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Pawford Ch 1: Starting Fresh copyright 2011 comidacomida

I grew up in a small town. Usually one of the next things you hear most people follow that up with is "and I couldn't wait until I was able to go get out of there". Unsurprisingly, I was one of those people. My Granddad advised against it at the time but when you're eighteen you aren't exactly prone to listen to your elders... after all, what do they know?

I suppose most teenagers itching to get out of the small town of their birth have any of a number of good reasons. At the time, I figured mine was the best, and her name was Elizabeth. We met online, which, at the time seemed innocent enough. Between Elizabeth and an opportunity for some high quality big-city college education it only made sense: I was moving to Chicago! Even if the big-city turned out to be all I thought it would be, the one thing that didn't was was Elizabeth.

Between five years at CSU and three years working as a junior civil engineer for Cook County life took an unexpected turn for the worse. Everything I thought I had come to expect about about life in Chicago and my life with Elizabeth changed. Everything that had gone right and everything I had planned for came crashing down around me. It's a hard pill to swallow when you have to admit that almost a third of your life was spent following a goal that couldn't be reached.

I knew the only way I would ever completely escape the after-breakup drama with Elizabeth was to get the hell out of Chicago. Right about that time my Granddad's advice about me belonging in a small town came to mind. He warned me about moving to a big city... looking back I realize how right he was. Chicago made sense for school, but involving Elizabeth made things so much more complicated.

When it came time to get away from everything an ad for a civil engineer position in the small town of Pawford, Montana seemed like just the thing to help me get a fresh start. What I didn't realize about Pawford, though was just how much of a new life was waiting there for me... and I certainly didn't count on meeting CJ. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself; I'd better start at the beginning... my first day in Pawford.

It was one of those incredibly sunny days when you think nothing in the world could possibly go wrong. The sky was blue without a single cloud and, even though the day was hot there was enough of a cool breeze to let you enjoy both temperatures. I'd been on the road for several days and I was almost to my destination. Other than two interviews over the phone I'd never had a chance to meet my new employers and I'd never even seen Pawford, but from the description on the net and assurance from said employers that I'd love it, I was ready to step in and call it home.

Despite how many things were going my way, my car's mechanical health was not one of them; eleven miles outside of Pawford I found myself on the side of the road with smoke pouring out of the hood. I suppose I was glad that I decided to start on the road well ahead of schedule because it gave me time to spare-- not that I planned on being stranded for days on end, but because I'm the kind of guy who would start stressing if I didn't have a chance to unpack and, without knowing the kind of towing services available I had no idea how long I'd be stuck.

Being as small as it was, none of the roadsigns had pointed to Pawford but, thank god it was in the Google database. According to the directions I had, Pawford was 19 miles past the highway interchange (which, incidentally, was pretty much in the middle of nowhere). I'd passed the interchange about 8 miles before my car self-destructed, which meant that I was more than ten miles from town. I figured I was relatively lucky; any tow company in town would come a measly ten miles to service a client, right?

As it turned out, unfortunately, after getting the local towing company's phone number off of 411, I found out that apparently they weren't open on Sunday. Quite frankly, that was something of a new one to me... I mean, what happened if someone's car broke down on the way to church? (I later found out that few people in Pawford lived further than a mile or two from church and didn't have any problem with a little exercise). Nevertheless, I wasn't going to church and I STILL needed a tow. Without any other option I left a message on their answering machine and got to thinking about how I might get to town without the long walk. Was it possible to wait long enough that a well-meaning passer-by might find me and offer to help? It was worth a try.

Interestingly enough, I didn't have to wait long... but it wasn't a random passer-by; it was a tow truck. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to say since "Thumb-Lock Towing" wasn't supposed to be taking calls on Sunday, but I figured I'd start out with the most obvious thing, "Hey... thanks, man... I REALLY appreciate it."

The driver, a big rottweiler, waved away my thanks with a casual smile. He looked just like you'd expect a tow-truck driver to look; he was broad-shouldered and had the kind of casual bulk that identified him as a working Dog in more ways than just his breed. He was wearing a white, sleeveless undershirt covered in grease and oil that looked clean compared to the half-zipped threadbare coveralls he had on over them, and his 'CJ's Garage" hat, which looked like it might have once been red, appeared to have been dunked in a vat of a random fluid used somewhere in a car's engine.

