“Good evening, young lady,” he said. “Wasn’t expecting anyone in here. You got in just at the right time. I was about to shut the pumps down and close up shop.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” I said. “I’m doing a little cross c
ountry road trip and am gonna be sleeping in my car tonight, and I wanted to ask if I could park underneath your canopy there to keep out of this storm.”
The man turned and looked over his shoulder out the rain-streaked window to get a look at my car. “Sleep out there, by yourself? In this storm? Keep driving a ways to the next town and there’s a motel, you know?”
I smiled sheepishly. “Well, I didn’t exactly budget for lodging. Plus, I’ve got a cat.”
“Hm.” He looked me up and down and seemed to be sizing me up. “Listen, I’ll do you one better than the overhang. You can go ahead and park your car in the side garage here. Safer than keeping it out to the elements, plus you can let your cat roam around, too. I used to have an old cat, Pinky—she passed away couple years ago now, but I still got a bag of her kibble and a litter box.”
I hesitated. Of course I was thankful and surprised by his sudden offer, but… A girl on the road had to be cautious. He sensed my concern and smiled.
“Take a look at the place first and see what you think. If you don’t feel comfortable, I can give you directions to the police station. The sheriff wouldn’t mind you parking in the lot there. He’s a good man, I know him well. What’s your cat’s name?”
“Henry,” I said. I immediately felt more at ease.
“Henry can use all that stuff, if you decide to stay. How long you in town for?”
“Just till tomorrow, if the storm lets up a bit. Thank you, sir,” I said with no restraint of gratitude in my voice. I’d honestly been the closest I’d come to the end of my rope since those hellish last few days in Atlanta—even then I’d gone through everything with a kind of zoned out acceptance. Today’s events had really dug in deep. “I’d love to stay in the garage. You have no idea how much that means to me. My name’s Chrissy Seitz. Sorry if I seemed suspicious.” I gave him a sheepish smile.
“Reynold Golden,” he said, shaking my hand. “It’s nothing. I can’t have you sitting out there alone in this monsoon. Then it’d be on me if you washed away, or something.” He laughed. “Well, go ahead and pull your car in. I’m gonna lock up soon. You hungry, Chrissy?”
“I’ve got some food in my car,” I said. Really, I just had half a turkey sandwich and a snack bag of chips, but I wasn’t going to let the old man offer anything more to me, and I wanted to save as much cash as possible. I could deal with being a little bit hungry tonight. I ran back into the car, my pants getting doubly soaked as I splashed through the lake outside the front door. Henry had gone back to his spot lodged underneath the dash.
“Guess what, buddy? We got a place to stay tonight.” Henry just stared back at me with his saucer eyes. I started up the car and swung it over to the garage where Reynold was standing with his hands on his hips. He flagged me forward onto the car lift that sat in the middle of the small garage, and then pulled the rolling door closed. The place smelled of grease, metal, and gasoline, and it brought me back to the garage at my parent’s house where my dad would work on his car. It made me nostalgic, and slightly sad as I remembered that my parents had refused to speak to me since I’d come out to them. I had to wonder if Reynold still would’ve offered all this hospitality to me if he knew I was a lesbian. Thinking that way made me feel bad—I’d much rather think the best of people—but I couldn’t really help it. Small town folk tended to be on the conservative side, after all.
“Just a second,” Reynold said, opening up a tall metal cabinet. “I still use the kitty litter to soak up oil spots.” He pulled out a bag of litter and a rectangular box, and filled it up halfway with the stuff. “Kibble’s inside. It might be a little stale, but it should still be fine. I’ll be right back.”
I opened the door, and Henry finally poked his head up over the side to look around. His nose twitched as he sniffed, and when he seemed certain that everything was A-Okay, he hopped out onto the concrete floor of the garage. I slid the litterbox over to him with my foot and then crouched down next to it and tapped it on the corner to draw his attention. His yellow-green eyes were still wide and curious, and he slowly trotted over to the box, sniffed at it, and then hopped inside. I smiled with some relief as he immediately began to chuff at the sand to do his business.
