1. Miller #2
I did the math and was surprised at the answer. “I moved to the Bay Area for college when I was eighteen, and that was eighteen years ago. I’ve been here half my life.”
Back up, crank the wheel, roll forward, gain an inch.
“Do you still like living here?”
“Yeah, I do. I thought about moving away last year, but I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Why’d you think about moving?”
I muttered, “Long story.”
“I’m pretty sure we have the time.”
Back up, crank the wheel, roll forward, gain an inch.
“I don’t want to get into it right now.”
“Okay, but if you—oh yay, someone’s leaving! This is about to get a whole lot easier.”
A car that had been parked in front of the pink Victorian across the street backed away from the curb. Since we were blocking their path, they did a reverse three-point turn into the Victorian’s driveway before driving off. We now had a lot more room to maneuver.
Collie whooped with joy, and after two more moves back and forth, we pulled into the garage.
I ended the call and pocketed my phone as we both climbed out of our vehicles, and he looked around and asked, “Do you have any tools? I think the only way we’re going to get them apart is to take off one of the bumpers. ”
I brought him my tool kit, which wasn’t much to speak of, but it did include a small wrench. Then we took turns trying to turn the bolts, first on his bumper, then on mine. They’d been rusted in place for decades though, so they wouldn’t budge.
After about half an hour of this, he slumped against his van and said, “I give up. We’re going to need a mechanic to sort this out.”
“You’re right. My guy will probably be willing to make a house call if I pay him extra, but he doesn’t work weekends. Don’t worry, though. I’ll call and ask him to come out first thing Monday morning, and your van will be perfectly safe here in the meantime.”
Collie looked disappointed. “It’s not exactly what I wanted for my first weekend in San Francisco, but I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“The good news is that public transportation can take you anywhere you want to go. You won’t make it to the beach in time for the sunset tonight, but you can see it tomorrow.”
He murmured, “You’re right,” but the look of disappointment was still there.
I felt bad for him, so I said, “There’s actually a great place to watch the sunset here in my neighborhood. Want me to show you?”
He perked up at that and nodded. I grabbed the remote from my sun visor, and after he followed me out of the garage, I pressed the button and shut the door behind us.
Then I led the way to Mission Dolores Park, which was only a block from my house. The park itself was great, but I’d brought him here for the panoramic view, with San Francisco’s iconic skyline off in the distance.
Our timing was perfect. As the sky turned pink and orange, he whispered, “It’s magical. Thank you so much for bringing me here, Miller.” When I glanced at him, he was smiling, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. I secretly admired the way he could let himself cry like that.
We stood there until all the colors had faded from the sky. Then he grabbed me in an embrace and said, “Thank you again. That was amazing.”
I muttered, “You’re welcome,” and awkwardly hugged him. He felt even tinier than I’d expected under that giant T-shirt.
Collie fell into step with me as we left the park. “I’m really sorry about running into you,” he said, “and taking your car out of commission for the next couple of days.”
“It’s okay. All I have planned this weekend is a baseball game, and I can walk there.”
Once we got back to the house, I opened the garage door so he could grab his stuff, and I asked him, “Are you staying in a hotel until you get settled in San Francisco?”
“Nope. Way too expensive.”
“Are you staying with a friend?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know a soul in San Francisco.”
“Then where were you planning to stay?”
“In the purple palace.”
“What’s that?”
He went into the garage, slid open the van’s side door, and reached inside to pull a string, which turned on a small chandelier.
Then he indicated the interior with a flourish and exclaimed, “Ta da!” The floor, walls, and ceiling were all covered with purple shag carpeting.
It looked like what would happen if you climbed inside a Muppet.
“You were planning to sleep in your van?”
“I’m planning to live in it,” he said. “It’ll be weeks before I can afford to rent a room, and that’s only after I find a job.”
“How, though? Does it even have a bathroom, or a kitchen?”
“I bought a camp stove before I left Idaho, and in place of a toilet—”
“No, don’t tell me.”
He turned to me and asked, “Is it okay if I spend the weekend in your garage? I promise to be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“No way.”
His expression fell. “Oh. Okay.”
“You can stay in my guest room,” I said. “It doubles as my office, but I’m not planning to work this weekend, so it’s all yours.”
Collie beamed at me. “Thank you, Miller! That’s really nice of you.”
“Yeah, no problem. Grab your stuff, and your cat.”
Now he seemed confused. “What cat?” I pointed at his Cat Mom T-shirt, and he looked down at himself and exclaimed, “Oh! Nope, no cat. Maybe someday.” I fought the urge to ask follow-up questions.
He dove into the van and emerged a few seconds later with a toothbrush, a packet of ramen, and a fat, plush alligator that was almost as big as he was. Then he announced, “All set!”
I couldn’t help but think I was going to regret this.