The Town Mule

If anyone in town needed help, they knew to call Leo Germain.

Though against his will, and despite his visible discomfort, Leo showed up on time just as his father once did. Just as the town expected him to.

No one seemed to notice the way Leo dragged his feet to their appointments, or the way he’d groan at their requests. They merely delighted in his faux diligence and remarked on the similarities between Leo Sr. and his handsome son.

As a child, Leo watched his father bounce, with a smile on his face, from house to house as the requests piled up. Leo Sr. never complained or showed a hint of fatigue. He was a loyal mule, much to the town’s delight.

After his old man kicked the bucket, from something as stupid as a dry cracker lodged in his throat, Leo's been in charge of muling.

Leo was shoveling snow from his neighbor’s driveway, swearing into the puffs of condensation, when he received the first call of the day. He peeled off one of his gloves with his teeth and rolled his eyes at the name on the screen. Over the phone, Leo heard the muffled noises of a baby’s cries. Then, a familiar woman’s voice sang through the receiver, “Leo, dear?”

“Yes, Angela? What can I do for you?”

“I’ll be needing more formula for Wilson. You can pop over to Andy’s for me, can’t you, baby?”

Leo said yes with a grumble, not bothering to hide his reluctance, and hung up. It was never just formula with Angela.

The sun peeked out over the houses of the suburb. The orange light bounced off the snowbanks, causing Rocky to squint as he finished his work. As he piled the last of the snow into the yard, he thought again about his father.

Leo Sr. was a kind but not particularly bright man. He was often scolded by his wife for leaving food out on the counters or for forgetting to pick up their son from school. And yet, for everyone else in town, he was their saving grace. A reliable service they only needed to pay for in civility.

Leo changed his wet clothes, grabbed his portable battery off its charging station, and headed to Andy’s Grocery.

The town was stirring awake. Yellow lights flickered from white houses as children got themselves around for school. Parents were shoveling snow out of their driveways, cursing themselves no doubt for not asking Leo sooner for his help. There was always a queue. His cellphone vibrated all day and night, but the instructions were clear: first-come, first-served.

Leo parked and waited for Andy’s daughter to flip the plastic welcome sign over to OPEN. She waved at Rocky when she noticed him sitting in his truck.

“Another busy day today, Mr. Germain?” The teenager asked while holding the door for him.

“As the day before, Mira,” he answered with a gentle shrug.

He went to the Infant and Toddler section in the aisle that also carried dog food and a variety of discounted holiday decorations. He grabbed the cheapest formula and went to the counter as quickly as he could, but his speed was in vain. Before Mira could hand him his receipt, Andy, a large, forward-leaning man, teetered in from the back door.

“Glad I didn’t miss you!” Andy boomed. “I’m going to need you to unload the diary delivery for me. Can’t do a darn thing with my back all in knots.”

“I’ve got to deliver this formula to-”

“Wilson can hold off on titty-milk for just an hour longer, can’t he? Lord knows why Angela insists on that cheap crap, anyway. Come on, it’ll be quick.”

Deliveries were never quick. Leo put the formula back on the counter for Mira to keep safe until he returned. Andy, still hunched forward with one hand resting on his tilted hip, slapped Rocky playfully on the butt as he passed him the way to the freezer. Andy hated being touched, and most folks in town respected this. Andy and Angela were the exception.

It took nearly two hours to unload the crates off the truck, organize and tally the shipment, speak pleasantries with the driver, and finally place all the fresh milk, yogurt, and whipped cream into their rightful place behind the glass doors of the dairy section.

“You’re a good kid, Leo. Just like your daddy. Bless his simple soul,” Andy chuckled.

Leo nodded before taking the plastic shopping bag from Mira. When he got back in his truck, he realized the girl had put a chocolate bar underneath the tin can of formula. He savored the nutty milk chocolate on his way to Angela’s. He took the longest route possible before mustering up the courage to face his least favorite suburbanite.

She was standing on her front steps, fluffing up her already impossibly tall hair, as he pulled into her driveway. Leo groaned at the sight of her.

