by Claire Adams
I was afraid of that. “She’s keeping an eye on me?”
“I don’t know if she’s keeping an eye on you or not, but I know I’m not jumping in the middle of a family thing,” Paz says. “People lose an eye doing that.”
“She’s gotten to you, too, then?”
“Call it what you want,” she says. “I can’t help you.”
I’d like to move out of my house now, please.
She leans toward me, saying, “Not for nothing, but I hear the guy on the cameras right now loves his coffee breaks—takes one at the bottom of every hour. You wanna get outta here without your mom finding out, that’d be my bet.” She leans back and shakes her head. Then, in a much louder voice, she says, “Wish I could help you. I gotta get back to work.”
Paz walks off and I look at the clock.
It’s 2:20. I only have ten minutes before the guard is supposed to be off taking his coffee break.
The next ten minutes seem like ten days.
Finally, at exactly 2:33, I make my move. Okay, it’s less of a move and more me just finding the nearest exit and trying not to be seen by too many people on my way out of the hospital.
As I’m getting into my car, I try calling Eli again for good measure, but he’s still not picking up.
The difficult thing about the drive is keeping my speed within the limit.
I get to the shop and instead of parking out in the lot, I pull up to one of the bay doors. Eli comes around the corner, sees my car, and then turns around, but that’s not going to fly with me.
Leaving my car door open, I get out of the car and follow Eli into the shop. “We’ve got to talk about this sometime.”
“I’m not off for another couple hours,” he says, heading toward his workbench. “If you want, you can come back and we can talk then.”
I stomp my foot hard against the concrete of the carless shop, sending a hot wave of pain up my leg. “We can talk now,” I tell Eli.
He stops, turns around.
“What is going on?” I ask. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
“You know, Kate,” he says, “I think you and I are just too different. You’re really into intellectual stuff, and I’m more a work-with-my-hands kind of guy. It’s not right of me to hold you back.”
“Oh, hi, Mom,” I say, waving at Eli. “You look different with the stubble.”
Eli scoffs and shakes his head. “She’s right, though, isn’t she? Before you met me, you had a very different life planned out, and I can’t be the reason you give all that up.”
“Is that what she told you?” I ask.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“If you’re so convinced of that, why do you keep saying the words as a question? If that’s how you feel, why don’t you just tell me?”
“Okay,” he says, “honestly, do you think that I’ve been a positive force in your life? I’m not just talking about the sex or the driving—I mean, has there been anything about our relationship that’s helped your life move forward instead of pushing it back?”
“More than you even know,” I tell him. “Do you really think I’m just in this because I like fast cars?”
He doesn’t answer.
“It’s not about the cars or the racing. It’s not even about the sex, though at least there, we’re getting a little closer to the ballpark,” I tell him. “What it’s about is that I like you. I feel freer when I’m with you, and I’m not ready to give that up just because Mom’s got a problem with it. I’m not a teenager anymore. If you think she’s right, though, maybe it is best if we don’t see each other again.”
“That’s not fair,” he says. “I didn’t ask for her to trick me into meeting her in that room.”
I knew she’d talked to him, but only because that was the only thing that would fit. “What room?” I ask.
“In the hospital,” he says. “When I was on my way out the last time I saw you, I ran into your friend and she told me to head up to the third floor. She said that someone wanted to talk to me. I thought she meant you.”
“Mom was waiting for you,” I observe.
“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I may not agree with everything she said, but Kate, she had some good points.”
It’s no longer a want: I need to move out of that house and it needs to happen soon.
“Like what?” I ask, but before he can answer, my patience runs out. “She thinks anything I do that she hasn’t specifically told me to do is a mistake,” I start. “For my mom, there is only one path through life, and it just so happens to be the one that both she and my dad took.”
“Do you want to be a doctor?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I’ve been trying to be one for so long I guess I never really stopped to figure that part out. What I do know, though, is that I don’t want this relationship to end. Of course, if I’m going to end up dating my mother, maybe you’re both right and this is a huge mistake.”
He chuckles.
“What are we going to do?” I ask. “She’s not going to let up. We both know that. I’m not willing to back down, either, but there’s got to be a better way to do it.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Eli says, “but if something’s making you miserable, doesn’t it make sense to find out why?”
“Absolutely,” I tell him. “I was miserable when you just abandoned me without a word, so I came here to find out why.”
“Look, I don’t want to ruin your life,” he says. “I want to help, but it doesn’t seem like I’m doing a very good job of it.”
“Do you really think I’d let you ruin my life? Do you really think I’d give that kind of power to anyone?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I know exactly what he’s going to say.
“My parents lord over me because they’re insecure and they’re my parents,” I say. “I didn’t give them that power, and I can tell you right now, they’re not going to have it very much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
I want to move out of my parents’ house, but there are a couple of problems. If I move out, the parents stop paying for school, for my car, for everything. Not having a job that pays is going to make bills and rent a lot more difficult to cover.
