Becca

  Becca

  Dean Krystek

  ©2012 Dean Krystek

  All Rights Reserved

  For Janet

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  One

  I

  Becca passed the service station many times before and she had never given it a glance. Yet this evening the young attendant, tall with unkempt long hair, caught her attention as he cleaned a car’s windshield. Her eyes could not leave him. Unwelcome emotions rose within her.

  “Hey, watch the damn road,” Greg said.

  Becca flushed. “Sorry.”

  “What the hell were you looking at?”

  “Nothing…sorry.”

  “Are you okay? You seem a little frazzled.”

  II

  Becca was distracted again two nights later on her way to the dance.

  “What are you looking at?” Gail asked her. “You should watch where you’re going.”

  “She’s looking at him,” Barb said, pointing at the gas station and the lanky young man standing next to a car as he filled the tank.

  “Him? Really? Uh-oh…” Gail said and caught herself.

  “What’s that mean, ‘uh-oh’, what’s that mean?” Becca asked.

  “He…reminds me of—”

  Becca held up her hand. “Stop right there. He does not.” She glanced in her inside rearview mirror, caught a glimpse of the young man, and felt a touch of melancholy so she took her eyes from him.

  “Geeze oh man, why don’t you just turn around and get some gas?” Barb kidded.

  “I don’t need gas,” Becca said.

  “You need something.”

  “Don’t we all,” Gail mumbled, and giggled with her friends. “But don’t let Greg catch you looking.”

  “I wasn’t looking,” Becca said.

  “No, you’re right. You were staring. Next time,” Barb said, tapping her friend on the shoulder, “bring a camera so you can take a picture.”

  III

  Bert noticed the girl when he walked into the A & P. Her ponytail bobbed and swirled as she loaded groceries into the bag for an elderly gentleman. When she finished, she favored the man with a smile that wrinkled her nose and spread her pouting lips. Ringing up the next customer’s order, she glanced at Bert and for a second they held each other’s eyes. As she brushed a few wayward strands of hair away from her forehead, a slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and then she turned her attention to the customer.

  When Bert returned to the front of the store minutes later, the girl glanced at him, and then quickly looked away. He took his items to a different line and watched her, but she made to effort to look at him again.

  IV

  Three days later, Bert entered her checkout lane.

  The girl smiled politely. “Good afternoon, find everything?” She said pleasantly and then took her eyes from him as she rang up his few items. Her face held traces of fading summer’s freckles. Her green eyes gleamed under long lashes.

  Bert said, “Yes.”

  Her head snapped up; her eyes met his. “What?”

  “Yes…I mean, yes, I found everything,” he stammered.

  “I’m so glad you did. I hate unsatisfied customers…or is it dissatisfied customers?”

  He shrugged. “Both mean the same thing, right?”

  She flashed a smile. “Yes, I suppose they do. Anyway, that will be one eighty-four.”

  He handed her two dollars and her long, manicured fingers plunked the change into his palm. “Thank you for shopping the A and P.” Her smile widened and Bert felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

  V

  The Mustang pulled into the station and stopped at the pumps. Bert set down his book and walked out to the car.

  The driver flipped down the visor and began adjusting her makeup in the visor mirror. It was the girl from the A & P. Her perfume wafted out at him and he enjoyed the aroma.

  “Hi,” she said not looking at him. With her seat pushed all the way back her miniskirt provided a good view of her thighs. “Fill it up, please.”

  Bert inserted the nozzle into the Mustang’s filler tube, grabbed some paper towels and the spray bottle, and started working on the windshield, doing the passenger side first and then the back window. Next, he set to work on a large insect carcass on driver’s side windshield.

  The girl flipped up the visor and watched him. Their eyes locked for a few seconds before both looked away. Bert redoubled his efforts on the windshield and the girl concentrated on the radio. A cacophony of sounds came from the speakers as she turned up the volume and ran through the stations at the same time. She settled on KQV, lowered the volume, and sat back in her seat.

  The windshield finished, Bert waited for the pump to click off.

  The girl said, “Hey, my boyfriend says I should have my oil checked every now and then. Can you do that?”

  “Sure,” Bert said. Checking the oil, he found the level was good, but the oil was black. “It’s okay,” he said, “but you need an oil change. It’s dirty.”

  “Oil gets dirty? Imagine that. I mean…who would think it was ever clean? Do you have a bathroom for customers?” She nodded at the small building.

  Her change of subject caught him off guard. “It’s around the other side.”

  “Suitable for a girl? Does it have a mirror? I’d like to check my make-up. Can’t see a lot in this rearview. How’s my make-up look? Does it need a touch-up?”

  Her questions came rapid-fire and Bert just said, “Yes.”

  She frowned. “What? My make up does need a touch-up?”

  “No. No I was answering your question about the cleanliness and the mirror.”

