by Shey Stahl
My father, Lyric Walker, was someone special. Even the name was badass and he, well, I’ve never met anyone like him. He was the hardest working man I knew. Owning his own garage and working his ass off so he could provide us with a good life. He built his business from nothing and earned a trusted reputation through hard work. When it came down to it, there was no better mechanic than my dad. He could fix anything with a set of tools. But the truth is that as great a mechanic as Lyric Walker was, he was an even better father. Not a day has gone by as long as I can remember that I didn’t know my dad had my back. When I told him I wanted to be a mechanic just like him, he never hesitated to teach me. Probably because I kept taking the engine in his truck apart, desperate to learn, and he wanted me to know how to put it back together.
Whatever my siblings and I wanted in life, my dad was right beside us encouraging us. The only thing he ever asked in return was for us to take responsibility for our lives. No excuses, just hard work. Rawley and Raven are still kinda working on that last one.
“I want cake.” Nova stands, her hands on her hips. “Grammy said we having cake.”
I smile, picking her up off the steps. “Grammy said that, huh?”
Rawley reaches up and tugs on her hair, just to annoy her. She swats his hand away and stares at me, intently. “I need it.”
I give Rawley a sideways glance. “She’s workin’ me, isn’t she?”
He nods, smiling but doesn’t say anything.
Just as we’re beginning to walk toward the cars parked near the grave, Raven, my younger sister finds us. Nova immediately reaches for her. I’m so grateful Nova has my mom and sister in her life. With losing her mom so young, I constantly worry that I’m not enough. But knowing my mom and sister will always be there for her, guiding her through the things I can’t, brings me some relief.
As much as I’m grateful for Raven being in Nova’s life, I have to keep a close eye because while I love my sister, she can find trouble like no one else. Like Rawley, Raven hasn’t reached her “you’re not” stage in life. She’s a bit of a troublemaker, and if Nova turns out like her, I’m gonna need a gun strapped to me at all times. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.
“Jesus, Red, did you brush her damn hair today?” Raven asks, trying to tame Nova’s hair down by running her fingers through it.
All that did was annoy Nova, who whipped her head around. She hates people touching her curls.
I glare toward Raven. “I did brush it.” I’m actually not sure if I did, or not. I might have just ran my fingers through it to get the knots out. Apparently, I didn’t do a very good job because I see a knot in it now.
Raven rolls her eyes and reaches to take Nova from my arms. “Sure you did.”
As we’re gathered by the cars now, arguing about whether or not I brushed my daughter’s hair, Mom approaches us. “Are we all ready?”
Raven smacks my shoulder as she pushes past me. “Yeah, Ma. We’re coming.”
The five of us pile inside my other baby, an old Chevy Nova that’s definitely a work in progress and head up the street to my parents’ house. Though our family isn’t all that large, my father was well respected and widely loved, so the small house seems crowded when we get there. On any other day, this wouldn’t bother me, but because today’s a day where I want to be alone, even the smallest gathering seems like so much.
NOVA AND I keep to ourselves, seated on the couch with a small plate of food. She stays on my lap, her head resting on my shoulder while she plays with the collar of my shirt and nibbles on a carrot. She has this habit of taking a piece of material between her thumb and index finger when she’s tired and rubbing it back and forth. I find it incredibly adorable and hope she never grows out of it.
“Do you want to take a nap?” I ask, kissing her forehead.
She shakes her head, adamantly refusing. I don’t think Nova’s willingly taken a nap in her life. Even as a baby, I would have to trick her into sleep, or take her for a drive.
Raven’s watching us from the kitchen. I can see her from my place on the couch with a slice of cake in hand, her legs dangling off the counter. “You want some cake, darlin’?”
Nova perks up, her head bumping my jaw when she sits up straight. “Yes.”
Laughing and rubbing my jaw, I stand with her on my hip and make my way into the kitchen. Sliding off the counter, Raven immediately holds her hands out for Nova, who willingly goes to her. She sways to the music softly playing in the background, holding her close.
