“When I graduated from high school, I didn’t win that. My grades were from so many different schools that they had trouble calculating what my average should have been, and then I did have one A-minus. I really, really wanted it but I didn’t get it.” That was something that I’d never be able to add to my list of accomplishments.
“Are you telling me this so that I don’t feel bad?”
“Yes, and also so that you would see that I understand a little about disappointments. Obviously, it’s not the same thing.” I missed out on an award, but he missed out on a career that would have settled him in the lap of luxury for the rest of his life, if he invested well and didn’t squander his paychecks online gambling. “I’m sorry I brought up any of it.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, but he was a lot quieter than usual as he drove me home, and he definitely wasn’t smiling as much as he usually did. I had made him unhappy.
“I won’t come by tomorrow,” I said as I got out of the car. I could open the door myself from the inside.
“Why?” Ronan asked. “Because you think I’m mad again?”
“Yes, because I made you upset by acting like a bi—”
“No, don’t say that word. I’m not upset and you can come over whenever you want. No, you know what? Text me before you do.”
“If you have other plans—”
“I want to know when you’ll be on the road in case the belt gives it up,” he told me. He gave me his address and then also gotout. “I’m walking you to your apartment,” he explained when I hesitated and stared at him. He did that and then said good night, and I did him a favor back by watching him return to the SUV/car. Not that this was a dangerous area and not that anyone with a brain cell would choose him for a target, but I wanted to reciprocate.
I texted him the next morning before I realized what time it was. I had the habit of getting up early and it was hard to break on weekends even when I wanted to sleep more, since the days were so long already. But after a minute or two, Ronan answered and said to come on by.
He lived on a nice street. I looked at the Victorian-style houses that I passed and I found myself a little surprised, because I had thought he’d have a more…garage-like place? I had been imagining something industrial or more “single guy,” like a grey and white townhouse in a block of other grey and white townhouses. But the address was correct because he stood outside in the driveway and waved me toward the back when I drove in. There was a detached building there that probably had held horses or a carriage at one point, but the doors were open and I could see tools and what looked like some kind of lift.
“Hi,” he told me. He looked freshly bathed again, which I (again) thought was weird if he was going to be crawling around an engine. But I planned to help him, and I myself had spent half an hour drying my hair.
“Hi,” I answered. “You really don’t have to spend your day off doing the same job.”
“Yeah, but you already paid me. Our dinner last night,” he clarified, when I didn’t understand.
“We split the check.”
“I got the pleasure of your company,” he said. “Come inside and sit down for a minute so I can get more of that. I’m making breakfast.”
He was making a huge spread, which he explained by saying that he’d just gone for a run and worked out. Besides the amount of food and his apparent cooking skills, I was also interested in his house. It was so nice, almost like the videos I’d been watching made by men and women who were actual decorating specialists. His couch had great pillows and there were interesting pictures on his walls, too, which I realized I might have needed on mine. The colors were pretty—how had he picked those? How had he made it all so homey but also like it was décor?
I asked that.
“Uh, I’ve been here for a while and I plan to stay at least until I retire from football. I wanted to be happy where I live, so I got stuff I like. Does that make sense?”
It didn’t answer the question of how he made it look so good but I nodded. I declined breakfast, though, and watched him eat instead. It took a lot less time than I would have thought for that quantity, and then we went to work on my car.
I had done that plenty of times by myself, but I found it to be a lot more fun with someone else. Ronan was patient and, unlike when I’d helped my dad with projects, he didn’t get angry when Idid something wrong or didn’t immediately understand what he was telling me to do. “Timing belts are a pain in the ass,” he said when I couldn’t get a bolt off. “Let me give it a whirl.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for doing all of this.”
“I love replacing these.”
“You just said they were a pain in the ass,” I reminded him.
“Did I?” He worked for another moment and then mentioned something unrelated to my engine. “I could make some changes for myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I should be working out more anyway,” he told me. “I should be eating better.”
“You had an amazing breakfast,” I said. “So much fruit and whole-grain stuff.”
“Yeah. I should be eating that all the time if I want to have any longevity in football.”
