Short Stories

Karma

by

Doug Massey

            Dorothy Williams wasn’t afraid of being alone. She didn’t own a gun and was actually relieved when her husband passed. He had been such a grouch and such a drain. As for all of the reports of break-ins reported by the civic league, well, Dorothy Williams believed in fate. If people woke up to find their sheds broken into or tools missing from their garages, it was their karma. They had surely cheated someone along the way or done something equally heinous to bring such evil upon themselves

Steven Martin, the young man who mowed her lawn, wasn’t bad. He was the third boy to offer to cut her grass. The first wouldn’t even make eye contact. The way he looked around told Dorothy he was a thief. The second curled his lip and told her he would cut her grass for thirty-five dollars like it was a favor.

Dorothy Williams prided herself on assessing character. A person’s eyes betrayed them. Steven hadn’t looked away much, even when she stared hard at him. It was his sincerity that impressed her.

“Ma’am, I’m trying to make some money this summer. I see your lawn needs cutting. Would you let me do that for thirty-five dollars a week?”

“Thirty-five,” she said. “My Lord! When I was a girl my brother cut lawns for ten dollars.”

The boy’s mouth hung agape. He looked at the lawn and took a step down the porch.

                        “Would twenty five be okay then, ma’am?”

                        “I know times have changed,” she said. “It’s just hard for me to get used to.”

She looked around and said,

                        “I’ll give you thirty but you have to trim the bushes when they need it.”                 “Okay,” Steven said. “I can do that.”

                        “Do you have your own mower?”

Lowering his head, the boy shrugged.

                        “No ma’am. My family lives in an apartment down on Wayfield Road.”

                        “Wayfield Road? Why that’s miles from here. What brings you so far?”

            “I…” and the boy’s eyes seemed to tear, “I just need to make money for school clothes ma’am.”

She almost asked if his family was that poor. His accent was pure mountain. Likely he was an Appalachian.

            Dorothy showed the boy into the garage. Her husband had always kept it neat. She watched the boy’s eyes to see if they swung around in appraisal of her husband’s tool box and other items. But they didn’t. She thought that was commendable. Children were naturally curious and nosy.

            Young Steven worked hard cutting the lawn. Dorothy began to worry about him in the sweltering heat of the Virginia summer. On one very hot day, she shouted to get his attention and held out a glass of lemonade. He nodded but would not turn off the mower. Instead, he slurped from it as he made each pass. He had the work ethic of her generation.

            With his diligence Dorothy relaxed her guard a bit and expressed some interest in him. One morning in the garage she made a hand gesture to stop his advance on the mower.

                        “So, where did your family live before you came here?”

He looked up in surprise.

                        “Oh. We were in West Virginia, ma’am.”

                        “West Virginia? Did you like living in the mountains?”

            “Yes ma’am. I did. People around there didn’t pretend to be better than others. It seems like a lot of the folks around here act like they are royalty or something.”

Dorothy Williams raised one plucked and penciled eyebrow.

                        “Are you suggesting I am like that?”

                        “Oh no ma’am! Not at all! But I’ve been made fun of a lot since I’ve lived here.”

                        “Is that because of your accent?”

Steven shrugged.

                        “I guess so.”

            “Well try not to let it bother you. A couple more years and you’ll fit right in and they’ll forget you didn’t come from around here.”

            After that, Dorothy softened even more toward the boy. She knew how cruel children could be. The local toughs probably made sport of him.  

            One day the mower would not start. Dorothy watched Steven yanking hard again and again without success. When she came out he had a wrench in his hand and a screwdriver beside him. He had removed the sparkplug and was soaking the air filter in a bowl of gasoline.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “I didn’t tell you that you could go into my husband’s toolbox.”

Steven quickly stood with the wrench still in his hand.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d mind. I couldn’t get the mower started and thought either the filter was clogged or the sparkplug was fouled.”

Dorothy started to say she did mind very much but she checked herself and calmed.

“Well, really, if you know what you’re doing and you put them back I suppose it’s all right.”

