Page 21 of Nixon’s Promise

“Hey, Micky, your check oil light is on,” she announced when she stepped out of the car.

Before I could chastise her on her rude greeting, Nixon beat me to it.

“Did you check the oil?”

“Check the oil?” Mandy’s nose scrunched. “Um. No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? I’m a girl.”

I found two things interesting and they happened almost simultaneously. Nixon crossed his arms over his chest and Zack narrowed his eyes and shook his head at his sister.

“What does you being a girl have to do with checking the oil?” Nixon continued.

That was a good question.

“Because it’s a man’s job.”

“So you think a woman should what, be in the kitchen barefoot and knocked up?”

“No!”

“You think a woman should sit in the house all day waitin’ for her man to come home so she can wait on him?”

“No!”

“You think a man should be paid more than a woman because a woman can’t do a good enough job?”

“No. A woman can do any job a man can do,” Mandy replied snottily.

“I agree. So pop the hood and check the oil.”

I wanted to laugh. Nix had expertly led her exactly where he’d wanted and Mandy looked pissed.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“No time like the present to learn.” Nix walked over to the still-open driver’s side door and pointed to the floor, showing Mandy which lever to pull. Then he walked her to the hood and explained there was a latch she needed to release, and the hood opened. Nixon then guided Mandy to the side of the car and showed her where the dipstick was.

While all of this was happening, Zack watched the pair, looking a whole lot irritated with his sister. That was something I was going to have to address—Zack was fast losing patience with Mandy. It was making things more uncomfortable. My problem was, I didn’t know how to make it better for either one of them.

I knew Mandy was struggling with the change. New school, new friends, gone was the city she loved—and as she called it, I’d moved her to cow town. Maybe it was selfish of me and I should’ve sold my house and moved back to LA.

“Do you change your own oil?” Nixon asked me.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a new filter and oil here?”

“No. I just go into NAPA when I need it.”

“Right. You need it. Zack and I were getting ready to head in anyway and get some 30w-40 and gas for his bike. We’ll grab you a filter and oil while we’re there.”

“You don’t have to do—”

“While we’re gone, go put on some clothes you don’t mind getting dirty,” that was to Mandy. Then to Zack, “Sorry, kid, I don’t ride bitch—ever. So you’re on the back of the four-wheeler. We’ll leave your bike here and change the oil at the same time we do the Altima.”

I belatedly noticed there was a big green Artic Cat ATV parked by the horse fence. Goat had his head shoved through the coated wire fencing trying to nibble on the handlebar. Zack shooed the goat away as soon as he rounded the four-wheeler and waited for Nix.