Page 39 of You Shouldn't Have Come Here

22.

Calvin

Joe fiddled under the hood while I sat in the driver’s seat, waiting for him to tell me to start the car, press on the gas pedal, or shut it off. Now, I was wishing I had taken the time to learn more about cars growing up. It seemed the only thing I knew how to do was wreck them.

“Turn it on,” he called out.

I turned the key in the ignition. It sputtered a few times before it started.

“Give it a little gas.”

I slowly pressed down on the pedal, causing the engine to roar and the vehicle to shake.

“All right, kill it,” he yelled, poking his head around the hood. Joe pulled his shirt off, wiped his sweaty face, and tossed the shirt in the driveway.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“One more time. Turn it on.”

This time when I turned the key, the engine didn’t flick on. The car sputtered. The starter clicked over and over. “Shit,” I yelled, slamming my hand against the steering wheel.

I joined my brother at the front of the car. He was stillelbow-deepunder the hood, fiddling with wires and caps. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.

“The alternator housing’s got a crack in it and the battery’s dead.” He pointed to different parts of the engine. “I could get it fixed in a few days. Gotta order some parts.” Joe scratched his chin. “Probably be around six hundred dollars.” He dropped the hood back into place.

“All right, go ahead and do that. I’ll take care of the cost.” I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my arm. Grace probably wasn’t going to feel comfortable with me paying for it, but I needed her to know I cared and that I’d do anything for her.

Joe raised his thick brow. “You’re paying to get her car fixed? You must really like her.”

I kicked at some loose gravel. “Just want her to feel at ease.”

“If you say so,” he said, picking up his toolbox. He walked to the back of his truck, hoisted the toolbox up, and closed the tailgate. “You down for grabbing a beer?”

He and I hadn’t had a beer together in a long time. I think Grace being here made him think we could do brotherly things again, that we could move forward, put the past in the past, as they say. Butpastwas just a word. The memories we carried kept it alive, and memories were just stories we told ourselves. Joe and I had two very different stories. He had forgotten his, but I hadn’t forgotten mine.

“Yeah. That sounds good right about now. I’ll let Grace know we’re taking off.”

Joe shook his head and let out a chuckle. “She’s already got you whipped.”

“No, just being courteous.”

“All right.” Joe made a whip noise as I headed out to find Grace.

She wasn’t lying by the river anymore. I scanned the surrounding area but Grace was nowhere to be seen. I checked the back deck. Not there either. Joe met me on the side of the house.

“Where’d your girl go?”

“She’s not my girl,” I said. It was a lie because it felt like she was my girl.

He patted my shoulder. “I’m just messing with ya.”

Grace came back into sight as we rounded the front of the house. Dressed in a blue jean skirt and a white tank top, her face was serious. My jeans felt a little tighter just looking at her.

I didn’t like the way Joe was looking at Grace, so I gave him a slug in the shoulder.

“What the hell?” He rubbed his arm.

“Stop looking at her like that.”

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