Wayne (Part Two)

Re: Who is with Taylor Sirard

Don't be silly, dear reader. If you haven't read part one of this post first, get at it right...



 ...here!

---

"Wayne is harmless," read the text message from Paula I received while in the passenger seat of his truck. She preemptively suggested it might be best for me to stay at his house that night if she and Sonny couldn't settle their dispute on the drive home. I didn't realize I wanted that assurance until it was offered. I've experienced less than ideal circumstances staying with older men before.

Past experiences were the only reason for my reservations concerning Wayne. He had always been respectful in our interactions. Paula's text offered some additional security, the majority of which usually resides in my intuition.

I considered all of this as I followed Wayne's truck towards his house. I pulled into his driveway feeling at ease.

Wayne welcomed me to stay in his guest room so I packed a small bag as he headed inside. I let myself in after him, noticing the home was still as orderly as I remembered. Wayne showed me to the bedroom. In the adjoining guest bathroom, a towel and washcloth were folded on the counter. I washed my face in the spotless sink, changed into my pajamas, and flopped on the queen bed like a starfish. Wayne never interrupted my indulgence, and I happily turned in early.

---

The next morning I rose early to prepare for the road. Wayne offered me the use of his laundry room and then agreed to me staying an extra night to allow my clothes time to air dry. After starting a load, I turned my attention to Bernadette. She was in need of a thorough cleaning before we could head to New Orleans.

I came back inside to find my clothes folded on top of the dryer. The thoughtfulness! When I thanked Wayne with a tone of surprise, he said he had plenty of experience folding clothes when Paula and her daughter lived with him.

From morning to late afternoon I cleaned, organized, and packed at which point Wayne offered to take me to lunch. We decided on a Japanese restaurant. On our way, we stopped at a store so I could replace some items lost in Bernie's mold outbreak. Wayne searched the store with me for the perfect shelving, and even tried to pay when we had found everything.

I refused to let him. He had done so much. I was taken aback by each new offering of generosity. I wanted to remain in a feeling of gratitude, but there was a part of me that wondered if I was accruing debt for the acts of kindness.

Our conversation over lunch was less than forced. We talked about Paula's daughter and Wayne's relationship with her. She went to college almost two years early, which is why he tries to help her out. We agreed she shouldn't be expected to be self-sufficient at her young age. He asked me questions about traveling, places visited, and future plans.

I was prepared for the conversation to turn uncomfortable at any moment. Maybe he would ask me a question too personal or comment on my appearance. Maybe he would share his love life with too much detail. I braced myself for some transgression of boundary that never came. Wayne remained respectful and appropriate, something I wish I wasn't shocked to encounter.

---

When we returned home I continued my preparations into the evening. As I replaced the floormats over the freshly vacuumed carpet, Wayne met me outside with two glasses of wine. "Have some wine," he said with the insinuation it was about time for me to take a break. Looking at the dark sky I agreed my work was finished for the day and lifted my glass with a small nod. 

After that glass came another, and our conversation flowed with more ease than ever. We migrated to the plump leather armchairs in the living room. 

For a long time, we talked about Hurricane Katrina. I had learned this was a common topic for those in the area. Thirteen years after the storm, the affected population referred to their history in two eras: before Katrina and after Katrina. Wayne told me the recovery work kept his family so occupied that shock of the tragedy didn't settle in for years.

Like most people I've talked to, the hurricane changed a lot for Wayne. He said the storm was the reason his marriage ended, his wife undergoing a complete change of character afterward. As for his character, pre-Katrina Wayne, "was always complaining--bitching a little bit." Post-Katrina Wayne had faced the fragility of life, so he changed his attitude. He made an effort to be a better father, spend less time at work, and help people (like me) in need. 

"If you could go back and make Katrina never happen, would you want to live in that world?" I asked him. Coming up with the answer caused wrinkles in his forehead and his lips to curl in. When he finally spoke, he didn't answer directly.

"I guess everything happens for a reason," he reflected. The final word was raised in pitch, leaving the statement with more uncertainty than it started. 

Wayne's generous nature started to make more sense to me. He spoke about how people came from all over the country to help him and his family rebuild their lives. Wayne wasn't helping me because he wanted something in return. For him, "it's time to try to repay," support he received back then.

---

We finished the bottle of wine and our conversation evolved into speculations and fears about the technological age. As I do when I drink, I announced my need for food. Wayne offered me his walk-in pantry, then made nachos in response to my indecision. We enthusiastically ate standing at the kitchen counter and our conversation had turned from somber to jovial. 

Wayne fetched spicy pickles from the fridge, raving for me to try them. I stabbed a fork into the jar, and we alternated fishing them out until it was empty.

I offered to make dessert and searched the pantry for ingredients. Drinking makes for truly inspired culinary creation. When I started sauteeing banana slices Wayne asked, "What ARE you making?"

"I have no idea!" I laughed back. The result was a peanut butter and sauteed banana sandwich topped with cinnamon and drizzled honey. We were equally surprised at how good it tasted. 

---

In the morning I invited Wayne to coffee at the restaurant. I wanted a chance for a formal goodbye to Paula and Sonny. They all made sure I was welcome back, should I return. Sonny with a job offer, and Wayne with a place to stay. Paula and Wayne both assured me I could call them if I needed help on the road. Somehow I usually feel most welcome as I'm leaving. This farewell was no different.

I was so grateful to have met them all. It's true, I didn't like Wayne when I first met him, but getting to know him changed that completely. This time I left a note for him, "Thank you so much for everything. People like you make dreams like mine possible." I jotted my number below, pinned under his windshield wiper, and left the parking lot. 

---

Thank you so much for reading. Click here to become a patron, receive exclusive content, and keep these blog posts coming!