Page 14 of Beneath the Indigo Sky

He gives me a single nod, and I can’t help trying to make him smile.

“Four sugars, right?”

His eyes briefly attempt to pop out of his head until he registers the grin on my face.

He snorts and shakes his head as he shuts his truck door before leading the way to the shop. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t roll his eyes as if my attempt at humor has annoyed him either.

The wave of pain that washes over me the moment we step inside nearly knocks me down. How is it possible that he’s able to get out of bed and pretend he’s functioning while he feels like this?

“I’m going to…are you good if I work a bit since I’m here?” he mumbles.

“Of course.” I smile as gently as I can. I’m terrified that something I do is somehow going to be the thing that breaks him. “I’ll get your bills paid and reconcile things for the past two weeks, so you’re all set for the next two again. I honestly doubt it’ll take me more than an hour.”

He simply nods once as he walks toward the bay door.

I settle in behind the desk and take a sip from the tiny cup in an attempt to wake up before starting on his finances. It feels like something I should be at least half awake for. Straight espresso. As out of it as he was at the grocery store, he’d still noticed and remembered what kind of coffee I drink.

The office is plain. The walls are pure white, and the desk is a basic grey laminate slab that holds two computer monitors, a tear-away calendar, and a single picture frame. Two teenage boys, identical save their haircuts and the color of their T-shirts, standing in front of a couple who are clearly their parents, smile back at me. That’s all the room holds. There isn’t a painting or a filing cabinet or a bobblehead or a baseball. The room holds the bare minimum Jordyn needed to do his job, and a picture of his family. That was all that had mattered to him.

It’s silent. Disturbingly silent. God, no wonder Jayce felt so terrible when we walked through the door. There is nothing here. There is no music or conversation or television in the background. There is no life at all. Somehow, I imagine it must be even worse in the shop, with the harsh metallic clang of tools echoing around the space with no radio or laughter to temper sounds. I’ve been to the shop a handful of times in the past, but those visits were fast. I’d just drop off or pick up whatever car needed repair, pay the bill, and that was it. Still, it felt different with the two of them here, with Jordyn greeting me as he stood behind the reception computer or yelling that he’d be right there from this very office as the sound of a ballgame quietly slipped out through the open door.

Shooting the rest of my espresso like a tequila shot, I get to work. Jayce is already here on a Saturday when he should be somewhere else, somewhere that isn’t filled with the ghostly echo of a life that no longer exists. He doesn’t need me dinking around and forcing him to be here longer than necessary.

He’s done a good job with his scheduling these last two weeks. No one is double booked, and it looks like he’s kept things just a bit lighter, which I think is probably a good thing for his clearly strained mental health. I pay his bills, shift the bit of leftover money into his savings account, and make a mental note to ask him if he’d rather give himself a bit of a raise than continue to shift it to the shop’s account since it’s all his now anyway. As I make my way through reception toward the mechanic’s bay, I realize that I should probably give it a few more weeks before I deliberately point out that his brother isn’t going to get to spend any of the money he so carefully put aside for their futures.

“Hello?”

I can hear some kind of…wrenching…but I can’t see Jayce. The noise stops, and the car that is sitting floor level over the pit I’d climbed into a couple of weeks ago rises into the air.

“I’m finished.” My voice echoes through the empty space.

The car has stopped its ascent and is floating in the air now, but Jayce doesn’t respond.

“So…I’m going to take off. Would it be better if I came on a weekday next time? I don’t want you to have to keep coming in on your weekends.”

I’m a tad relieved when he hops out of the pit.

“It’s okay. It’s not like I have anything to do on the weekends anyway. Gets me out of the house, I guess.”

He is heartbroken, and it is heartbreaking. I know there isn’t anything I can do for him, but I wish there were.

“Okay.” I offer the same soft smile I’ve been using nearly every time I speak to him. “I’ll bring the drinks next time. Nine is still best for you?”

“Nine is good.”

Shit. “Okay then. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

He looks like he wants to say something, so I wait quietly for a moment, but whatever words his lips have parted to release evaporate into the ether. His mouth closes once more, and he simply nods.

Chapter 5

Namid

Three plastic chairs with thin metal legs that look like they might easily collapse are arranged in the shop’s lobby against the wall, opposite the office door. I can't imagine there’s ever been a need for more than that. It’s only ever been Jayce and Jordyn working here, so at most, they’d have two clients waiting on quick things like brake jobs. People picking up vehicles they’d previously dropped off likely just stand at the desk and wait for the few moments it takes to pay and collect their keys; that’s what I've always done. Besides, I’ve seen Jayce’s schedule, and the shop rarely has more than three ongoing projects at any given time.

A man I don't know sits in the center chair as I walk in holding two coffee cups. They’re ceramic with silicone lids this time. If we're going to keep doing this regularly, I don't want to keep using disposable paper ones. The customer staring at the wall is an older, gruff-looking man, probably in his late fifties. He’s wearing overalls splattered with paint and a worn Carhart jacket. His beard is unkempt, and wisps of greying hair peek out from under an old baseball hat covered in what appears to be grease stains. He looks like half the men in town.

The man glares at me as I walk in, and his jaw works as if he wants to say something to me, likely something not very nice. He certainly feels more than slightly annoyed that I'm here, but I smile and nod in his direction anyway as I head for the glass door that leads into the large work bay. I stack the cups on top of one another to free up a hand, and by the time I’m halfway through the door, the man is on his feet, taking a few steps toward me as if he's afraid I'm breaking in to steal heavy power tools while carrying two cups of coffee as a plausible cover. Even someone who can’t feel his anger the way I can would be able to feel him glaring daggers at my back through the glass wall that partitions the spaces. There is no way he's going to sit back down until he ensures I haven't come to beat Jayce up, even though I’m clearly inferior in terms of upper body strength. Maybe he thinks I’m here to throw coffee on his face and kick him in the jewels just for sport.

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