Apologies for the delay, I am now officially at the end of pre-written stuff. This thing was supposed to top out at 35K... *grumble* Hopefully the next chapter will be on time, but I guarantee nothing.
Rey woke so early the next morning that the sun was just beginning to shoot long rays down Seattle's streets. She spent about five minutes dithering before giving up and scribbling a note on the motel stationary, pushing it under Clyde's door before heading out. I can't wait.
It was far too early for the shop to be open, but that didn't matter. Rey figured she could use the time to find her way back to it, with plenty of margin in case she had trouble. She was hungry - she was always hungry - but she was too eager to wait for Clyde to wake for breakfast.
In the end, it took Rey two bus rides and almost half an hour of walking to get back to the auto shop she wanted, but she arrived in plenty of time, a good forty minutes before it was due to open. It was dark and deserted, and Rey settled in to wait across the street, sitting on the curb and resting her arms on her knees. She couldn't account for the spring of hope welling up in her chest, but it was undeniably there.
It wasn't just that the employee's instruction to come back was the most positive sign she'd had among all the inquiries Rey had made so far, in any city; it was also that the shop's lot was neat and the building's front well-kept, and when Rey had run a quick search on the place, the reviews she'd seen had tended towards the complimentary.
Rey knew that it was a long shot, this hope. She had no ID or Social Security number, no work history and no certification. Any job she was likely to get would be under the table and illegal, and therefore would pay little. She would get no health insurance.
But it'll be a start. Something to survive on. She didn't care if she had to take two such jobs, or three; she would survive. And maybe, eventually, she'd be able to get some kind of official ID.
There must have been something, to get me signed up in school. Though Rey wasn't entirely sure about that; Eunice was a very small town, and her memory of the first day of classes was blurry. Still, she might be able to contact them and find out what her records said, now that she was beyond Plutt's reach. Hopefully beyond his reach, anyway.
A car drove into the lot across the way, parking at the far end of the space, and two women climbed out; both were dressed in the same style of coverall that Yusuf had worn the day before, and they chatted with one another as the taller one unlocked the front door. Rey popped to her feet and wiped her damp hands on her worn jeans, suddenly nervous.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed the street. The women hadn't locked the door behind them, though the place was still obviously closed; when she pulled, it swung open. Rey stepped inside.
The shorter woman looked up from behind the counter, face blankly polite. "We're not open yet."
"I know, I - I came to ask about a job." Rey kept her chin up and her voice level. "Yusuf said yesterday that I should talk to the bosses."
The two women, who looked related, exchanged glances. "That would be us," the taller one said.
The other one peeled a sticky note from the counter and squinted at it. "He left a note. You can fill out an application online - "
Rey bit her lip, feeling a little sick. "I, um. I don't have any identification."
The two exchanged a longer glance, obviously communicating with one another. The taller one cocked her head, eyeing Rey shrewdly. "Do you have any experience?"
"Yeah. I worked in a garage in New Mexico for five years. I can handle most routine maintenance and I'm pretty good at diagnosis."
"Hm." One more shared look. "We'd have to discuss it."
Rey opened her mouth to offer to come back later, but the shorter woman opened a hand. "Give us a few minutes, okay?"
Surprised, Rey nodded, and the two women crossed the shop to disappear into a back office, though not without a speculative look or two at Rey.
That's…more than I was expecting, actually. Rey stood awkwardly where they'd left her, trying not to fidget, but the nervous energy was too much for her. Out of sheer desperation she began fiddling with the nearest display, eight rows of tree-shaped deodorizer tags in various scents. They were fairly jumbled up, and sorting them by scent gave Rey something to concentrate on while she waited.
It probably wasn't very long before the office door opened again, but it felt like forever; the tail end of laughter that emerged with the women wasn't reassuring, but it didn't sound mean.
"I'm Paige, this is Rose," the taller woman said as they came back. "Come on out to the floor."
Paige flipped on the overhead lights as they passed into the bays, the air dense with the smell of oil and rubber since the big doors were still shut. A Camry waited in the nearest bay, and Paige leaned into the car to unlatch the hood. "Tell me what you see," she said, lifting the hood and stepping back.
