I still feel sad, especially at night when I'm alone in my room. I still get that aching pain in my chest when I think about Amy and what happened that night. And I still miss her more than words can describe. But I no longer want to jump off that bridge. I honestly don't know how I even got to that point. Even though I thought about it, I never thought I'd actually do it until that moment I was standing at the edge.
"I think you're more like her than you want to admit," Travis says.
"What?" I turn toward him. He's still sitting behind the wheel but his seatbelt is undone and the engine is off.
"The dark brooding artist thing?" he says. "It's not you. You can wear all the black you want and it still won't be you. It's just not your personality."
"And how would you know?" I ask, sounding defensive. "You've known me for a week."
"First impressions are everything. They tell you everything you need to know."
"Oh, really? And what exactly did they tell you about me?"
"That you're putting on an act. Trying to be something you're not. You may be an artist, but you're not dark and brooding. That's all an act."
"Yeah, whatever." I roll my eyes. "Why would I pretend to be something I'm not?"
"Not sure. Maybe you're trying to be the opposite of your mom. Was she outgoing? Talkative?"
"How would I know?" I say, folding my arms over my chest. "She left when I was ten. I barely remember her."
"You remember. You just don't want to talk about her."
I turn and face him. "I don't know what your obsession is with picking apart my brain, but I'm getting really tired of it and I'd like you to stop. I'm not your little project to fix and I don't appreciate being treated like there's something wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you. I never said that. I just want you to see that it's okay to be yourself. And you'll be happier if you are. Putting on this act to get back at your mom or to piss off your aunt is only hurting you, not them."
"My aunt? What are you talking about?" I turn away from him. "I'm not putting on an act, and if I were, it'd have nothing to do with my mom or my aunt."
"Okay, then," he says, knowing he's hit my limit and talking more about this will just make me shut down. "Let's go."
We go in the store and head straight to the toy section, stopping at an aisle filled with princess stuff.
"Try this," Travis says, putting a pink princess hat on me. It's one of those cone-shaped hats with ribbons hanging off it, like the kind you see in storybooks.
"There's no way I'm wearing this," I say, laughing as I see myself in the mirror. "I look more like a witch than a princess."
"It's the black hair. Stop dyeing it and go back to your natural color."
"For the last time, I'm not changing my hair!" I spin around to face him, causing the ribbons to stick to my face and my mouth.
His lips quiver as he tries to hold in his laughter. "Let me help you with that." He peels the ribbons off my face, one by one, smiling. "I'm getting this for you."
"No you're not."
"I am." He stands back and looks at me. "The kids are gonna love it."
"What kids?"
"The kids in the waiting area. You can wear this and have story time."
I raise a brow. "Story time?"
"When I was a kid, my mom would take us to the library in the summer and this girl would sit on a tree stump wearing a hat like this and read stories. My brother thought she was an actual princess. He had the biggest crush on her."
"How old was he?"
"Four or five. She was probably sixteen. Way too old for him but he still had a crush on her." He turns me to face the mirror. "C'mon. The kids would love it. You know they would."
"It's not professional to be wearing a silly hat and reading stories at an auto shop."
"Hmm. Maybe you're right." He takes the hat off me. "Okay, let's move on."
He puts the hat back on the shelf. Seeing it there, it's actually kind of a cool hat. It'd be great for Halloween. Not that I celebrate Halloween. Not anymore. I used to go to Halloween parties with Amy but only because she loved dressing up. Me? Not so much. Okay, maybe it was fun now and then but it wouldn't be anymore, now that she's gone.
"You like it, don't you?" Travis asks with a smirk, noticing my eyes are still on the hat.
"I don't like it. I think it's stupid. Why are they even selling something like that? This isn't a costume shop."
"It's for dress up. It goes with those." He points to the princess dresses. "Kids like playing dress up."
"Let's move on or we'll never finish." I walk down to the puzzles at the end of the aisle. "I say we get two or three, some easy, some harder, for different ages."
"I'm good with that. Go ahead and pick them out." He's still standing by the hat. He picks it up and walks over to me.
I point to the hat. "Why are you holding that?"
"Because I'm getting it."
"Why?"
"For Halloween. It can be your costume."
"I don't need a costume. I don't go out on Halloween."
"Didn't I tell you? The bar I always go to—the one I took you to—has a Halloween party every year. They have a band, costume contest, drink specials. I went last year. It's actually a good time. You're gonna love it."
"I'm not going to a Halloween party."
"It's not really a party. It's more of an event. And now you have a costume." He smiles as he puts the hat on my head.
I take it off. "I'm not going. Now can we get back to shopping?"
He tosses the hat in the cart. I give up trying to fight that battle. He's getting it no matter what.
We find some puzzles, then get one of those carpet mats that have roads printed on them and some toy cars. We load up on kid books and coloring books and crayons and find a small table and chairs set. It's fun shopping for this stuff. Makes me feel like a kid again.
