The Finding Tree

Chapter 11 - The Driver

August 1995

"Thank you, Miko."

I took the duffle bag from the man in front of me, and struggled with the weight for a moment.

He shut the trunk of his brand new Camry, and patted it affectionately. His white goatee twitched to hide the smile that I knew was underneath.

This new car was his pride and joy and he had painstakingly applied the custom decal of a phone number and the phrase "Airport Shuttle Service" across both sides of the champagne beige sedan himself.

He was nothing if not industrious.

I jostled the duffle to my other hand, and plunked it at my feet near the three suitcases I brought with all my earthly goods, and the two boxes of storage items I'd left in Miko's garage for the summer.

The stone steps of Valmoor hall were cool and solid, and oddly comforting. Hopefully that promised good things for my upcoming final year. This was home for the next nine months at least.

"You have everything you need, Miss Janey? Coffee pot? Hot water boiler? Extra food? I know you don't eat well until the cafeteria opens." He eyed me with a squint and a raised eyebrow.

"You know you have an open invitation for dinner with Ginny and me all week if you want to come." After a breath, he added, "I'll come get you, no problems."

"I'm fine Miko. Thank you for worrying about me." I grinned and leaned forward into his personal space. I enjoyed taking him off-guard with hugs. Miko was older, but you could tell he was a bigger man when he was young, and very self-contained. Broad of shoulder and now a little broader of beam, he didn't look approachable at first, but that was a facade hiding the puppy underneath.

I still had the tendency to hug things that may not return the sentiment, and Miko was no exception.

"I'm coming in for my hug, Miko. Brace yourself."

He planted his feet, and held his hands like he was expecting a football not a hug. Wagging his fingers a bit was my signal and I lunged forward wrapping my arms tightly around his neck.

He awkwardly patted my back and held my shoulders. Obviously unsure of how to respond to such an outward display.

"Ahh dziewczynka, you're squeezing the life outta me."

The Polish came out in Miko when his English wasn't sufficient, or when he was nervous. I loved making him nervous, which in turn tested his English. It was the perfect circle.

However in my defense, I rarely hugged anyone anymore, so I didn't let go, and Miko seemed to understand that. After a moment he softened his stance and squeezed me back.

His aging knuckles were swollen from arthritis, overuse and whatever had caused that fine webbing of thin white scars, but his hands were firm and safe and felt like home when little else did.

Miko had history, and someday, I promised myself, I would know all about it.

He and Ginny had become so important in my life, all because he took a chance on a lost girl when I first arrived here. I had no hope, and no way out of the fog I was in.

I think Miko recognized the emotion.  Lost people seem to know each other, no matter how you meet, especially when one of them sees themselves reflected.

"At least let me help with the suitcases."

I disentangled myself and stood back, shaking my head. "There are carts in the foyer, and you have a bad knee."

He snorted at me, looked sideways, and muttered something in a language I didn't know. He shifted his weight to his good leg, the khaki windbreaker and plaid squash cap hiding the thick neck and forearms that I knew were covered in faded ink. Splotchy now, like watercolors and memories; an analog reference of history that my digital future could never comprehend.

"Alright, stubborn girl, I'll leave you alone." His accent thickened for a moment. "You'll call for dinner next Sunday, yeah? It's a real invite, and Ginny will kill us both if I can't convince you. You know how she is."

I laughed at his dramatic expression, knowing full well that his wife would no more kill him than sprout wings. She was too smitten. Mikolaj Januszewski could do no wrong in her eyes, and honestly he was pretty wonderful in my opinion as well.

"I'll call you, I promise."

He looked at me sideways with one squinted eye, his brows furrowed above.

"How about I pick you up at four, yeah?"

"Yes, sir." I sighed, leaned in and squeezed his familiar solid frame again, pecking his weathered cheek. He retreated and looked down, temporarily silenced, and I grinned as I watched his ears turn red.

He looked up and grew misty for a minute. "You've grown up over the summer, miss Janey. What happened to the scared little one, I brought here four years ago, yeah?"

I shrugged and waved as he pulled away, the small stones on the asphalt drive crunching under the new tires. The little rubber hairs hadn't even been worn off yet, and that made me smile even harder.

My heart swelled with love for the man who had saved me from isolation and depression more than once in the time I had known him.

I was thirteen the day I first met Miko. He picked me up from the airport after Marcie had arranged a shuttle to take me to the private school that would be home. I was alone and had no one to help navigate the foreign environment. 

I think he was very aware of how I'd almost completely shut down by that point. When he picked me up he shook my hand like an adult and gave me his name. But, after I tried to repeat it about three times, he laughed and said, "You call me, Mr. J, yeah?

He was constantly looking back at me in the rear view mirror, and his fatherly concern was comforting. I recognized it from the looks I got from my dad when I was little.

He told me knock-knock jokes, and Polish puns that went over my head, but had me smiling. He seemed very proud of himself that I laughed at the goofy things he said. He waited for me to register, and carried my bags from the office to my residence hall, and as he said goodbye, he patted my shoulder and gave me his business card, ducking down to look me in the eye.

"Miss Janey, you need anything at all? You call me. My wife Ginny and I, we don't have much family anymore, and you look like you need family, yeah? Take care of yourself and let me know if you need anything." He patted my cheek with two fingers, and smiled at me.

I took the card and nodded, not trusting my voice. He left and closed the door behind him, not noticing the tear that slid down my face, and plopped on the cardstock.

That card has been in the corner of my bulletin board every year since....and I admit, I've called the number on it a few times, and not just for a ride to the airport.