I take that moment to get her a piece of cake. Just as I’m cutting into it, someone bumps my shoulder.
Turning, I nearly roll my eyes. It’s my young neighbor. And I say young because she’s seventeen. “Hey, Red,” she says, sticking a fork in her mouth to lick frosting off it. I know she thinks this is a seductive way to get me to look at her mouth but honestly, all it does is make me cringe.
I keep my eyes on her eyes as always. Sam’s a nice girl, but shit she’s young. She watches Nova for me sometimes but even then, I try to keep those instances to a last-resort situation only. “I’m sorry about Lyric.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
When I have the cake on the paper plate, I begin to walk away when she says, “If there’s anything you need, let me know.”
Is she serious?
She bats her eyes.
Yep. Serious.
I know what she means. She’s never been shy about letting it out there she’s interested in me. I don’t understand it. Honestly, there’s a ten-year difference between us, and I know there are plenty of guys her own age who would be happy to take her up on her offer. I find it uninteresting. And illegal. There’s one thing I’ve noticed since my wife died. Women, especially the younger ones, they have a soft spot for a single dad. And when I say soft spot, I mean they spread their fucking legs easily.
I’m sure some would wonder why I don’t sleep with any of them, but I just can’t. Hell, it took me a fucking year to remove my wedding ring and even now, I carry it around on my key chain. If that doesn’t scream widower with issues, I don’t know what would.
Tyler gives Sam a smile as he approaches, and then bumps my shoulder. “A few of us are gonna head down to the shop to you know, honor Lyric the right way.”
Sam walks away, watching me as she passes by.
I kind of chuckle because I know what Tyler means by that. This is nice, all of this my mom and aunt set up, but it’s not my dad. He’d want us to be at the shop. The same place we had his fiftieth birthday party a few months back where he and Hendrix did shots of Jägermeister off the table when the bottle spilled.
That memory of them laughing and holding each other up…. Fuck, it hurts he’s gone now.
“Hang on, let me see if my mom can keep an eye on Nova for a bit.” I leave Tyler in the dining room and find mom in the kitchen with Raven.
“Hey, Ma?” She turns and looks over her shoulder at me. “Can you watch Nova for just a bit? I’m gonna run to the shop with Tyler for a while.”
She gives me a tender smile, the one she always gives me. It’s the same smile that tells me she’d do anything to make my life easier. She just lost her husband, yet she’s worried about her kids. I remember when Nevaeh died, I locked myself in our room for a week. I didn’t eat, or shower or God forbid take care of my kid. I couldn’t even function. I’d never experienced true devastation until that moment. I could barely breathe. The thought of continuing my life without Nevaeh seemed impossible.
But here Ma is, making food for everyone and forcing a smile six days later. Raven props herself up on the counter next to the plate of cheese, which Nova has taken a bite out of every piece and put it back. “Try not to get shitfaced.”
Nova comes running through the kitchen, her brown curls all over the place. She stops in front of me and pushes them out of her face, eyeing the keys in my hand. “Where you going? Can I come?”
I kneel to her level. “I’ll be back before bed. I just need to ch
eck on the guys at the shop. I won’t be long.” I want to promise her I’ll be back later, but I don’t promise anything anymore. The last one I made was never granted.
“I promise I’ll be home in an hour and make it up to you.”
Well, that hour turned into three hours, and when I came home, Nevaeh was dead. Had I been home when I was supposed to, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.
Nova does that thing where her brow scrunches together, and her hands go to her hips. “You promised to read Pet the Cat!”
I hate seeing this face. She does it a lot because she always wants to keep me in her eyesight. Nova won’t talk about that night, and I don’t ask what she remembers from the night her mom died, but she remembers being alone for hours before I came home to find her. They tried to get me to take her to counseling afterward; hell, they tried to get me to go, but it wasn’t for me and I couldn’t see forcing her to go either. We needed to heal on our own.