There’s another obvious option, but Eli and I are way too early in this to even talk about moving in together.
“I just want to get out of there,” I tell him. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it yet, but I’ve got to move out of that house and get into my own place. I’m never going to be able to think straight, much less figure out what I actually do want to do with my life if I can’t get out from under them.”
“You know,” he says, “a guy I know has been looking to sublet his apartment to someone. If you want, I can look into it for you.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “I don’t have any money, though. I’m going to have to get another job first.”
“Don’t quit your job yet,” Eli says. “I’ve got to see if I can get a hold of him. It’s been a little while since we talked.”
“But the two of you are friends, right?” I ask. “Do you think he might consider something like that?”
“I’m sure he could use the money,” Eli says. “More than that, I’m sure he could use a warm body in the place so the landlord doesn’t try to rent it out from under him.”
“Where is he anyway?”
Eli hesitates.
“He’s in jail, isn’t he?” I ask.
“You might say he’s looking for a longer-term lease if you know what I’m saying,” Eli tells me. I’m not sure how I could misunderstand. “Don’t worry about rent. We’ll figure that out soon enough. I do want to tell you, though, the apartment’s nice enough, but the neighborhood’s a little rough. Is that a deal-breaker?”
“Do you mean rough as in impolite, or do you mean rough as in I walk out of my apartment at the wrong time, I could catch a stray bullet?”
His hesitation isn’t comforting.
<
br /> “It’s probably somewhere in between,” he says. “I don’t think you’d actually get shot, but you’d probably see some things you wouldn’t in the neighborhood where you live now.”
I can’t help but cringe. “Why don’t we put a pin in that one for now,” I tell him. “What I’m more interested in at the moment is whether or not you actually want to make a go of this or if I’m just wasting my time.”
“I don’t want to break up,” he says. “I like you—a lot, really. I’d just rather not be the reason why you gave up on your dreams.”
“You have a frighteningly high opinion of yourself,” I tell him. “Look, if you’re in this, I need you to be in this. No more dodging calls and texts. If we’re going to give us a shot, you’re going to have to talk to me, even when you’re not sure how it’ll go. If there’s a problem, or if you’ve done something, I may get upset. But if you just ignore me, we’re going to have some problems. That’s just part of being in a relationship.” At least, that’s my understanding. “Are you in or out?”
He smiles.
“Yeah, I’m going to need a yes or a no here,” I tell him.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m in.”
“Good,” I tell him.
“Your mom’s gonna be pissed,” he says.
I shrug. “She’s usually mad about something,” I tell him.
A car horn honks outside the shop and Eli and I both head for the bay door. There’s a customer waiting behind my parked car.
“I’ll move it,” I tell Eli before he has a chance to ask, and I get in and pull my car through the shop and out the open bay door on the other side.
Walking back into the shop, Eli waves me over while the customer’s getting out of his vehicle.
“Hey,” he says, “I’m going to have to help this guy, but I think Mick’s kicking around here somewhere. Tell you what. While I’m doing this, ask Mick if he’ll ride along with you for a driving lesson. He may not have the reflexes, but he’s got all the knowledge.”
“Okay,” I tell him. “Maybe that’ll be a good opportunity to bond with your friend. Now that I know you want to be my boyfriend, I think I can handle something like that.”
He bends down and gives me a quick kiss on the lips.
While he heads over to talk to the customer, I turn into the office.
Mick’s inside, watching a soap opera and laughing himself silly. By the time he notices I’m in the room, he’s wiping tears from his eyes.
“Hey,” he says, “you’ve got to check this out.” He points at the small screen, saying, “The one on the left, the blonde, she just got back from doing CIA wet work, only she’s telling her husband she was on a business trip to Rome to talk about importing-” he interrupts himself with his own laughter.
“If you’re too involved with the show,” I tell him, “I can come back later.”
“Oh,” he says, sitting up straight and hitting the power button on the remote control with the same move. “I didn’t know you were in here to talk to me. What’s up?”
Now that I have his full attention, this whole thing starts to feel awkward.
“I was wondering,” I start. “I mean, Eli suggested if you, you know, have some free time or something…” I hate asking for favors from relative strangers.
“Go on,” he says. “You’re doing great. Tell me your words.”
The more I’m around Mick, the more I understand why Eli gives him such a hard time.
“I don’t know if Eli’s told you or not, but he’s been teaching me the fundamentals of racing,” I start again. “While I’m waiting for him to get off of work, I was wondering—he suggested that you might be willing to give me a few pointers, yourself. He says you know all that there is to know about it.”
If that last part doesn’t get him, nothing will.
“Sure,” he says. “What kind of car are we taking?”
“It’s not exactly what you’d call a racecar,” I tell him.
