Page 66 of Suits and Spark Plugs

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One week after my dad drove away found me almost as confused as ever. My thoughts on the finality of it all were a roller coaster. In some ways it had been a really great week as my mom, sister, and I worked to finding new footings. Things were cleaner, meals were prepared, and Sadie scowled less and less. Mom was working hard around the house and speaking to us more. Now that we had a definite understanding to go on, we were making the best of it.

And yet, I was cautiously waiting to see how things played out long term before I celebrated. I wondered how much of Mom’s cheeriness was a front, her busyness a way to physically work through her heartache. I wasn’t sure if I could trust Dad to hold up his end of the bargain as far as supporting us more financially, or that Mom would be strong enough to keep improving if he didn’t. I was afraid that when legal proceedings started, Mom wouldn’t have the guts to ask for what she was owed. Through it all, the days kept marching relentlessly forward.

For my part, when I wasn’t at work, I loved the freedom to study hard, focusing in a way I hadn’t done for a while. I’d dived back into my schoolwork without the usual guilt and was happy at how classes were coming along. I allowed myself to think that I might actually pass finals the next month if things continued down this path.

Best of all, I painted. The canvas became my therapy, soaking up my emotions and changing them into vibrant art as I worked through the aches and pains, doubts and fears. The first couple of paintings were pretty dark, but for the first time in a while there was hope blooming and I knew they would gradually become lighter and lighter.

I thought about all of this as I headed to the mechanic shop to do my weekly cleaning. It was dark and closed up tight when I arrived around 10:00pm. I locked the door behind me and gathered up the cleaning supplies. I was hit by a sudden longing for something to tear me away from my own thoughts as I walked to the bathroom, so I stopped at the reception desk and turned on some music with the little radio they had sitting there. I didn’t care what station it was. I just wanted something to focus on other than the questions that had been raging inside of me. The future would have to wait.

I found a jazz station and hummed along to the music while I scrubbed the toilet. I swayed my hips and danced along as I cleaned the mirror and sink. By the time I got to the lobby, the vacuum had become my dance partner. I couldn’t really hear the music over the motor, but it didn’t matter. I hummed a tune anyway as I circled the big beast around the lobby.

I put the vacuum away with a smile on my face and returned to the lobby to wash windows. The tune was upbeat and light, and my hands kept time as I wiped back and forth. I let my head bop along as I finished the last window.

When I turned around to go back to the office, the sight of a man standing outside the glass front door had me screaming bloody murder. I knew it was a man based on the build and the facial hair, but his eyes were shadowed by a hat and I didn’t recognize him.

“We’re closed,” I yelled. The spray grip of the window washing fluid dug into my palm.

“Open up,” he called back. His voice was loud and deep.

“Go away or I’ll call the cops,” I returned, pointing my window washing rag in his direction.

“Take it easy. I just need to talk to Connor.” He held up his hands, palms out, in a show of peace.

I didn’t care about his hands; he wasn’t getting in here. I shook my head. “It’s really late. He isn’t here.”

“Fine, let me in and I’ll call him.” He knocked on the door and rattled the handle.

“No way.” With trembling hands I reached into my back pocket and held up my phone. “I’m calling the cops if you aren’t gone in five seconds.”

His mouth opened into a growl, but he tugged off the hat so I could see his face. It was Levi Madsen, and he looked mad. All joking aside, I didn’t honestly think Connor had wronged this man, and I doubted he’d actually planned to meet him here at this time of night. I had no idea what Levi wanted, but it wasn’t a good news delivery. He banged on the door one more time, making me squeak.

“Get out of here, Levi,” I yelled.

“Olivia, you’ve known me forever. Just open the door so I can call Connor.”

“Call him from somewhere else.” I inched closer to the office and waved the phone again. “I’m not bluffing.”

He said something unintelligible, but he turned and stalked away to his car. I waited until he’d peeled out of the parking lot before I took myself into the office, where I closed the door and locked it before flopping down on the floor and crawling under the desk, out of sight. Only then did I pick up my phone. It took me several tries to make my shaking fingers press the correct buttons, but thankfully only two rings before he answered.

“Levi Madsen just came down here banging on the door and yelling. He scared me to death,” I said before Connor had a chance to say hello. Fear made me sound angry, which I kind of was.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice sounded a little rough as though I’d woken him up, but his tone was concerned.

“I’ll send you the mental therapy bill, but physically I’m fine.”

“Sounds fair. What happened?”

I gave him a run down, after which I said, “He was mad, Connor. I don’t know what happened between you, but you need to talk to him. I was here alone and I didn’t like it.”

“What about playing dead?” he kidded.

“It’s not going to work. Turns out I’m more of a freeze-in-place-and-yell kind of girl.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good plan.”

“Yeah, well, my only weapons were a rag and a bottle of window cleaner.”

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