“I will, darlin’. I just have to do a few things, and I’ll be back.”
My mom rescues me, wrapping her arms around Nova and picking her up. “Come on, now, little lady. Let’s let Daddy get going so he can get back quicker and read you that book. You can hang out with me and your auntie.”
Naturally that distracts Nova enough I’m able to sneak away.
TYLER AND I pull up to the shop, the gravel crunching under the tires as we bring the car to a stop. It’s weird being back in here again without my dad and even more so hearing his favorite song without him playing it.
As Bruce Springsteen’s “Devils & Dust” moves through the steel building, my eyes immediately go to the spot on the floor where he collapsed, and my chest hurts. My mouth is unusually dry and a knot that hasn’t gone away for days lodges in my throat as though it’s a permanent reminder that no day from here on out will ever be the same.
All the guys are there, Colt, Uncle Hendrix, my cousins Jude and Eldon… everyone who keeps this shop together. We closed the shop down for a week on Tuesday, the morning after his heart attack, but Monday we’ll be opening back up with me as the new owner of Walker Automotive.
Colt Davis, one of the mechanics in the shop, hands me a beer. “Hey, Red.”
I take it, running my free hand through my dark hair. The moment we’re standing in a circle, tossing back beers, I want to laugh at the irony of this. We did this very same thing the night my Grandpa Carson passed away.
“Hell,” Colt breathes in deeply. “I still remember the day he hired me. We were just two kids who didn’t know a goddamn thing about making a business work, but somehow did it.”
Clearing my throat, I shift my stance slightly, my hand shaking as I bring the beer in my hand to my lips, but don’t take a drink. “I know this isn’t going to be easy on any of us, but I’ll do my best to make it work.”
As I finally do take a drink, silence spreads over us, and I should say something more to these guys as they share stories about ways my father made them feel like their presence here was needed. Each and every one of them understood they were family to him. And they were. His theory on running a business was you take care of your employees and they’ll in turn take care of your business. He was right on that.
“Fuck I don’t even know what to say. I can’t make this any different,” I tell them, my gaze on the concrete floor where I tried to revive him. “If I could, I would.” My voice cracks, shaking with each breath I take. Squeezing my eyes shut, I nod a few times and swallow back the emotion building. I’m at a loss for words as I struggle to say more.
“We’re gonna be all right here, man.” Tyler bumps his beer to mine, the sound making a ping through the air. “We’re gonna make this place work for him.”
I’m not sure we can, but I’m damn sure going to try.
When someone dies, there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t change it no matter how much you try. And once the angers gone, you accept it because you have no choice. Eventually you’ll be forced to. Reality’s a bitch like that.
How do you know when you’re in over your head?
It’s actually pretty simple.
If anyone were to look at the line of cars out the door and the mound of paperwork on my toolbox, they’d see exactly what I’m talking about. It’s also not helping that I have a brother not showing up for work on time because he’s fucking out late again, or my sister riding my ass because the guys in the shop suddenly forgot how to fill out time cards.
See? Pretty simple.
The afternoon sun blares through the open shop doors, blinding me as it hits the top of my toolbox. Sweat trickles down my back from my black shirt attracting the sun. It’s only June and already in the nineties. I can just imagine what July and August are going to be like.
I stare at the sheet in my hand wishing we had air conditioning in the shop. “Where’s this car at?” I ask, holding up a repair order for a Camry that’s supposed to be in my stall right now and hoping someone answers me.
Colt, whose stall is right beside mine, gives me a blank stare, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know, man.”
Colt and I don’t always get along. He once said to me, “You’re controlling, dictating, callous, and have expectations we can’t meet.”
It was last week.
And then I thought, that’s ridiculous. Absurd. But I have to agree, it’s a totally accurate assessment of who I’ve become in the last month.
Days like this, everywhere I look I’m reminded of my father’s presence in this shop and the hard work he put in day after day to keep it running. I’m also reminded I’m doing a fairly shitty job of keeping it going.
