She clicks her tongue and waves a dismissive hand my way. ‘No, this is my life. It’s been my life since I was younger than you. I can’t stop now.’
‘You love the bottoms of cars that much?’
‘Look, Darien.’ Something in Mãe’s voice changes, something sterner and more fragile. ‘It was your father who taught me how to work on the undercarriage. We were just kids then. It’s … it’s a silly thing that keeps me close to him.’
Oh? I hadn’t actually known that. I sigh. ‘Okay. If permanent back damage brings you closer to Pai.’
‘Maga-lin-ho!’
‘Mãe!’ I throw my hands up in surrender. ‘I’m done. Promise. So what do you need me to do here?’
My mother glares at me, but she gestures to the Civic. ‘This Honda, customer wanted a new paint job, maybe to race or something. We will take care of the internal, but you can start on the body. Matte black and white, he said.’
I can’t help but laugh at that one. ‘He’s gonna look like the cops.’
‘Hmm.’ Mãe steps back, regarding the Honda as if trying to imagine it with the new paint. ‘Reminds me of when you almost got arrested. Remember, that one summer? When was that, you tried to take the Chevy out on the street and—’
I groan like only a kid being perpetually embarrassed by his mother can groan. ‘That wasso longago!’
‘So, it being long ago means I cannot remember it?’ She gives me theI’m still your motherlook, complete with a twinkle of mischief in her eye – where I get it from, I’ve been told. ‘I am not that old yet, Darien.’
‘Oh, god. Let’s just start on the car.’
The garage begins to come alive as the rest of my mom’s crew trickles in. I recognize all of them. Mãe was reluctant to look for new sets of hands once she’d found mechanics she could trust, and her mechanics didn’t want to go anywhere else, sothey stuck. The team that made up our Magalinho’s family were the best around.
‘Hey, look who decided to pay a visit!’ a stocky, bronze-tanned guy just years older than me calls out as he strolls into the garage.
‘What can I say? Mom wants help, I have to respond,’ I joke. Manuel Soares da Costa brings me straight in for an enormous hug. It’s been almost a year, as it tends to be with Formula seasons. Off on the winters, that’s about all the holiday we get other than the brief summer break, now that they’re cramming our schedules full of races at every possible turn.
‘Good to see you.E parabéns!’ He wolf-whistles, gripping me by the shoulders. ‘I saw that contract you signed. Dude! The numbers on that thing!’
‘Ah, best part is still having that car,’ I point out with a smirk. ‘She’s the queen of my heart.’
Manuel presses a hand to his forehead and swoons, which goes wrong when he has to hop over a fallen wrench. ‘Can you imagine popping the chassis of anF1 carand stripping that engine?’
‘Just you, bro,’ I tease him. ‘You and your engine fetish.’
‘Hey, there’s a reason your mama trusts me with her cars! And there’s definitely a reason you trusted me with yours,’ he teases me back. He’s quite right, though. Something about engines and their many parts just lines up in Manuel’s brain. We used to work together to get my kart going absolutely nuts in local races. Manuel was, I like to say, my first engineer, and – without a doubt – my best.
‘When do you go back?’ he asks, dropping his bag beside mine.
‘Like, three weeks.’ I smile at the thought of home. ‘Can’t wait. Bro, I hear that trolley going outside, and it’s …’
‘Santa Teresa.’ Manuel reads my mind with a snort. ‘Damn, you talk like myvô. All you need’s a cane and dentures.’
‘Shut up.’ I elbow him in the ribs. ‘You need to go. I’ll take your ass there myself.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Of course, Iwantto go. And I would, but I’ve got Vanessa here, a kid on the way … not quite the time to jet off.’
It takes a minute for that one to sink in.
‘Yo … you gotwhat?’
Manuel’s my age. We literally grew up together. I guess with the way I live, I forget that everyone else’s lives keep on going. Even this guy, the dude who won a bet and made me pierce my ears before deciding that he wanted his pierced too, the guy who got so drunk he went skinny-dipping in someone’s pool the rich neighbourhood over. And now he’s having achild.
‘Pick your jaw up off the floor.’ He laughs, partly shy, partly proud.
‘Dude! Akid,’ I yelp, pulling him into another hug. ‘Parabéns, brother.Wow.’
