Chương 9
He also once spent four hours hand-sanding a bracket nobody would ever see.
Humans were inconsistent that way.
In February, Denise found Maya sitting in the driver’s seat after closing.
The shop lights were off except above the office.
Maya had not started the engine.
Denise opened the passenger door.
“You sleeping here?”
“Maybe.”
“Rent is reasonable.”
Maya looked at the dashboard.
Denise sat beside her.
For a while neither spoke.
The shop made small nighttime sounds: metal contracting, refrigerator cycling, a truck moving on the road outside.
Maya ran one finger over the stitching on the steering wheel.
“I don’t like driving it anymore.”
Denise looked ahead.
“Okay.”
“That’s all?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then okay seems efficient.”
Maya leaned back.
“Dad would be pissed.”
“At you?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“He built it to drive.”
“He built it because somebody told him the frame was too damaged and he took that personally.”
Maya smiled.
“That too.”
Denise touched the glove box.
“He’d tell you cars hate sitting.”
“He did tell me that.”
“He’d also tell you never to let strangers decide what your car means.”
Maya looked at her mother.
Denise shrugged.
“I made that one up.”
“I could tell.”
“I think he would have agreed.”
“Maybe.”
Another long silence.
Maya said, “I miss him more when everyone talks about him.”
Denise’s throat moved.
“Me too.”
“They all make him sound nice.”
“That would have annoyed him.”
“He was nice.”
“Sometimes.”
“He gave a guy a free transmission.”
“He also spent six months angry at our mailman for putting a package behind the wrong planter.”
“That was a bad planter.”
Denise laughed softly.
Maya looked through the windshield at the closed bay door.
“People keep saying I finished his dream.”
“I know.”
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“I finished a car.”
“Yes.”
“He died before it was done.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean he was waiting in heaven for me to torque the rear subframe.”
Denise pressed her lips together.
“Your father would be furious if heaven had subframe torque.”
Maya laughed so hard she had to put her forehead against the steering wheel.
Denise started laughing too.
When it passed, they sat closer than before.
Maya wiped under one eye.
“Stupid.”
“Very.”
In March, Ryan came to the shop.
He did not announce himself.
He arrived alone in an old blue SUV with a cracked fog light.
Maya was writing an estimate when she looked through the office window and saw him standing beside the vehicle.
He wore jeans and a gray sweatshirt.
No chain.
No soccer jersey.
For a second she considered asking Denise to handle him.
That irritated her.
She walked out instead.
Ryan saw her.
His shoulders tightened.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
He pointed at the SUV.
“This is going to sound like I made it up.”
Maya looked at the cracked fog lamp.
“You hit something.”
“A shopping cart.”
“That is disappointing.”
“It rolled.”
“Cars usually do.”
“The cart rolled.”
“I know.”
Ryan smiled weakly.
“My mom said I should take it somewhere else because this would look weird.”
“She sounds smart.”
“Yeah.”
“So why are you here?”
He looked at the SUV.
“Because Eli said you guys are good.”
Maya folded her arms.
“That’s a dangerous level of trust in Eli.”
“He also said you’d probably charge me extra.”
“We don’t have an asshole surcharge.”
Ryan looked at her.
Maya kept a straight face for almost two seconds.
Then the corner of her mouth moved.
Ryan laughed once.
Quietly.
The tension changed but did not disappear.
Maya crouched beside the damaged lamp.
“Bumper’s scuffed. Mount might be cracked.”
“Is that bad?”
“It is for the mount.”
“I know nothing about cars.”
“That has been established.”
He accepted that.
Maya stood.
“I’ll write it up.”
Ryan followed her toward the office, then stopped near the covered red car.
He did not touch it.
Maya noticed.
“You can look.”
“I’ve looked enough.”
She almost smiled.
He glanced toward her.
“I meant to say something.”
“Then say it.”
Ryan shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket.
“The apology I sent wasn’t because the university told me to.”
“Okay.”
“They did tell me I should apologize, eventually. But I sent it before that meeting.”
Maya nodded.
“I believe you.”
He looked surprised.
She continued, “That doesn’t mean I was ready to answer.”
“I know.”
“I was angry.”
“You should’ve been.”
“Don’t do that.”
He frowned.
“Do what?”
“Agree with everything because you think that’s what an apology looks like.”
Ryan looked away.
Fair.
Maya leaned against a worktable.
He rubbed his thumb along the seam of his pocket.
“I was angry too.”
“At me?”
“At everything.”
“Why?”
He hesitated.
“Because I felt stupid.”
“You were.”
“I know.”
Maya stared at him.
He caught it.
“Sorry. You literally just told me not to do that.”
“Yes.”
Ryan exhaled.
“I kept thinking that if Noah hadn’t posted it, none of this would’ve happened.”
“None of what?”
“My coach. My parents. People yelling things at games. Losing friends.”
Maya waited.
“And then I watched the full video.”
His voice was quieter.
“I saw the part before the cup.”
“I was there.”
“Right.”
He looked embarrassed.
“I mean I saw myself.”
Maya did not rescue him from the sentence.
Ryan looked at the concrete floor.
“It wasn’t one bad joke.”
“No.”
“I decided something about you before you even said anything.”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t have a good explanation.”
“You don’t need one for me.”
“I know.”
He looked toward the covered car.
“My dad says explanations are mostly useful to the person giving them.”
“Your dad sounds exhausting.”
Ryan laughed.
“He is.”
Maya turned toward the office.
“Come on. I’ll estimate your cart tragedy.”
The repair was minor.
Ryan accepted the price without argument.
He left the SUV and took a rideshare home.
May you like
Two days later, when he returned, Maya was outside washing the red car.
It was the first time Ryan had seen it uncovered since the video.
