Becoming My Mother

Kyle

He was sweet. He was simple. He didn't decorate himself the way I did. He didn't find it appropriate to be shy. He greeted everyone warmly. Respectful, would be the right word. There are a lot of  bombastic words  I could use to describe him. Bombastic, for example, wouldn't be one.

He had that accent I liked. Is it wrong to call him a hick? I don't care. He was the country type. He liked old beat up trucks. He spoke loudly and clearly and he talked to everyone like he was talking to his dear Aunt Pam. He always spoke to me like  I was a precious little girl but I know he didn't look at me like I was. I made sure of it. 

I was skinny, yes, but I wasn't a stick. I was young when I first met him, yes, but I think he liked it. He played with me and teased me when no one could see or say anything. He got pretty mean sometimes, but I loved it, and nevertheless, he was warm.

His brown eyes were warm and his dark, dark hair was warm. His pale skin was warm, especially where it contoured. I remember sitting by the little counter in my grandpas shop. I remember how hot the weather got throughout the day. I watched him take layers off. He got pretty racy sometimes,as I did, too. He wore those muscle tees and loose jeans and work boots. He also wore this ugly old truckers hat but when he was around me he took it off. I remember watching him get underneath the cars. I would think about how good it would feel to get on top of him. I was  really psycho about that then. I was still fragile and heartbroken, and I latched onto him because I had nothing else to latch onto.

 I was 14 and he had just turned 16 and got his license. He had a job with my grandpa. It was a good job too, not some bullshit job at McDonald's. He was like an apprentice to a mechanic; pretty prestigious, I think. And they loved him here. Even after he got fired, they still loved him.

It was hard not to love him; As I said before, because of how he talked, and, because of how warm he was. His mom was disabled, and I don't really know how, but I think it was a mental thing. He took care of her. He got along well with his stepdad and everyone respected that because his step dad was a funny guy and he loved to talk. My grandpa told me once that Kyle looked like his father. Then he told me that his father wasn't in his life because he was in prison. Then he told me that he was in prison because he had killed someone. 

I think eventually my grandpa must have caught how I looked at him or something. His exact words were "I think you got the hots for Kyle". I think he was right. Whatever ''the hots'' meant, I had them. But I always denied it. I had to, he was my grandpas employee!