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“Come on, I’ve got something to show you.” I think Cary means Bhodi, but he tugs me by the hand as well and drags the two of us down two flights of stairs to the first floor filled with exuberance.
“Ta-da!” he exclaims, letting us into the garage and punching the overhead door button.
The narrow room fills with light and Bhodi yells, “No way!”
I codfish, realizing as the girlfriend of a car enthusiast I’m supposed to know what I’m looking at, though all I’m sure of is the rounded lines of the antique white roadster are stunning.
“It’s a 1960 MG MGA.” Cary’s already got his cell out of his pocket, handing it over to Bhodi. “I didn’t know much about it until after I bought it. I’d lost out at an auto auction bidding on a replica of a 1962 Shelby Cobra.”
Bhodi’s jaw drops lower than mine. He’s not sure what’s more important, searching the specs or clamoring into the convertible and gripping the steering wheel while Cary takes the black ragtop down.
I’m beginning to think I need a crash course in cars. But all I can do is stand back and take in the scene the way I had the evening Cary flew in the front door of the condo with the sleeping bags.
“I was looking for something to restore and sort of got ahead of myself when I saw the Cobra which was already road-worthy. I could have tinkered with that car and driven it fast, but I don’t think I’d be as attached to it as I am to this one. It wasn’t an original either.” Cary jumps into the passenger side.
He runs his fingers over the dash, citing the differences between an MGA and MGB, the history of this particular car, and how he fell into the deal with the previous owner. He’s proud of the effort that went into this car.
He has Bhodi’s full attention while he recounts how many man-hours went into restoring it.
“What are you waiting for? Go get dressed, half-pint.” Cary makes a salty sailor’s growl, needling his fingers in the air in a way that reminds me of anemone tentacles. “We have to get those lobsters before the fishmonger sells out.”
“We’re taking this?”
“Uh, yeah.” I hear the “what did you think?” inflection in Cary’s voice.
He doesn’t have to ask Bhodi twice. My son whips past me for the opportunity to ride in Cary’s roadster.
“This car is so beautiful,” I say as Cary rounds the hood and pushes my back against the wall’s open framing.
“So are you.”
“Hmm…” I hum after he presses his lips to mine. “For a second, I doubted either of you noticed my existence.”
“Doubting your importance? Doll, everything I do for you is for him, and for him is for you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I love you so much.”
“I. Love. You.” Between words he pecks me on the mouth. “I gave Laurel the keys to the truck so she can explore wherever she wants. It was her idea to take Bhodi. I want to do something nice for her, Hol. I’m not blind to the fact that she saved my butt last night.”
The twinkle in Cary’s eye has me agreeing. He’s a good man who wants the best for us. “But,” I plead. “In all the excitement, don’t ignore what we talked about?”
He drops his forehead to mine. “I’ll figure out the Davina situation. Give me a little more time? There’s more to it than being sorry for last night.”
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22
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I mean what I say to Holly about patching things up with my mother. She’s not the only person who’s been after me. My therapist had to have seen something like what happened last night coming from me keeping my emotions bottled up. Perhaps I did too, and it’s my own fault for trying to turn a blind eye. I was keeping my past and my future separate and the possibility that things would come to a head when Davina and I weren’t alone hadn’t crossed my mind.
I came off as an ass and, in some respects, I regret not telling Holly about my childhood sooner. She’s the one person I can say almost anything to without fear of judgment. I suppose that’s because she’s either heard it all or experienced some of it firsthand. The perspective I get in counseling makes perfect sense—in hindsight. But Holly’s outlook is the second opinion I needed.
I am prioritizing. Not exactly how Holly suggested, but I’m taking credit for baby steps. The first thing that occurred to me when I woke up was my girlfriend walked out on what should have been a relaxing poolside evening with family to attend to my needs. We left Bhodi high and frickin’ dry with no explanation, and it was damned presumptuous on my part to expect Laurel to step up for us.
Besides watching a grown man throw a fit, what did that show the boy I agreed to mentor? That more men than his father aren’t dependable and he can only rely on the women in his life, that’s what.
We have a convo in the car on the way to pick up our lobster dinner. I tell Bhodi I was a turd. Scuttling around the subject by saying, no different from when he and Holly don’t get along, sometimes Davina and I don’t. Though, my actions were disrespectful to everyone.
