Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Like what? Maybe I have it somewhere else in the house?”
“Only if you were a doll maker, too.” She chuckled.
“Dolls? Well, accordin’ to you, I probably make voodoo dolls while I’m livin’ in my little trash can on Sesame Street, that’s parked under a gotdamn bridge.”
She burst out laughing. “At least you have a good sense of humor. You’re a handful I see. Anyway, I’d need glass eyes, mounting forms, clay, things like that. But thank you for offering and trying to help. That was mighty kind of you.” She placed her hand against his wrist, and her eyes sheened with genuine appreciation.
Grunting, he grabbed the container and made his way over to the oversized freezer and refrigerators. Once the rabbit was secure, they walked back into the living room. The walk seemed longer than usual. Perhaps because he knew she was taking mental notes. Little pictures in her mind. He didn’t often have people he didn’t know in his home. It felt a bit like a violation, but at the same time, much to his surprise, he enjoyed her company. Moments later they were sitting down drinking coffee, chatting it up.
“You’ve lived out here that long? Really?”
“Yup. Eleven years. This is the third house. First one was just a temporary structure. That got me through for a while. The second one was just an old cabin already on the property that I turned into a house. It was crude and run down, but I didn’t mind ’cause it was just me.” She took a sip of her coffee, then nodded. “Then after the garage I’d built next to it to store my supplies and motorcycle was set on fire, I decided to just go on and make the house I really wanted. Besides, I mean this is my business. If folks knew the man that they were hiring to fix their steps, build their entertainment room, or screen in their lanai lived like a hermit out in the woods in a concrete shack, they’d think twice about hirin’ me.”
She snorted, and agreed. “Yeah, people would surely judge you for that.”
“…And I respect that.” He took a sip of his drink and set it down. “I just didn’t too much worry about it, beforehand. Things change. So do people sometimes.”
She looked into his eyes, then down at his black boots.
“Your tattoos are very well done. That’s not cheap. Your jacket is also expensive. This house, the quality materials and supplies used to make it are high quality. Your haircut even appears extremely professional, and look at those rings. I bet that’s good silver, and real diamonds. I noticed that you smell quite nice, too… Good cologne?” He didn’t have the heart to tell her it was lava soap. “It seems your hard work has paid off.”
“You checkin’ me out to rob me later?” She made a perturbed expression, as if he inspired incredulity beyond reason. He shrugged. “I wasn’t always this dedicated… bit of sloth behavior, I guess. I mean, I’ve always been a hard worker, but caring about the work, and the people… nah… wasn’t always like that.” She nodded in understanding. “Money is important, but not everything.”
“It’s not. I, for one, wouldn’t do my job if I hated it. The pay is good, but I need to love it, too, ya know? I’m doing this fifty plus hours a week.”
“You’re right. Time is precious. I’m at the age where I wanna be comfortable. I enjoy what I do, I love livin’ out here. Alone.”
“…Alone. I don’t like being alone,” she said in a low voice as she ran her hand along her knee. “A long time ago, I was alone, through no choice of my own.” She looked off into the distance. He wondered what pictures she was painting in her mind. “Now, my aunt lives with me. On my farm. She raised me… my mama died when I was young.”
“That’s solid. Taking care of family. Where do you stay?” His curiosity now shifted to super-drive.
“Off of Furray Road.”
’Furray Road? I gotta friend that stays ’bout fifteen minutes from there. You got land out there, huh?”
“I sure do. Bought it myself. It’s not nearly as large as your plot here, you’ve got a whole forest, but it’s big enough for me to grow all of my cucumbers, okra, tomatoes, squash, watermelon, bell peppers, and a few other things. I keep some. Use it for meals. I pickle some, freeze some… sell some a few times a year at the farmer’s market bazaar, and use the less desirable produce as compost.”
“You take care of all of that yourself? No farmhands?”
“It’s not big enough to need farmhands, and my aunt helps here and there, but she’s disabled. I do the bulk of the work. I’ve lived there for almost five years. Before that, I lived in the city. I’m good with my hands, and it’s peaceful… That type of alone I don’t mind. Me, in the sun, music playing or an audiobook, tending to my humongous garden.” In that moment, they had a quiet understanding. “I need a greenhouse built, though. Want to grow some citrus fruits.”