Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero (35 page)

“No,” Jonathan said, and Collin detected a note of defiance, “some things you have to build, you have to become.”

Jonathan felt an unexpected relief after talking to Collin.

He’d only told a shadow of the truth, but it hadn’t been a lie. The outcome was the same as far as Collin need be concerned. Perhaps, when Paige and Hayden heard what he’d said, and that Collin had believed him, they’d stop worrying.

Had things been different, Jonathan would have considered himself blessed to have such friends. Few people, himself included of late, could spare the time to step out of their own little existence and express such concern for another. Few could spare the time to pay so much attention.

More rare, was a friend like Collin, who would risk giving an honest opinion about what he saw, even if his delivery left something to be desired. He’d still made it clear that Jonathan needed to reign in the things that were going to make him seem dangerous to his friends. He needed to make a real effort to pay attention to the face he let the world see.

He knew the ‘creepy look’ Collin had spoken of; he’d seen it staring back at him in the mirror so many times now he no longer thought of it as a stranger.

When they got off the bus in White Center, Collin suddenly seemed wary of his surroundings. The area was littered with gas stations, auto shops, nail salons, and convenience stores. They quickly turned off the main drag and started walking a few blocks into the neighborhood. Collin relaxed once they were back into what looked like normal suburbs.

Collin had been pushing to get Jonathan to go out with the rest of them that evening since they had gotten off the bus. What had been strange to Jonathan was that he was trying harder than usual this time. Jonathan couldn’t tell who Collin was pushing so hard for, Paige or himself? Finally, Collin had reminded Jonathan that it was Paige’s birthday, as he’d clearly forgotten. His resolve had faltered at that.

“Paige bringing Grant?” Jonathan asked.

“Maybe,” Collin replied.

“I don’t like the guy,” Jonathan said.

“Hate him,” Collin agreed.

“So, is that why you’re pushing this more than usual?”

“No, not the only reason. We told her we’d try to get you to come.”

“I thought you said Paige didn’t want to ask me?”

“Yes and no.”

“What?” Jonathan asked, getting confused.

“Yes, Paige wants you there, but not
just
Paige,” Collin said

“So, who else?”

“Your mom,” Collin said.

Jonathan’s eyes went wide and he spun in his tracks to find Collin giving a sarcastic expression.

“I’m kidding, Tibbs,” Collin said, surprised by Jonathan’s concern over a bad joke from the nineties. “The neighbor girl, Leah; she wants you to come. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that, though.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan replied. “I just freaked a little because I haven’t told my mom about school yet.”

“Hasn’t the school notified her that you took a leave of absence for the quarter anyway?” Collin asked casually.

“No,” Jonathan said, concerned by Collin’s tone. “Why would they?”

“I’m assuming she co-signed on your student loans right?” Collin asked. “Seems like they’d at least notify her.”

That this might be possible hadn’t occurred to Jonathan. He made a mental note not to delay following up on it now. Unfortunately, it was a Saturday, and there was no one to call until the work week started.

“I haven’t formally dropped out yet, they are giving me a quarter off,” Jonathan said. “I still need to call about it. I need to decide.”

Collin just looked at Tibbs like he thought it was a mistake. As understanding as Collin had been, missing a quarter was one thing, dropping out entirely was just stupid.

“I’ve been avoiding it,” Jonathan explained.

“Whatever, man. Your life, I’m not judging, dumbass.” The last part he said in a fake whisper. “What about tonight?”

“I’ll think about it,” Jonathan said.

The conversation ended as they reached the address they were looking for. When they knocked on the door an older lady answered.

“You the one who called about that piece of crap in the garage?” she asked.

Jonathan had $500 in his pocket. It was all he’d been able to pull together for this purchase. ‘Pull together’ in this instance meant that for the last few weeks any purchases that could go on a credit card had: food, training, supplements, everything but rent. It was the only way he could hold on to enough money from his actual paychecks for things he couldn’t finance.

“So he’s test driving it?” the old woman asked.

Jonathan nodded.

“But you’re buying it?” she continued.

Jonathan nodded again.

He waited on the sidewalk with Eileen, the old woman who had answered the door a few minutes earlier. It was semi-awkward, his presence there was more to assure her that Collin wasn’t stealing the motorcycle they had come to see. Jonathan being the collateral should Collin not come back from his test drive.

“You going to need to test drive it as well?”

“No, ma’am. If he says it runs fine, that’s all I need,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “Don’t want to be missing my soaps over this.”