"So..." I offered, "Guess you guys are working on Sunday after all?" I realized after the fact that it might have come off a little snotty, much to my dismay. Thankfully, however, the Dog didn't seem to pay my comment any mind.

"Nah..." he casually dismissed my comment, "If this baby isn't moving cars then it's just an expensive gas tank, right?" he gave the door a solid pat with his paw. There was something about the way he responded that I wasn't able to put my hand on-- just like my remark it could have come across as a snide jab, but the reassuring, welcoming smile of the Dog gave me the strangest sense of confirmation that he really didn't mind helping, and he realized that I wasn't trying to start any negative banter, "Anyway, let's see what we can do about that car..."

Without further ado, the rottweiler opened the door and swung down from the cab. If he was impressive sitting in the truck he was downright awe inspiring once he got out. It wasn't that he was a huge Dog by any means, god only knows you can catch some real muscle heads around the gyms in Chicago-- what was really impressive was that this guy had the look of someone who didn't have to try and pack on the muscle... it was just there and to heck with any other option.

"You're okay around Dogs, right?" he asked, flopped ears perking up just a little. The comment helped me realize I was staring.

"Huh? I blinked, "Oh... sure!" I looked away, "Just trying to figure out why you're not wearing a hat that matches your truck." It was the first thing I could think of to side-step the fact that I had been rudely staring. To be honest, even though I've always been okay around Dogs I've always been hyper sensitive about thinking that I was going to screw something up in the 'racial translation'. The fact that the truck said "Thumb-Lock Towing" and the rott's hat said "CJ's Garage" it seemed like fuel enough for a quick misdirection.

"Well... that's probably because I'm not Thumb-Lock." the Dog offered in a causal tone, "Locker doesn't work on Sundays." the Dog winked.

"Oh." I felt even more foolish, "Sorry. I just figured that... well..." I rubbed the back of my head in embarrassment, "I guess I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

"That's two 'Sorry's before I could even accept the first one." as the Dog passed he and gave me a hearty slap on the back, "Relax, Derek." and he went over to pop the hood on my car.

I ALMOST opened my mouth to ask how he knew my name, but fortunately my brain worked faster than my tongue-- I HAD left a message on their answering machine, after all, "So... you work for Thumb-Lo-- er... Locker?" I asked, following after him. I'm still not really sure why I kept the conversation going. It was either because I didn't want him to think I was one of THOSE kinds of humans, or because I didn't want MYSELF thinking I was one of THOSE kinds of humans. Either way, there was something about the rottweiler that gave me the impression that his opinion mattered.

The Dog leaned down to look under the hood, "No... actually he rents garage space from me." he glanced back over his shoulder, motioning to his hat with a grime-covered paw, "I'm CJ."

"Oh... sorry." I offered.

"That's the third time." he chuckled, looking back to the engine, tail nub wagging in a casual manner. I couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"Alright... I'll stop talking because if I keep this up you're going to think I'm either stupid, hopeless, or both." I smiled with a laugh.

"Nah..." he waved the thought away with a paw, not bothering to look back again, muzzle stuck deep underneath the hood of the car, "You've been on the road for a few days followed by being stuck on the side of the road for an hour... I can't think of anyone who'd be 100% after going through that."

The discussion got easier after that. CJ turned out to be a really nice guy and did just as good a job on my car as he did making me feel better about my crappy first impression. In the end, he didn't even bother towing since he was able to fix the problem right there on the side of the road. I don't remember exactly what the issue was, but it was one of those stupid things like a hose coming loose. Regardless, I was ready to pay him, but he held up a paw and declined.

"Come on." I insisted, "You're working on a Sunday. You came to my rescue. You fixed my car. You've been more than kind about dealing with my traveler's-brain comments. Maybe it didn't take any parts, but least let me cover your time." I insisted, "I don't want to take advantage of anyone."

CJ laughed at that, "It's not taking advantage if I'm offering, now is it?" before I could answer he added, "Tell ya what... if you really wanna pay me for my time, then how bout you pay me with yours?"

