Little Mel

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Little Mel

I was 28 or so when I met Melanie Brown. I had been visiting a family member on the north side of Phoenix, Arizona when I spotted her and her little brother watching me. I was driving a small, open air, tiller steered, car used in local parades. Though it was a modern piece, the car resembled an antique from the late 19th century. I had made some repairs to the car, and was test-driving it before returning it to its owner.

At first I saw a small boy and what I thought was his teenaged sister watching me from their yard. Their hair got my attention. They both had the same bright red hair. Every time I passed their home, the boy would jump up and down with excitement and point at the car I was driving.

I stopped in front of them, introduced myself, and offered them a ride. The little boy didn’t wait for his sister to give him her OK. His eyes lit up, and he instantly began trying to climb aboard.

Though it was not very fast, driving this little car took both hands; one to steer with the tiller and the other to operate the spring returned throttle. So, I looked at the excited kid’s sister and said told her. “You come too. You’ll need to hold Jr. here so he doesn’t fall out.”

With a bright smile, she put the boy in the seat between us and climbed aboard. Melanie introduced herself and her son, Bobby. She then thanked me for the ride. Though she looked to be about 14, as it turned out, Melanie was a mother in her mid twenties.

When they were safely seated, I pulled away from the curb. Off we went. We drove around the neighborhood for twenty or thirty minutes. Bobby never stopped talking. As most kids do, he asked a million questions. Most of his questions were good ones about the operation of the car. All of which, I answered as best I could to the satisfaction of a young boy.

Melanie didn’t say much. She just sat there with a wide smile, staring at me, and intently listening to my every word.

If not for the fact that I was driving, I may have returned the favor and not taken my eyes off of Melanie. Even though she looked like a young girl, there was just something about her that piqued my interest.

Melanie was a petite young thing. As an adult woman, she stood only 4’11” tall and weighed about 85 to 90 pounds. Little Mel, as I later came to call her, was as cute as they come. Her rounded, lightly freckled, face was surrounded by an abundance of well kept bright red hair. Bobby had the same hair. They also shared a pair of light green eyes. Her eyes were set over a button of a nose and full lips.

As the ride came to an end, I handed Melanie my card and asked her the million-dollar question. “May I call you some time?

Her smile quickly turned to a frown. She lowered her head, and, with a hint of sadness, answered. “He’s not around much, but I’m married.”

“That’s too bad.” I replied. “If you need anything, or change your mind, give me a call. The name and number’s on the card.” When I offered her my hand, she reached out and gently squeezed it.

She looked down at my card and told me. “Thanks again, John. I just may take you up on that offer.” Melanie then smiled, turned, and led Bobby toward their house.

Bobby was a polite kid. Before going into his house, he turned at his door, waved, and yelled. “Thank you!” He and his mother then disappeared into their house.

Several weeks passed, and I had let the memory of Melanie and her boy fade from my mind. Then, late one afternoon, out of the blue, the phone rang. It was Melanie, and she sounded upset.

With a voice just above a whisper, she asked. “Can Bobby and I meet you somewhere to talk?”

I began recalling the cute girl and her little boy to whom I had given a ride on a parade car. I quickly agreed to meet with them. “Where would you like to meet?”

“Some place private and quite, please.” With a bit of hesitation, she asked. “Can we, maybe, come to your place? Please.” She begged softly.

“Well, sure, I suppose that’ll be OK. Is something wrong?” I asked.

“We just need to get out of here for a while. How do I get to your house?”

I gave her the directions to my home, and advised her. “It should only take you about 20 minutes to get here.”

“OK!” She said and then hung up. About 30 minutes later, Melanie and Bobby pulled into my driveway.

I went out to meet them. As I approached, Melanie had her back to me. She was helping Bobby out of his car seat in the back of her little car.

With a broad grin, I cheerfully said. “Hi guys. How ya doing?”

As she let Bobby climb out of the car, Melanie stood and turned to face me. “Not too well.” Her eyes were brimming with tears.

I was shocked! Her cute face looked terrible. She had a blackened left eye, her right cheek was bruised, her lower lip was badly swollen, and her eyes were red from crying.

“What the hell happened to you? Are you alright?”

She began crying and said. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here. I hardly know you, but I had no one else I could call. My family is back east, and the few friends I have here can’t help.”

I put my arm around her shoulders, and pulled her toward my front door. “Come inside, tell me what happened, and I’ll do what I can to help.” I then guided her and her young son into my living room and had them sit on the couch. I brought her a cup of tea and Bobby a glass of milk. I then got her an icepack for her bruised face.