Angela gave a theatrical wave once he parked. “Leo, baby! I’m so glad you’re here. Did mean old Andy put you in the freezer again?”

“Good morning, Angela. Your formula,” Leo replied, attempting to sound bored. He kept his eyes down, knowing full well that Angela was the sort of person who took each flick of a man’s gaze as some sort of grand romantic gesture.

“You really are such a doll. Why don’t you come in? It’s awfully cold outside.”

“I’ve got another errand,” he half-lied. “Another time.”

“But Wilson and I need your help, really. It’s not like last time, honest.” She opened her door and revealed a lamp, smashed into sharp, splintered fragments, and Wilson perfectly posed on a blanket just out of reach.

Leo stepped around Angela and scooped Wilson up.

“Ah! You are so fraternal. Has anyone ever told you that?” She cooed and shut the door. He started to sweat once he heard the quick click of the lock. Leo went into the living room and strapped the child into his play chair. Angela reached for Leo’s hand, but he pulled away before contact.

“Sorry, that goes against my job description,” he lied. To Leo’s knowledge, his father never had an affair. Their suburb wasn’t big enough to harbor many secrets. Besides, Leo Sr. loved his wife tenderly. His only betrayal was losing that bet to Old Mrs. Flinn, a clever woman only he would be foolish enough to gamble with. “Angela, I really don’t have time to play house with you today. Besides, we’ve already talked about-”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she snapped and stepped closer. “I don’t want to hear about all that Asexual nonsense or whatever you call it. We just need to spend some time together.” Rocky moved around her toward the door before she could touch the collar of his coat. “I’m so lonely! Leo, please stay!”

He ignored her whining and fled. She had fooled him once before with her pleas for attention. Last time, he was trapped for nearly an hour, as she attempted to hold his hand and pretend, rather sadly in Rocky’s opinion, that Wilson was his. The memory alone made his skin crawl.

Everyone in town had guesses as to who Wilson’s father was. But out of politeness or fear, no one dared ask Angela to reveal such personal information. Leo, for one, had no interest in Angela or her dramatic, romantic lifestyle. He had no interest in romance whatsoever, preferring what little free time he had to be solitary and, most importantly, free of other people’s demands.

Leo drove around town, picking up calls as they came in and doing mindless tasks until his muscles and brain felt numb. To be the Town Mule, he had to be present only physically; he needn’t worry about the way the town perceived him.

His mind wandered back to Angela and her pleas for attention. It must be lonely, he thought, raising a child on your own. His mother often looked out the window with a similar sort of look, despite being a member of the so-called-perfect nuclear family.

Leo's final call was from one of his regulars, an older man who was once a close friend of his father's. It was his favorite call; the only appointment he didn’t drag his feet to.

“There you are, my boy! Come in, I’ve got dinner on,” Hank said as he let Leo in. “Beef stew and a side of collard greens. The fresh stuff. Not too bitter.”

Leo sat in his designated chair in the TV room as Hank piled his plate with food. Hank never stopped at just one side dish. Greens, potatoes, and leftover pasta, finished off with a slice of bread and butter balanced on top. He was never stingy on the soda pop or juice, either. He made sure Rocky’s glass never got half full, topping him off every few minutes as they watched gameshows and shot the breeze.

Hank lowered himself into the recliner beside Rocky and turned on the television. Leo’s cellphone vibrated loudly in his pocket as he took his first bite.

“You know the drill, turn the wretched thing off and have yourself a nice meal,” Hank spat with his mouth full of potato salad.

Leo obeyed and leaned back further into his seat. At Leo Sr.’s funeral, Hank was the only man in town to weep alongside Leo’s mother. He had a deep respect for the town mule and everything he did for their suburb.

When Mrs. Flinn, the sternest woman on the town council, suggested they bring back the old tradition of muling, Hank was against it. He didn’t like the idea of not paying someone for their labor. But his vote was lost in a sea of yeses. For the next forty years, he’d hunt his friend down on his errands and give him an hour of quiet. Even if it was only a meal.

“Thank you, Hank. The greens were delicious,” Rocky said over his shoulder while washing the dishes.

“Same time tomorrow, son. I’ve got a hankering for lasagna.”