I stared straight ahead and drove, lost in that memory. Thinking how sad it was we were both adults and strangers now.
“It would be fun to see Ashton running around, give him a popsicle and then hide so Trixie can’t beat me up for overloading him with sugar,” she said.
“Damon and Trixie’s kid? Yeah, he’s a cutie. He loves cars. He’s gonna ride on our tow truck in the parade, him and John’s girls.”
“He’ll love that. When he turned one, I got him an RC monster truck. I thought they’d kill me—he’s too little for it, he’ll tear it up. But he had mastered that controller by the end of the day.”
“I bet he was crazy about it.”
“He was.”
“Did he break it?” I asked knowingly.
“Yeah, it lasted maybe two weeks. But he got a lot of joy from it while it worked.”
When we got to the garage, she bounded out of the truck almost before I had it shifted into park. She was pretty eager to get away from me. She pulled out her debit card at the counter.
“Card reader’s down,” I said. “You got a check?”
“A check? What is this, the nineteenth century?” she teased. “Yeah, I keep a checkbook for geezers like you.”
She reached in her purse and dug around and swore. “I left it at home. I was writing out my water bill last night in the kitchen. Because they kick it old school like you do. No online bill pay.”
“You got me. I’m slowly taking over all the utilities and reverting to paper and pencil. Eventually I plan to take the bookkeeping back to the good old chisel and stone tablet,” I said. “Seriously, we do take cards, but the reader’s down.”
“I’m not trying to get away without paying you. If you can follow me home, I’ll get you a check.”
“You could just bring me a check tomorrow, Chel. I trust you.”
“I just want to get it over with,” she blurted out. She wanted to be done dealing with me, is what she probably meant. It felt like she’d punched me. She wanted me out of her sight and I knew why.
“Okay, I’ll follow you and you can get me a check. I’m going that way anyhow.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving me a rare smile, looking a little relieved.
I passed her the keys.
“Invoice?”
“It’s two-hundred even,” I said hedging.
“Great. That seems low, but I want a copy of the parts and labor. I’m a stickler for record keeping. It’s the librarian in me.”
I pretended to look around, “Huh. Maybe John had it in his pocket,” I said.
“Right. Where’s the invoice?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Drew,” she said. I felt my eyes drop. I couldn’t look right at her, not that those blue eyes, that golden hair I’d run my fingers through so many times. “You’re full of shit. Where’s the invoice?”
“There isn’t one,” I said.
“Why?”
“You needed a starter, no ring gear.”
“And that retails for $150 by itself. How much was the labor?”
“There wasn’t any.”
“So the starter just fell out of my car and the other one hopped in like magic? Did the birds and mice from Cinderella come by and put it in for you?” she asked sarcastically. “I can afford it, Drew.”
“God, I was trying to be nice. Can you just let me?” I said.
“No,” she said softly. “I can’t. Just let me pay for the whole thing, please. Parts and labor. That’s what’s fair. I can pay my own way. I don’t want to owe you.”
“You don’t. You wouldn’t.”
“Do you think doing me a favor now, one I don’t need, makes up for anything?” she asked, and then her cheeks turned bright red. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Out loud?” I said. She nodded. “I’ll make out an invoice and follow you home. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied. “Just don’t act like we’re family or something. We knew each other in school. That’s been a long time ago.”
“Eighteen years.”
“Don’t remind me,” she groaned.
I scribbled out an invoice and handed it over. Then I locked up and went out to my truck. She had said giving her a discount on labor didn’t make up for anything in the past. She was thinking of it too, the way I’d broken her heart. That made everything worse somehow. I admit, I didn’t want her to forget we were ever together, but I wanted it to have stopped hurting her a long time ago. The fact it still upset her, she still thought of it, made me ache. To know that I’d hurt her so much that it hadn’t ever gone away.
5
Michelle
I could not believe I’d said that to him. I knew he was lowballing me, and I wanted to pay the full amount, not get the kind of friends and family discount you give to people you’re close to. Not when he made it clear a long time ago that I meant nothing to him. Don’t do me any favors, I thought, don’t think this buys your way back into my good graces if that’s what you’re looking to do. To pay for your sins. Because a few hundred bucks or a few thousand would never make it up to me.