It was a test, then. Rey looked over the engine carefully; when she reached for the dipstick, Paige handed her a rag without comment. When Rey was done she straightened.
"The battery leads are corroded, and the wiring to the cooling fan needs replacement. And whoever changed the oil the last time used the wrong weight."
Paige raised a brow. "Hm." She almost sounded approving.
Rose was setting up the register when they came in. "Three out of two," Paige said a touch wryly, and Rose blinked, grinning a little.
"Seriously? Okay then." She looked Rey up and down. "Come on back to the office and let me interview you."
That seemed promising. The office was tiny, with one desk crammed with papers and a computer; there was just room for a second chair between the filing cabinets. The walls were covered with a mix of fireman-pinup calendars and kitten calendars, most of which were out of date.
Rose dropped into the desk chair with enough force to make it squeak despite her diminutive size. "Have a seat," she said cheerfully. "Want a water?"
Rey shook her head. "No thanks."
Rose bent over, and Rey heard the thump of a magnetized door; when Rose straightened, she was holding a bottle of water. "Okay, here's the thing."
She set the bottle on the desk and regarded Rey soberly. "Obviously, if we hire you would be, ah, unofficial, or in other words illegal. Which means I'm going to ask questions that are none of my business, because we'd have to have a good reason to break the law."
Rey swallowed. "Okay." She clenched her hands in her lap.
Rose twisted the cap off the bottle and took a drink. "Why don't you have any ID?"
Telling her story to West was one thing. Telling it to someone she'd just met was quite another. If you want this job, you have to.
In a few quiet sentences, Rey sketched out her history. It sounded thin and unbelievable, as if she were making it up for sympathy, but there was no point in lying.
When she finished, Rose regarded her for a moment, lips pursed, then pulled the computer keyboard closer to herself and started typing. "Well, Plutt's Garage checks out," she said. "No Website though."
Rey snorted. "The only thing he uses the Internet for is porn."
Rose made a face. "I'd hate to be his Geek Squad." She worked with the mouse for a couple of minutes. "Hm."
She sounded like her sister. Rey tried not to hold her breath.
Finally she pushed the keyboard away and swung around to face Rey again. "Okay. Here's the thing. We can only offer you part time, maybe twenty hours a week. We can pay about two bucks more than minimum wage and if the IRS shows up we are totally going to throw you under the bus."
Rose's grin was infectious. "We'll give you a try - say for about a week? If that works, then we'll put you on the schedule."
Rey smiled back, though her eyes were blurring. It felt as if every muscle she possessed had unclenched at once, relief flooding her like the reverse of adrenaline. "That…that'd be great."
Rose grabbed a pen and flipped over a sheet of paper. "Give me your phone number, and your size so we can get you a coverall. Can you start tomorrow?"
Rey took a deep breath. "Yes. I can."
The wind off the water was chilly, but Clyde didn't mind.
Finding the note just inside his door had been a bit of a shock. He'd gotten used to the routine of eating with Rey before driving her where she wanted to go, never mind that the habit was only a few days old.
He'd stopped at the motel's dining room on the way out, grabbing a couple of pastries and a cup of coffee, but he couldn't help wondering if Rey had gotten any food for herself. She's still too thin - she can't afford to skip meals.
But there was nothing he could do about it just then. S'pose I could text her; sure. And sound like the worst kind of interferin' busybody.
Clyde made a mental note, though, to make sure Rey got a very large dinner, later.
Seattle was a big place; he spent a while wandering before fetching up on the waterfront. It was full of tourists, but since he basically was one, Clyde couldn't complain; and it was true there was lots to see.
He ended up on Pier 57, leaning on the railing and looking out over the water. It wasn't exactly the ocean, but the expanse of water was impressive all the same to someone who'd grown up landlocked. He liked the sound of it, the little waves lapping at the piles; the way the sunlight glittered back from the ever-moving surface drew his eye and held it.
Clyde had to admit to feeling a little better than he had the day before. Maybe it was the exercise, or the fresh air.
Bullshit.
