Fiction Short Story

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Fiction Short Story

by Charlene Kesee

Butterfly

Mavis buttoned the back of her skirt and twisted it so that the seams were straight along the sides. Turning sideways, she checked her appearance one final time in the full-length mirror. There was no denying it. She was fifty-five years old. She felt fifty-five, at least this was the way she imagined a fifty-five-year-old woman would feel. And according to the reflection she saw before her, she looked fifty-five.

With each birthday came another year’s acceptance of still being a widow—this birthday, a widow six years after her husband’s death. It meant her kids were getting older and less dependent on her with each passing day. It meant she, too, was getting old.

Mavis grabbed her purse and headed out the front door. As she drove onto the freeway entrance ramp, she noticed the sluggish feel of her car.

“Not again,” she told herself, trying to shrug off the reality that she might be stranded. She guided her car to the shoulder of the road and rubbed her forehead in aggravation, staring at the white smoke spewing from the hood of her car. This was the third time in two weeks her car had given her trouble. Sighing, she got out and lifted the hood. “I can’t believe this is happening again,” she said to herself. She had put so much money into auto repairs over a six-month period that it would have probably made more sense to just buy a new vehicle.

Mavis had debated over whether or not it would be practical to buy a new car at this point in her life. She had just paid off a stack of credit cards and vowed to cut them into tiny pieces. Her bank account wasn’t exactly impressive and she had a mortgage to consider.

Just as she was about to whip out the phone number of the wrecker service that had been towing her on a regular basis lately, a tow truck pulled up behind her and parked on the shoulder.

The tall man stepped out of the truck and walked toward Mavis. As he got closer, he removed his sunglasses and she could see his brown eyes beneath the bill of the baseball cap.

”I see you got a little radiator problem,” he announced in a boyish voice. He pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket and used it to remove the radiator cap, causing even more steam and smoke to shoot out of it.

”I guess so. I had it repaired a few weeks ago. I don’t think they did a good job.”

”Obviously.” He continued to dig around under her hood. “You’re gonna need a new radiator.”

That was not what she wanted to hear. “Great. How much is that going to cost me?”

“For this car, about six hundred dollars. I can tow you to my shop and have our mechanics put the new radiator in for you by the end of the day.”

Six hundred dollars was a stretch but she nodded in agreement, knowing she needed her car to be operational so she could get to and from work. Mavis grabbed her lab coat and other belongings from inside the car while he hooked her car up to the back of his wrecker. What a perfect day for this to be happening. If there was anything to make her birthday any brighter, it was this.

Once the car was lifted onto the truck, the young man jumped in the driver’s seat and instructed her to take a seat on the passenger side. Not too thrilled about having to sit in the dirty truck, she hesitantly got in. The seats were not immaculate like the interior of her car.

He pulled onto the road at full speed, causing Mavis to jerk.

“So, you are a doctor?” he asked noticing her lab coat draped over her lap.

“Medical assistant,” she corrected.

“What are you doing driving a piece of junk like this?” Her non-response was a sign that she didn’t have much a sense of humor. “Sorry, ma’am.”

She frowned and shook her head.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Please don’t call me ma’am,” she snapped. “I’m not that old.”

“Sorry, Mrs.”

“Mavis Singleton.”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Singleton. I’m Reginald.” He extended his hand for her to shake and she noticed the oil and grease beneath his fingernails. Slowly she shook his hand, feeling the rough calluses, a sign that he was a hard worker. She didn’t see that much in young men these days.

The radio was playing in the truck and Reginald sang along with the song that played, at times whistling with the music. He was much different from the previous drivers that had towed her car. None of them had been too cheerful with her.

“So, where do you work?”

“I work in a physical therapy clinic.”

His eyes widened and he flashed her a dimpled grin. “I need to come see you,” he laughed. “I hurt my leg just the other day.”

Mavis laughed and he smiled back at her. “Yeah, right.”

“Seriously. I’ve got pains here and here.” He pointed to random spots on his leg, bringing a smile to her face.

“Well, here’s my card and you can call my office for an appointment.” She handed him a business card she’d made on her computer and he tucked it in his front pocket and patted his chest.

“I’ll do that.” He looked over at her and noticed the preoccupied disturbed expression on her face. “It’s not that bad, you know.”

She looked over at him. “What?”

“We may be able to fix your car for cheaper than six hundred dollars, if you’re worried about money.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then why the long face?”

Taking a deep breath, she suddenly felt overwhelmed and fought back the feeling of doom she was experiencing. “Today’s my birthday.”

“Really?” He broke into a playful rendition of ‘Happy Birthday To You’ and Mavis couldn’t help blushing. “You don’t look like someone celebrating a birthday.”

“I’m not really in a celebrating mood,” she answered.

“C’mon, why not? You’re not letting a little car problem ruin your spirits, are you?”

She shook her head. “The car problem just proved to me that I’m too old to deal with this kind of stress.” She felt the tears in her eyes and couldn’t figure out why she was so emotional.

“How old are you today?”

“I’m not telling! How old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” he announced, and she burst out laughing.

“Well, I don’t want to sound like a pervert but I would be honored to have a beautiful and mature woman like you by my side.” He leaned over and stroked the top of her hand.

“Young man, I’m old enough to be your mother!” she laughed. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I think you’re looking at getting older as a bad thing.” Reginald pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the truck. “Can I call you Mavis?”

“Sure, it’s better than ma’am.”

“Mavis, aging is beauty in progress. When you’re young, you’re in the cocoon stage of your life. You wait to mature and the world waits for you to emerge. When you do make your appearance, you become this gorgeous butterfly. That’s what you are right now, a butterfly that has emerged from its cocoon.”

Mavis couldn’t believe that such beautiful words had come from this young man. He gave her a new outlook on her life and her age.

When they pulled up to the garage, Reginald lowered Mavis’ car from its secured spot on the back of his truck. “If you hang on a minute, I’ll drive you to your office.”

“What time do you think my car will be ready?”

“Around five. We should have the parts from the distribution center by then. Will you need me to pick you up this afternoon?”

“Is that an additional cost?”

He shook his head. “Let’s just say you qualify for our discounted service today. So, transportation, if needed, is free,” he said, winking at her.

“How nice of you to offer such good service to your customers.”

He turned the bill of his cap around backwards and she could really see his eyes. “I don’t do this for everyone, only birthday girls.”

She felt her cheeks grow red from blushing. “Well, I guess we will become friends after all.” She realized she was flirting with this young man and it felt good.

“Real good friends,” he whispered, winking at her again. “That’s if you’re willing to get me an appointment at your clinic.”

“I think we have room for one more patient,” she teased.

When Reginald dropped Mavis off at her clinic, he blew his horn at her as he drove off and she waved back. It felt good to be fifty-five.

Copyright © 2004 Charlene Kesee

About the Author
Charlene has been writing both fiction and nonfictions for over thirteen years. Her fiction has appeared in the Houston Chronicle's Texas Magazine and in various smaller print and online publications. She has freelanced for several local area newspapers and is currently working on her first romance novel.