Good Service (a true story from my diary #1)

He had me from the moment his athletic body stepped from the truck. Strong fibers in his arms easily repaired my tire and had it back in place.  
 
“You’re an easy one. We’ll have you back on the road in no time,” he said with a relaxed smile. He said I was his last service call of the shift.  
 
“Thank you so much. It’s been years since I had car trouble,” I said, remembering my senior year in high school when a date took an interesting turn after his car broke down.
 
I thought back. My boyfriend and I wouldn’t have had enough time to explore each other thoroughly if we’d had service like this.  
 
“You got here a lot quicker than I would have expected,” I said with a smile.    
 
I saw his ring and thought how much his wife must love him. I wondered what she was like and if they were happy.  
 
I started to ask about his family but didn’t want to spoil my little fantasy. My hand shook as I jotted my phone number on the ticket when I signed it.  
 
I’d written, “Call me, please,” and blushed at how sloppily the letters were formed.  
His eyes paused when he saw my note, then he said, “Thanks for your business. Call again if I can help.”
 
Then he smiled in a way that revealed nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
 
“I’ll wait until you’re on the road before heading out,” he said.  
 
I watched his truck in the rearview mirror, knowing I had seen him for the first and last time. He was probably late for dinner and anxious to get home. The last thing on his mind was an older woman with a flat tire. But, he’d been helpful and I’d have fond memories of meeting him.  
 
Who was I kidding anyway? The lover who’d recently entered my life was one-of-a-kind. He'd been faithful to his dead wife for goodness sakes. But, we’d never discussed the nature of our relationship. It wasn’t like we were married and it wasn’t like marriage made a difference based on some men I’d known.  
 
My mind obsessed on his hands. They were so strong. I would never see them again.