52. 1980s
“Two creams, two sugars, right?”
Fresh out of the shower, on wobbly legs, Theresa looked surprised to find him in the kitchen making coffee.
Last night Jason collected his bike from the front of the motel, then collected Theresa from the front of the diner and driven through the wet streets of Springfield to her clean, one-bedroom rental house, kissing her as soon as they got inside the door.
“You remembered.” She smiled into the mug he offered her.
“Want a ride to work?”
Another surprise. He expected her to turn it down, knowing the other waitresses would tear her apart, but he hoped she didn’t because he missed the feel of her at his back and it was a short drive, which was all the Panhead seemed capable of doing since clunking into Ohio on its last leg.
After he dropped her off at the Springfield Sip, he didn’t have anywhere to be, so he sputtered back to her place to catch a few winks. He ended up sleeping the whole day, then showered and sputtered back to the diner to pick up Theresa, who looked genuinely shocked to see him pull up.
“What? You think I’d leave you without a ride?” he asked.
She hitched her skirt up and climbed on the back. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” she said.
“Not today, honey.”
On the third morning of the same he felt the itch in his bones. It was time to go.
Jason put on a pot of coffee, drove Theresa to work, and went back to her place to shower and collect his things.
When he opened the cabinet below the sink for a towel, he noticed the door was off its hinge.
He found a screwdriver in a drawer in the kitchen and tightened the screw.
There was another loose hinge on the closet in the hall, and a half dozen in the kitchen.
Sure he’d gotten them all, Jason looked out the window at the Panhead in the driveway and couldn’t make sense of why it was driving like shit, but what he could do was change the light bulb in the hall and the one outside the front door and sit down with a beer after all his hard work until Theresa’s shift was over.
She came out and ran into his arms, almost knocking him off his bike.
“You okay?” he asked into her hair. She smelled of cooking grease, coffee, and sweet magnolias.
“Get me out of here,” she whispered.
Jason glared at the waitresses watching through the window and helped Theresa with her helmet.
The ride home revived her. She slid into a pair of tight jeans and a crop top, and they took her car to a dive bar to meet her friends, who also wore tight jeans and crop tops and went wild for Van Halen on the jukebox.
They sucked down light beer and lapped Jason up, and he kept a hand on Theresa’s waist to make sure she knew who he really wanted, even if he was an impossible flirt.
After her third drink, Jason ran his fingertips up her back to her neck and threaded his fingers into her hair.
She stiffened and he put his mouth to her ear. “Remember what I did last night with my hands? Tonight I’m going to do it with my tongue.”
She flushed, and he didn’t think it was the alcohol. Jason made good on his promise on her kitchen floor.