It took me a moment to catch on, "You mean, like an exchange of services?"

"That sure makes it sound official." he cracked a grin, but I could tell from the tone of his voice that I had the right idea.

"So... like... help you at the garage or something?" I asked, "I'm not really much of a mechanic, as you call tell with 'old smokey' here." I motioned to my newly functioning car.

"No problem." he answered, "I'm a control freak when it comes to my garage anyway... I don't take the 'grease monkey' slang seriously anyway." he grinned, walking back to his truck, little tail nub wagging with the humor of it. Despite the fact that the term could have been considered one hell of a racial slur, I realized he didn't mean it that way, so I pressed the issue.

"Do you want me to play janitor or what?" I've never been much for hinting and alluding, but I was actually smiling at the curious verbal-joust he was plying.

"You gotta let me show you around town." CJ answered, as he was climbing up into the truck, "Two beers," he held up two fingers, "two games of pool," he held up his last two fingers, "and some grub." he held up his thumb, "I gave you a hand, so you can gimme one back." he closed the door to the rig, "You're moving into the old Stevenson place, right?"

My head was swimming with the Dog's quick progression from 'savior' to 'mechanic' to 'debtor' to 'chum'... but 'psychic'? That kind of broke my brain, "The Stevenson place?" I asked, "How did you know I was moving to Pawford?"

"Short answer, or long answer?" he asked, resting an arm on the truck's door.

"How about the simple one?"

He grinned, "Well... you're heading to Pawford with a car full of moving boxes. This highway doesn't really go anywhere other than Pawford so it was the most likely answer."

I couldn't fault him with that argument, but it didn't explain the fact that he knew I was moving into a home that, believe it or not, had 'The Stevenson Place' listed on its legal description. Heh... gotta love small towns. "Alright..." I said at length, "So what's the long answer?"

CJ's grin widened, "I'll tell ya tonight. Meet'cha at the Stevenson Place at seven." and, with that, along with a hearty, full-arm wave out the window, the Dog drove off.

* * * * * *

The afternoon went by smoothly, if fast, and I had a chance to get the car unloaded. Not everything was exactly where I wanted it, but at least it was in doors and I could say with certainty that I made it. The Stevenson Place had that 'western feel' to it, kind of like what you'd expect to see while watching "Little House on the Prairie", or something of the sort. Thankfully, however, it appears the real life Ingals (or the Stevenson's, in this case) appreciated phones, electricity, and, thank god, indoor plumbing.

I found out later that the house was owned by an older couple from Arizona that liked to spend their summers away from the desert. Apparently when all of their finances went south during the recession they figured they'd have to sell off the Old Stevenson Place to help recoup some of their losses. When it didn't sell, they arranged for the city to buy it back at a really good price and, well... that's how I became involved-- a job opening plus free rent was a great opportunity. I promised myself at that point to give the house a good top-to-bottom evaluation, but before that I had to unpack.

The hours passed in the blink of an eye. Between lugging boxes into the house and trying to organize a few shelves, cabinets, and counters, it felt like I'd barely had a chance to do anything. I was just setting up my drafting table when I glanced at my watch. The FIRST thing I did was almost have a heart-attack, thinking I was late. The SECOND thing I did was reset it to the correc timezone. I still had about 40 minutes until 7pm so I decided to make the best of it and give the shower a try.

Surprisingly, the shower was something more suited for a penthouse suite-- about 10' tall with a waterfall style shower head and enough room you could probably fit four or five people in it. (thank you older Arizona retirees). The most important thing, of course, is that it WORKED. Now, don't get me wrong, not ALL old homes have something wrong with them, but chances are better than not that once a house gets up in years things tend to go wrong; I was very happy that the plumbing was not one of them.

Once my shower was complete I got dressed in some pretty casual night-on-the-town clothes-- button-up shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I didn't know exactly how the residents of Pawford went about their evening hours, but I was pretty sure it wasn't with a suit and tie. With little else to do before meeting up with CJ, I went outside. Despite my initial reservations of thinking I was going to say or do something stupid, he had a ready smile and waved from his truck; seeing him show up wasn't all that stressful.

