MY STRUT into the mechanic shop is confident. Victorious. I raise a hand in Doc’s direction.
“Need a wrench, Doc?” I move to the tool pan and pop it open. “Need a spanner? Tell me what you want.”
His chuckle echoes through the room. “You have good news to report?” “My wife is giving me a chance.” I lean against the front of the nearest
car. The vehicle dips from my weight. Sighing, I shake my head. “I owned up to what I did and told her I was wrong. After all that… I was afraid she’d shut me out, Doc. But she didn’t. She gave me a second chance.”
“I’m glad you understand the weight of that decision.”
My voice rings with disbelief. “Oh, I do. What I don’t understand is what I did to deserve a woman like her. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t have given the person who hurt me another opportunity.”
Doc grabs a rag off the table. “She worked hard in this shop just to earn a chance to be heard.” His chin juts out. “That kind of determination isn’t common.”
“I know how stubborn Harriet can be.”
“She stated from the start that she wanted her marriage.”
“It took a little time, Doc, but I’m at the same place.” My chest swells. “I’m never going to hurt her again.”
“That’s a bold statement.”
“You think I can’t back it up?” I stare him down because I am one hundred percent committed to my wife now.
“Wounds need time to heal. Just because she’s given you a chance, doesn’t mean you can put weight on that wound.”
“If you’re telling me not to move too fast, I’m not. We aren’t even kissing.” Thanks to you. “We’ve agreed to go slow.”
“I wasn’t talking about the physical part.” Doc gestures for me to near him.
My steps are slow and plodding. I didn’t come here to get another lecture, but it looks like that’s exactly what I’m in for.
“This is a tender stage. You need to prove with your actions that you’ll feel this same,” he points to my smile, “exuberance when the promises aren’t so fresh. When she’s yelling at you to take out the trash, or when you get home from a long day’s work and you have to talk about mortgages, bills, or other stressful things. You’ll need to feel this same giddiness when you’d prefer going out with your friends, but she asks you to stay home. When she drags you to the grocery store to sit in the heat for three hours. When she places responsibilities on you that you’d much rather shrug off.”
“I’m still not ready in your eyes.” It’s a little annoying after how much my thinking has changed.
“Tell me this. Does an out-of-shape athlete return to the gym and, in one day, get his body back?”
“No.” I plant a hand on a nearby vehicle and drum my fingers against the rusty paint.
“Does he get in shape in two days? Two weeks?”
“It could take months or years of pushing himself to the limit,” I mumble.
I hate when Doc makes analogies I can understand.
He locks his oil-stained fingers together and shakes them. “Commitment is the glue that will hold you two together, but it must be tested.” He releases his hands and points to the wrench. “There are certain things you need to be showing your wife to convince her that she can put weight on this wound.”
I hand him the wrench. “What kind of things?”
“You should continue to date her,” he taps his chest, “while working on the two commandments in a marriage-commitment and communication.”
I nod. “That sounds easy enough.”
He slants me a dubious look. “As you continue to date her, be mindful of your behavior, understanding that you’re still repairing the car. You can’t get in while it’s still in the shop and expect it to go a hundred miles an hour.”
My phone buzzes.
It’s a call from Patrick.
I pluck it out of my pocket, walking backward. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’ve got this. My wife will see exactly how much I love her. I’ll make sure there’s not a doubt in her mind about where I stand.”
“Be careful, Jerrison,” Doc says when I’m putting the phone to my ear. “If you move like that, you’ll fall.”
I laugh and walk the proper way. “Thanks, Doc.”
He mumbles something else, but I’m already on the phone and focused on the latest crisis at the office.