by Sienna Blake
“Good, you’re here!” she said as she struggled to sit up on the creeper. “You can show me how to take off the inner socket assembly.”
She flopped the ’80s car manual on the concrete floor next to her and ran her gloved finger across the black-and-white diagram.
“I’ve been at it for an hour. I mean, damn, time goes by quickly under there, and I can’t seem to figure out where this pinion bushing is.” She was talking so quickly, so excitedly that I could barely understand her. “I found the control arm, or at least I think it was the control arm, but maybe it was the centre link. It’s so dark down there! Anyway, I was trying to repair the spool valve, which I read could be the problem, but then I couldn’t reach it because the control arm was in the way. But then again, maybe the control arm was the pinion bushing?”
I thought she was finished, but it turned out that she was just pausing long enough to suck in a breath.
“And after that I want your help figuring out what this weird sound from the engine is, because I’ve been trying to read and I read in one of those manuals there that it might be the air intake, but I tightened and cleaned everything around that and the sound was still there and—hey, where are you going?”
I walked away because if I didn’t walk away, I was going to drop to my knees right there in front of her, take her face in my hands, and kiss the shite out of her.
“Darren?” Kayleigh called after me. “Hello? Darren?”
I breathed in a steadying breath as I pulled open the first drawer of my toolbox. I was safe here. Things made sense here. The head of this screwdriver fit with that nail, the gage of this wrench could turn that bolt, the width of this wire could connect with that bulb. I understood things here.
“Darren?” she called, her voice breaking through to my safe place. “Are you coming back? Darren?”
“Go do your job, Kayleigh.”
It had been a mistake to agree to show Kayleigh how to work on the vehicles with me. It meant too much proximity, too much intimacy, too much time alone with our breaths hot against one another’s beneath the hood of a car. I was relieved when Kayleigh realised it was a mistake and returned to the office.
I’d almost managed to make myself believe that last part. Relieved. I was relieved. I’d repeated it on my drive home yesterday. I’d repeated it while heating up a can of soup for dinner. I’d repeated it while brushing my teeth, while trying to fall asleep, while waiting for my alarm clock to go off in the morning because I hadn’t fallen asleep. I could almost say it in my head without hearing the other words I banished: disappointed, hurt, stung, discouraged, devastated.
“Kayleigh,” I craned my head back to call across the shop, “the phone’s ringing.”
There was no answer from her as the last harsh rattle of the old wall-mounted phone died in the dark office. I should have just focused on finding the right part to switch out the handles on the Davidson.
“Kayleigh, are you going to go get the phone?”
There was no hesitation this time: “No.”
My fingers curled and my nails sank into my palms as my head dropped down between my shoulders.
“I’m going to fix this spool valve,” she said stubbornly. “Whether you come back and help me or not.”
I sighed in frustration as I heard the wheels of the creeper on the concrete floors. I glanced over toward the Volkswagen.
No. I wouldn’t go. I couldn’t go.
Turning my head back toward the toolbox felt like turning a wrench on a rusted ancient bolt that was practically welded to the metal. I had a better chance of reading a piece of classic French literature than comprehending the motorcycle specifications on the worksheet for my first job as the sound of Kayleigh working filled my ears. I stared at the row of wrenches and suddenly none of them seemed to fit anywhere.
I was rubbing my eyes, trying to clear my vision, when I heard a pipe rattle loudly to the floor and Kayleigh hiss in pain before cursing. With a sigh I grabbed the first aid kit from the side of the toolbox and walked back to the car just as Kayleigh was rolling herself out from underneath it.
She frowned up at me as she held her hand over her left eyebrow, the manual still spread across her chest, the head lamp askew over her messy knots. “I don’t need you,” she grumbled.
“No?” I asked, lifting a curious eyebrow as I stood nonchalantly with the first aid kit at my side.
“No,” Kayleigh said.
“The rack unit didn’t fall when you loosened it because you didn’t support it with a winch?”
She averted her eyes from mine. “Nope.”
“And there’s not a nice cut right there above your eye and a nasty bruise on its way?” I asked, rocking on my heels.
Kayleigh started to shake her head, only to quickly think better of it. “No,” she said. “You can go back to work now, thank you very much.”
I finally threw off my “I don’t care” persona as she tried to push herself up.
“Hey, hey,” I said softly, hurrying to her side and dropping to my knees next to her. “Take it easy, alright?”
With one hand supporting the small of her back and one gently holding her shoulder, I eased her up to sitting, watching her face as she squeezed shut the eye I could see.
“Easy,” I repeated as her skin paled slightly. “Easy now.”
Kayleigh sucked in a breath and opened her eye to stare at me. “I really don’t need you. I want you to know I was doing just fine without you.”
I nodded as I wrapped my fingers around the wrist of her hand that was covering her left eye. “Yes, yes,” I said. “You don’t need me, I get it. Now let me see.”
Kayleigh ducked her head as I pulled her hand away from her face. There was a small cut across her eyebrow. She watched me through a curtain of long eyelashes as I prodded gently at the purpling skin around the cut. She hissed when I got too close.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“How’d you know?” Kayleigh asked in a small voice as I reached behind me and opened the first aid kit.
