Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 3)

Wow, I didn't realize I have this much stuff.

You never can contemplate how much shit you hoard until you have to pack it all up. I thought better of packing my old stuffed animals and the costume jewelry I had collected along the way as a kid. All of that is packed up to be donated to the homeless shelter downtown.

There are plenty of little girls who will enjoy it as much as I did. Maybe even more, because for me there was an endless supply of stuff, for those kids, there isn't.

Garlits jumps up on his back feet, and scratches at my thighs as he whines. “Hey, buddy, you excited too?” I ask, bending down to pick him up.

He licks my face over and over, and I have to pull him away. “Okay, boy, that's enough. I get it. I love you, too.” Placing him through the window, I sit him on the passenger seat, finally wiping the sweat off my forehead.

It's another hot day. The sun is beating down on my face, and there isn't even so much as a hint of a breeze. The trees and clouds are so still they look like a painting. As if Bob Ross just brushed the sky behind the hills in the distance. Happy little trees stand motionless, and the clouds are like white balls of cotton.

I take a step back, just soaking this view in one last time. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel this morning. I wondered if I was going to be sad, maybe even shed a tear or two as I packed up my things and stood in an empty room.

And you know what? I don't feel sad at all. I'm happy. I feel lighter than air. I don't think I've ever felt this free. The weight on my shoulders is gone. I'm standing straighter. I'm standing taller. I'm standing on my own two feet for the first time in my life.

Garlits pokes his head out the window and barks. “I know, I'm coming,” I say.

I squeeze my hand around the keys and pull the sunglasses down off my head to cover my eyes. I'm ready.

I hear the door in the garage open and close. Pulling up my sunglasses, I see my dad standing with his hands hanging at his side. He gives me a weak smile, slowly walking to my side. His heels scuff across the floor, leaving small black streaks on the clean gray cement.

“You, uh, you got everything in, I see.”

“Yeah, it was a pain, but I got it.”

“I didn't think you'd be able to fit it all.” He folds his arms across his chest and rocks back on his feet. Clearing his throat, he points at the dog. “You sure Garlits won't be a problem?”

“No, he'll be fine. Besides, he's like my shadow. I can't imagine not having him with me.”

“And you're sure this is what you want to do?” my father asks. I can hear it in his voice. He doesn't want me to go, but he knows I need to do this. Not for him, not out of retaliation or anger, but for me.

“Yeah, Dad, I'm sure. It's time.”

“What about money? What are you going to do for money? Your mother says you won't take the check she wrote you.”

“This isn't about money. You know that, right?” He nods a half nod. “Brand is going to help me with my racing career. I'm good at it, Dad, and with his help, I just know I'll go places.”

My father is quiet. He's staring at me with a million words running through his head. I'm waiting for it. I know he's going to tell me I'm wrong, that I don't know how hard the real world is, and I'm going to be back before dinner tomorrow night.

“I know you will, honey. You're right, you were made for this.”

“What?” I ask. I almost can't register what he's saying. Is he agreeing with me?

“I never told you this before, but I know John was take you driving, and showing you things in the shop. I told him to do it.”

“Wait, you told him to? What do you mean you told him to?”

“You had a spark when you were around a car, and John's great at what he does. I love my cars, but I knew you needed more than just that. You needed a real teacher.”

“Dad, I—”

“Nope, don't. I know I've said things over the years, but I can see you better now. You're going to go out there and kick ass.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say. My eyes well up, filling to the rims. Blinking quickly, I look all around trying to stop myself from crying.

He's never said anything so nice or so real to me before. He's always had this hard shell, and maybe that's been his protection. Protection from watching his kids grow up. Protection from feeling left behind. Protection from failing.