Really? Like explaining why I did it is going to make any fucking difference. The short answer—I’m not getting the job. With a frustrated grunt, I throw the pen across the room and crumble the paper in my hands. This earns me a sideways glance from Rob, the other mechanic I work with at my dad’s auto dealership, as he walks into the break room.
“Tough day already,” he remarks with a smirk while pouring a cup of coffee.
I force a smile. “Nope, everything’s perfect.” After stepping around him, I stomp into the parking lot for a smoke. Granted, I’ve only been at work for about thirty minutes, but when your dad is the boss you tend to stretch the boundaries a little. In my case, I stretch them a lot.
Just as I’m taking the first drag, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Working hard, eh son?”
I close my eyes tight and release an angry breath through my nose. When I turn around he’s adjusting his tie and waiting for a response.
“What’s with you people today? Can’t a guy just take minute to himself? Fuck.”
My father raises an eyebrow. “Geez, what’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
His expression softens a little. “Is this about Sloan?”
My nostrils flare. I saw the engagement announcement this morning while looking for jobs I’ll never get. “No, it’s not about her.”
“You sure?” he pries, stepping closer. “It’s okay if it is. You two were together for a long time and I always thought you would end up together.”
Clenching my jaw like a vice grip, I hold my tongue. Instead, I take another drag. The look of disgust is clear on his face. He never did like this habit of mine. Actually, he never likes anything that I do.
I swallow hard. “Yeah, well, things fucking change.”
His warm, brown eyes squint into the sunlight for a moment before directing back down at me. “Is this about Walker’s memorial…”
That’s when I lose it. I toss my cigarette to the ground in anger. “Jesus, dad. What are you trying to do here?”
He shakes his head quickly, clearly affected by my mounting rage. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m just trying to figure out what your problem is lately.”
I throw my arms out. “I don’t have a problem, okay?” I let them fall against my sides and then motion to the back door. “Can I get back to work now or do you want to continue to list all the things that are fucked up in my life right now?”
He takes a minute to compose himself and speaks in a softer tone. “It would be nice if you expressed an emotion other than anger for once. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
This causes me to laugh. “You never fucking did.” I don’t wait for his reply before I stalk in the back entrance and slam the door behind me.
Seven monotonous hours later, I trade in my shop clothes for a worn pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. The weather in New Haven has been holding out and I’m about to take advantage of it. I recently got my license back, so the withdrawal I had from my Harley can finally be over. After making a lap around town, I ride down my friend Austin’s street. I see him dicking around in the driveway, so I pull in.
He grins over at me with a backward cap and a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. “Hey, man,” he calls to me as I’m shutting off the bike. “You looking for trouble,” he teases.
I laugh, walking over to him and lighting a cigarette of my own. “Always, man.” I nod to the car he’s standing next to. Parts are strewn across the driveway and his hands are black with grease. “Need some help?”
He smiles. “That would be awesome.” He scratches his head, looking under the hood as he speaks. “I can’t figure it out. It won’t turn over.”
“Let me take a look,” I offer, stepping around him. I lean over the engine and see the problem almost immediately. He’s lucky I’m here. He was way off.
Not even twenty minutes later, the car runs great and we’re celebrating by sitting on his porch drinking beer. I can’t think of a better way to end a Monday.
I catch him glancing over at me a couple times, but he doesn’t say anything. Austin has been a good friend since high school, not as close as Jeremy and Walker were, but a decent friend nonetheless. Honestly, he’s one of the only ones I have left.
“Go ahead and say it,” I say, taking a long pull of my beer. I look over at him and he presses his lips into a hard line. He stares down at his can for a moment before he speaks.
“You going on Saturday?”
I swallow the lump in throat. I haven’t even gotten the courage to talk to Tess yet. How can I possibly show up at her husband’s memorial service?
Instead of answering, I shake my head.
“I think you should.”
My leg bounces as emotions I don’t want to feel surge through me. It hits me in waves. Right about the time I stop thinking about it, I remember again.
“I know.”
His eyebrows pull in. “You know?” He leans forward in his chair beside me. “Perry, he was your best friend. Regardless of how things were when you left, you have to go.”
My jaw ticks and I tilt back the rest of my beer. “Why did she wait so long, anyway? It’s been six months.”
Austin shrugs. “I don’t know. It was hard for her… for everybody. I think she just needed time.” He pauses, looking off in the yard at nothing in particular. “The funeral was pretty brutal. It always sucks to lose someone that young, but it was so unexpected. And after Jeremy… well, let’s just say Tess has been struggling.”
As soon as he says her name, I get that familiar squeezing in my chest. Sometimes when I think about her, it hurts so much I can barely breathe. The guilt I live with consumes me. It’s my fault Walker died. Maybe not directly, but the shit he was into started with us. I wish he’d been smart enough not to keep doing it on his own.
God, I miss that asshole so fucking much right now.
Austin stands up from his chair and waves his empty can at me. “I need another. You want one?”
“No,” I say, standing. “I need to get going.”
“Okay, then.” He looks unsure for a moment and then places his hand on my shoulder. “Think about it, all right? You’ll regret it if you don’t go.”
All I can do is nod. I know he’s right, but I’m not about to sit and explain all the reasons I feel like I can’t. There’s only one person who knows how deep we all fell, and we don’t even talk anymore.
The next day, I find myself driving down a familiar street. It’s raining today, so I stole—or I mean, borrowed a car from my dad. As I pull along the curb, the letters of the sign above the shop make my breath catch in my throat. Bishop’s is spelled out in intricate Old English letters above the tattoo parlor Walker owned with Tess. Although when they got married, Tess was no longer a Bishop, they wanted to pay homage to Jeremy. The simple fact is, she’ll always be Bishop to me.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the photo stuffed in my wallet. It’s folded in fours and the edges are worn, but it’s my favorite. Walker, Jeremy, and I are all standing triumphantly next to the derby car we built senior year. Tess would be in it too, but she’s the one who took the picture. I remember everything about that day. It was the last one Jeremy ever had.