He hadn't meant to spill all that to Rey. It wasn't her problem; and yet, it only seemed fair to answer her gentle question - she'd seen him at nearly his worst, after all. By now he knew better than to think she would pull away, but he sure hadn't been expecting what she did do.
I guess it could be that easy. Just…don't go home yet.
Such a simple solution. He could find someplace anonymous, another city maybe, close enough to home that he could visit - because he'd have to, no doubt about that. There would be no staying away after this stunt.
But - Lexington maybe. Richmond. Pittsburgh even. Someplace far enough that he wouldn't run into anyone he knew from home.
Find a shrink, get my head on straight. If he couldn't find someone through the VA, he could at least afford to do it out of pocket.
Clyde knew it would be hard, really hard. Particularly if he had to do it without Mellie and Jimmy there. But what he'd told Rey was true; the idea of going home like this, damaged - it turned his stomach. All those pitying glances, the whispers - all the old familiarities, opening the way for his demons to rise up again. Safer not to.
A family went by, two women, two young children. The older one, six maybe, stared at Clyde's prosthesis as they passed, and then tugged at one of his mothers' hands, obviously asking about it. The mother glanced back, then blushed, pulling her child along a little faster.
Clyde didn't mind kids staring; it was only natural, they were curious. He didn't even mind the double-takes of adults, most of the time - that was usually reflex, seeing something odd out of the corner of the eye and looking again to identify it.
He did mind the revolted looks, the winces, the nervous joking. The occasional creepy fascination, or the occasional mockery. Even some folks' way of ostentatiously ignoring his missing hand could be irritating.
He could still remember Jimmy and Mellie tiptoeing around his injury when he'd first got home, though to be fair he'd been in no shape for regular treatment anyway. Even his momma had wept when she'd seen him for the first time, arm still bandaged up.
Rey had done the double-take, but after that it was like she didn't even notice. And she wasn't pretending, either, the way some people did, all stiff and obvious. It was like she just took Clyde in as he was. No hesitation.
He couldn't stop thinking about the night before, when she'd sat down next to him and put her hand on his prosthesis like it didn't even matter, like he still had living flesh there. The memory pierced him, sharp and sweet; he couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him in comfort, except for family.
It was no wonder, really, that he worried about her.
When the sun disappeared behind clouds, Clyde sighed and left the water behind, idly exploring a few shops and collecting a handful of little presents for people back home - mostly Sadie. Having a niece was a good excuse to pick up nifty toys that a grown man had no business playing with, and fortunately she was interested in all kinds of things.
Clyde couldn't help wondering if Jimmy was ever going to give her a baby sister or brother; he and Sylvia had been dating for over a year now, and Clyde was pretty sure Jimmy was edging up on proposing at some point, though the man was still kind of skittish about marriage after his last fiasco.
Clyde liked Sylvia. She was smart and sensible, and more than that, she was kind. Clyde was sure Jimmy hadn't revealed their cauliflower secret to her, but he was also pretty sure she'd guessed at least part of it. Jimmy could do a lot worse.
Clyde didn't know how he felt about kids of his own, but he thought he wouldn't mind having another niece or nephew running around, as long as they weren't anything like Sadie's stepbrothers. He missed seeing her more often…but he didn't miss them.
Maybe I could go to Lynchburg for a while. It'd be closer to Jimmy. And Bobbie Jo, but Clyde didn't really care what she thought. He didn't blame her for divorcing Jimmy - they shouldn't ever have gotten married in the first place - but he didn't much like her, never had. Nor she him, for that matter.
Mm, maybe that's not such a good idea. If she got word that Clyde was seeing a shrink, she might use it as an excuse to cut back on Jimmy's time with Sadie. He didn't think she would, but - Best not to take the chance.
Well, he'd still see Sadie at Christmas. It was Jimmy's turn to have her, this year.
Where'll Rey have Christmas?
Clyde frowned as he headed back towards the motel. You don't even know if she does Christmas, he told himself - certainly not everybody did - then wondered if she'd ever even had the choice.
Of course it was Mellie who appeared in his mind's eye. Well then, you can just ask her, his sister told him bluntly. Invite her for it. It's not like you can't afford the plane tickets.
