Scars and Hearts

The rain was pouring; I had no umbrella and became soaked from head to toe. Why didn't I listen to my father when he warned me to bring an umbrella this morning?

"Damn you and your stubborn ways, Tameka!" I scolded myself.

Here I was, stuck underneath a lonely bus stop at ten o'clock on this wet Tuesday night. A few vehicles drove by, but none were kind enough to stop. I was told the local buses stopped working at eleven, but I'm guessing because of the bad weather, they called it an early night.

"Just my luck," I mumbled.

I wasn't able to call a cab, or anyone, because along with everything else, my phone was also soaked and wasn't turning on anymore. There was no way this type of bad luck was normal. This had to be some sort of voodoo, I thought.

"Hey, you need a lift somewhere?" I heard a male voice ask, and I didn't even give it a second thought.

"Yes please," I responded, and jumped into the car soaking wet and all. "Oh my God, I'm sorry for wetting up your car," I said, apologizing to the gentleman, who was kind enough to rescue me from the storm.

"It's okay, I'm also wet, gonna have to get it dried out properly in the morning," he replied.

"Thank you for your kindness," I told him as I extended my hand. "I'm Tameka." I continued.

"No problem Miss Tameka, I'm Leonardo."

"Nice to meet you, Leonardo."

"Same here Miss Tameka."

I chuckled.

"I've never met a man who called me Miss Tameka before."

"Now, well, there's a first for everything, ma'am."

I widened my eyes and gasped.

"My mother's ma’am," I rebutted.

"Well, where I'm from, ma’am is a respectful way to address a woman, so I'm sorry if you feel offended."

I thought about what he said and immediately felt like such an ass.

“You're right, I'm sorry.“ I say to him.

"No need to apologize. Such a shame people these days are not used to kindness and polite behavior."

I didn't respond because he was right. But people hardly called women, madam or miss these days unless you were their boss or conducting business.

I turned my head and stared at him. He looked to be a forty-something year old Caucasian who had a nasty scar on his right jaw. This man wasn't cute at all. Not that I was admiring him or anything, but the scar spoilt his facial features. Judging by his messy attire and tall build, it was likely that he worked as a mechanic.

"So Leonardo, where are you from?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"I'm from Brooks Park," he replied, and I was instantly curious. This man lived a respectful distance from here. What the heck was he doing in Meadowville? I wondered.

"Brooks Park? what are you doing on this side of town?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't think I was being rude or inquisitive.

"I came to visit a friend of mine, was having a few drinks and catching up on old times when it started raining cats and dogs," he responded, sounding amused.

Despite the local hostility, I was thankful for his help, otherwise I'd still be out in the rain. And as I wiped away the water that had dripped from my hair and onto my face, I expressed my appreciation for his help.

He then turned up the heater in the car a bit and I was grateful. I was in the rain for a long time and was cold.

"So, where are you headed, Miss Tameka?"

"I live on Apple dim Street. You have any idea where that is?" I asked.

"No, ma'am, but I’m sure you can give me the directions."

"You sure that's okay? I don't want to derail you from your journey, as you have a long way to go and it's late enough as it is."

"It's fine, just give me the directions… I'll get you home."

I entered my address on his car's Google maps and didn't argue. I needed to get home, as I knew my dad was worried and waiting up, wondering if he should report me missing.

For the rest of the journey, I found out he was a forty-five-year-old mechanic (as I had suspected) with no kids and he lived alone. He had met in an accident when he was eighteen that left parts of his face permanently scarred. The drive was long, so to kill time, I told him a bit about myself as well. I was a twenty-two-year-old who lived with my dad and landed my first job as a pastry chef at the local cake store a year ago.

Google maps alerted us we were at my destination and I was so happy to see my house. The rain by now had eased up, and I saw my dad standing on the patio waiting for me.

"Oh, dad's out, he's such a worry puss," I said and rolled my eyes.

"He's a good father. That's exactly what I would've done if my daughter was out in this weather," he replied with a smile.

I didn't want to seem ungrateful, so I told him to give me his number so I could call and check if he got home okay. Of course, he was reluctant, and I had to dig deep to persuade him. He finally gave in and gave me one of his business cards. I told him thanks again for the hundredth time and exited the car.