They heard him coming long before they saw him. Collin pulled up on a Honda Hero from the mid 90’s. It looked like something he’d expect to see in a bad post apocalypse movie. Its original paint job was black. The fuel tank was dented and the paint scratched off. Whoever had owned the thing had dropped it going pretty fast. He could see that it had skidded to a stop over a paved road. The left foot pedal was bent from the fall but still usable. The seat cushion looked as though it had cracked from sun exposure. He killed the engine and pulled the helmet off.

“Well?” Jonathan asked.

Collin shrugged.

“Well, it’s safe to ride. It handles for crap, but it’s got a bit of speed on it. I can fix the foot pedal in the garage. I heard a rattle but I think I can fix that too,” Collin said, looking confident.

“Is it worth 500$,” Jonathan asked.

“Well, just because it might be worth it doesn’t mean I’d buy it. But yeah, it’ll run. Most of the damage is cosmetic. Frankly, I’m surprised you found this thing, and she’s throwing in the helmet and the cover?”

“Throwing it in?” exclaimed Eileen. “The ad said you have to take it all. I want the damn thing out of my garage.”

“It took a lot of patience and Craigslist searches,” Jonathan said to Collin, as he handed Eileen the money, then he held his hand out to Collin for the helmet.

“Wait, you expect me to walk home now?” Collin asked.

“Hey man, I asked you to meet me here, didn’t I? Anyway, I need to get Paige a birthday present,” Jonathan said.

Collin glared at him.

“I really don’t get why you can’t just borrow my bike,” Collin said.

“I’m thinking of making some alterations,” Jonathan replied.

He pulled into the garage and parked his motorcycle. On the ride home, he’d named her Eileen, after the impatient old lady that had sold it to him. He had to agree with Collin; Eileen wasn’t as agile as a newer bike. She was decrepit, damaged, and poorly taken care of, but none of it mattered, when the time came she’d carry him swiftly to his destination.

He pulled off his helmet. It too showed the marks of the rider that had taken the fall. Collin said he should replace it, that it wasn’t a good idea to wear secondhand gear. Jonathan didn’t have the money for that though. He set the helmet down to rest on the bike seat, and then walked across the yard to knock on his neighbor’s door.

Jack answered. He was still in pajamas.

“Oh, hi, Tibbs,” Jack said with a mischievous smile.

Jonathan frowned at the child. He’d been put up to calling him that name.

“Your big sister around?”

“She’s working in the garage. I’ll show you,” the child said.

Jack ran past Jonathan and out to the front driveway, the way all children do when they’re excited to be of help to an adult. Jonathan followed. When they stood in front of the garage Jonathan could hear the sounds of an air compressor being masked by loud classic rock music from behind the door. Jack indicated for Jonathan to pull up on the door handle near the bottom.

“I can’t lift the door yet,” Jack explained.

“Maybe now isn’t a good time?” Jonathan asked. “Sounds like she’s busy in there.”

“It always sounds like that,” said Jack. “She usually leaves it open. It’s just a bit cold today.”

Jonathan nodded reaching down to pull up the door.

Immediately, he understood how Paige had been incredulous at his not knowing what had been going on in their neighbor’s garage. Leah’s back was to him, her hair was braided down her back. She had on welding gear: a mask, thick gloves, and an apron that covered her clothes. When the door opened she turned to see Jonathan, standing beside Jack, with his mouth hanging open.

The statue sat on a platform at the back of the garage. It was almost completed from the looks of it. The piece stood tall, only a foot from touching the ceiling of the garage. It was made of steel strips that had been meticulously bent to form the contours of a man. The light from the open door reflected off the surfaces. It didn’t shine like stainless steel; it was a dark brushed metal. To Jonathan, it looked like a man holding a blacksmith’s hammer. She was still working on its last arm. The finished arm held the hammer. The skeleton of the other arm looked like it was holding a piece of unfinished scrap metal.

“Well, that’s the expression I always hope for,” Leah said after she’d flipped up the lid of her helmet and killed the torch.

Jonathan closed his mouth, pulling his eyes from the statue to Leah.

“It’s amazing,” he said.

She was pleased that he liked her art. It showed in her eyes, but her lips scrunched like she had just tasted something tart, and she tilted her head at him as she was prone to doing when she got curious about something.

“Oh, everyone says that,” she said. “What I’d like to know is what it makes you think of?”

Jonathan looked at the statue again. The question felt like she was a therapist holding up a Rorschach inkblot and asking him what he saw.