“Most of the cars I race weren’t racers until someone turned them into one,” he says. “What do you have?”
“It’s an automatic Honda Accord,” I tell him.
“An automatic?” he asks.
I nod.
“That’s going to be a problem,” he says. “Eli told me you’re still learning to change gears properly?”
“Of course, he’d tell you that,” I groan.
“It’s fine,” he says. “We all start somewhere. When I first started racing, I was in my parents’ Jeep, and the only way I even won my first race was because the other guy was laughing too hard at my gear changes. You’re in good company.”
Well, at least he’s diplomatic.
“What do you want to do then?” I ask.
“We’ll take mine,” he says. “It’s got a lot more horses than what you’ll have under the hood, but the clutch is forgiving. It might just be what helps you break through.”
He seems excited about this. That’s got to be a good thing.
I agree and he leads me out of the front of the office.
“Go on and head over to the GT86,” Mick says. “I forgot the keys inside.”
He heads back inside and now I get to pretend like I know what GT86 means. I am reasonably certain it’s a car, but none of the ones parked in front of the office look like anything a mechanic would want to work on, much less drive.
I walk around the back of the vehicles, looking for the letters GT, as I can’t remember what other nonsense Mick tacked onto the end of the name.
I’m still squinting at car badges when Mick comes back out of the office.
“I’m parked behind the building,” he says, “probably should have mentioned that.”
He leads me around the shop and we wave at Eli as we pass the open bay doors. Once we’re behind the shop, I start feeling a bit better.
“This is your car?” I ask.
He nods, saying, “It gets me around.”
“I thought you and Eli were really into the old cars or classic cars—whatever,” I respond as I very literally begin to salivate. I manage to stop short of drooling, but not by a wide margin.
“That’s what we both like to race,” Mick says, “but when it comes to an everyday, get-around-town car, I like something that’s going to be a little bit more comfortable. That, and after watching Rans drop thousands and thousands into his heap only for the dumb thing to break down again and again, you come to appreciate the wonders of the modern automobile.”
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him. “It’s not over the top, but it has smooth lines.”
“Look at you,” he says. “Making up crap like you’ve been talking cars all your life.”
I ask, “Did you want to drive or did you want me to?”
He tosses me the keys and gets in the passenger’s side.
I get in the driver’s seat as Mick’s saying, “It’s not a very expensive car.”
“I like it,” I tell him.
He’s leaning back in his seat, saying, “It’s really just something to get me around. It’s not something I’d really race all that often.”
“Okay,” I respond, wrinkling my brow.
“I have done some work on it though,” he says. “You’ll feel that when you turn it on.”
Mick’s a little weird.
“All right, it’s clutch on the left, brake in the middle, and gas on the right, right?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “You really are pretty new to this, huh? Don’t worry. I’m here to help you.”
I put the key in the ignition and buckle my belt, just trying to ignore the possibility that Eli’s best friend is actually trying to hit on me right now.
“That was actually a joke,” I tell him. “I know where the pedals are, I’m just still trying to get better with my timing, especially when it comes to double-shifting. That one doesn’t really make a lot of sense to me just yet. It takes me about four times as long to make sure that I stop shifting before I actually reach the next ge
ar and release the clutch just to push it back in again…”
I’m talking a lot because Mick is leering at me.
I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone leer at me, at least not right in front of me like this. I don’t like the feeling.
“But I know it’s one of those practice things, you know, ‘practice makes perfect’ and all that,” I say and I have nowhere else to go. “Practice makes perfect” was the tail end of my swan song and Mick’s still leering.
“That’s funny,” he says.
“Is it?”
“I don’t know,” he laughs. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”
He’s sitting up in his seat now, facing me.
“I know that sounds like I don’t listen or something, but I have to tell you, I was really distracted by your necklace,” he says.
I’m not wearing a necklace. He can see very well that I’m not wearing a necklace. I know he can see that I’m not wearing a necklace because he is staring at my chest.
“You know,” I start, unbuckling my belt, “maybe this isn’t such a-”
“Ransom’s a good guy and everything,” Mick says, “but do you really think he’s ready to settle in for something real?”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “All I know is that he’s young.”
“You’re young, too,” I tell him.
“Not as young as Ransom.”
“Why do you keep calling him that? I thought you usually called him-”
Mick asks, “Did he ever tell you about our bet?”
If this wasn’t going a bad direction before, I have a feeling it’s about to.
One hand on the door handle, I’m ready to get out of here.
“Hold on,” he says as I start to open the door.
“Mick, I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I’m with Eli,” I tell him.
“I know you didn’t just come visit me because you thought you might catch him,” he says. “It’s okay. I know you probably felt a little weird with the whole doctor/patient thing.”
When one thing gets fixed, you can be pretty sure something somewhere else just broke.
“Actually, I’m not a doctor, I’m a hospital volunteer,” I say as if it matters. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but-”