"Who was that?" my dad asked as I walked up and hugged him.

"That was a gentleman who saved me from the rain and gave me a lift home."

"You accepted a lift from a stranger?" he asked, and I could see the disappointment.

"Daddy, it was that or being stuck underneath a bus stop while being soaked in rainwater for God knows how long.”

He sighed.

“You could have avoided all this if you had just listened to me from the get-go."

"Yes daddy, I should've listened, but I didn't and I got stuck in the rain. But see.... me.... here..... fine and all dry, thanks to the pleasant gentleman." I pointed out.

Refusing to wait for him to respond, I went inside and headed straight to my room. I was so tired and needed to get these wet clothes off me.

I stripped myself and headed for the shower, washed my hair, and scrubbed myself from head to toe. I came out, dried my hair, and braided it in two. Lotion my skin and put on my favorite nightwear, then I remembered I was to call Leonardo as I had promised.

Sitting on my bed, I dialed the number and waited for him to pick up. It rang and rang, but no one answered. So, I decided to try five minutes later, but until then I'll go get something to eat as I was starving.

I entered the kitchen and saw my dad eating pizza. Why did I even think he would cook something? My dad was lazy with housework, but he was a great cop. Dad was captain of his department and an overprotective father. This man forbade me from having male friends until I graduated high school. My mom and dad got divorced when I was fifteen, but she would still come visit me. However, three years ago, she ran off with her new boyfriend, and since then, I haven't seen or heard from her. She said she was finally free from my dad's twenty-five-year bondage and boy was she loving it. Similar to how he did me, he also restricted her from having male friends, and he gave only a handful of women the opportunity to dine with us. I

Although it made me sad, I understood why my mom left, as no mature woman should live like that. It was supposed to be a marriage and not a hostage situation. I had no choice but to endure my dad's behavior. Luckily for me, after years of practice, I had finally learned the art of dealing with him. I would zone him out as soon as got too annoying. The moment he begins talking, my mind would be miles away into another time and space, thinking about aliens and weird creatures, zombies even.

"I thought you would've cooked something," I said as I took three slices of pizza from the box on the counter.

"I thought you would've been home in time to prepare a good home-cooked meal," he clapped back.

I didn't bother to respond. My only reaction was taking an orange juice from the fridge and headed back to my room. Upon retrieving what was once my phone from my pocket, I realized it was now a dud as water had gotten everywhere. Even inside the screen.

"Great!" I said, rolled my eyes before throwing it in the dustbin.

Netflix was going to be it for me tonight. So, after making myself comfortable, I turned on the TV and searched for my favorite series.

After finishing my meal, I was about to go to bed, but remembered I was supposed to call my good Samaritan back. Picking up the house phone again, I pressed redial, and just like the first time, it rang without an answer.

I hoped he didn't give me a fake number, but then remembered he gave me his business card, so fake was a no-no. I prayed he was okay and made it home safe, though, as I would feel so bad if something were to happen to him. It would be all my fault because if he hadn't stopped to offer me a lift, he would've been long gone on his journey.

"Think positive, Tameka, he is fine, nothing happened," I whispered to myself, trying to push away all the bad thoughts that were trying to come at me.

I was about to go to bed when the phone rang, and I quickly answered.

"Hello, Williams' residence," I answered.

"Uh, good evening, Leonardo here. I'm returning some missed calls from this number."

And I was happy when I heard his voice.

"Hi, it's me, Tameka. I was just checking to see if you had reached home okay like I promised I would," I told him.

“That's nice of you, ma’am. But as you can hear, I'm fine. Made it home safe and sound,” he replied.

"Thank...." I began, but he cut me off.

"Miss Tameka, you've told me to thank you for over twenty times tonight. I got it. You're most welcome," he said, sounding annoyed.

And I cringed while thinking he must think I’m corny as hell.

"Okay, glad to know you're safe," I semi-whispered.

"Yes ma'am, now have yourself a good night."

And he hung up.

I knew I thanked him enough already, but I still felt like I needed to do something else.

But what?