When I told Travis I don't remember my childhood, it wasn't true. I just don't like talking about it because I don't like talking about my mom. Before she left me, I thought she was the coolest mom ever. At the time I didn't know she was crazy. I just thought she was fun. She'd keep me up late at night painting with her or dancing to her crazy hippie music. There was never a bedtime. I just slept when I got tired. There weren't meal times either. We just ate whenever we felt like it. She shopped at thrift stores and let me pick out my own stuff. She'd tell me to dress like what I felt like being that day so some days I dressed like a gypsy and other days I was a pirate or a princess.
Maybe that's why I felt strange wearing that princess hat. Because it reminded me of my childhood and my crazy mom. I haven't thought about that for a long time. I kind of blocked out those memories until now.
What if Travis is right and I'm pretending to be someone else just to avoid being like my mom? Or maybe I'm doing it to get back at my aunt, who never wanted me and then tried to change me to be more like Amy, her perfect daughter.
That can't be right, can it? That doesn't even make sense. Why would I do that? It's completely irrational, and yet I admit my black hair doesn't look good with my skin. So why do I keep dyeing it?
"I'm thinking this would be a good one," Travis says, pointing to a flat screen TV. We're in the electronics section now.
"Looks good to me but I don't know that much about TVs."
"Let's go with this one." He picks up the TV box and puts it in the cart.
We continue through each section of the store, getting so much stuff it fills two carts.
"You okay?" Travis asks, turning to me. "You seem a little out of it."
"I think I'm just hungry. It's past noon."
He checks his watch. "Damn, you're right. I didn't realize we'd been here that long. Did we get everything?"
"I think so. If we forgot something, we can always get it later."
"Let's go check out."
After he pays for everything and loads it in the truck, we go back to the garage and drop it off, then hea
d to lunch. I'm way behind in my classes and should be doing homework but I'm having too much fun with Travis to end our day and go home. So when we get back to the garage I offer to help him set everything up.
"You sure?" he asks. "I've already taken up most of your day off. I don't expect you to do anymore."
"I know, but I can't trust you to do it. It'd be a disaster."
He chuckles. "You're right. And this was all your idea so I'm assuming you have a vision." He motions to the nearly empty waiting area. "Do your magic. I have some paperwork to do. I'll be in the office."
"You could do it out here. Keep me company."
He smiles. "I thought you might be sick of me by now."
"Maybe a little, but I could stand you for another hour or two."
"I'll go get my things."
I'm not sick of him. Not at all. In fact, I can't seem to get enough of him. And I can't stop looking at him. He's just wearing jeans and a t-shirt but it's a fitted shirt that clings to his muscles and makes me unable to look away. And he didn't shave today so he has that sexy stubble along his face.
Two hours later, I've transformed the blah ugly space to a waiting area that's actually inviting and almost home-like. I've divided the area into one for kids and one for adults. The adult area has a large striped rug that defines the space with the chairs arranged in a U-shape that faces the new TV. Magazines are now in a stand instead of scattered on the tables, and the tables now have new lamps on them with built-in chargers in the base so people can charge their devices while they wait. The long fold-out table I found on sale is now a beverage station that holds a new coffee maker and a tray of mugs and paper cups. There's a mini fridge next to it with water, pop, and creamer for coffee.
The kids' area has the driving mat on the floor along with a basket of toy cars, and next to that is another mat in a bright colorful print that's topped with the new mini table and chairs. Plastic bins of different colors hold crayons, coloring books, and puzzles, and they're all at kid level so they can help themselves.
"What do you think?" I ask Travis.
"It's amazing." He stands with his hands on his hips, admiring the room, a huge smile on his face. "Doesn't even look like the same place."
"So you like it?"
"I LOVE it. This is better than I even imagined."
"I know it took some money to do but I think you might make it back in sales."
"Definitely. And it wasn't that much. I'm amazed you made it look this good on such a small budget. I thought we'd have to spend a lot more."
"I didn't have much growing up. I had to learn to be creative."
He looks at me. "You mean when you lived with your mom?"
"Yeah. She never really had a job. We moved all the time so she really couldn't have a job."
"How'd she get money to live?"
"I don't know. I never asked. Sometimes we lived with people. People she knew or had met in the past. She made friends easily. Even if they didn't know her that well, they'd help her out."
"Because they connected with her. The way people connect with you."
"Don't start with that again. I don't want to talk about her."
I really don't, and yet I keep bringing her up when I'm with Travis. Why do I find him so easy to talk to? Why do I keep opening up to him? And why does my heart keep falling for him when we'll never be anything more than friends?
14
Skye
Travis walks over to the mini fridge to get a can of pop. "Want one?"
"No, I'm good."
He cracks open the can. "We didn't have much money either growing up. Any extra we had went here, to buy new tools or fix the place up. My mom never got the things she wanted. Never had a nice pair of earrings or nice clothes. She sacrificed everything for my dad. Sometimes I get really pissed at him for that." He swigs his drink.
"I'm sure your mom liked that she was helping your dad. And really, it was a family business. It paid the bills."