  “Oh, good. Because you never tell a girl, her make-up’s all screwed up, even if it is. Do I need a key?”

  “No. It’s open.”

  The pump clicked off and Bert reseated the hose as the girl got out of the car. He watched her walk toward the building. Though slim, she had great legs and enough of a jiggle to her rear end that he could not look away. Her hair cascaded down her back and shimmered under the lights. When she reached the building, she paused and glanced over her shoulder, giving him a quizzical look before disappearing around the corner of the building. He felt the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. He waited by the car, and the girl reappeared in five minutes.

  As she approached, she avoided his eyes, instead looking down at the pavement until she was a few feet away from him. Then she favored him with a sweet smile. “You were right, it was very clean. But the light wasn’t that good. However, I believe I look fine.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You’re sorry I look fine?”

  “No, about the light.”

  She flicked her hair back and pointed her index finger at him. “I know you, don’t I? You look familiar.”

  “You checked me out.”

  “What? Why would I check you out?” She sounded indignant, and put a hand on her hip.

  “You checked me out—my groceries.”

  She nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. That’s where I know you from. You sized me up while you were in line.” She smiled slyly. “Don’t deny it.”

  In talking to her, Bert found his words coming without effort—something that surprised him. He seldom talked to girls because he had met few who had wanted to talk to him. He had made a connection with her…and he didn’t want to break it, so he decided to play along. “I don’t recall doing that.”

  “Well you did—and just now, too. Like what you saw?” She fa
vored him with an exaggerated look of indignation on her face.

  He could not deny he’d stared, yet he didn’t feel she was angry. Her beauty attracted attention so she was used to stares. Bert was also the object of stares, only people regarded him with a look that was somewhere between disdain and pity.

  “I may have glanced in your direction,” he said nonchalantly, sensing she wanted him to say something witty.

  She shook her head. “You were ogling me.”

  “Ogling you? I don’t believe I’ve ever done that before.”

  “Okay…ogling is a harsh word. You were staring. Are you telling me you’ve never stared at a beautiful girl before?”

  He paused before he spoke, gathering his thoughts. She had a whimsical-like smile on her face and he knew that she enjoying this. “Yes, I have.”

  “Of course you have. All guys do that.”

  “But I wasn’t staring at you,” he said quickly.

  She let her mouth shape into a pout. “So I’m not pretty? You’re the first guy who would not find me attractive.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t attractive, I said I wasn’t staring at you.”

  “I don’t believe it…so, did you like what you saw?”

  “I didn’t see much.”

  “You’re saying you were looking and there wasn’t much to see? My God, do you know what that makes a girl feel like? That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “Then I take it back.”

  “Can’t. For your information, and so you don’t make the same mistake again, girls like flattery and compliments, not criticism.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  She opened the driver’s door and gave him an exaggerated pained look. “You’re a real smart aleck aren’t you?”

  “I haven’t been called one of those since I was a kid.”

  “Well, you are one.”

  “A kid?”

  She sighed and a veil of frustration passed over her face followed by a look of bemusement. “No—a smart aleck.” She sat down on the driver’s seat and he closed her door. “Why thank you. How polite you can be when you want to.”

  “You are very welcome.” He tried to avoid her eyes that had not left him. Normally he felt nervous when people stared at him. She was different—she wasn’t appraising him. He said, “I don’t mean to be.”

  “You don’t mean to be polite? What you’re rude and obnoxious all the time?”

  “No I don’t mean to be a smart aleck.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “What do you want to know my name for?”

  “I’m writing a book about smart alecks. Why won’t you tell me your name? You don’t like it?”

  He would make light of the truth she had unwittingly revealed. “No, I don’t like it.”

  “So, what is this name you don’t like?”

  He countered with, “I have three brothers.”

  “I asked you what your name was, not about your family.”

  “I know. I’m getting around to that.”

  “I’m in a hurry.” Her eyes dropped to the car’s clock and then gave him her undivided attention.

  “See, my brothers’ names are Matthew, Mark, and Luke.”

  She smiled. “Oh, so that means you’re—”

  “Bertram.”

  “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Bertram? Oh, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

  He shrugged. “It’s funny when you say it that way.”

  “Yes, but I shouldn’t have laughed. Can I ask why you’re not a John?”

  “You’d have to ask my mother that.”

  “So, Bertram—”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Not Bertram.”

  “Bert? Do I call you Bert, then?”

  He shook his head. “Call me Josh.”

  “Why would I call you Josh? Is that your middle name?”

  “Leslie is my middle name.”

  “So why don’t I call you Leslie? Let me guess, you don’t like that name either. But why Josh?”

  “I like that name.”

  “Why?”

  “It has a nice ring to it. I like the sound of it.”

  “I suppose it has a good sound,” she said. “You don’t look like a Josh.”

