Page 68 of Roll With The Punches
Chapter Eighteen
The next Sunday morning, Jeff and Emma were out in the garage working on the Edsel, since she didn’t have swimming practice. She was supposed to go out to a movie with Grace later that afternoon, but for now she wanted to help him with the car.
“I’m not complaining that you’re helping,” Jeff said, “But I’m genuinely curious. Why are you so interested in the Edsel?”
She shrugged. “It’s a cool car. Maybe some people think it’s ugly, but I like it. It’s got character.”
“Fair enough. This is nothing like you fixing Pat’s car that time, is it?”
Emma grinned, and the evilly playful twinkle in her eyes reminded him so much of Brandon. “That was sort of to prove a point to Pat, but mostly just to piss him off.”
“How did you fixing his car piss him off?”
“Because he couldn’t fix his car, and a girl did.”
He tried to let the subject go and couldn’t. “Have you talked to your mom since she stopped by?”
“She e-mailed me. Sent me a copy of the divorce filing. And pictures of the place she’s living now. And her new address.” Emma paused for a moment. “I guess she really did file and move out. It happened.”
Jeff knew that much because Tracey had texted her new address to Brandon the other day, and Jeff had gone online himself to look up the divorce filing.
She’d really gone through with it.
Emma didn’t appear to have much else to say on the topic right now, though. She helped Jeff with the wiring, small enough she was actually able to climb into the engine compartment to do a lot of it with his guidance.
Today, that was a good thing, because his body hurt like hell all over in bad ways, and his head felt fuzzy, his mind having trouble staying on task. Like he was coming down with the flu and a migraine and had a really bad hangover despite not drinking anything, all at the same time.
I’ve got to go to the doctor and get checked out.
He realized Emma had spoken. “Huh? Sorry, what?”
She stared up at him from the engine compartment, a curious furrow in her brow. “Do you feel okay?”
Like her father, Emma was a caretaker by nature. He didn’t think her job, as “the kid,” should be to worry about him and his health. So he’d mostly kept quiet around her about how bad he’d been feeling lately.
“I’m okay. Just a headache. Why?”
“You don’t look okay.” She climbed out of the engine compartment and stared at him. “Smile.”
“What?”
“Please, do it. Smile.”
“Why?”
She glared at him. “Just smile for me, Jeff.”
He did. “Happy?”
Her eyes widened. “Dad!” she screamed, running for the door to the house.
“Em? What’s wrong?” Jeff tried to follow her and somehow tripped over his own goddamned feet and went sprawling. But when he tried to get up, his feet didn’t seem to remember how to perform that maneuver. Combined with the joint pain, and the headache, he felt like he could just curl up and die and that might not be a bad option.
Emma returned, grabbing him. “No, don’t move. Lay back.” She grabbed a fender cover and tucked it under his head, making him lie back.
Brandon burst through the garage door. “What—fuck!”
“What’s wrong?” Jeff asked, but he realized his voice sounded weird, slurred.
