It All Started With the Pants

Leon Slavicek was lonely. He took his position as organist at Spring Street United Methodist very seriously, but admittedly, it was a solitary endeavor. Playing those chords didn’t require much interaction with the rest of the congregation. As a shy man, it mostly suited Leon, but sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to have a companion—or even just a friend.

Leon’s height had always made him feel clumsy. When he was 12 years old, he had already shot up to six feet tall, and the growth spurt didn’t stop there. By the time he reached his full height in his early 20s, Leon’s spindly legs stuck out from the bottom of his pants at least four inches, even with the longest inseam he could find! This earned him the nickname “Leggy Leon”—which was decidedly not a compliment.

His face and indeed most of his features were long and thin, his eyes a blue so pale they were almost light gray. His sallow complexion belied hours spent in a dim sanctuary, fingers flying over the manuals—time outdoors was few and far between. When Leon’s murky brown hair began to thin in his late 20s, he accepted his fate. He morphed from “Leggy Leon” into “Lonely Leon.”

His meager salary from the church did not afford Leon many luxuries, so he lived in a one-room apartment above the hobby store on Main Street. His home furnishings consisted of a brown-and-mustard plaid tufted armchair, a small nightstand with one drawer, and a basket filled with a set of sheets and a worn blanket hand-knitted by his grandmother that he used to make up the Murphy bed he pulled down from the wall each evening. A small garment rack nestled in between the two windows at the front of the room. In a corner near the spotless kitchen, he tucked the wooden TV tray and metal folding chair he used for his meals.

Every surface in Leon’s apartment gleamed. The broom, dustpan, mop, and small bucket hidden in the kitchen closet were in daily rotation. Leon was a tidy person—an orderliness enthusiast, if you will. Before entering his apartment, he removed his shoes—right shoe first, then the left—and placed them on a rubber mat just outside the door. Only then did he fish out the single key from his front right pocket and slide it into the lock. Counting to three, he turned the key, opened the door, and stepped inside—right foot first, then the left.

After closing the door behind him, Leon unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and carefully stepped out of each leg—first the right, then the left. He hung the pants on the garment rack, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles. His scant wardrobe included two pairs of pants (one black-and-gray plaid and one brown-and-cream tweed), two button-down shirts (one white and one light brown), and two plain white undershirts. Three pairs of gray boxer shorts and three pairs of black socks rounded out the offering.

Leon polished his black loafers and disinfected the soles weekly. He hand-washed his clothes in the kitchen sink using highly concentrated Fresh Start detergent following a strict schedule of every other day, then hung the fresh pieces on the garment rack—meticulously spacing each hanger two inches apart.

Leon suspected that he might be a bit fanatical about cleanliness. Outside the confines of his apartment, he fumbled and bumbled with every step. But inside these four walls his world was nothing but orderly and organized. His mind, however, tended to run a bit wild. His thoughts more closely resembled his patterned pants than his plain white tees.

Honestly, the racing kept him awake some nights, making him yearn for someone to talk to. Usually once he arose the next morning, that sense of longing had faded, but lately he found himself feeling increasingly wistful: wishing more frequently that he wasn’t so solitary. But who was he kidding? He felt like 47 going on 70, and he didn’t have much to offer anyway. Did he?

***

Min Bird was lonely. She worked with her family at their dry-cleaning business on Main Street, but she always felt alone amid the bustling group. Min served as the resident seamstress at A Fresh Start. Since the family owned the building, she took the apartment above the store—a small one bedroom that she cherished.

Min was timid and kept to herself. She was thankful to be relieved of any customer-facing tasks and preferred to focus on her role as seamstress. She didn’t move much once settled into her small workstation at the front of the store where she attended to the mending tasks. The storefront window delivered the best of the morning sunlight straight to Min’s desk, so she proudly displayed her flourishing jade plant, which she tended obsessively to encourage its capability to invite positive energy and financial fortune. It even bloomed like clockwork at least once a year, and she thrilled in that small success!

Min’s chin was slight, her face pale, and her eyes not unpleasantly wide-set. Her shoulders hunched forward slightly—perhaps an occupational consequence, but almost certainly also a demonstration of her inner self. As an introvert, her expertise with a needle and thread and a sewing machine allowed her to focus on the fabric, which suited her most days.

Min enjoyed her work, but she absolutely adored her apartment. It was a snug space, filled with a packed bookshelf that took up the better part of one wall, another thriving jade plant, and a cozy velvet loveseat in a corner by the window. The rooms were comfortable and clean—a few barstools tucked under the kitchen counter (though she only ever used one).

Her sewing skills translated into a love of knitting, and she always had at least one project in progress. Splashes of color from the throw pillows, balls of yarn, and spines of her beloved books made Min smile. She knew this space was special, and sometimes she wondered what it might be like to have an actual friend—or even a companion—join her here for a meal or a conversation.

Min dressed mostly in neutral colors—black, white, and shades of gray—but always incorporated at least one splash of a bold hue. Whether a sparkling pair of turquoise earrings or fuchsia patterned socks, Min snuck in a smidge of personality somewhere that seemed counter to her shy exterior. She’d started to include even more than one colorful item at a time recently. She’d even found herself milling about in front of the boutique next door, gazing at the beautiful red dress in the window and wondering what had gotten in to her! She had nowhere to wear something like that—did she?