The night, interestingly enough, continued to be not "all that stressful". Even though I didn't know anything about the tavern I was taken to, CJ somehow made it casual. Even though I was put on display as "the new city planner" (not that it was what I was hired for, exactly, but that's how I was introduced), CJ made it feel non-threatening. Even though I lost both games of pool, CJ made it fun. Even though I paid for every last thing (my decision, I will point out, seeing as that bastard still tried to cover a few drinks), CJ made it money well-spent. By the time we were ready to leave, every last person in the bar shouted goodbye to me by name. It was a real 'Cheers' moment, I guess you could say.

The ride back to The Stevenson Place was much more lively than the ride to the tavern. CJ and I chatted about everything ranging from our games of pool to my choice in dinner-- apparently CJ was never a very big fan of fish n chips. It was playful banter... exchanging a few verbal jabs with some false insults thrown in, and it felt good; even though I'd been surrounded by people in the big city I'd always felt alone-- I didn't really have any friends in Chicago and, suddenly, on my first day in Pawford, I'd already made one.

Although our discussion meandered all over on the drive back, once we took the turn-off onto the dirt and gravel driveway leading up to the house, I finally had to ask, "So... CJ... you gave me the short answer earlier..."

"Huh?" he glanced at me out fo the corner of his eye, floppy ears perking slightly.

"About knowing I was moving to Pawford." I clarified.

"Oh! Right." he nodded, slowing as he came to a stop next to the front porch, "Well, seein as I'm a 'prominent business owner', the Mayor asked for me to be on the city plannin' committee. When Mayor Chase said we were getting a new city planner--"

"Civil Engineer." I interjected.

"When Mayor Chase said we were getting a new city planner," he repeated with a smirk, not bothering with the correction, "we got a brief overview. I figured I'd be on the look out for ya because I know how hard it can be moving to a small town after spending all your time in a big city."

"So he said 'Derek Sommers' from Chicago was moving into town into the old Stevenson Place?" I challenged him.

A wide grin spread out across his muzzle, "Derek Sommers?" he smirked, "is your name REALLY Derek Sommers?"

I nodded, "Yea. Why?"

"It sounds like a comic book character's name." he laughed.

I punched him in the arm for good measure.

He laughed louder, "Well... to be honest, I never did get your name... but with how few people actually move to Pawford it seemed like a reasonable guess... not to mention the Chicago State University parking sticker in the corner of your windshield."

I felt a little embarrassed about that-- had I really forgotten to remove the parking sticker from that long ago? "Well..." I said, quickly changing the subject away from my own knack for procrastination, "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome." he answered. Leaning over across the center console, CJ's muzzle brushed against my cheek and, before I realized what he was doing, his broad, warm tongue washed from the edge of my jaw up to the top of my cheek bone. It was more than enough to make me pause.

"Uh... you just licked me?" I asked incredulously.

"Yea. It was a lick goodnight." he responded in a casual tone, sitting back in his seat.

"Oh... I guess I've never really hung out with Dogs long enough to get a lick goodnight... Most of the Dogs I've known usually just do a nose-touch." I explained, glancing at him.

Without wasting a moment, CJ leaned over once more and pressed his nose against mine. "That better?" he grinned, a fraction of an inch from my face.

At a loss for witty comebacks, I really couldn't think of much to say except, "Yea... I guess." I glanced back at the Dog as I got out of the truck, "Thanks for showing me around. We'll have to do it again sometime."

He laughed as I closed the door, "Well, thanks for paying, Derek... been awhile since I had someone to pal around with, and longer since it wasn't out of MY pocket."

I couldn't help but smile at that one, "Tell ya what... if you're available every time my car breaks down then I'll be happy to take you out again in the future."

He laughed at that as he popped the truck into reverse, "You got yourself a deal." and, with a self-assured, reaffirming wink, he eased back down the driveway, shifted into gear, and drove away with the same full-armed wave he'd used earlier in the day. That's one thing I learned pretty early on about CJ-- he was predictable... consistent... reliable. He was the kind of friend I needed after what I'd been through and, thankfully, he was the first one I made.