Chapter 2 - The Girl In The Garage

The neon sign over Harold’s garage was missing another letter when Rick turned the corner. He rushed across the street when he had the chance and stopped underneath a small tin awning. After he finished ringing out his clothes as best as he could, he once again reached into his pocket, felt the crystal between his fingers, and took a deep breath.

He was about to enter when the door swung open, and a guy with a blue ball cap stepped out and held the door for him, tipping his hat as he did. Rick nodded his thanks and walked inside.

The shop was as messy as the first time he’d been there. He stopped as he accidentally kicked a bolt, and it went skittering across the floor. Down the hallway, he entered the large open garage with its various bays. There were two cars to his left, but to his right was Taylor. She had opened up one of the bay doors and stood in the dim gray light the rain provided.

“It’s calming, isn’t it?” her silhouetted shoulders rose and fell as she took in a deep breath.

“The rain?” Rick glanced around and walked over to her, careful not to trip or kick anything. “Yeah, it is kinda calming, isn’t it?”

“It gives me peace,” Taylor said, and she turned to him, hands on her hips. “C’mere, let me show you something.”

She brought him over to a small corner of the garage and clicked on a small construction light that illuminated the area and the motorcycle sitting there. To Rick, it looked like it could fall apart at any moment. It was rusty from top to bottom; the seats were missing, and it’s mechanical guts scattered out on the floor in a dozen different pieces.

“You ride?” Taylor asked as she knelt down and began to work.

“My uncle taught me last summer,” Rick answered. He leaned over and observed what she was doing. “But I wasn’t really good at it. I mean, not as bad as I am with most things, but still… not great.”

He found himself fascinated with how she worked. Taylor was in her own little world, and he was just looking through a window. The way she deftly fit pieces together with a focus and precision that was borderline obsessive.

They fell into a silence and Rick, out of habit, reached into his pocket and held on to the necklace. There was that comfort again, knowing that he had it, and knowing what it meant. He struggled for a moment, trying to think of something to say, maybe something that might lead to him offering her the necklace.

“It, uh, looks like it came out of a junkyard,” he commented. Then mentally berated himself for how stupid that was.

“It did,” Taylor replied. “I found it, made it a personal project, and I’m putting it back together with parts we have around the shop.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?” Rick knelt down beside her. “It seems a little too old and broken.” The closeness was making his heart pound, and if it wasn’t for the rain, he was afraid she might hear it. He had to force himself to focus on the bike, not the slight scratch on her shoulder, the grease on her slender fingers, or any of the other small details.

“Everything can be fixed,” she said, and was quiet for a long moment after. She just tinkered away. Then she paused and fiddled with the wrench in her hands. “But sometimes you have to rebuild. Sometimes things become so broken that you have to build it again in such a way that it becomes something new.”

“That’s… kinda deep.” Rick nodded in an attempt to understand what she was saying, but to no avail.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.” She turned to him, and her lips curved in what could almost be considered a smile. “Thank you for coming, Rick.”

“I mean, thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever come,” she said, voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m… not sure how to get along with other people sometimes.”

“I mean, I think we get along,” Rick offered, but Taylor didn’t respond. She kept working, focused.

“You know, I realized today I don’t have many friends,” Rick tried again. “I’m not sure why I don’t reach out more. I go to talk to someone and I… well, I dunno. I feel like my existence is imposing. I’m anxious a lot.” He noticed that Taylor had hesitated, hands finally still, and his voice became softer. “Maybe I’m just too afraid.”

Rain pattered the garage door. A soft and gentle symphony.

“I used to be afraid,” Taylor spoke after a moment. “Had these crazy nightmares as a kid. Messed me up for a while. Got overwhelmed a lot. Didn’t wanna go outside, didn’t want to go to school. Couldn’t do anything, and I never thought I’d get over it.” She went back to work, gritting her teeth as she turned a wrench. “My Dad would tell me to do one brave thing a day, and that’s what I did. Tried to do, anyway. Things got better, slowly, but surely.”

She stood up, dusting her hands on her pants, then grabbed another toolbox. She drug it across the floor with a loud grating noise and kicked it open.

“Hey, Rick?” She asked, her glacier eyes cutting through the dim light. “You wanna help?”

“I have absolutely no idea what to do,” Rick said. “But yeah, I would like to help.”

The two of them worked on the bike, and as they did, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel anxious, or nervous, or any of the other negative emotions that seemed to always swirl around in his mind. For the first time in what felt like a long time, Rick was simply happy.

After a while, Rick found his own hands just as greasy as Taylor’s were, and the couple of hours that he had been there flew by without his realizing it. Most of the noise had quieted down in the shop, and it was just Taylor who worked.

As she continued, putting some of the final touches on the motorcycle, Rick noticed someone else walking towards them out of the corner of his eye. He had ebony skin, with a short gray beard wrapping around his wrinkled face. He had a black toboggan sitting on his head, and his thumbs were hooked into the straps of his old overalls.

“Hey, kiddo,” He said, walking up to Taylor, “get her fixed up?” His voice was low and rough, but it seemed kind. “I’m ‘bout to close up the shop.”

“But I’m not done,” Taylor said, not looking at the man. “I just need another hour or two.”

“We both know if I let you stay, you’ll be here all night,” he said. “You’ll have an extra hour tomorrow.”

“I’ve got to finish,” Taylor said, and Rick noticed her brows furrowing. She was getting frustrated, something he’d never seen her do.

“And you won’t finish if I kick you outta the shop,” the old fellow said, his voice becoming more reprimanding. “You know the rules, kid, and I’m gonna uphold them.”

Rick swallowed, feeling a little nervous. He realized he had no real place being in the shop, and he certainly didn’t want to get caught in a fight between Taylor and the man. However, Taylor stood up and tossed her tools back in the box and slid it back to where it had been.

“I’ll see you later, Rick,” Taylor said without looking at him, and she walked towards the other end of the shop, before stopping and looking back at the man. “Do we have anything to eat at home? I forgot to eat today.”

“Yeah, I got something,” he said. “Now get your tail home and get something to eat, and don’t you think we ain’t gonna talk about that.”

“Yes sir,” Taylor nodded and continued on her way out.

As the door closed behind her, the man’s stern face broke into a small smile, and he shook his head. “That girl right there is something else, ain’t she?”

“That she is,” Rick agreed.

“Hey, I appreciate you coming,” the man said, reaching out a calloused hand for Rick to shake. “The name’s Harold, I own the place,”

“I’m Rick, Rick O’Brien,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand, “And can I ask… Are you her dad?”

“Not by blood,” Harold replied, “but in all the ways that matter, I’ve taken care of her ever since she was little, and lemme tell you that girl is my daughter through and through.”

“That’s cool,” Rick said, glancing toward the door Taylor had left through. “I suppose I better go too though,”

“Well, you take it easy then, and look, Mr. Rick. I appreciate you being her friend. She ain’t never had much of them.” Harold smiled at him, and Rick, a little unsure what to say, just nodded and headed towards the door.

The necklace gained a little weight in his pocket. Even though he’d had a good time, Rick couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a failure. Because, in a way, the necklace wasn’t just for Taylor; it was also for him. He had put all his hopes, dreams, and feelings into that necklace, and now he was wondering if he would ever share them with her.

Rick felt a chill and the cold splash of water as he stepped back out into the rain. He pulled his hood back over his head and started to make his way home when he had a sudden realization.

He was supposed to go get the groceries.