***

Leon Slavicek was feeling nervous. While washing his pair of plaid pants yesterday afternoon, he noticed a large hole had somehow formed—right along a “critical” seam. These were one of his favorite pairs of pants! Okay, these were one of his two pairs of pants! He couldn’t bear the thought of starting over with a different pair of new pants. No, he’d need to figure out a way to fix this. He could not lose these red-plaid pants!

He settled himself gingerly into his tufted armchair and began to think. Closing his eyes, he visualized his daily walk to and from the church. He took the same route every day (twice!), but he tended to wander along in a bit of daze—eyes focused on each step, tuning out the feel of the passing breeze on his exposed ankles.

As he considered the seven-block walk, Leon blinked, and a memory triggered in his mind’s eye: a dry cleaner along Main Street with a red neon sign in the window advertising mending services. Determined to find this shop, he decided to pay closer attention to his surroundings during today’s walk. If his recollection was accurate, he would assess whether he liked the look of the storefront, if the window was clean and there was no trash cluttering the façade. As an orderliness enthusiast, Leon’s obsession—er, passion—extended to businesses and streets as well as his home.

Emerging from his thoughts, Leon rose from the chair and began his departure ritual. He dressed methodically: white undershirt and light-brown button-down—right arm first, then the left. He slipped on a clean pair of socks, retrieved his tweed pants from the garment rack, and carried them toward the door. Smoothing any creases left by the hanger, Leon stepped his right foot in and then his left, pulled the pants up to his waist, zipped, and fastened the button. Slipping the single key into his right pocket, he counted to three and opened the door. He slid his foot into the right loafer, then the left, and pulled the door closed behind him. Extracting the key from his pocket, Leon inserted it into the lock and counted to three before turning the key and repocketing it.

As he made his way toward the church for choir practice, it wasn’t long before Leon came upon A Fresh Start. He liked the name, and the front of the building seemed appealing: no litter, a small welcome mat in front of the door, and a large (very clean) window. Just beyond, a woman sat stooped over an orderly desk, deftly guiding a pair of black pants through a sewing machine. He hadn’t realized he’d slowed to a stop until the woman’s eyes locked with his and she offered him a small half smile. He gasped, his eyes widened, and he accelerated down the block.

The next few hours were painful. Why had he reacted that way? Why couldn’t he have just smiled back at the woman—maybe even stopped at the store to inquire about the possibility of repairing his pants? Leon kept replaying the scenario in his mind until he convinced himself he had to try again. A Fresh Start seemed to be just what he needed: the store appeared clean, the woman was clearly skilled, and he could stop in on the way back to his apartment.

***

Min Bird just smiled at a man! She couldn’t believe she’d done that, and it surprised her as much as it seemed to surprise him. She’d seen him walking past the store before, but he’d always seemed excessively focused. This was the first time he’d stopped and looked in the window. Min had been mending her third pair of pants of the day, and it was a task she could almost do in her sleep. She’d felt the intensity of his gaze and looked straight into his pale blue-gray eyes. Her cheeks had flushed, and the corner of her mouth quirked up almost involuntarily. He fled immediately and she felt a strange sense of loss.

She assumed the man must live and work nearby since she’d seen him traveling this route and wondered if he would walk past again—today? Maybe tomorrow? Why did thinking about him passing her window make her feel hopeful? She was surely being silly. He practically ran when she almost smiled at him; he probably didn’t even notice her.

***

Leon closed his organ gently and gathered up his sheet music. Placing the pages into a manila folder, he stuck the folder under his arm and made his way out the side door of the sanctuary. Choir practice was just ending, and he preferred to take his leave before he could be roped into a conversation with the “choral kibitzers,” as he’d deemed the trio of elderly sopranos who lingered after each session to catch up on gossip. He took a deep breath once outside, exhaled forcefully, and headed toward A Fresh Start.

***

Min was wrapping up her last piece for the day at A Fresh Start. She hadn’t seen the man pass by again, and she was feeling inexplicably sad. She finished pressing the garment, gathered it neatly into a bag, and zipped it closed. Tucking the tag onto the top of the hanger, she was preparing to transfer it to the rack for pickup when the bell on the door jingled. Min’s brother-in-law was still behind the counter, preparing to tally receipts for the day. He greeted the customer, and Min startled slightly—it was the man with the blue-gray eyes!

***

Leon stepped into A Fresh Start and saw the seamstress flinch. The man behind the counter greeted him, and Leon gathered himself … “I’d like to inquire about your mending services. I have a beloved pair of pants that could use some repair.” He glanced quickly toward the front of the store and caught the woman looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He steeled himself and forced a smile—he wasn’t used to working his cheek muscles in this way!

***

He smiled! He actually smiled! Min grinned back at Leon with both corners of her mouth. It had been a long time since she’d contorted her lips like this!

***

The man behind the counter told Leon that his sister-in-law was the resident seamstress and an expert with pants repair. Truly, she could deliver a fresh start to any kind of garment. They would be happy to give some love to Leon’s pants. “Please drop them off when you’re ready. Min is available as soon as tomorrow,” he said.

Leon smiled, said thank you, and turned away from the counter. As his gaze found hers, Min murmured, “Perhaps I could also remove the hem from those pants….”

Leon looked directly at Min, beamed with his whole face—including his blue-gray eyes—and sauntered out of the store. A Fresh Start—tomorrow!