Tuesday, April 24, 2007

THE DEAL

The folks at The Sunshine Shores Used Car Dealership watched as the old gentleman tottered down the street. "He looks like a gust of wind might carry him off," mused Dolores. His white seersucker suit draped his body, whispering upon his tenuous flesh, what little of it was left. Everyone breathed a collective sigh. They watched him almost flicker in and out of the picket fence as he moved past it and turned to cross the street. This was a special spot in the morning, a lull of expectancy hovered as he wafted toward them.

The Assistant Manager moved to open the door with a grand gesture. "Welcome to our establishment, Mr…" "Mathias, Benton Mathias." Their hands gripped each other resolutely. Then Mr. Mathias turned in a courtly manner toward the reception desk. "Well Miss, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Bowing to press his tissue paper lips to the back of her hand, his eyes met hers as he bobbed back up. They were clear blue, sparkling as through a looking glass, reflecting 80 some years of living. She met his gaze, saw his soul dancing.

She saw him as a baby, pulling himself up on his Mama's skirt. Saw him running out the door of his youth, letting it bang behind him. Saw him nervously kissing his first girl; kissing her again years later at the altar; kissing her lifeless cheek goodbye many years later. "Don't you look dapper, Mr. Mathias." She looked away, feeling like a voyeur, smiling at the crooked knot in his nubby azure tie. She reached out, lovingly, to straighten it. This was her Father, her Grandfather, her Uncle, her Son in fifty years. "How can we help you?" she asked gently.

He turned back to the rest of the staff as they waited expectantly. "This is the big day!" he announced, pride puffing some substance into his form. He pulled his checkbook from the inside pocket of his jacket with a flair of anticipation. "Today I am buying the car of my dreams." His eyes were drawn out through the window, to the old pink Cadillac parked in the lot. They saw not the scrapes, the dull luster of the paint, the worn seats and tires. "Isn't she a Beaut!" And in his vision she was. "Now let's dicker!"

The Lot Jockey caught the keys in mid-air. "I'll check everything out for you, sir, top off the gas." He grinned to himself, whistling as he pulled the car up to the door. This was the best part of his day, although he would never have guessed at such a possibility when he first took this job two years ago. Every morning he went through the same ritual, every day it thrilled him just a tiny bit more. He looked down the block to Mr. Mathias' bungalow, to the driveway this very car had left it's mark upon. He could feel the remembered crunch of shells under his feet as he quietly went to retrieve the car each day, at nap time.

Inside, in the crisp cool showroom, a deal had been made. The fountain pen was as much of a relic as it's owner. It wobbled a bit as the check was drawn and signed, wafted to and fro to dry the ink. "Well, now, isn't it a glorious day!" He beamed with anticipation and excitement. " I've always wanted to buy myself a wonderful car like this." He looked thirty years younger. "This is the best day of my life!"

"Let me drive you home, Mr. Mathias." The manager opened the showroom door and walked out with the sweet old fart. Dolores took the check, voided it, and opening the cash drawer, laid it in it's own special spot, with all the others. There was one for every day since Mr. Mathias' concerned children had brought the car in and sold it to Sunshine Shores. She gazed out the window, and in her mind she could hear the words spilling out of his heart as he bent to get into the grand old car. "This is the best day of my life!"

2 comments:

exotic bird said...

you're such an amazing writer hattie!! i'm so glad you started a blog!

becca

tootsturkeylover said...

Dearest Hattie,

You blog, I blog, we all blog. It's almost cosmically right.

Noush sent me your blog today. The very sweetest of gifts. I'll catch up from the beginning, as quickly as I can.

My blog: www.happyhellenist.blogspot.com

smooches,

dein fünftes Mädchen