  “No? What do I look like? Don’t tell me you think I look like a Bertram?”

  “You’re definitely not a Bertram. You look more like a Leslie.”

  “Get out.”

  “I’m serious,” she said and crossed her heart. “I can’t help what you look like—I mean that you look like a Leslie.” A slight flush colored her face. “So, how about…how did you arrive at Josh for your…um…nickname?”

  “I told you it has a nice ring—I like the sound of it. You weren’t listening.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, I guess I wasn’t.” Her smile set her eyes ablaze and wrinkled her freckled nose, “I don’t know any Joshes, so I’m not sure I know what they look like.” She glanced at the car clock again. A frown creased her forehead for a moment, and then she was smiling. “I do know a Leslie, and come to think of it, you don’t look a bit like him, so I may have misspoken.” She shrugged. “You look like whomever you want to be, Bert—er…Josh. Anyway what I was going to say like a million minutes ago is that I don’t appreciate you staring at my legs.”

  “I wasn’t staring at your legs.”

  “Was it my butt?”

  That made him smile.

  “Ah-ha! You don’t deny you were staring at my butt.”

  “I told you before I wasn’t staring at you.”

  “But you said you may have glanced in my direction, so were you glancing at my butt?”

  He shrugged. “I guess you might say I could have been glancing at it, since it’s part of you.”

  “I knew it. And when you were cleaning my windshield you weren’t looking at my legs?”

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Why not?”

  “A lot of girls come in here. I can’t be distracted by every pair of legs I see. Legs are legs.”

  “Mine don’t distract you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Boy, you know how to sweet talk a girl, you know that?”

  “I didn’t know I was sweet talking you.”

  “Anyway…sheesh…where did we lose this conversation? Anyway, while you were cleaning the windshield you were looking inside at me. I presumed it was my legs…or something.”

  “It’s your imagination.”

  “Nope, I don’t think so. You were looking down at me—at my lap maybe.”

  “I thought you said I was looking at your legs.”

  “You said you weren’t looking at my legs, so I’m thinking it was my lap.”

  “I was cleaning that large bug carcass off your windshield, it may have looked like I was staring at your legs or whatever else, but really I was concentrating on the job at hand.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The job at hand?”

  “No…whatever else. That could mean anything. Was it my chest?”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t looking at anything.”

  “Liar. You said you were watching me just now when I was walking to the bathroom. I say you were staring at something when I was in the car.” The girl placed the back of hand to her head and leaned her back on the seat.

  “You stared at me,” Bert said with a whimsical smile of his own.

  “I did not.”

  “Yes you did. Just for second. What were you looking at?”

  “Nothing— Oh, I’m so confused.” She sighed heavily, feigning total frustration, but allowing a smile to form on her full lips. “Before we go through a whole thing about it, I may have glanced intently at you, yes. But only to determine if you were the same guy who comes into the A and P.”

  “Am I?”

  “Of course you are.” She pulled her purse onto her lap. “How much do I owe
you?”

  “Two bucks.”

  “I can’t believe I’m paying you. I’m insulted. I should just drive away.” She let him take the five-dollar note from her hand and took the singles from him. “Do you work here every night?”

  “Except for Fridays, yes.”

  “Wait, isn’t this Friday night?”

  “Well, then, except for this Friday night I don’t work on Fridays.”

  “So what do you do on Friday nights?”

  “Go to the movies mostly.”

  “Mostly? Is there something else you do?”

  He sighed as if irritated by her question. “No.”

  “You don’t go out? I mean, you know.”

  “By that you mean do I go out with a girl?”

  “Or a guy.” She smiled. “I’m very liberal. I don’t think that’s bad. So, do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Jesus Christ you have a short memory, do you go out?”

  “No I don’t go out.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t.” Can’t you tell why? He wanted to ask her. She stared at him and he knew in her mind that she had answered that question. A car pulled into the station. “Another customer,” he said and jabbed his thumb at the customer’s car.

  “Yes. Make sure you don’t look at anything but the windshield when you’re cleaning it.” She started her car. “Well, Bertram…er Josh, thank you for the gas and cleaning that glob of whatever it was off my windshield.”

  “You’re welcome. Come back again.”

  “I don’t think so. I buy my gas at the Sunoco. It was crowded tonight and I was in a hurry so I came here. But I probably spent twice as much time here arguing with you than I would have spent just getting gas at the Sunoco.”

  “Let that be a lesson to you,” he said.

  “Yeah…I’ve certainly screwed up coming here.” She put the car in gear. “Good bye, Bertram.”

  “Josh.”

  “Oh, yes, excuse me—Josh.”

  “Good bye—say I don’t know your name.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “What is it?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “You know mine.”

  “Yes, but I’m never coming back here again so there’s no point in you knowing my name now is there?”

  “I suppose not. But, I might see you in the A and P.”