Respite
To Daryl's surprise the man laughed softly. "Boy, I told ya I ain't mad. Ya got my interest peaked though. I know yer daddy and you seem to be cut from a different cloth than him. Or from yer brother if truth be told. Ya seem like ya want to make yer own way-unlike the other men in yer family." The man went silent and Daryl peeked up from underneath his bangs and was again surprised at the lack of anger on the man's face or in his voice. "Ya got a name boy?" the man rasped. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then held the pack out to Daryl. "Ya want one?" he offered.
Daryl hesitated then nodded and took one and the lighter offered and lit the cigarette and drew deeply. He hadn't smoked but rarely, having no money for cigarettes and so only smoking when he could scavenge a carton from a store dumpster. It didn't matter what brand they were, he found smoking calmed his nerves and helped him empty out his mind so he could relax just a bit.
"Daryl," he replied at last, sensing the man wasn't going to leave until he got an answer.
The man nodded thoughtfully. "Well Daryl, I got a proposition for ya. Don't need an answer tonight, ya ken take yer time and think it over for a few days. But I feel like my idea would benefit both of us," he said quietly.
Daryl tensed up, immediately suspicious. Nobody ever had an idea that would benefit him. He blew smoke out slowly in a ring and flicked the ashes before answering. "What is it?" he asked warily.
The man stubbed his cigarette out on the ground and motioned with his arm for Daryl to follow. "C'mon and I'll show ya," he replied and strode off toward a far corner of the dump not bothering to see if Daryl followed. Daryl hesitated a second then threw his cigarette down, stamped it out and hurried to follow the man.
They stopped in front of a rusted out wreck of a trailer-although Daryl noted it was in better condition than the shithole his father lived in. "I use this to house my night guard," the man stated, watching Daryl. "I guess you know I don't have one right at the moment." Daryl nodded slightly and remained silent. "The inside looks better than the outside. It's got 'lectricity, running water, sewer hookup. Got a air conditioner unit, heat in the winter. Furnished, nothing fancy but it's clean." Daryl nodded again, uncertain why the man was showing him this. "Boy, I'm wantin' ta know if you'd like to live here. In exchange for keepin' a eye on things at night," he continued quietly. "You can scavenge to yer heart's content for parts, hell rebuild or fix up any of the cars here and we can sell 'em cheap to folks who need a vehicle but can't make payments. I'll split the proceeds with ya."
Daryl stared at the man, dumbstruck. A job? A decent place to live? And he could work on cars or bikes and get paid for it if he got them to run?
The man watched the emotions run across Daryl's face and felt relieved he'd offered this to Daryl. He had told his wife about the situation-his wife had seen Will Dixon around town and had been horrified to find out the man had a teenage boy. She had nagged her husband constantly for weeks now-where did the poor child stay? How was he surviving? She wouldn't trust an old rabid dog with that old drunk. Finally she had wheedled him into thinking about offering the boy a place to stay and giving him some money to watch the place at night. They had never had children, and anytime his wife heard about a child in a bad situation she worried herself to death until she found some means of helping even a little bit to better the child's circumstances.
Now she had made Daryl her project and her husband knew if he didn't agree to what she'd proposed he would never again get a peaceful night's sleep. Or a warm meal. Or have his clothes washed and mended. It would be easier and far less painful for him to just agree to her idea and so he had. Now he just hoped Daryl would accept the proposition so he could go back and tell his wife good news.
"Would ya like to look at the inside?' he asked, hoping Daryl would say something soon.
Daryl just gazed back silently, too shocked to speak.
"C'mon, lets go in and see what ya think," he said hoping to jolt Daryl into making some kind of response. Daryl nodded again, as if in a daze, and followed the man up the few steps and into the trailer.
Inside he felt relief that the inside was indeed nicer than the outside. It wasn't fancy, but the furniture was of better quality than his parents had been- that having come from garbage day pickings and dumpster scavenging. This furniture was worn but clean and sturdy.
"By the way, Daryl, my name's Mike. Mike Anderson," the man said as he gave Daryl a short tour. There was a tiny kitchen which his wife had made sure to stock with dishes, glasses, silverware, as well as the bare necessities food wise-canned goods, bread, milk, eggs. Enough food to tide Daryl over until he could get his bearings.
The bathroom was small as well but clean, and stocked with soap, shampoo, towels, basic hygiene products such as deodorant, etc.
