Mr. Fix-It
written by: Kevin M. Folliard
@Kmfollia
Jenna peeked into the garage, where her husband Andy had been tinkering all afternoon with the lawnmower. He’d busted the blades last weekend on a jagged rock. “Any luck?” she asked.
“None so far, my love.” Andy had the mower flipped upside down, blades exposed. He studied the undercarriage with the flashlight from his phone.
“You have no idea how to repair that, do you?”
He stood and narrowed his eyes. A sly smirk crossed his stubbly face. “Ye of little faith.”
“Maybe it’s time for a new one.”
“Give me 48 hours.”
“In 48 hours, we’ll have lions prowling the tall grass in our yard.”
He rolled his eyes, stooped back down, and gave the blades a wobbled spin. “Kids are having a cousin sleepover at your Mom’s house tonight. Thought we might go out.”
“I can’t. I’ve got that wine and painting class with Ella. Kind of a girls’ night.”
“Huh.” He reached for a screwdriver and fiddled with the mower’s innards. “What the heck am I supposed to do then?”
Jenna sighed. “Figure something out. Call up your guy friends.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Andy stopped tinkering. He locked eyes with Jenna and shook his head. “I don’t have any friends.”
Jenna laughed. “Yes, you do.”
“No, seriously, I don’t.” He gave a nervous chuckle and wiped his greasy fingers on a garage towel. “I haven’t had friends in 15 years.”
“You have lots of friends. You have as many friends as I do.”
“You think? Name some.”
“Jerry, Mike, Paul—”
“No, no, no. Those aren’t my friends. They’re your friends’ husbands.”
“But you hang out with them all the time.”
“When you’re around, I do. But we’re not friends. Not like actual friends.”
“You went out for drinks with all those guys last month.”
“Because Nancy had a baby shower, and we were all corralled to that brewery like it was . . . like a play date that you all set up for us.”
Jenna scoffed. She rested her hands on her hips. “Well, didn’t you have fun?”
“No. Jerry talked our ears off about what a great investor he is, and Paul went on and on about college basketball—which I have no interest in at all. It was a lot of polite smiling and forced day drinking, to be honest.”
“Well the point is you have friends. Call up Jim. See if he wants to go to out.”
“Your brother-in-law? Where are we going, the NRA meeting?”
“Andy, you have lots of friends!”
“No, you have lots of friends. I don’t have any.”
Jenna stuttered. Rubbed her temples. “You do—”
“I don’t!” Andy snapped. He took a long breath. “My brother died when I was 18. My high school buddies live in Cleveland, and we exchange pleasantries on Facebook once a year. My frat buddies are scattered across the country. My coworkers are assholes—except for the women. Should I call up one of them? Should I go out for wine and painting with Selina from work?”
“Andy.” Jenna shook her head. “Where is this coming from?”
He shrugged. “You just . . . you asked. I’m telling you. I don’t have friends. I haven’t had friends in years. I have you. I have two great kids. But . . . you know. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” She shook her head. “You’re lucky to—”
“I’m not saying I’m not lucky. I’m saying I don’t’ have—”
“Are you trying to make me feel guilty for having friends? Is this like . . . you don’t want me to go out tonight for some reason? I can’t have fun because you don’t . . . perceive yourself to have any friends.”
“It’s not about perception. I have no friends. You’re not listening.”
“Well, Jesus, Andy. Go out and . . . make some friends then. I’m sorry you feel that way.” She turned to leave.
“Where?” He snapped. “How? How do you make new friends as a married 42-year-old—”
“Get a hobby! Join a club! Volunteer at a church! Be open-minded. There are about a million ways to make friends. Every human you interact with can be your friend. You’re closed off. That’s the problem.”
Silence hung between them.
“Well.” Andy nodded. “I’m sorry I opened up to you about this.”
“Don’t say it like that. Honest to God, you’re so dramatic.” Jenna slammed the door to the house.
Andy stared down at the rust flecked innards of the lawnmower. He opened his phone. He scrolled through the contacts. Then he turned it off.
He took a drive to Home Depot and came home an hour later with a brand new Powerdrive Mower. He set it up. He mowed the yard to trim, green perfection—keeping an eye out for rocky patches.
Jenna leaned on the back door and watched him work.
He wiped his brow on his shirt.
She whistled. “Looking good.”
He smiled. “Hell, yeah, I do.”
“I don’t have the painting thing until 7. Want to get a beer? Get out of the house for a bit?”
“Can’t,” he said. “I have to get ready. Amar the Home Depot salesman gets off at 5, and we’re going bowling.”
- Mr. Fix-It - August 21, 2024
