hum of the TV draws my attention to the evening news while he makes the call.
“Charlie, hi. This is Mike over at Turtle Creek.” He goes quiet, listening to the phone. “Good, I’m good. How’s your grandad?” Mike nods his head. “Glad to hear it, I been meaning to stop in and see him… yeah I will. Listen, I have a camper here that’s locked out of her mobile home. You got anything to get her door open?” A few more words are exchanged, before he hangs up.
“He’s gotta run up to the shop to get a tool, but it shouldn’t be more’en twenty minutes.”
I rub my finger over my lips, “Thank you sir,” I mumble. “I’ll go wait by my RV. I really appreciate your help.”
“Damn it,” he curses under his breath. “Wait, you can stay here while ya wait.” He eyes the door leading outside, noting the fading light as evening slides closer.
I wince, not wanting to inconvenience him further. “That’s okay, I’ve interrupted your night enough.”
Mike rocks forward on his toes. “All right then,” he sighs.
I walk slowly back to my RV, stopping at the bathhouse before I clean up the items still on the stairs from my backpack. True to his word it’s not even twenty minutes, before an older blue Ford F-150 creeps up, stopping behind my RV. The door pops open, and a guy around my age hops out. He’s pretty tall, maybe around six feet. His hair is short on the sides, and a little longer in front. He flips his head to the side, pushing his floppy brown hair away from his face.
“Hey, you the one locked out?” He stops mid stride once he looks at me. “You’re the new girl.” He looks behind me, then his eyes quickly snap to the ground.
“Yeah,” I respond answering both of his questions.
“Sorry it took so long. I’m Charlie by the way,” he mutters, tapping a long thin wire against his leg.
I shrug, “I’m just happy you could help.” I clear my throat turning to the front of the mobile home. I make my way over to the driver’s door with him following behind.
“I was worried this wouldn’t work.” He holds the thin wire he was carrying up. “But, with these doors it should be the same as a car or truck, right? I hope, anyway,” he adds under his breath.
After taking one look at the door, he jogs back to his truck, before returning with a green plastic milk crate. He squares it up and stands on top of it. Charlie pulls a small orange blood pressure cuff out of his pocket, placing it on the roof. He slides the long slender tool into the top of the doorframe and wiggles it until it slips down in the door, then turns it so the top doorframe is wedged open. Holding it with his left hand he grabs the cuff with his right arm and shoves the orange balloon part into the gap. With that in place, he grabs the black rubber ball and starts squeezing, inflating the orange cuff so the gap widens enough so he’s able to use the long tool to hook over the pull up knob for the lock. It springs free and he woops in delight. “Can you open the door?” He angles his head down while keeping his hands on both of his tools. I step forward and lift the handle. He leans back enough so the door doesn’t hit him, then pulls his tools away before jumping down off the box.
For the briefest moment I think I might cry, I’m so relieved. Instead I close my eyes and blow out a deep breath. I want nothing more than to slide in the door and lock myself inside. I stop myself when a throat clears. “Bad day?” he questions after returning the tools to his truck.
“More like a bad year,” I admit hastily “Sorry, let me grab my cash. How much do I owe you?” Charlie stares at me with interest.
“Call it a welcome to town gift.” He grins and rubs the toe of his shoe over the cracked concrete.
I immediately shake my head in refusal. “No, I can’t accept that, please tell me how much I owe you?” Charlie pushes up his shirtsleeve and takes a few steps in my direction.
“Really, it’s no big deal, I wouldn’t feel right taking your money.” The moment the words fall from his lips I step back and drag in a breath.