“Fine.” I huff out a big sigh before I take a small sip and immediately drop the disgusted expression from my face. “Okay, that’s actually not bad,” I tell her, going in for a second slurp as her eyes crinkle over her greenWORLD’S BEST MOMmug. I can’t believe shestillhas that.
“Hey, speaking of your dad, I have to run over to the church before your appointment. Why don’t I drop you off at the garage to have lunch with him? Then I’ll pick you up when I’m done and we’ll go to the doctor.”
I remember all the times Mom and I would pack up dinner and bring it to him on nights when he was stuck there late. The three of us would huddle together in his tiny back office, before he would take me through the garage to show me all the cars he was working on at the time. I was neverparticularlyinterested in how to replace brake pads, but it was always nice to see him in his element, wanting to teach me a thing or two. Plus, it’s somewhere new to try to jog a memory. “Yeah, that sounds really good,” I reply.
I know I don’t have to worry about what will be different about Green’s Auto Repair, because that place hasn’t been updated since my dad bought it ten, or I guess twelve, years ago. Sure enough, I spy the same blue plastic chairs in the waiting room. Same chunky television sitting in the corner of the office nextto the same rust-stained refrigerator with the door you have to lift with your foot to shut.
“I’ll be right there.” A man’s voice calls from underneath an old Ford pickup. Gruff and smoky.
“Hey, Uncle Chuck, it’s just me,” I reply. I have no idea why I call him that since he’s not really my uncle, but immediately the sound of the ratchet stops and he rolls into view on a mechanic’s creeper.
“Stevie?” he says as he sits up. His face is even more leathery than I remember, but his smile is still the same oddly endearing one I’ve always known.
“Is my dad around?” I ask, wondering why he’s looking at me that way, until I remember everything that’s happened.
“You’re okay!” He hops up quicker than an old man should and wraps me up in a hug. “I was so worried about you. My God, you grew up, kiddo.” He holds me out at arm’s length to get a good look at me before tugging me into another hug. He’s acting like he hasn’t seen me in a decade, butI’mthe one who’s basically watched him age two years overnight.
“It’s been longer for me than it has for you, trust me,” I say, my face squished against his chest that’s laced with the smell of motor oil and cigarettes.
He lets me go, knitting his eyebrows together, each scraggly white hair sprouting out in a different direction. “Last I seen you, you was just a kid.”
“Okay, Uncle Chuck.” I laugh him off, shaking my head. “I gotta go. Brought my dad lunch,” I say, moving toward the back of the garage and into his office.
As I step in through the doorway, Dad looks up at me,surprised.What are you doing here?he mouths, a corded telephone tucked under his jaw. I hold up the two sandwiches in Ziploc bags that I made this morning and a big bag of salt-and-vinegar chips to share.
“Okay, Mrs. L, we’ll get you on the schedule. I’ll see you Saturday,” he says into the telephone before dropping it onto its base in the corner of his messy desk, almost every paper stained with black fingerprints.
I guess he really does work weekends now.
“Haven’t seen much of you the past few days, thought we could have lunch,” I say.
“I know.” He runs his hand over the top of his bald head, the bags under his eyes even more apparent than they were at the hospital. “Sorry about that. Just playing catchup.” His eyes flick to the food in my hands. “Is that ham and cheese?”
“With mustard and extra mayo.”
He makes some space on his desk and I grab two cans of root beer out of the fridge before sitting down across from him.
We start eating in silence, the sound of our chewing the only noise in my dad’s cramped office. It feels awkward, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. It’s not like we were ever big talkers, not like Mom and me anyway, but we’ve never had trouble finding things to chat about over a meal.
“How’s business?” I ask, popping a salt-and-vinegar chip into my mouth, but I don’t think he hears me. His attention is trained on something over my shoulder. I turn to find Fox News muted on the TV, closed captions scrolling across the bottom of the screen. “Dad,” I repeat a little louder, rolling my chair to the right to cut off his line of sight until his attention is on me. “How’s work been?”
“Oh, it’s fine. It’s good. Busy, you know,” he replies, and subtly rolls his chair in the opposite direction to get a view of the TV again. This… is not what I had in mind for our lunch date.
“Pfft,” he scoffs. “Yeah, because he’s barely a man!” I spin my chair to see the pixelated screen, where a clean-cut guy in a tan suit and a pink tie is sitting at a round table with the regular hosts. “Just leave the queers to CNN, Joe. That’s your problem.”
“Dad!” I say, sitting back in surprise. I know he subscribes to the Church’s views, but I’ve never heard him say something likethatbefore.
“What? Come on. Why even bringthose peopleon television?”
“They’re just regular people, Dad. Not any different from you and me,” I reply, but he’s leaning around me again to get a clear view of the screen. “And since when do we eat meals with the TV on? That’s like… your golden rule.”
That finally gets his attention. He looks at me confused and then at the TV before turning it off with a guilty look on his face.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. How are you doing? You’ve got your appointment today?” he asks.
“Yeah. Mom should be picking me up soon to take me,” I reply, my skin still prickling after that comment he made, but I push through it. “I’m starting back at the coffee shop this coming week. I—”
“That’s good to hear, Stevie.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Glad you’re not like these other yahoo kids who think they deserve everything fed to them on a silver spoon.”
