspiration.
Joyce heard the front door open and turned to face it. Neal came bounding out the door with his coffee cup in his hand. Joyce gasped. The surprise! The coffee! The afternoon of talking at the table. What happened?
Neal came out the front door. Joyce had rubbed her arms on the hood her car. The buffing compound was smeared with skin oil and – oh no – perspiration. Neal would have to strip the compound and apply it again. This time with extra care so that it would set up like the compound on the rest of the car. This was going to be a difficult and delicate job. Neal tried to yell to Joyce to move away from the car, but he couldn’t. His mouth had three cookies in it and trying to talk only spewed out crumbs.
My surprise is ruined, thought Joyce. And on top of that, Neal had a mouthful of cookies. Those were special cookies that she made to be eaten slowly and luxuriously one small bite at a time.
With no other recourse, Neal spit the cookies out of his mouth, sloshed a drink of coffee and spewed that out as well. “Joyce,” he screamed, “move away from the car. You’re ruining my gift!”
Joyce saw Neal spitting her surprise cookies and coffee on the bare ground. “Neal!” she screamed. “You’re ruining my gift!”
* * * * * * *
Joyce wept. Her elbows were on the small table in her kitchen. “Why? Why did he do that?” she asked.
“He didn’t know what you were doing,” answered Natalie. “He just didn’t realize.”
Natalie lived down the street in another small, run down rental house. She was twice Joyce’s age, widowed, with four sons and two daughters who had all moved away to better lives.
“I fixed everything just right. Perfect, and he gulped it down like a hungry dog. He had eaten half a dozen cookies in just that instant. And then he had the nerve to spit half of it out onto the ground! Is that gratitude?”
“I set the table perfectly. Just the way I like it. Neal should have loved it – a perfect afternoon. And what did he do? He was outside playing with the cars! And to top it all off, he stayed out there and played with my car for another hour. The rest of the coffee burned in the pot. Playing with a stupid car while the coffee burned.”
“Joyce, he didn’t realize what you were doing,” consoled Natalie. “Besides, you know how much Neal loves cars and well-cleaned cars. He was giving you something that he loved.”
“Love? Cars? That’s silly. I want him to talk to me and love me, not play with stupid cars.”
“But Joyce, don’t you see that is what you did as well. You gave Neal something that you loved,” said Natalie.
“Don’t be silly. Neal knows what I love – a chance to talk. Neal loves what I love. You know that Natalie. Husbands and wives love the same things. That is why they are husbands and wives. I gave Neal what I love because he loves the same thing.”
“My dear,” sighed Natalie. “That is wishful thinking.”