That was true; and, Clyde thought with an odd lift to his heart, if they were still talking by December and Rey wouldn't come…why then, he might just buy his own tickets. He'd hate to miss Sadie, but -
I wonder if it snows here 'round then.
Humming thoughtfully, Clyde walked a little faster.
It was raining again when Clyde pulled into the gas station lot that Rey had texted him from - not hard, but a steady fall. Rey dashed out from under the little bit of roof that overhung the tiny convenience store attached to the station, and Clyde leaned over to open the door for her.
She slid into the seat, damp and grinning, and before she even spoke Clyde knew what she was going to say. "I got a job!"
"That's great." His face almost hurt, it had been so long since he'd had occasion to smile so wide. "That's amazin'!"
"It is." Rey blew out a breath, throwing herself back against the seatback in exaggerated collapse. "I mean, it's under the table, totally illegal, but it's an auto shop, and the bosses are super nice - "
"Bosses?"
"Yeah, they're sisters. Anyway, they're going to give me a week's trial, but I don't think it'll be a problem."
She was absolutely sparkling with joy, and Clyde had to force his eyes to stay on the road. "What's the place like?"
"It looks good, very organized, and the reviews are mostly good." Rey undid her ponytail and scraped errant strands back before redoing the elastic, and tilted her head back. Clyde snuck a glance her way, and saw utter relief in her closed eyes and the set of her jaw.
"Well, we oughta celebrate," he said firmly. "Go someplace nice for dinner."
Rey shifted in her seat. "You sound like Mellie," she said, sounding amused, but shook her head. "I…I'd rather not."
Clyde blinked, puzzled. "No? It's worth celebratin'. Mellie said you two went out back in San Jose."
"Yes, b-but - " He heard her sigh. "I'd just rather not, okay?"
He wasn't going to go against a lady's wishes, even if he didn't understand them. "Sure."
"Thanks."
When he glanced over again she was hunched in her seat, as if bracing for something, and Clyde took advantage of their slow speed to reach over and pat her arm, a brief touch. "You all right?"
Rey made an indecipherable sound, not quite a laugh. "I'm good. It's a relief, you know?"
"Mm." He supposed he didn't, really; Clyde had never been in so precarious a position, not like that. But he could sympathize. And she'd uncurled again.
"Tell you what," he began. "If'n you don't wanna go out, how about we go to the motel and I order up something real nice? You like seafood?"
"I'll eat anything," Rey said. Clyde rolled his eyes.
"Not what I asked."
She sighed. "I don't know, really. The only stuff I've tried was in that Thai food we had."
"Huh. Least you're not allergic." Clyde concentrated on traffic for a minute or so. "When I was a kid our daddy would take us up to Maryland on occasion for blue crab, fresh as could be. Haven't done that in years, though."
Rey pulled her legs up, twisting a little in the seat to look at him. "Why not?"
He had to think about that for a moment. They'd gone a few times after Daddy died, but after Jimmy got married, Bobbie Jo had turned up squeamish; though, granted, pulling steamed crabs apart to eat them on the spot wasn't for everybody. Somehow they'd just never got round to it again.
"Dunno," he said finally. "Got out of the habit, I guess."
Maybe that was part of it, his own stagnation, how he'd scarcely stirred from their home town since coming back from overseas. Jimmy being cash-poor hadn't helped either, but still.
"Is it nice, where you grew up?" Rey asked. "I looked up West Virginia online but it was mostly pictures of trees. And a river."
Clyde had to grin a little. "Yup. Well, no rivers, not where I live, but trees, yeah. And hills, lots of hills."
It was what was, as far as he was concerned, but he could see how it would look alien to someone who'd grown up where Rey had. "Looks real nice in the fall when the leaves turn."
"Does it snow there?" She sounded wistful. "I've never seen snow."
"Sometimes. Not a lot where we are, but enough for a decent snowman." How strange to think she'd never done that, nor tossed a snowball at someone's head. Clyde had the feeling she'd be a dead shot. "You'd - hmm."
He'd almost said you'd like it. He was pretty sure she would, anyway, but it seemed like presumption to just declare it like that.
