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I drop the translucent rock in my hand and stare at him. “What the fuck?”
He just shrugs, his eyes still shut.
“Was he—did he, like, treat you badly?” I blurt. It’s not what I meant to say, but it was right there at the back of my throat and now it’s too late.
He opens his eyes. “I don't know,” he says after a long pause. "Maybe he did. Selfishness and manipulation always got him what he wanted, especially from me, so he had no reason to change. We brought out the worst in each other; we never should have married, but love makes you stupid. The only thing I could do right was sex, so eventually that’s all he wanted from me. Things got very toxic, and in the end it was better for both of us that he left. Even if he did it all wrong.” He sits up, swinging his legs to the ground. “It destroyed me. I don’t think I can ever trust in a relationship again, and I’d be a shitty single father, so I guess kids aren’t happening.”
“You’re thirty-six, not sixty. Who knows what might happen?”
His voice ices over. “I lost my future once; I refuse to go through that again. My career is the way that I get to help people now, and that’s perfectly satisfactory.”
Perfectly satisfactory. A solid three out of five stars. Living the dream.
Sticking a smooth, black rock in my pocket, I walk over and stop in front of him. It’s the only time I’ve been at his eye level. “When I have kids, I’ll bring them to visit you.”
His face moves like he’s trying to smile, but nothing happens. I don’t think he has it in him anymore. “You won’t even remember me by then. But thank you for the thought.” He stands up, towering over me. “Are you going to show me how to check the oil?”
“Nope.” When he frowns, I gesture for him to lead the way up the slope. “You’re going to do it.”
We scramble up to the car, managing not to ruin any of our clothes, and I pop the hood again. “Alright. Unscrew the cap.”
He crosses his arms, like he’s going to throw a fit and refuse, but when I stare him down he huffs and comes to stand next to me, studying the complex engine. After tugging halfheartedly on the cap, he gives up. “I’m going to break it.”
“You won’t.” I press my hand against his lower back, mostly to keep him from escaping. “I promise. Anyone can do this.”
His heart is beating hard; I can feel it all the way down through my fingers. Finally, he tucks his tie into the front of his shirt and leans over, putting some effort into it. When the component comes free and he looks up, I’m taking a photo of him with my phone.
“Just documenting the moment. You could set it as your wallpaper at work.”
“You little fucker.” He drops the dipstick in the grass and comes for me. I might be able to deadlift more than him, but his arms are about seventeen times longer than mine, so he just wraps one around my chest and uses the other to pluck away the phone I’m trying to hold out of his reach. “And…delete.”
“How is it you can delete photos so much faster than you can text them?”
His nostrils flare, his eyes on mine, and a familiar heat pools in my gut. Then he hands my phone back and picks up the dipstick. “Show me how this thing works.”
“Wipe it off on the grass, then dip it again.” When it comes out glistening a second time, I gesture for him to screw it back in. “You obviously have oil, so the sensor is probably faulty. We’re good to drive home.” As he walks away, wiping his hands on a handkerchief, I make sure he’s not looking and double check he got it on straight before closing the hood.
I guess I’m not driving anymore, because he takes the wheel without a word. I almost never get tired of talking, but this evening as the sun sets bright over the skyscrapers I realize I can’t think of anything to say. Or maybe I can’t think of the words for the things I want to say. Either way, I just sit and study the rock I picked up at the river, polished smooth under my fingers. I think I’ll leave it on Gray’s desk when he’s not paying attention, so that he has something to look at besides an empty picture frame.