He nodded and kneeled again. For one brief second when he stood she thought he might attack her with the wrench. But that must have been her imagination.

                        “That bowl is what I mix my potting soil in,” she said.

                        “I’m sorry ma’am. It was empty,” he said. “I’ll wash it out.”

            Dorothy left him alone and realized he had to be trusted to maintain the mower. Just as long as he didn’t go snooping around. That she would not tolerate. Still, she felt like she might have offended him and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. When the mower roared to life she felt guilty for not having confidence in him. How many local boys would have the gumption to come so far and to clean the air filter and replace the sparkplug?

            Dorothy Williams watched young Steven in a more personal way now. He often took off his shirt when he mowed and he was developing into a fine young man. Her husband’s chest had been bare and smooth. Steven Martin had a hairy chest and solid legs. She chastened herself for the stirring inside of her. She was thirty years older than the boy.

            As the summer waned and the time for attending school approached, Dorothy began to invite him into her kitchen. He was very polite.

“Do you like school?” she asked, placing a glass of milk on a coaster and a slice of cake in front of him.

“Not really, ma’am. I guess I like working with my hands.”

“Would you like to call me by my first name, Steven?”

He looked into the caress of her smile.

                        “Yes ma’am. I mean, yes. I was wondering what it was.”

                        “It’s Dorothy. Kind of an old fashioned name I guess.”

            “Dorothy,” he said. “There was a girl I liked a lot back in West Virginia. Her name was Dorothy.”

            “Oh,” she said. “Was she very pretty?”

            “She was nice. Not as pretty as you though.”

Dorothy Williams blushed happily.

                        “Oh Steven, you don’t think I’m pretty.”

He looked offended.

“I do ma’am. I do Dorothy. I think about you a lot while I’m making laps with the mower and even when I’m not here.”

“You’re sweet.” Suddenly she said, “I must confess I like to watch you out there working with your shirt off.”

“I wonder sometimes what it would be like to…”

“To what, Steven?”

“To kiss you.”

If he had said the ‘F’ word or anything vulgar, Dorothy Williams would have pulled back and come to her senses. But what he said and the way he said it was so romantic.

                        “I must be crazy for even considering this,” Dorothy said.

Moving from his chair and kneeling before her, Steven took one of her hands and gazed into her eyes.

“Dorothy,” he said, “I believe that some things are meant to be. The day I came to your door, I just felt like something was guiding me. When I saw you I felt like we had known each other before somehow. I would have cut your grass for nothing just to be near you.”

Dorothy gazed down with affection and pity. With her free hand she touched his face and gently shook her head.

“I can’t, Steven. It’s very tempting. But I could get in all kinds of trouble if I got involved with you. A girl your age will come along soon. Believe me. You’re too handsome to be alone for very long.”

“Don’t you know that if we aren’t together this will keep happening in other times and places until we are?”

“You don’t believe in reincarnation do you Steven?”

“Yes ma’am. I mean, yes Dorothy, I do. Up in West Virginia they have all of these Holy Ghost churches and even snake handlers. But I didn’t feel right about them. Sometimes I would meet people and feel like I already knew them but it couldn’t have been in this life. Have you ever heard of karma?”

                        “Yes I have Steven. Do you know what that is?”

            “Doesn’t it mean that what good or bad happens to you in one life is because of things you did in other lives?”

            “Yes, that’s what it means. And what do you make of it, Stephen?”

            “Our good karma is what’s brought us together, Dorothy. Something separated us in another life before we could be together. Maybe you died young and I had to wait a few years to follow you into the next life.”

            “Oh you are a sweet boy. But I don’t know about all of that.”

Steven rose and sighed deeply, still holding her hand. The way he looked down made her see him as a man and she almost stood and embraced him. Finally, he let go and went to clean the mower before putting it away. When Steven left, Dorothy watched him through the window, knowing he had several miles to walk.

            Dorothy couldn’t sleep very well that night or the next one after that. She kept fighting with her common sense. She hadn’t realized how lonely she was since her husband died. Steven was so handsome and manlike. She might teach him about life and even kindle his interest in education. He was smart enough to look beyond traditional religious boundaries and to learn of reincarnation and karma.

