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I looked back at the blinds. The sun’s rays were half gold and crimson. It looked like slivers of terra-cotta royal roses were spilling into the room.
When I looked back at the doorway, Ian was gone. I heard the front door slam.
I fell over on the bed and cried underneath the red and gold glow.
“You OK?” Journey asked after a while.
I curled up next to the laptop and turned her face to mine. My tears had fallen so quickly, there was a puddle of tears sinking into the sheet below my face.
“I tried,” I said. “I had to.”
“You’re just a woman,” Journey said. “You ain’t perfect. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“I cried all last night.” I wiped my tears and whispered into the laptop like someone else was there with me and could hear me. “And I don’t think it was over Ian. It was over what we’d done. How much time we’d wasted. I keep feeling like I’ve lost so much.”
“You can’t charge your brain for listening to your heart.”
“The crazy thing is that my heart wasn’t so sad that Ian was going. My brain didn’t understand it, but my heart was fine. It was kind of thinking about something else.”
“What?”
“Xavier. I wished he was with me.”
“Where is he now?”
“Back in Chicago, I’m sure,” I said. “I told him to go away. He’s not the type to stick around where he’s not wanted. I guess Tante Heru counted on that in any man.” I looked down at the sheet. The tears were just a wet spot now.
“You could call him.”
“I hurt him. I don’t think there’s any coming back from that.”
Bird called on a cold December morning to tell me that he couldn’t think of anything else to do to the truck. He sounded sad. Told me to come by the shop with something to hang from the rearview window.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Bird said when I got to the shop and found the red truck pulled out front like it was on display for everyone driving by to see. It was so shiny and bold. It looked like someone had opened a can of candy apple red paint and just dumped it on the hood. The white seats inside looked like they’d never been touched and never should be.
“She?”
“Yeah. The truck is a she. Every car is a she.”
“Why?”
“Because she’ll always have her hand in your pocket, but you won’t care, because she’ll always look so good on your arm.” Bird popped out his left arm like he might if he was escorting a woman into a room or hanging it out of the window of a car.
I laughed so hard for the first time since Ian had left my place. I hadn’t heard from him. I hadn’t heard from Xavier either.
“What you gonna do with the truck?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll drive it,” I said, knowing this would entertain Bird. I’d taken a cab to the shop and planned to drive back home.
“Whoooo! You’re a woman after my heart. Now you know that every man everywhere you go is going to ask you about this here truck. Won’t be able to let you drive by without stopping you.”
“Really?”
“This truck is about to be like sugar in front of a baby.” He patted the hood softly and blew the truck a kiss. “The best gift in the world. That’s why I wanted to have it ready for you by Christmas. Figured it would be the only thing you needed under your tree.
”
“It’s perfect,” I said.
