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“That’s not—“
“Over time, issues with shocks or struts can fuck with weight distribution and make it so your tires don’t make contact with the pavement. It’s not safe. Not for you. And definitely not with kids in the car.”
“I will have someone look at it,” I assured him. You know, after I did research on who had the best rates in town. And I took a couple more jobs if I could find them.
“Hey, look, you’re living here, right?” he asked, waving toward the property as a whole.
“Yes. But—“
“That practically makes you family. And family around here doesn’t pay for car repair. So grab that booster, so I can get this fixed up for you.”
“But—“
To that, a smile tugged at his lips, one that seemed very familiar, one that said there was no way in hell I was going to win this argument.
“Done?” he asked.
“I, ah, yeah. I guess,” I agreed, pulling out the seat. “But this is really not—“
“Guess you weren’t done, huh?” he asked, taking the seat from me, and putting it next to the others.
“It’s just way too much,” I insisted.
“Look, around here, there’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when it comes to family. Especially when it comes to keeping family safe. I will hopefully have this done today. My backseat might be a tighter fit than yours with all the seats, but it will work.”
“Wait, but…” I started, getting a raised brow look from him as he opened the driver’s door. “Thank you,” I said, knowing I’d lost this battle.
“There you go,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for the help, little man,” he said to Isaac. “I’ll get your car all fixed up for you guys.”
With that, I called Hazel away, he backed out, and it was all… settled.
Leaving me feeling almost a bit lightheaded as I sat back down next to Clara, pulling her stroller back and forth to keep her calm for another couple of minutes while I got my equilibrium back.
I mean, this was just… a lot.
A lot of good, a lot of kindness, a lot of stress off my back. After so much shittiness, meanness, and worry. All because I just walked into the right shooting range. It was crazy.
“Mom,” Isaac said, snapping me out of it to find him holding the keys out to me.
“Thanks, baby,” I said, taking them, even though—barring a severed limb or something equally horrific—I had absolutely no intention of getting in the nice man’s car. “Want to help me move these behind the house a bit?” I asked, gesturing toward the carseats. “I think we are going to have to take a break to put Clara down for a nap. Maybe get a snack while we’re at it.”
The rest of the day went pretty normally.
Snacks, play, lunch, me accepting another gig to write five generic email copies. It didn’t pay as much as the blog posts, seeing as it was fewer words, but it was quick and easy, and I wasn’t exactly in the place to turn down paying work.
I had Clara occupied for a moment by some godawful singing show on my tablet, so I could take the trash out later that night after dinner, when I was startled by a man coming around the house.
“Oh, hey,” Seth said, giving me a distracted smile. “Is my old man here?” he asked, looking with confusion to the car on the street after, it seemed, looking around inside for him.
“Oh, that. Yeah. He stole my car,” I said, getting a surprised laugh out of Seth.
“Did he go all dad-mode on it?” he asked.
“Even had Isaac looking at the engine with a concerned face,” I agreed, watching Seth smile, imagining him in twenty or so years with those same eye crinkles his father had. Hot. Stupid hot, in fact.
“Yeah, he takes cars very seriously. Especially when kids are riding around in them. Sorry if he overstepped a boundary,” he added.
“He’s… you guys are a lot alike,” I said, not sure how else to say it without it being taken the wrong way. You’re both ridiculously stubborn, didn’t seem appropriate.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, nodding.
“It was,” I agreed. “But he doesn’t seem very confident about figuring out your sink,” I told him, waving toward the toolbox I’d moved next to the garage door. Partly so it didn’t get stolen, but mostly because Hazel had run out of space to draw.
“Didn’t figure he would be. I called him to ask which of my uncles he thought would be best for the job. But, you know, dad pride got the better of him, I guess. Hazel has talent,” he said, waving toward the picturesque driveway.
“Oh, right,” I said, tossing the trash bag in the bin, then grabbing a piece of chalk to bend down and draw a box around the mushroom, then color it fully in. “I didn’t think you’d want a dick in your driveway,” I said, smiling as I wiped the chalk on my clothes.