Finally there were two bedrooms, both small but one outfitted with a decent bed on an old iron bedframe, a battered but sturdy dresser and a small closet empty but for a few hangers. The second bedroom was empty. They returned to the living room and Mike looked at Daryl for any sign of interest.
Daryl kept his eyes averted and had the sudden urge to pinch himself. This couldn't possibly be happening. He must have fallen and hit his head and now he lay dying somewhere out in the woods or in his lean to. Things like this didn't happen to him. No one bothered to notice him, much less to think about making sure he was warm and dry and fed.
Mike watched Daryl and felt his heart clench in his chest. The sight of that young boy so mistreated and ashamed of himself that he couldn't fathom anyone taking an interest in and helping him made him glad his wife had kept after him to help Daryl. That Will Dixon or any parent could have so crushed their child's pride and self- worth made him furious and even more determined now to see Daryl move into the trailer and learn the way of the world in the right way.
Daryl at last ventured a glance at Mike and bit his lip anxiously. He so wanted to accept the offer, to stay in this warm, dry, clean trailer out of the elements -to eat, sleep, take a shower with hot water. But what if it was a trick? What if there was more to it than this? Daryl had learned from his father not to ever expect anything good from anyone. That he wasn't worth anyone troubling themselves over-not his father and certainly not perfect strangers.
Seeing his hesitation, Mike felt his chest ache even more at the thought of what this young boy's life must have been like.
"I'll tell ya what Daryl. If you'd like, ya can stay here tonight and see if ya feel comfortable. In the morning when I get to the yard here we can talk. If ya don't feel good about staying, that's fine. No harm, no foul. The offer to work on cars and such and us splitting the profits will still be on the table. If ya want to help me watch the dump some nights, that offer still stands as well. Any part of it, or all of it. It's up to you. Is that alright?"
Daryl finally nodded slowly and Mike let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Daryl reminded him of a feral cat he'd once found in the dump. He had worked patiently for months for that cat to trust him enough to let him get close to it and then a few more months before the cat would let him pet it. His patience had paid off, the cat becoming a beloved pet for the next twelve years until he died peacefully in his perch in the dump office. Mike hoped that with patience Daryl would learn to trust both him and his wife enough that he would stay on here and let them help him.
"Do you need me to take you to your place and get anything?" Mike asked hesitantly. Daryl frowned and flushed with embarrassment.
"Naw," he stammered out quickly.
Mike said another round of thanks silently to his wife, who had insisted on stocking the dresser with some clean clothes she thought might fit the boy. The clothes Daryl had on were filthy and ragged and should be thrown away as they were beyond repair.
"Okay, well I'm gonna get. There's clothes in the dresser, they should be close to fittin' ya. I'll leave ya ta get settled in here and I'll come knock when I get here to open in the morning-close ta eight or so," and with that Mike raised a hand in goodbye and stepped back out into the night, closing the door firmly behind him.
Daryl stood taking everything in silently for a few minutes before giving himself a shake and crossing to the door. He checked the lock and dead bolted it. He took his shoes off and left them by the door then padding quietly down the hall to the bathroom he carefully shucked his clothes and left them in a neat pile in the hallway. He stepped into the bathroom, avoiding a glance at the mirror. Shame of his body and appearance had been so deeply instilled in Daryl that he avoided any glimpse of himself. His father had let him know pretty much daily that he was an ugly bastard, would most likely never get a woman because no decent woman or even a drunken whore would want an ugly scarred freak like himself. He also had been told frequently that in the dick department he was sorely lacking, his father frequently laughingly telling his friends how small and withered Daryl was-yet another example of how Daryl couldn't possibly be his son-his own dick being a source of pride for its appearance and his prowess in using it.
Daryl quickly stepped into the shower and turned it on as hot as he could stand it, then stepped under the steaming stream and sighed. He stood silently, letting the water pound him and watched absently as the dirt poured off him and the water changed from brown to clear. He quickly scrubbed his hair and rinsed until it squeaked and then soaped up and rinsed off. When the water at last turned cool he turned the stream off and stepped out to towel off, grabbing a towel from a stack that had been neatly folded and placed on a small shelf.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he wandered into the furnished bedroom and lay down on the bed, sighing again at how comfortable it was. He'd been sleeping on blankets piled on the ground for years now, he'd forgotten what an actual bed felt like. He leaned back and stretched and shifted about until he was comfortable, then closed his eyes to think.