Pity you can't take her with you. But that was too much, asking someone so full of smarts and potential to bury herself in a little town in a state so far away, where opportunity was thin on the ground. No, Seattle was a better place for her - and anyway she'd found something already, he couldn't ask her to give that up. Who knows, if she can find something steady maybe she can even go back to school -
And he was trying to be good with it. Clyde was happy for her, of course he was. She'd found something good, something that fit her skills, with people who sounded decent. It was what this whole thing had been about, finding her a place to settle and grow.
The hollow space widening in his chest - well, he'd just have to live with that. It would fade, he told himself, when he saw his family again.
But it was an effort, suddenly, to keep being happy for her.
She was too restless to read. Rey lay back on the bed in her motel room, arms spread and feet twitching, and looked up at the ceiling, still trying to process the day.
It's not going to be enough. But it's a start. A good start, better than she'd hoped for. It let her next step be finding someplace to stay.
That was going to be tricky, she knew. Rey had spent the afternoon at a library, using its wi-fi. She'd already looked up a handful of homeless shelters, but every one she'd contacted had a waiting list.
That thousand from West…that could be rent. If she could find something safe enough, cheap enough. The rent on apartments she'd found online had appalled Rey; but it wasn't like she had much choice. Maybe I could find someone to share with.
If she had to spend a few days sleeping rough, she could do it; the rain was annoying but it wasn't cold enough to kill her. Assuming I don't get tailed by another cop.
Her stomach growled, and Rey sighed and rolled over. West had asked her firmly to wait while he got dinner, but it had been at least an hour and lunch had been a long time ago.
She kind of wished she'd agreed to go out, but the truth was she didn't want to explain that she had no clothes suitable for a fancy restaurant. What Mellie had noticed right off seemed to have escaped West entirely, which was funny since he'd seen Rey wear the same three shirts all week.
Still, it had been kind of him to offer. I'm really going to miss him.
It was almost a panicky feeling, knowing that their odd companionship was coming to an end. Rey choosing Seattle meant Clyde was free to go home, or wherever he was going for treatment; she wasn't going to keep him back any longer, and for that Rey was glad.
But she would be alone again, more alone than ever, and in a strange city. Part of her wanted to ask him to stay, just a little while longer, until, until -
Until what? Rey asked herself sternly. Until he runs out of money? He's hurt, he needs to see someone about what's going on in his head. Every day he stays with you is a day longer before he can get better.
She couldn't impose on him like that -
The rap on her door broke Rey from her thoughts, and she shoved upright to go and answer it, peering through the peephole first. It was Clyde, of course, and when Rey opened the door he looked more excited than she'd seen him yet, eyes lit and mustache twitching.
"Hope you're hungry," he said, and Rey couldn't help her smile.
"I'm always hungry." She slipped out past him at his gesture, and walked the few yards to his door. Clyde slid the card into the reader and then, unusually, opened the door to step through it instead of extending one long arm to push it open for her. He pivoted to hold it out of her way, and Rey passed through - and blinked, mouth dropping open.
The little room, a clone of her own, was lit with flickering light; the narrow desk had been pulled away from the wall, and was covered - absolutely covered - with food containers. Scattered somewhat randomly around the room were tiny LED tealights, and there was a single Mylar balloon bobbing against its ribbon tie, blaring Congratulations! In a colorful font.
Rey slapped a hand over her mouth to block the yip. Clyde was watching her, full-on grinning, and when she didn't move he shifted to hold the door with his foot and reached out, prosthesis sliding carefully behind her shoulder to pull her in. "C'mon in, nothin's gonna bite you."
Rey almost stumbled as she entered, her attention absorbed by the little celebration Clyde had assembled. She felt stunned; her heart was rabbiting, and a squeak of for me? for me? was running on a loop through her brain, as if there had to be an error somewhere.
But there was Clyde, still nudging her forward so he could close the door behind her, and there was all the food, the smells mingling deliciously, and there was the desk chair pulled out in invitation. Rey swung around to look at him, and though he was still smiling she saw a spark of worry in his eyes, as if he were afraid she didn't like it.
Rey dropped her hand. Her lips moved over his name, but she couldn't push the sound out of her throat; so she took one step forward and threw her arms around him.