            When Steven finished cutting the grass the following week he declined to enter her house. He wouldn’t even make eye contact. Dorothy knew she had hurt his feelings and the boy was pining for her. Could I be his first love, she thought.

                        “Steven wait!” she shouted as he walked down the driveway.

When he turned Steven looked so wounded.

                        “Please come back. I need your help with something.”

Slowly Steven returned to the shadow of Dorothy’s garage.

                        “There’s something inside I need you to look at.”

                        “What is it?”

He didn’t say ‘ma’am’ and he didn’t say ‘Dorothy’. That told her he was caught in an emotional state he had never experienced before. She felt a responsibility for him now.

                        “I’ll show you. Come on.”

As she walked in front of him, Dorothy hoped Steven was admiring her figure.

“It’s in the bedroom. I keep hearing small noises in my closet. Can you look around in there for me?”

            Once Steven was on his knees and looking around the floor of her closet, Dorothy excused herself and entered the adjoining bathroom. When she returned she waited for him to see her standing naked. Her heart was pounding harder than she had ever felt.

            Dorothy saw him turn his head and see her bare feet and look up the line of her legs to her naked torso. She smiled down at him.

                        “The noises aren’t coming from my closet, Steven.”

He stood and looked to her with such a pleading hunger. Dorothy lifted one of his hands to her breast and kissed him very softly. He seemed to tear off his shirt and shorts in one motion. The room filled with passion and Dorothy surrendered to madness.

Awakening from a delicious sleep, Dorothy looked around, disoriented. It was raining hard and the sun was setting. Had it really happened? Where was Steven? She put on her robe and walked through the house. He was sitting in the living room with his feet on the coffee table, eating a sandwich and changing channels on the television with the sound turned down. The bottle of beer was not on a coaster.

            “Hi,” she said in her sweetest voice.

            “Hi,” he said without looking at her.

            “Is anything wrong?”

            “I need a ride home.” He swigged the beer and belched loudly. “Some money too.”

            “You need a…? I’ve already paid you for cutting the grass.”

            There was a long silence. He never looked away from the mute television images as they shifted from one channel to the next. When he landed on a horror movie Steven brightened and turned the sound up.

                        “Steven, what’s wrong? Why are you being like this?”

            “There was a school principal up where I lived in the mountains. Not much to look at. I kept getting into trouble. She called me in and asked me why. I told her I just felt like nobody ever loved me. I told her my daddy whipped me a lot. She felt sorry for me and got me doing chores around her house. She kept hugging me all of the time to show me that she loved me. I slept with her too.”

Reeling, Dorothy sagged in a chair opposite Steven.

                        “You mean you…”

Sneering and looking straight at her, Steven nodded.

“It was an opportunity. I told my folks and they threatened to call the cops on her. She begged them not to. Said she’d do anything. We got two new cars out of her before she blew her brains out.”

                        “My God,” Dorothy Williams croaked. “How can you be so cruel?”

            “It’s karma, I guess,” Steven said. “I only read up on that stuff after I saw the books through your window while I was trimming the bushes.”

            “What do you want?”

            “I want a ride home and some money.”

He showed her his cellphone from the safe distance.

            “I took some naked pictures of you while you were sleeping. And some with me in bed beside you.”

            “I’ll go to the police,” Dorothy said. “Now get out.”

            “Go right ahead. The law is still the law. They’d have to arrest you. So what’s it gonna be?”

When she started to cry he walked over to stand in front of her.  

“It won’t be so bad, Dottie. You just help to get me where I want to go in life and eventually I’ll cut you loose.”

            The rain was coming down so hard when Dorothy stopped to let him out of her car that Steven shouted to be heard.

“I’ll keep taking care of your place but it’s a hundred a week now. And whether the grass is growing or not I’m sure there will be lots to do inside the house.”

Dorothy turned her head away when he tried to kiss her. Wagging his finger and smiling assuredly, Steven Martin stood and closed the door. Watching him run to his apartment she decided to buy a gun.