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She takes a deep breath. “I got your note. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was the least I could do after yesterday.”
“Well, thank you.” She says it low, as if admitting her appreciation aloud would have a greater impact.
“It’s fine. I had the mechanic change the other three to match because I didn’t want you driving around in the rain with stripped tires.”
“You did?” Her eyes flicker from the car to my face.
“Yup. Also, he went ahead and changed your oil and swapped your wipers out for new ones too.”
She covers her mouth.
Uncertainty drives me to ask, “Is that fine?”
She nods, her glassy gaze still fixated on the car.
I hand her the keys. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your day.”
We swap keys. Her fingertips brush across the palm of my hand, and electricity passes over my skin.
“Thanks. That was kind of you to help me with the car.” She disappears behind the door before I have a chance to answer her.
I didn’t expect much from her after last night’s incident, but part of me still wished for more. More what exactly, I’m not too sure. All I know is that my confidence from earlier is replaced by a new wave of emptiness. Except this time, I choose not to drown it with alcohol. It’s a self-induced punishment I accept wholeheartedly, knowing it is my fault Lana is upset in the first place.
That night I don’t go to bed drunk and numb. Instead, I go to bed alive and angry at my grandfather for putting me in the exact situation I knew would happen if I stuck around the last time.
I can’t replace the vase I broke. It’s a useless effort to even try, but I head out Sunday morning to the local mall an hour away from the lake with the hope of finding something to make up for my drunken accident.
Finding a vase is easy. The selection is endless, and I choose the nicest, most expensive one. Lana won’t care about the price tag, but maybe my effort won’t go unnoticed.
While the cashier is carefully wrapping my purchase so it won’t break, I walk around the rest of the store. A bright cherry-red standing mixer on a high shelf catches my eye. I think of Lana and her rickety old hand mixer that is on its ninth life before calling over the associate and asking her to charge the item to my card.
I’m not looking to buy Lana’s forgiveness.
I’m looking to buy into her dream, even if she doesn’t anymore.
Since Lana took my key away when I was drunk, I have to ring the bell and wait for her. At some point, I place the heavy standing mixer on the porch and bounce on the tips of my toes while she takes her sweet time answering the door.
It creaks open, and she blinks up at me. “What do you want?”
“I came to make amends.” I hold out the bag with the vase.
“With gifts?” She frowns at the bag.
Safe to saygiftsaren’t a part of her love language.
My hope dies along with any excitement about the mixer. I step in front of the bag before she can see it while still holding out the other that contains the vase. “I know I can’t replace what I broke, but I wanted to get you a new vase anyway.”
She doesn’t reach for it. “What’s the point?”
“I’m trying to fix a problem I caused, not start more of them.”
“Then fix what actually matters here, and spoiler warning, it’s not the vase.”
“I…” I lose the rest of my sentence.
“What was the point of going back to rehab if you were only going to start drinking again?”