"Yeah, but he still should've treated her now and then. She had this stove that barely worked and he wouldn't get her a new one. She loved to cook and a new stove would've meant a lot to her but instead he went out and got a motorcycle. He told her it'd be fun for us kids to ride around with him but that was just an excuse for him to buy it. Damn thing is what got Seth hooked on motorcycles. And eventually ended his life." He finishes his drink and tosses the can away.
"You don't blame your dad for that, do you?"
"A little. I mean, Seth would never have got one if it weren't for Dad getting us on them when we were kids."
"But you don't ride one."
"Because I know what can happen. I rode one for years and never had a problem until some guy cut me off and almost caused an accident. After that, I never rode one again. Seth didn't let stuff like that bother him. He had some close calls but kept riding, and Dad encouraged him." He walks through the waiting area and sits down on one of the chairs. "This really looks great. I might come down here to watch TV at night instead of my shitty apartment."
"I could work on that next. You need to spruce that place up. It's really dated."
"It doesn't bother me. I don't spend much time there. I really just use it to sleep."
"Why do you live there? Apartments around here aren't that expensive. You could move to a bigger place that's newer and nicer."
"I could, but then I'd have to lock into a lease and I don't want to do that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not sure I'm sticking around. I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't my life. I'm an engineer, not a mechanic."
"But you're good at it. Everyone says you do a better job than the guys at Auto Fix."
"Being good at something doesn't mean you want to do it for a living. I went to college because I knew I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in this garage. And now I'm here, doing what I said I'd never do."
"Then sell it. Go back to doing what you like."
"It's more complicated than that. Losing Seth changed everything. If he were still alive, he'd be running the garage and taking care of Dad. With him gone, I have to take over. I have to figure out what to do with a business we always said would stay in the family."
"Maybe give it more time. You don't have to do anything right away."
"I know. But I'm afraid if I keep saying that, one day I'll wake up and find that twenty years has passed and I'm still here."
His phone rings. He takes it out and answers, "Hey, what's going on?" He gets up and walks away from me as he listens. "No, I'm done for the day. What'd you have in mind?" He nods. "Yeah. Sounds great. Should I pick you up?" He listens. "See you then."
Checking the new clock on the wall, I see it's almost five. I should leave but I kind of want to stick around. Being with Travis is a lot more fun than sitting alone in my room.
"Do you want to maybe get some dinner?" I ask. "I'll pay this time but it'll have to be fast food. I'm a struggling college student and my job doesn't pay anything." I smile.
"I would, but I have plans." He holds his phone up. "That was Shana. She wants to have dinner."
"Shana, your ex?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna pick her up at six." He walks across the room to the table where he was doing paperwork. He gathers the papers and stuffs them in a folder. "Thanks again for helping me out today. The place looks great. And I know you said you didn't expect to be paid, but I'll be giving you a bonus for this. You deserve it. You can go get another manicure." He smiles.
He's back to being my boss. All day we were acting more like friends but then Shana called and he went back into boss mode. Now he's trying to get rid of me so he can go on his date, or whatever it is. It seems like a date. His ex calls up and asks him to dinner? She must want him back, and he's obviously open to the idea if he agreed to go to dinner with her.
For some stupid reason I thought he was starting to like me, as more than his employee or friend. I thought he felt an attraction to me. In fact I was almost sure of it gi
ven the way he sometimes stands a little too close or touches my hand. Or those looks he gives me, like he's checking me out. But maybe he's just flirting with no intention of ever taking it any farther than that.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I say, hurrying to get my keys from behind the counter. "Have fun on your date."
"It's not a date," he says, blocking me as I try to go around him.
"You sure about that?" I ask, hoping I don't sound jealous. "Dinner with your ex? Sounds like a date."
"It's not a date. Just dinner."
"Okay, well, have fun." I go around him and hurry out the door, tears stinging my eyes. Why am I acting like this? I had no intention of dating him. We're just friends. And he's my boss. So why does it hurt so much knowing he's going out with her tonight?
"How was the shopping?" Heidi asks as I walk in the apartment.
"Good. The place looks a lot better than it did."
"You were gone all day. Did you guys do anything else?"
"No, it just took awhile to unpack everything and set it up."
She gets up from the couch and meets me in the kitchen. "I'm going over to Brad's in a few minutes to study."
"You guys could study here," I say, searching the fridge for something to eat. "I'll be in my room all night."
"I already told him I was coming over. I thought you'd have Travis over so I was giving you guys some privacy."
I close the fridge. "Why would I have Travis over?"
"C'mon, Skye. I know you don't like talking about this stuff but you can tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"That you're dating Travis."
"I'm not dating Travis," I insist.
"Maybe you're not calling it that yet but you two definitely have something going on."
"Nothing's going on. He's my boss. And he has a girlfriend. In fact he's out with her right now." I open a cupboard, then slam it shut. I didn't mean to slam it but I'm really annoyed he's out with her. I shouldn't be, but I am.
With Every Breath Page 15