Every bay has a car in it. Some have been here for days as we wait for parts or whatever else we need to finish them up. I don’t know how the hell he managed to keep everything running smoothly for so long.
Around noon, fucking noon, when his shift starts at eight, Rawley comes walking in with his guitar around his back and last nights wrinkled shirt on. “Nice of you to show up, asshole,” I mutter when he walks by me.
I almost envy Rawley’s ability to no care.
He squints his eyes, making them look black under his dark brows. Widening his arms, he smirks. “Hey, I showed up, didn’t I? Why you gotta take everything so serious all the time.”
Yeah, I know, I’m an asshole. Believe me, I know this. And if I didn’t, I’d be reminded. Daily.
“Is this a fucking joke to you?” I grab him by his arm before he can escape me. “Don’t fucking walk away from me. Everyone else can get here on time. You start at eight. Be here at eight. If you can’t handle playing in your so-called garage band and getting here on time for your shift, then don’t waste my time.”
Rawley’s icy brown eyes scan the shop and then land on me. “Fuck you.” He rips his arm from mine. “You’re not my father.”
I laugh, once, and keep my eyes level with his. “You didn’t listen to him either. It’s time for you to grow up. This place is falling to shit, and we need help. It’s a family business, and we’re all pulling our weight for a business our father created. I know you pulled this shit on dad, but it’s not going to work with me. You either get here on time, or you find someplace else to work.”
Rawley shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “God forbid anybody pisses off Red. I thought you were difficult before dad died, but since then, you’ve become impossible. You think you’re the only one that has stress.”
“What stress do you have?” I practically yell, causing all the guys to stop and stare at us. “You fucking wash cars and change oil. You don’t have anything to worry about but getting here on time. But you can’t. You show up when you want, you live at home. It’s really not that hard, is it?”
Rawley’s certainly never been one to back down to me. He’s actually incapable of it. Growing up in the same house, he purposely used to piss me off for his own entertainment. “It’s not my fault you’re doing this shit on your own.
It’s not my fault your wife died. Quit blaming everyone else for your shit.” He throws his arms up and then lets them fall dramatically. “I’m so tired of you thinking you’re better than everyone. You’re an arrogant dickhead who walks around here barking orders and expecting everyone and everything to fall into place. You’re not the only one who lost Dad. We lost him too. Stop thinking the weight of the world is on you only.”
All right, there’s certainly some truth to what he’s saying, but I’m not going to agree with him.
What I am going to do is teach this little fucker a lesson, right here and now. Not because he called me a dickhead. That’s daily. But the fact that he brings up my wife is what has me living up to my nickname.
Rawley’s jaw clenches and for a minute, I think he’s gonna take a swing at me, wouldn’t be the first time, but something distracts him, and he looks over my shoulder, his eyes unfocused. “Whatever.” And then he begins to walk away.
I reach for him, fisting my hands in his shirt. That’s when mom screams for me to let go of him. “Red, that’s enough. Rawley, get to work. Red, knock it off.”
Turning around, I notice she’s glaring at me too. I’ll never understand it, but she babies that asshole like he can do nothing wrong.
“You wanna know why I don’t go to church?” Colt asks as my mom retreats back to the office.
Rolling my eyes, I draw in a deep breath and stare at Colt. “Because they won’t allow you to?”
“Sorta,” he muses, and then eyes me carefully. “I don’t believe in being a hypocrite. Most people who go to church and preach God to me, they’re some of the biggest hypocrites I’ve ever met.” Our eyes meet. Maybe he might be talking about me. What the fuck? I’m no hypocrite. “They go through their week, fucking people over, lying… cheating, just dirty shit. And then they go to church on Sunday, beg for forgiveness and think that’ll make it better. It don’t fuckin’ work like that.”
“Is there a point to this?” I ask, picking up another repair order on my toolbox.