I was grinning when I shifted back around to face her with two small butterfly bandages and a disinfectant wipe.
“Because I made the exact same mistake when I was first learning,” I explained. “And I was rewarded with the exact same cut.”
Kayleigh tenderly touched the area around her eye as she looked at me. “Really?”
I nodded. “Hurt like a fucker, right?”
Kayleigh at last smiled and a tiny laugh escaped her pink, sweet lips. “A real motherfucker.”
Our eyes met and for just a moment we were just two people smiling, just two people enjoying each other’s company, just two people with their futures wide open, their hearts free, their possibilities together endless. My smile faltered and my eyes dropped to the grey concrete floor when I remembered that Kayleigh was with Eoin and my heart had not been free for a long, long time.
“This might sting a little bit,” I mumbled as I ripped open the disinfectant wipe.
When I looked back up at Kayleigh, her eyes hadn’t left mine, although she was no longer smiling. Up this close I could see her irises were delicate patterns of dark and light greens and streaks of a green so pale that it almost looked silver. Kayleigh’s eyes weren’t just a forest of pines; they were a forest of pines whose leaves sparkled with fresh snow. I imagined getting lost amongst them, the crunch of untouched snow beneath my feet, the smell of the pine under my nose. I imagined the whisper of the wind through the quivering branches, and that was all without closing my eyes.
I swallowed as I forced my attention to her cut. Kayleigh flinched when I touched the disinfectant wipe to the open skin along her eyebrow, but she did not pull away.
“So, umm, what happened to giving up?” I asked.
My eyes darted to hers. They were already waiting for me. She blinked and her long eyelashes swept across her cheek, but she remained quiet.
“I thought it was too hard,” I whispered, “…this new job.
”
I set aside the disinfectant wipe and grabbed the butterfly bandages as the silence in the shop grew louder and louder. It seemed to me as if the rest of the world outside of my brick-lined shop was falling away, turning into darkness. My little repair shop drifted on a shoreless sea, and all that existed was Kayleigh and me and the wind and the water.
I glanced down at her as I placed the first butterfly bandage on the cut. My voice was low and soft as I said, “I thought you said it wasn’t meant to be.”
I added the second and sank back to the floor in front of Kayleigh. She fidgeted with the corners of the car manual and bit her lip. Finally, she looked over at me.
“Someone maybe changed my mind,” she said quietly with a little grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Someone?”
Kayleigh nodded. “Someone with a very bad attitude problem,” she said, eyes searching mine. “Someone grumpy and irritable and often very rude.”
I rested my hands on the floor and leaned back. “Hmm. Someone dark and handsome?”
Kayleigh tilted her head from side to side and tapped her finger against her lip. “Someone who could bother to smile every once in a while,” she said. “Because when this someone smiles, this someone is actually very nice to look at.”
I resisted grinning at Kayleigh.
She frowned, leaned back against the passenger door of the car, and crossed her arms over her chest, still seated on the creeper. “Someone who is the most stubborn ass I’ve ever encountered in my entire life,” she added, levelling her eyes at me.
I shrugged. “I must not know who this someone is,” I teased.
Kayleigh studied me with tender eyes and said with empathy in her tone instead of humour, “I’m not entirely sure you know this someone either.”
Silence fell back around us and again I got the sensation that we were the only people remaining on the planet.
Finally Kayleigh whispered, “I want to try again.”
From the motion of the open car manual, I could tell her chest was rising and falling faster than before.
“This job,” she continued, eyes fixed on mine. “I want to try again.”
I scratched at the back of my neck. “You know it will be difficult?”
Kayleigh nodded.
“And painful?”
Kayleigh smiled and grazed her fingers along the butterfly bandages over her eyebrow, but I could tell from her eyes that she knew I wasn’t talking about a cut in her skin. I wished that was the kind of pain I was talking about. I wished the worst that could happen if the two of us took a step down this path was some blood and a few stitches. My lips would have been on hers right then and there if that was the pain I was talking about.
“You know it will be easier in the office,” I said at last. “You won’t get hurt in the office…no one will.”
Kayleigh flinched at these words, just like she flinched when the disinfectant wipe burned her open wound.
“I can’t keep answering phones just because it’s easy,” she said. “Or that’s all I’ll ever do in life: answer phones.” She looked across at me earnestly as she clutched the manual to her now heaving chest. “I want to try again, Darren,” she whispered passionately. “I have to try again… I have to see if we—I can do it.”
I hesitated, knowing I was about to make the wrong decision and knowing I didn’t care. I exhaled shakily. “Alright.”
Kayleigh’s eyes filled with hope as she leaned forward slightly. “You’ll show me?”
I nodded. “Lesson one: using a winch.”
Kayleigh
At the back of the little office at the back of the shop there was a little bathroom with a dingy mirror above a chipped porcelain sink and a single halogen light bulb hanging from the ceiling that flickered like a horror movie. This is where I was forced to get ready for that night’s date with Eoin. Needless to say, it wasn’t going well.