“Things are okay,” I said to him, though really I was talking to myself. I walked around my car to inspect the garage. It had enough room to work on two vehicles, the other spot unoccupied except for a dark patch of grease in the middle of the gray concrete floor. A few long fluorescent tube lights hung overhead, and one of them flickered occasionally, a moth flitting around it. Tools lined the walls, along with shelves of spare parts, tires, jugs of oil and other fluids, and other mechanic things that were foreign to me. There was a small desk with a chair and one of those office water dispensers next to it. It was definitely a garage. Not glamorous at all, and the rain pounded noisily on the roof, but to me the place felt like a five-star hotel. I could even lay my sleeping bag on the floor if I wanted—it’d be nice to stretch out completely instead of sleeping in the front seat.
The door that connected the minimart opened, and Reynold came in lugging a big bag of kibble on his shoulder. I hurried over to help him with it. Henry, who was cautiously exploring the area around the litterbox, looked up at the sound of the food bag and meowed.
“Oh, he’s hungry, isn’t he?” Reynold said. “Do you have a bowl for him?”
“Yeah,” I said, and pulled out two small metal dishes from the back of the car. Reynolds opened the kibble and scooped out some food into the bowl, and then filled the other with water from the dispenser. Henry immediately went for the food.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said, stroking his back. He raised his butt up into the air and allowed his tail to slide through my hand. I normally would’ve fed him much earlier, but the storm had made it difficult.
“Well, I’m gonna lock up here,” Reynold said. “Restroom is back there. I’ll leave the door to the store open, just in case you do get hungry. Just leave a couple bucks on the counter. Another fella named Lee will be opening up shop tomorrow. I’ll give him a call to let him know you’ll be in here. I just live right down the road here, if you go east off Armstrong and then take your first left. Only house on the street.” He walked over to the desk and jotted something down onto a post-it. “Number’s here, in case of emergency.” He smiled. “Well, good night, Chrissy. I’ll see you when I come in tomorrow, if you haven’t left yet.”
I nodded and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir,” I said. I was in a slight daze from his kindness and willingness to help me. “I really appreciate this. Really.”
“It’s nothing,” he said. He left through the minimart, and a moment later I heard the roar of the pickup’s engine outside, just barely noticeable over the drumming of the rain on the metal roof of the garage. Headlights crossed over the small window slits of the garage door, and then it was just me, Henry, and the sound of the storm. Henry was still chowing down on the food when thunder boomed overhead like a bomb going off, rattling the metal garage door and vibrating all the parts sitting on the shelves. I winced and fought the instinct to drop to a crouch, but Henry must’ve leapt ten feet in the air. He hit the ground running and darted off to hide beneath one of the shelves, his eyes the only thing visible.
I pulled out the little towel that he had adopted as a bed, and laid it down by the front of the shelf where he was hiding. Then I changed out of my wet pants, pulled my sleeping bag out along with my half sandwich, and spread my bag out by the front of my car. I ate the sandwich as thunder continued to rumble and the rain kept up its relentless downpour. It was nine thirty, and I was exhausted. I stretched out in my sleeping bag, and thought about what the gas station owner had done for me. Reynold had let a complete stranger stay in his place of business, without even a second thought. A product of a time gone by, maybe. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to the way people treated each other when living in a big city. Whatever the reason, it was a nice change from what I was used to.
I looked ov
er towards the shelves where Henry was still hiding. “You sure are lucky you’re a cat,” I whispered. Then I closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
I woke up the next morning to the sound of the garage door rolling open. At first, I thought it was thunder. It had rocked the building so many times during the night that I had started to dream about it, but when gray daylight poured over my eyelids, I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. A robust silhouette filled the garage entrance by my car, and when the figure walked forward, I saw a man around Reynold’s age, with a full white beard and big belly. The first thing I thought was that he looked awfully like Santa Clause.
“’Morning there,” he said. “You must be Chrissy. I’m Lee.”