Are They All That Nice?

On Monday or Tuesday, I had a call from Diego. (He was one of the two guys who mucked out my basement.) When Stash stopped mowing my lawn, Diego started. I didn't have the cash to pay him the full tab when he came by the first time. We agreed that he would stop by yesterday evening.

He rang the front bell, but I went around the side of the house. We hunched against the drizzle. I counted out the money.

He apologized to me for bothering me.

We stood in the front yard, me coatless, and he asked about five times if I was okay. I got the impression he wasn't talking about my being without a coat.

"Are you all right in the world, Bics?"
"Yes, Diego, I'm fine."
"But I worry about you. I think about you."
"There's no need to worry, Diego. I'm fine."

He put his arm around me as if one arm he could shield my whole body from the drizzle. I didn't feel creepy or come-on-ish. It was just nice.

When he was leaving, he kissed my cheek. Again, I thought of other lands, other traditions. He's from Dominica. Are they all that nice there?

As he was getting into his car, he said a couple of times, "Bics, if you need anything, anything you call me, okay?"

"Yes, Diego. I promise I'll call you if I need anything. Thanks. Merry Christmas."

I waved him good-bye but as I got inside, I thought as I have before - wait. Is he really friendly or is it a little crush-like thing? Or pity for the poor lonely Americana? Isn't he married? Does he have a criminal record? (In Florida, you got out of jail one day and when you got semi-sober again and joined up with some landscaping company.) Does he have a green card? Is he even here legally?

Well, whatever, it was nice.

It took a little time for me to admit again that clueless here is basically crushing on her gardener.

Like Jane Wyman and Rock Hudson.

Like Frodo and Sam.

Well. That was odd.

Do you suppose people in Dominica are all that friendly?