Every time I raised my arms to curl another strand of my red hair, I bumped my elbows against the faded tiles. The light in the mirror was so dim that I had to check in my phone camera every time I swiped my mascara over my eyelashes to make sure I hadn’t gotten it all over my eyelids. I banged my forehead against the wall when I bent down to tug up my burgundy gown. I had to sit on the toilet, which was missing its seat, to strap up my heels. So when I finally slipped out past the door plastered in motorcycle brand stickers, I had no idea whether I looked like a lady or a lady of the night.
I was craning my neck around to make sure I wasn’t trailing a snake of toilet paper behind me when I heard a loud clang. I turned around, searching for the source of the noise, and found Darren rubbing at the back of his head while he put the stand for the hood of the Volkswagen back in place. He busied himself with the exhaust valves.
“Darren?” I asked.
He responded with a low grumble.
I sauntered over to him. “Darren,” I said with an uncontrollable smile, “Darren, did you just smack your head looking over at me in this dress?” I leaned against the driver’s side door, not caring at all about the dust getting on the velvet bow at the bottom of the backless dress.
Darren glanced over at me from under the hood and frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’m far too busy to take notice of what you’re wearing.”
I bit back a laugh and nodded. “So I just imagined the sound of a skull hitting the metal of a Volkswagen Polo hood?”
Darren, focused back on his work, shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kayleigh. I’d recommend getting your ears checked.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “So if I felt the back of your head, I wouldn’t feel a bump?”
Darren shook his head, gritting his teeth with the same effort as turning his wrench. “Flat as a pancake.”
“Maybe I should check then,” I said.
His eyes darted to mine, looking at me through that curtain of dark eyelashes. “Maybe you should.”
His words sent a bolt of electricity from my heart all the way to my fingertips, which twitched toward him. Before I could remind myself what a terrible idea touching him was, I was reaching my hand toward his hair. Our eyes held one another, fear and excitement and guilt reflected back, as I carded my fingers through his thick, soft, unruly hair, still messy as it always was from his motorcycle helmet. I licked my lips as Darren leaned just the tiniest bit into my touch. I moved my hand to the back of his head and ran my fingernails along the nape of his neck.
My chest was rising and falling harshly when my cell phone buzzed from within the office. I pulled my hand from Darren’s hair as if I’d been burned and cleared my throat. “I should get that,” I said, voice rough.
Darren nodded as I turned toward the office. My heels rasped on the concrete floors of the shop. I tried to bite my lip but I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “If I turned around right now, there’s no way I would find your eyes on me, right Darren?”
“Absolutely not, Ms. Scott.”
I managed to hold back a lustful sigh till I was in the safety in the office. The mental image of Darren watching me walk away did more for me than Eoin’s lips pressed hot and tight against my own.
I reached for my cell phone with both reluctance and guilt.
Eoin: Kayleigh Bear, my own true love, my soulmate, my one and only, I shall cover your bedroom with a million and two roses to make up for this, but I have to cancel our date tonight. Coach is having us stay late at practice after last week’s loss. Can you possibly ever forgive me, my princess?
My response back only took a couple clicks: No problem!
The contrast of my text to Eoin’s was obvious and terrible. Before I tossed my cell phone back into my purse I added: Have a great practice, hon.
I leaned against the door frame of the office, sighing as I looked across the shop at Darren still ducked under the hood of the Volkswagen. The sleeves of his charcoal-grey Henley were pushed past his elbows, and I could see t
he long, lean muscles along his forearms strain as he worked. After pulling a rag from the waistband of his dark jeans, he stretched toward the back of the engine. I caught a glimpse of his defined abs and the patch of dark hair that disappeared down to a region of Eoin’s brother I definitely should not have been thinking about.
“Um, Eoin had to cancel,” I said almost timidly into the quiet space.
Darren stood and wiped his grease-covered hands on the rag. “What’s that?”
I should have said this: “Eoin has rugby practice so he cancelled our date, so I’m going to go head home.”
It was the right thing to say. I knew that. But when I opened my mouth, I just couldn’t quite get my lips to move that way.
“Eoin has rugby practice so he cancelled our date so…so I don’t have plans tonight.”
Darren slowly finished wiping off his hands, one agonising finger at a time. When he finally looked over at me, he swallowed heavily. “You should go out with Candace and Aubrey,” he said. “You look… I mean, you got all dressed up and…and someone should take you someplace nice.”
I hesitated.
Could he not see that I didn’t want to go someplace nice? Could he not see that I was tired of chandeliers and ’84 Dom Perignon and hushed, polite whispers? Could he not see that all I wanted was a smudge of grease on my cheek and his hands on my body?
“Or…” I said slowly, stepping carefully toward him. “Or you could take me on that motorcycle ride you promised me.”
Darren searched my eyes when I stopped a few feet away from him.
“It’ll be cold,” he said.
“I know.”
“Your hair will get ruined.”
“I know.”
“You might get dirty.”
I smiled. “Good.”
Darren paused a moment longer, seemingly thinking, pondering, weighing. Finally he nodded.
“Alright.”
* * *
“What do I need to do?” I asked as Darren leaned down to adjust the straps of my helmet.
His eyes briefly met mine, a comet here then gone. “Just hold on.”
