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Dad’s brows slammed down as he frowned. He was all for acts of charity, but doing work for free was against his personal morals. He knew the value of hard work and how to know your worth.
It was a lesson he drilled into me repeatedly. All good businessmen knew their worth and how to charge for it.
Dropping into the chair across the table from him, I moved Mom’s endless pile of magazines over and set my plate down. “She was getting ripped off by Papa Tony, Dad.”
He groaned, his eyes closing as his face scrunched up. “It’s always Papa Tony. We’re always dealing with his messes.”
I nodded. “The only issue with the car was with the spark plugs. An easy fix.” Dad nodded, agreeing with me. “But get this. A few days ago, he called her up and said he needed another part, another week, and anotherhundreddollars.”
“And let me guess. Nothing was actually wrong?”
I shook my head. “I did some fine tuning, pushed the wire back onto the distributor cap, threw in an oil change, and polished a few minor scratches, but yeah. He was totally taking her for all her money. The money I don’t know if she has.”
Dad stared me down, wanting to ask more. Like, if she didn’t have the money, then who paid for it? I already told him I fixed it up at the dealership on my dime, but getting it from Papa Tony wasn’t free.
But he also got the credit card bills, so I assumed he either already knew the answer to that, or would very soon.
It wasn’t unheard of, for me to go out of my way to help others. It was the fact that he knew this wasn’t for someone I was friends with. None of my friends had cars like Una’s. I could almost see the hamster wheel in his head going into overdrive as he thought about our conversation thus far.
“She, you said? Is this a girl you like?”
I couldn’t help the blush that hit my cheeks momentarily. Ducking my head, I shoveled more food into my mouth before dabbing at my lips with a napkin. Talking about girls with Dad was not normal for us. Mom was usually the one I went to for girl advice. But then again, with Cindy, I hadn’t needed much advice. Things with her came naturally.
Una, on the other hand, was a conundrum. I had absolutely no idea how to act around her. She mystified me in more ways than one, keeping me on my toes, and surprising me at every turn.
Dad set down his fork and his phone, folding his hands together in front of him. “You don’t have time for girls, Charlie. You have to focus on soccer. On getting recruited. On going to state.”
There it was. The reason behind everything—soccer. Coach Andersen told us to keep our eyes on the ball and not the girls until playoffs were over. He especially said to keep our eyes off his daughter, but really, girls in general. Even for those that had girlfriends.
It seemed all the male adults knew how easily we could get distracted by women and constantly had to warn us against it.
I swallowed the remaining bits of food before returning to the sink. “I know, I know. It’s just…”
How could I possibly explain to Dad how Una was different? She wasn’t Cindy. She didn’t hang on my every word and my arm at all moments of the day. Una was independent. She wouldn’t hold me back from accomplishing my goals. I couldn’t prove it, but I knew it.
“One month, Charlie. That’s about all you have left of the season. The position you guys are in…”
I let him ramble on in the background as I rinsed off my plate and put it in the dishwasher. He was still going when I grabbed my gym bag on the bench by the back door and made sure I had everything I needed.
“I know, Dad. Don’t worry. I gotta get to soccer practice. I’ll see you later tonight.”
I left before he could remind me about the meeting he wanted me to sit in on, or tell me he was proud of me. I knew he was proud of me. But the constant reminder changed the narrative and instead of it making me feel good about myself, it held me to a standard I didn’t think I could ever reach.
I jumped in my car, tossing my bags into the passenger seat, but I didn’t crank the engine yet.
Instead, I looked over to the side and stared at Una’s car. It was completely out of place in our garage, next to cars that were no more than a year old and constantly switched out.
Dad believed that the cars we drove were a reflection of the family, and therefore of the dealership. If we were driving old models, then people would assume the dealership wasn’t doing well, and then they wouldn’t come shop.
It was a backward, rich person way to think of things, but in some reality, it made sense. Somehow.
I thought about Una last night. How she looked panic stricken when Ali walked away from her, hand in hand with Aria.
I gave them a spot to hang out, intending to go back to that hallway and talk to Una.
Then, she spun around and left. And didn’t look back.
So why did I still have her car in our garage? Why didn’t I have someone from the party take it to her? Or called out to her and told her to take it last night?
