July 18, 2013
Leah is at our rendezvous place before I come across the street, carrying a black box filled with the tools I will need. I’m glad we are neighbors, just in case I need to grab more tools.
“Hey, ” I say, approaching Leah. She doesn’t answer. Her arms are folded across her chest and there is a thoughtful frown across her lips. Her eyes look like Dad’s sometimes do, when he’s looking at pictures of Mom, like he’s in another world. “Okay, so you want the car to run quieter?”
“Yeah,” Leah says, coming out of her trance. She turns around to watch as I lift the hood.
The job only takes about fifteen minutes and I finish with a yawn. “Okay, try that.”
Leah opens the driver’s side door and sits with her legs outside the car. The engine starts quietly and I smile at its purr. When it stops and Leah gets out, I can see even in the limited light that she’s smiling too.
“Thanks, Jacob, ” she says sincerely.
“No problem. It was my pleasure.”
I pack up my tools and say goodnight before heading back across the street. My work seemed to make her happy but I can’t imagine why she would want the engine quieter. Leah is definitely a puzzling person.