Dammit. Sweat drips down my temples, my jaw.
She switches around, using her hands again to push. Sulli grunts and bites down, her biceps cutting sharp as she shoves harder.
She knows.
She knows how important being back in Philly is to me. She’d probably kill herself to get me there.
“Pace yourself,” I say in a heavy breath.
“We can make it,” she grits down with all the force she exerts.
My eyes burn, holding something back. “Don’t hurt yourself doing it.”
She only applies more effort, her face reddened, shirt caked with sweat. “Let’s go…faster.”
I breathe harder.
Hour four, she glances over at me with reddened, glassy eyes.
“We still have time,” Sulli says, voice choked, “…if we just ditch Booger, we can run, meet up with Akara, call an Uber, book a flight—”
“No.”
“We have to leave her, Banks!” Sulli shouts tearfully, standing up and letting go of the Jeep for the first time in four hours. “I’m not letting you miss your brother’s wedding because of a stupid fucking car.”
I’ve never heard Sulli insult her Jeep before. It means something more to her than I can even understand. “It’s not a stupid fucking car,” I snap back. “Akara said you cried when you were sixteen and your dad gave you the one thing he had left of his best friend. You cried snot-nosed tears, and you’ve told me multiple times that you promised your dad that you’d take care of this car—Adam Sully’s car. You promised him.”
She’s crying now. Fighting more tears, she rubs a hand under her running nose. “And that’s your twin brother,” she retorts. “The guy you shared a womb with. The guy you went to war with. You’ve spent twenty-nine years of your life with your twin, and you’ve told me multiple times that you can’t wait to stand next to him on his wedding day. Your brother. Your twin.”
We’re both breathing even harder.
And I’m falling more and more in love with her.
“One is a memory,” Sulli says in tears. “The other is a person who’s still here. Please don’t miss his wedding to save a Jeep that might be fine on its own. Please.”
I’m used to taking the selfless roads where duty is concerned.
I’m bound to Sulli’s needs. Not my own, and she’s trying to throttle me, shake me, to place myself above her. I think about how much it’ll break my brother if I’m not there, and that just about breaks me. I’m placing him above the Jeep.
I’m about to step away from Booger when we hear a ding ding of a bicycle bell. Dawn is nearing, but even through the darkness, I make out Akara.
He pedals harder on a pink child’s bike, fit with a basket and ribbons out of the handles.
He’s in one piece. It’s one of the first times I almost smile.
Sulli exhales relief. “What happened? You’re alright?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. You both are good?” He jumps off the bike, coming next to us and assessing our ragged states. Sulli nods enough that Akara doesn’t press, and he just explains, “The nearest gas station had cell service. I called a tow truck, but the closest one available is really far away. It’ll take four hours to get here.”
“Fuck,” Sulli and I say in unison.
Akara seems less concerned. “The shop is actually closer. It’s only another mile away. I called them already. It opens in an hour, but no one picked up. So I bought a bike at the gas station—it was the cashier’s nieces, and I went to the shop, banged on the door, and got ahold of a mechanic. I told him the Jeep’s model, and he said he has the air intake boot and carburetor we need.”
Now I really smile. “What are we waiting for?”
Akara smiles, and we share a bigger one with Sulli before we all return our hands to the Jeep. One more mile to go, and we push together.
All three of us.
For once, the Jeep feels light as air.
45
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
We reach the small Minnesota town after pushing Booger for five hours. Exactly twenty-four hours until the wedding, I feel hope surge knowing that we can still drive to Philly in time.
Pumpkins are set out beside a burnt-red garage. Ghosts hang from the trees, and fake cobwebs are stretched between toolboxes inside. The sky lightens to a morning blue, but the sun is still hidden.
It’s quiet in the garage. The doors are open to the lonely road while we wait near Booger. After the mechanic brings out the parts, Banks pops the hood, and they talk and start to work their magic.
I’m exhausted. My whole body is sore, but I’m less physically spent and just emotionally wiped out. Akara pockets his phone so he can hold my hand, but before our fingers even clasp together, everything comes crashing down again.
Banks comes over to us fast. “It’s the wrong carburetor for this older model. He thought they would match, but it’s not gonna fit.” He uses the bottom of his white tee to wipe grease off his hands. “We can order parts, but he said they won’t be here for another two days.”