5
AMARA
“Gianni.” My mouth hangs open as I circle the car. “This is wild!”
It’s Saturday and the dentist’s office is closed, so I decided to spend the day checking in on my siblings. Gianni has the day off from work, which means he is on campus at a college in Bozeman that he’s been attending. The upside to having no financial help from parents is that colleges will just about pay your way to a degree.
“We designed the engine on this app.” He shows me a blueprint on his tablet. “And we’re putting it together now. It doesn’t run yet, but I like to think we’re getting close. It’s wild. Some of these parts are still in their prototype stages. But if they run the way I think they will, it could change the way we make cars in the future.”
“It’s amazing, G.” I’m tearing up a little, but I don’t care. I’m too happy for him.
“Oh god, sis. Don’t start the waterworks.”
“Too late. The water is working.”
He hands me a rag that looks clean but smells like motor oil. “Here. Blow into this. You can keep it after.”
“I’m sorry,” I laugh. “I’m just proud of you. The fact that you’ve always stuck with this, even when life was hard. You found a passion and you threw yourself into it.”
Not just being a mechanic, either. Which would have been great itself, but now he’s actually going to school for automotive engineering. That’s every parent’s dream. And I may not be Gianni’s mom, but fuck it, I raised him. I’m allowed to cry a little.
“Yeah, well.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Turns out, I don’t want to just fix cars. I want to build them. Being a run-of-the-mill mechanic usually just means oil changes and tire changes and fixing a busted radiator. Maintenance, you know? I want to create the engines so they don’t need so much work all the time. I want to build something better. Make it last longer.”
“Well, I think you can do it.” I give up and dab my eyes with the oil-smelling cloth. “No. Iknowyou can.”
I’m sure I’m embarrassing him right now, but it’s hard seeing your little brother find his way off the streets. Out of a situation that seemed to hold an inevitable fate. Like the rest of us, he has grit. To say I’m proud is an understatement.
“I hope so.” He half-shrugs, but he hasn’t stopped smiling. “And I mean, being an engineer would pay well. Well enough that you wouldn’t have to work as a receptionist anymore. Maybe you could go back to school.”
I let out a blubbery laugh at that. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, little brother. It’s not your job to take care of me or anyone else.”
“Isn’t it though?” he asks. “You’ve busted your ass since we were kids. Nothing was ever handed to you, and our old man didn’t make it easy either. I think it’s about time you pass the baton.”
I hug him tight. “You just focus on getting that degree and doing what you love for now, G. The rest will come with time. You’re going to be home for dinner, right?”
“You cooking?” he asks.
“Homemade chicken alfredo.”
“Hell yeah, I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.”
After I leave him with his new friends—a vast improvement over the guys he surrounded himself with in New York—I head off to the salon to see Eliza. I pick up lunch on the way, sandwiches and chips from a little deli on main street that isn’t half bad. Honestly, a lot of the little shops around here aren’t bad, even if there are only a handful of places to choose from.
The smaller, slower pace of things has its perks. Like not sleeping with one eye open.
As soon as I walk into the salon, I’m hit with the scent of perm. It’s a sour, pungent aroma that makes me think of Steel Magnolias. I can’t help but grimace.
“There she is!” Gladys lets out as soon as she hears the bells on the door clamor. She’s one of the old ladies that comes into the shop so often I’m surprised she even has any hair left to curl. “Your sister is famished.”
“Not at all.” Eliza smiles as she attempts to curl Gladys’s hair while she turns her head. “I’m absolutely fine.”
“Fine?” Gladys blurts out. “Just ten minutes ago, you said you were going to die of starvation.”
“Figure of speech, Gladys.”
I set the food down on the counter. Alaina, one of the other stylists, walks over to Eliza and takes her curling iron from her. “Why don’t you go eat your lunch. I can finish up Gladys here.”
“Kate does it best,” Gladys argues.