This time he returned the embrace at once, folding her in like the wrap of a warm blanket on a chilly night. Rey pressed her face against his shoulder, letting the cotton absorb the trickle of moisture that escaped her eyes.
She could feel the hard band of his prosthesis against her back, though the pressure was light; his hand rested between her shoulder blades, a pleasant weight. And there was the slightest tug where his head brushed her hair, as if something had snagged the strands, but Rey was too overwhelmed to analyze the sensation.
She still couldn't make her voice work, but after a long, sweet moment Clyde's voice murmured, half vibration under her ear, half amused fondness. "Come on, I thought you was hungry."
Rey managed a choke of a laugh and let him go, stepping back and swiping a palm across her eyes. It should have been awkward, but Clyde cupped his hand around her shoulder, turning her gently to face the feast and urging her forward. Rey sat down heavily, head still swimming with emotion and a surge of ravenousness, and she looked up at Clyde as he moved past the desk to sit opposite, on the edge of the bed. "You got all this for me?" she finally managed.
He shrugged, cheeks a little pink. "You deserve a little celebratin'. Got a bunch of stuff to try, that one's soup and there's coconut shrimp too, and scallops." He pointed. "Go ahead and pick something out. There's chicken and things if you don't like t'other stuff."
It was all delicious, every bit. Rey sampled everything, from the fish in lemony sauce to the funny long crab legs that they had to break open, and there was so much of it that even she couldn't eat it all. Clyde put a sizable dent in the selections himself, but he refused to take anything until Rey tried it. Her eyes kept blurring as she ate, when the tealights would catch her gaze or Clyde would push another container towards her; when she asked him about the dishes, he rather sheepishly admitted that he'd never had most of them either.
"West Virginia ain't known for its seafood," he said, twirling pasta onto his fork. "Trout, sure, catfish - they're good eating but it ain't the same."
"Mm." Rey licked melted butter from her fingers without shame - she'd already used up a pile of paper napkins. "Did you ever go fishing?"
Clyde chuckled. "When I was a kid, sure. Daddy would take me and Jimmy out sometimes, before Mellie was born."
He took a bite, swallowed. "Jimmy kept it up for a while, but it kinda takes two hands, and anyway for me it was more about spending time with them."
He sounded more reminiscent than sad. Rey wondered what it had been like, growing up with parents - parents who, from what she could tell, had loved their children; but it was an old thought, worn with much repetition. "Didn't your mom like fishing?"
Clyde blinked. "Don't know as it ever came up. No, I think she was kinda glad to get the house to herself for a day. She always made us clean the catch anyway."
Rey could only imagine it out of focus, but still the image was there, a gangly young Clyde and a vague older brother crouched over a heap of fish, somewhere with lots of trees. "What was she like, your mom?"
Clyde pursed his lips, clearly thinking. "She was good," he said finally. "Solid good, dependable. When she said somethin', you knew it was true."
He expression was thoughtful, rather than sad. "Daddy mined coal - s'what most people did - an' Momma ran the house. We had our skinny times, but it was always safe."
It was so alien, what he was saying. Rey had seen glimpses of families through her peers, growing up, and she'd had Maz looking after her like a mother for a while, but she couldn't picture safe. All she could remember now was curling up in her cot in the little apartment above Maz's bar, listening to the people drinking below and knowing she'd be asleep before Maz closed the doors and came upstairs. And even though Maz never failed her, Rey had never been able to shake the fear of what if this time she doesn't come back.
"Do you remember your parents?" Clyde asked softly, and Rey looked up. His smile was gone, and again he looked hesitant; but the wound was so old that it only ached now and then. Rey shrugged.
"Not really. I mean, I have a couple of - of impressions, but I don't know if they're memories or just me imagining things." The smell of a hot car, the rumble of a voice; a face looking back at her over a seat, the expression worn away by time. None of it added up to anything. "The first real memory I have is Maz taking me to kindergarten the first day."
"Who was she?" Clyde had set his plate aside and was regarding her steadily, as if anything she said might be important. It felt strange.
