Then a sharp clang of metal-on-metal cuts through the air, and my head snaps towards the sound. Immediately, I head to where it came from, through the small clearing in the trees towards Silas’s cabin.
As soon as I break through to the other side, I come to an abrupt stop.
The hood is popped on Silas’s old truck, with tools and parts scattered on the gravel around it, and he’s stretched out underneath it with only his legs visible from where I stand.
I take a slow step forward, letting my eyes roam over the old beat-up red truck that’s been sitting here untouched for years. Silas stills as I approach, then pushes out from under the truck, his eyes widening as they land on me.
“Hey…” I say, glancing between him and the truck. “What are you doing?”
Silas grabs a rag and wipes his hands as he pushes to his feet. “Fixing it,” he says simply.
My eyes roam over the dented and scratched exterior, looking a bit rougher now compared to when we used to drive it. But a small smile tugs at my lips as I take in the familiar dent in the bumper that I used to stick stickers to all the time to make it look like a face, just to piss him off. And he’d spend hours scraping them off. And the same large scratch along the driver’s side door that Silas refused to paint because it was its biggest scar and made it look like it’d earned it, even though we never knew where it came from.
“I fixed the transmission, and it needed new spark plugs, and the fuel lines cleaned out, but…” he shrugs, looking at the truck as he drops the rag to the ground with his tools, “it should start now.”
I watch him for a moment as he looks over the truck, and I’m surprised to see he’s… ok.
He steps forward and pulls the driver’s door open, which groans loudly, and then he leans in and turns the key.
My pulse picks up as the engine slowly turns over, catching a couple times… before it rumbles to life.
A huge smile spreads across my face as Silas laughs, and pure joy radiates off him.
The truck sounds like shit. But the sound coming from him is music to my ears.
I watch him as he steps back, looking over it with a smile, and my heart lifts at the sight.
He loved this truck. And I never understood why he let it sit. It was the first thing he really created for himself, learning and mastering his now incredible skill at fixing anything, and he had such pride in it.
“Why did you fix it?” I ask, stepping up beside him.
His gaze roams over his truck as he tilts his head for a moment. “Because I’ve learned that scars can still function.”
I keep my eyes on him as hope rises inside me and I wait for him to continue.
“Sometimes the damage is on the inside, and sometimes it’s on the outside. And sometimes it’s both.” He shrugs lightly. “And when it’s on the inside, it’s harder to fix because you can’t see it. But…” he turns to face me, “it can be fixed. And we can be whole, even with scars. It may not be perfect, but… it works. Because we gain our power back by refusing to break.”
A huge smile spreads across my face as I release a heavy breath, and emotion wells in my chest.
Relief, happiness, joy, love, appreciation… all of it. Everything I’ve ever felt for Silas pushes in and takes over.
“I told my family I’m bi.”
Jesus.
Silas’s eyebrows lift, and I rub a hand over my face.
No fucking chill.
“I didn’t tell them anything about you,” I add quickly, dropping my hand as I try to gain some composure. “Just me.”
He nods slowly. “And?”
A small laugh slips out of me as I shrug. “They were completely fine with it. I actually had toaskfor their reaction.”
A smile forms on his lips, and his eyes sparkle.
“I dug up and cut open a potato,” he says, tilting his head towards the hollow heart field.
