Author's Note: I apologize for the short chapters. This chapter was originally intended to be the second half of the previous chapter, but I took so long writing it I figured I would upload SOMETHING. I hope you enjoy it.
"Make sure you get it nice and tight."
Despite the cool chill in the air, Scott wiped the sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes with his flannel shirt sleeve and gave the spark plug he was a final tug with the wrench in his hand.
"Not too tight, now," the older gentleman standing behind him said. He'd been standing there, watching Scott work, for a good hour now and it was taking all of Scott's patience to keep from politely asking him to keep his 'advice' to himself. Despite the man's incessant need to speak, it was nice to have some company and have a somewhat normal conversation. Scott grunted as he straightened his back, pulling himself out from under the hood of the old beat-up Ford.
He turned and sent as nice a smile he could muster to his "audience." Besides the older gentleman, he'd amassed a small crowd of observers. He supposed it was true what they said. There's nothing more fascinating than an opened hood. Small boys chased each other with a mutt puppy barking and racing after them as fast as his massive paws would allow. The parking lot of the apartment complex was buzzing with activity. The sun was up and the sapphire sky was filled with puffy cotton clouds. It was a beautiful autumn day. Still, Scott couldn't help but think that he was the reason so many of the patrons found themselves outside. It had always been his observation that it always took somebody going outside and working to get everyone else motivated. He'd wondered what the cause was—guilt, jealousy, boredom? He didn't have an answer for that question. He just knew it seemed that way.
Scott wiped his hands on a faded rag now covered with fresh oil stains as he made his way to the Ford's driver seat. The older gentleman followed, his hands in his jean pockets, his shirt tucked into his pants, and an unlighted cigarette hanging from his lips. Careful to keep his rear on the trash bag he'd lain across the seat, Scott sat behind the steering wheel and turned the ignition. The engine spat and sputtered. He pumped the gas pedal. "C'mon…" he whispered to himself.
With a loud roar, the engine sprang to life. Scott struck the wheel with his palm. "Yeah!" he exclaimed.
Leaving the door open, he climbed out of the car and made his way around the old man and looked into the engine, watching the belts, wheels, and fans turn with a smile on his face. The loud knocking was gone and the new fan belt seemed to be aligned properly, nice and tight.
A sharp slap to his back sent Scott forward a few inches forward. He turned, shocked and perturbed, to see the old man smiling at him good naturedly.
"Good work, Scotty!" he said. "I ain't never seen anything like it. How many does that make?"
Scott forced a half smile. "I lost count," he said softly. "Excuse me," he said as he again stepped around the man and sat back inside the driver's seat. He turned off the car and pulled the keys from the ignition. He had to admit. It felt good to be working. Energy surged through his veins, pent up by too many weeks in a hospital bed. More than everything else, he had a mission to complete and, true to form, he was bound and determined to see it through to completion.
In the new silence, he heard a familiar voice in the air. A sudden surge of panic hit him like a wall of bricks. He checked his wrist, but there was no watch there. "Oh, God," he said aloud.
He jumped out of the car, listening for Julia's voice, trying to determine what direction her voice was coming from in the maze of cars. "Oh, jeez…" What had she thought, when she woke up and found him gone? The color drained from his face. How could you have lost track of time so badly? he scolded himself.
With a half-run, he took off in the direction he assumed to be correct. Rounding an old "Astro van" he'd changed the oil in, he saw her standing there, carrying two large bags on her shoulder and back and the handle of a piece of luggage in her hand. She was smiling, but Scott could see the sadness in her eyes, even at this distance. It was a look he was getting used to seeing.
The woman Julia was talking to had a confused look on her face.
"Would you mind picking up the mail for me?" Scott heard Julia ask. "I'm going to be staying at my parents' for a few days."
"Is Scott leaving, too?" the other lady said, motioning to the general direction of the car he'd been working on. Scott saw Julia swallow and shake her head, but by this time his footsteps could be heard slapping the concrete. Both of the women looked at him, shocked to hear someone run up on them.
"I'm so sorry," Scott said breathlessly. "I didn't want to wake you…"
There was a flurry of motion and Scott's reflexes kicked in. His fist wrapped around Julia's wrist, stopping the impending slap just inches from his face. He immediately regretted the action, and he released her. She drew her arm back sharply, clearly fuming. Scott was beginning to notice a definite violent streak in this woman, but he honestly couldn't blame her. He'd certainly punched men for less things than what he'd done to her. Once or twice.
"What are you doing? What..? Why…?" She stumbled over the angry questions, unable to find words for the frustration he imagined she was feeling.
"I was working," Scott explained hurriedly. "I woke up early this morning, and I didn't want to wake you. I found these old clothes, some tools in the closet, and started going door to door, asking anyone if they needed any repair work done." Scott's face soured with the memory. There were definitely some rude people living in this complex. He shook his head and continued. "Eventually, I found an older lady who said she needed her oil changed in her car. While I was working, I guess she told some of her friends, and they got me to change their oil, and then one of those ladies remembered her son's car was squealing when he hit the brakes…"
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wide wad of money, stained here and there with black fingerprints. "I've made three-hundred and fifty already, and a couple of people still owe me." He handed the unruly pile to Julia, who accepted it with jaw dropped in surprise.
"That should cover the towing and maybe a couple other bills," he said. He put one hand in his pocket and ran the other through his hair, remembering only after he'd started how dirty his hands were. He pulled his hand down sharply to his side and looked deep into Julia's eyes, wincing slightly, half expecting the bills to be thrown back into his face.
Instead, Julia lunged at him. For an instant, Scott thought she was going for his throat and even stepped backwards, steadying himself. Her arms did land on his throat, but only to squeeze it tightly in a hug. As her weight rested on his shoulders, Scott leaned forward. A burst of laughter escaped his smiling lips. It was the first time he had really noticed how much shorter she was than him and, as his hand rested on her back, how thin she was. His smile lost its intensity as he tried to inconspicuously ascertain her body mass index. It didn't take an expert to know that she was unhealthy.
The wetness on Scott's shoulder brought him out of his worries.
"Thank you," Julia whispered.
He returned the hug she offered, holding her tightly. "You're welcome," he said.