"She - I don't know her history, really. She always looked old to me, but I don't have any idea what her actual age was. She was about the only person in town who would stand up to Plutt, but even she could only go so far." Rey had assumed as a child that Maz owned the bar that bore her name, but later she'd guessed that Plutt did, or had some kind of control over it. "She took me in, gave me a home. I don't think I would have survived without her."
Somewhere in her pack Rey had a scrap of old newsprint, Maz's obituary from the Eunice Today paper - just a black-and-white reprint of a photo, but the only image she had to remember Maz's face.
"'M glad she was there," Clyde said, hardly audible. Rey nodded, looking back down at her own plate.
"She was…she was the only light sometimes, you know?"
She wasn't sad. Not really. She'd finished mourning for Maz a long time ago. But Clyde's wide hand settling over hers was still a comfort, an acknowledgment that she had the right to grieve. Rey curled her fingers around his, and part of her wished that the moment would not end; that she could be safe and fed and not alone for always.
He squeezed gently. "Got some cheesecake too, you got any room left?"
Rey laughed. "Always."
The cake was as delicious as everything else, and Rey managed two slices, though she couldn't remember ever eating so much before. "What's this job like?" Clyde asked as he chased the last bite of his own.
"Fixing cars," Rey said, thinking back to Paige's tour of the shop and rundown of their usual clientele. "Engine and wheel work, they don't do major body work there, which is just as well because the most I've ever done is replace a door."
She sucked the last bit of cake off her fork. "It's only part time, but they want me to start tomorrow."
Clyde's brows went up. "That's pretty good."
"Yep." Rey set her plate aside with a sigh. "I'll have to find another job too, but this - this is amazing." And it was, but -
She couldn't quite bring herself to say it - I'm done, I'm staying, you can go. But judging from the way Clyde had sobered, it was on his mind too.
He glanced away, then frowned and turned back to her. "Where're you gonna live?"
"I'm still working on that." Rey turned up one hand. "There's shelters…"
The sound Clyde made was something like a growl. "That's not enough."
It warmed her; but Rey lifted her chin. "West, I knew this was coming. It's summer, I can stay out for a few nights. I planned for this."
"What if - " he started, then clamped his mouth shut. His glare was fulsome, but somehow it didn't chill her. He wasn't angry at her.
"I'll be okay. It won't be the first time I've slept rough," she said, trying to reassure him, but his frown only deepened.
"That don't make it better." Clyde blew out a sharp breath and pushed to his feet, reaching out for one of the cartons.
"I know. But it's what I've got." Rey started sorting through the mess on the desk, piling the empty containers for disposal.
He grumbled something inaudible, but made no more objections. Rey stole a last few nibbles as they condensed the leftovers; Clyde gathered the half-full cartons and stacked them in the little fridge in the corner, while Rey stuffed the trash into the bags the food had come in. He was still frowning. "What time do you gotta be there?"
"Eight, so they can show me the routine before they open." Rey was looking forward to using the tools she'd seen, clean and well-maintained rather than an outdated, hodgepodge collection. She'd have to get up with the sun to get there in time, but -
"How about I drive you? We c'n get breakfast on the way."
And say goodbye.
Well, she knew it was coming. Rey bit her lip. "That sounds nice."
Clyde's head jerked in a nod. Moving stiffly, he untied the balloon from where it was moored on the handle of the nightstand drawer, and held it out to her.
Rey took the ribbon, feeling it tug lightly against her grip, and smiled, though her face felt equally stiff. "This is my first balloon. That I can remember, anyway."
"Past time then." Clyde picked up one of the tealights, then set it back down aimlessly.
"Thank you," Rey added. "For - for all of this." The words felt woefully inadequate. "I never…"
His ears were turning pink. "Past time," he repeated, and Rey wanted to hug him again. But he looked desperately uncomfortable, so she just held out a hand.
Clyde took it in his; his thumb was so large it all but spanned the width of her palm. "You're the kindest person I've ever met," she told him softly. "I'm going to miss you, Clyde."
He was pink all over, now. "Me too," he mumbled. "I mean - "
Rey nodded, and squeezed his hand.
Clyde is not quite correct regarding fishing with a disability like his, but he probably didn't care enough about the pastime to do any research. A quick search shows various offerings for adaptive devices.