AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I said I’d give the marriage a chance, I didn’t say anything about going to therapy,” he points out.
“And you don’t think that might play a part in working on the marriage?” I counter as I slide the car into a space. “Merely tolerating my presence doesn’t count,” I say, annoyed, throwing the car into park, perfectly in sync with that last word.
I cut the engine and look up to find Kaleb regarding me with a thoughtful expression.
“What?” I ask impatiently as I crank my door open.
He shakes his head slightly, as if amused. “Nothing, just… you’ve got that fire. Kind of like you did that night in the kitchen – and that night at the lake.”
I blow out a frustrated sigh as I’m not in the mood for riddles, but I want to know where he’s going with this. “Is that a good thing or bad?”
“I don’t know,” he sighs back, before opening his own door. “I’ve never been able to figure that out.”
* * *
Kaleb
When I sayI can’t tell if Luna’s fire is a good or bad thing, what I held back is that it's because it’s a damn good thing… a good thing that pisses me off because it dares to challenge me. It pushes me out of my comfort zone and challenges me to lay off the stubbornness and try thinking in ways other than my own.
It’s not that I don’t love Luna, because I fucking do. And I think that’s what makes it harder. There’s no one on this planet whose view of me I give a shit about but hers. Fuck, I thought I’d come home to her the man she deserves, someone who’d accomplished something great and would put that greatness towards our future. Instead, I came home wounded, weak, and vulnerable. This was not how my future with her was supposed to be, and the idea that I will be less than my part of what’s always made us, us, makes me sick.
Today I tried walking without a cane, like a toddler learning to take wobbly steps for the first time, while Luna watched from a nearby window seat, and though she seemed rigid throughout the session, she beamed at me when I got the all clear to drive.
It did feel good, however, to drive us to the auto shop afterwards, though my pride wouldn’t let me admit it. It felt like I’d been handed back a scrap of control. Hopefully I can get back on my bike when summer comes.
When we get to the shop, my already slow gait comes to a stop as I take in what I see all around me in the garage bays. A handful of confident mechanics are working on several vehicles, including two motorcycles in a swift and smooth manner I haven’t seen before. They’ve got a rhythm to their work flow, accompanied by classic rock music and easy conversation. Not one person falters as they pass tools to each other, and rather than focusing on one project, I see them moving around all the different vehicles, contributing to each one. Not to mention all the tools, equipment, and machines are arranged and orderly. It’s got the smooth, laidback disposition as it did when Pops was here, but with the efficiency brought up to a new level.
Previous conversations with Luna while I was away flash through my brain, and I’m reminded that the change correlates with the arrival of West.
The ex-con mechanic with a head for business. I scan the garage and find him sitting on a rollaway chair, nodding his head to the music as he as he works on the drive chain of someones Harley.
“Hey, walking wounded!” Jackson shouts from the office doorway, yanking my attention away from West.
I look down at my leg as if Jackson’s greeting would make a piece of jagged metal emerge out of a gaping flesh wound before looking back up to him. “Hey,” I tip my head as he approaches, surprisingly with no small children attached anywhere on his person. “Things look like they’re going good,” I say and look back to all the employees, nodding at all the hard work I see.
“Things are going so great,” he shakes his head, an air of contentment wafting off of him as he rests his hands on his hips. “Business is back in full swing and then some. Get this, West is the son of some racecar driver. He worked on his old man’s pit crew for a long time, and it’s brought this whole new dynamic to the work environment. He won’t say who it is though, so you know it’s got to me someone famous,” he reports wistfully.
“No shit?” I ask, looking back to the rough and rugged man again as he tosses a zip gun to one of the other employees in exchange for a drill. I feel a wave of something I can’t put my finger on. I don’t want to say it’s jealousy, but it’s some kind of confused form of it. Getting this auto shop taken care of is everything I’ve strived for, from enlisting in the army to coming home with a torn-to-shit leg, and some newcomer slides in and gets the place turned around with a snap of his fingers. It stirs something in my gut – along with a dose of relief that things are going so well, and a dash of guilt for feeling that relief.
I’m Pops’ next of kin… I should be taking care of his place like he took care of me.
In my peripheral, I see Luna looking up at me from beside me, offering silent support.
I draw in a long breath and exhale hard and slow, trying to expel the negative energy trying to fuck with this good thing before gripping the bill of my ball cap, acting like I’m just adjusting it when really its serving as a stress ball at the moment. “That’s good,” I finally say. “That’s really good to hear.”
“Yeah, we’ve even got people coming in from West Bridge because word’s gotten around that this place is high quality and fast with reasonable fees,” he shrugs. “It’s the best it's ever been.”
High quality without breaking the bank is what Pops always stood for, and hearing this actually lightens the smog that was trying to settle over my brain, making my heart pound out a few beats of appreciation. It’s a good way to feel, but having it swirling with all these other sudden thoughts and emotions, it’s overwhelming me.
“Well shit,” I tell Jackson with a quirky smile, “this made my day.” I’m not lying, at least I don’t think I am. All I know is that my head’s hurting and I’m tired as fuck after PT as I turn to Luna. “Think I’m ready to get home, babe.”
She nods, and with a quiet wave to Jackson, falls into annoyingly slow step with me back to the car. She’s too tough to walk on eggshells around me but she does choose her battles, and right now, she’s choosing to keep any thoughts to herself. I hate what we’ve become, and I don’t know how the hell we’re supposed to fix it with only a little bit of time.
* * *
Fuck,why am I here again? Just once was one time too many, so why do I need to relive it almost every night of the damn week? I know this is a dream because I’ve been through it too many damn times not to recognize it. I just don’t know how the hell to get out of it.
I’ve stepped over that poor dead kid’s body before, only this time, I close his eyes for him. I continue kicking and trekking my way through the ash and rubble. I look ahead towards Alex, just in time for him to look back at me. He shakes his head and we exchange a look as if to say this is our life right now. And then a ball of orange and red explodes behind him, and we’re hit with a blast of heat that sends us both flying back.
