A Perfect Life nd Other Stories (16 page)

Jackie grinned. “I’m the second ‘Jackie’ to run this shop. My pop
was the first. He’s been gone five years now. Yeah, we were close. I miss him.”

“Was he a curmudgeon?”

“No, but it’s still hard.”

“I wonder sometimes what it would have been like to have a dad who
supported me. Approved. He was okay with me being gay, but only on the surface.
I think it tortured him inside.”

It was the most Natalie had revealed about herself. To this near
stranger.

“Pop always wanted a daughter. He didn’t mind at all that I was a
tomboy. His only regret was not getting to walk me down the aisle.”

They sat in silence, letting the stillness of memories settle
around them. The phone rang. Natalie jumped. Jackie didn’t move.

“I’m fine now. I’m really sorry about this.” Natalie stood. “Call
me when the car’s ready?”

“Will do. And Natalie? You
shouldn’t
feel anything except
the way you feel. If that makes any sense.”

“It does. Thanks.”

AT 80,624 MILES, the gas tank developed a leak. They stood under
the car, up on a lift. Jackie shined a light on the fuel oozing around a tube
coming from the top of the tank. “That explains why you only smell gas when the
tank is full,” she said.

Natalie nodded. “But you can fix it, right?”           

Jackie clicked off the light. “Sure. But do you want me to?
Replacing the tank will cost close to what your car is worth.”

Natalie blinked, shocked. It was like Jackie
was telling her she had to put her dog down. It had never occurred to her that
the day would come when fixing the Corolla would not be worth it.

“You want to think about it? Take your time, burn off some gas,
then let me know. But if you decide to replace it, I’d consider buying it from
you.”

“Why would you want this old thing?”

“It’s a great car.”

Natalie stared at the paint faded from years of no garage, the
windshield sandblasted by New England winters, that scrape of white paint on
the bumper where she’d misjudged the narrow driveway and clipped the fence at
the inn where she and Ginny had honeymooned. There was nothing remarkable about
this car and that made it remarkable. It was a vehicle of time travel. She’d
been young and hopeful when she’d bought it. Now, as she glanced at Jackie,
whose expression was inscrutable in the dim light under the car, she felt
ancient. It took Jackie, a stranger to Natalie but not to the car, to see the
value of this old thing.

She drove around town, for once trying to waste gas, and pondered
her options. It took only a perusal of the
Consumer Reports
new-car
issue and an hour or so on the Internet to convince her that she was better off
keeping her Corolla. She’d fantasized about a Subaru because of the snowy
winters, but all that money for a couple of months of snow? A hybrid made
sense, until she factored out how long it would take in gas savings to recoup
the extra upfront cost. “Fifteen years?” she’d complained to her calculator.

Face it, 80,000 miles was nothing to a Toyota. Maybe in a few
years hybrids would come down in price. The bottom line was, Natalie loved her
car and didn’t want to give up on it. Loving a car was one-way; it didn’t have
a mind of its own, talk back, or decide the grass was greener with the cute Starbucks
barista.

She should have seen it coming. An associate in a law firm
couldn’t work long hours without a lot of coffee. Three years after becoming
one of the first same-sex couples to legally marry, they became one of the
first to legally divorce.

Early the next week, Natalie dropped her car off with Jackie and
approved not only the gas tank, but also other repairs she’d held off
on—struts, springs, brakes, and the usual oil, belt, and coolant.

“It’ll be like a new car,” Jackie said, patting the fender.

Two days later, Natalie headed to Jackie’s,
excited to get her wheels back. Public transportation was great in theory, she
decided, but the reality pretty much sucked with erratic bus schedules and
crowded, broken-down trains.

As soon as she stepped off the bus, she noticed the eerie
darkness. Though the sun was setting, no streetlights were on. Storefronts were
dark. The traffic light down the street was blank.

“What’s going on?” she asked the Middle Eastern baker who’d
stepped outside and was looking up and down the street.

“No lights anywhere,” he said in a thick accent.

No kidding. She turned down the side street toward Jackie’s. She
could see the place was dark except for a faint flicker through the window. The
garage door was open, a dark maw, but proof Jackie hadn’t left for the day.

When Natalie entered the office, Jackie rose from her seat behind
the desk. Candles on the coffee table gave a faint glow, enough to see her
sheepish expression. “I called but you must have left the office. You’re not going
to believe this.” She clicked on a flashlight and waved the beam into her
garage, illuminating a car high on the lift. Natalie’s car.

It took a second for the meaning to sink in. “Is it stuck up
there?” Natalie asked.

“’Fraid so. I was just finishing when the lights flickered. I
couldn’t get it down before the power failed. I haven’t been able to get
through to the electric company to see how long it will take or how widespread
it is. It’s not a circuit breaker. I checked.”

“It’s the whole neighborhood,” Natalie said. “The power’s out back
to the main street.”

“Crap. I’m sorry you got all the way out here.”

They stood silent for a moment. For the first time in all the
years Natalie had known her, Jackie looked confused, with no answers. But
Jackie could fix anything. Natalie struggled to understand this new reality.

“Christ, what do I do?”

“I can’t leave or I’d take you home. I can’t close the bay doors,
I can’t set the alarm. I can’t leave.” Jackie sounded helpless.

“I don’t expect you to,” Natalie said quickly.

“You might as well sit.” Jackie motioned to the couch. She went
back to her desk. When neither spoke, the silence was complete. No compressors,
no traffic, no engines revving.

“I guess you’re stuck with me,” Natalie said.

Jackie exhaled and relaxed, her familiar smile returning. “Fine
with me.” Then she cleared her throat. “Let me try the power company again.”
She slipped her cell phone off her belt and punched some numbers. She smiled
hopefully while she listened. She punched another number. She nodded then
sighed and closed the phone. “They know about the power failure and say crews
are looking into it. May be an hour.” She glanced nervously around her small
office. “How’s your day been otherwise?”

Natalie relaxed back into the couch. “Not great. This was supposed
to make all the rest better.”

Jackie winced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“The good news is that once I get your car down and take it for a
test drive, you should be all set. She’ll ride like a dream.”

They sat, quiet in the flickering candlelight. Natalie hadn’t seen
Jackie since the divorce. She couldn’t remember Jackie’s wife’s name or she’d
have asked about her to be sociable. She didn’t know anything about
her—hobbies, family, dietary preferences.

“You don’t need to entertain me,” Natalie said. “If there’s
anything you can do, please go ahead. I’ll be fine right here.”

Jackie rubbed her thighs. “You sure? I could put some tools away.”

Natalie waved her hand toward the door. “By all means.”

She watched the flashlight beam bounce around and heard tools
clatter, drawers open and close, cabinets bang. Jackie whistled a faint tune.
The sounds of a normal routine comforted her.

A half hour went by and still no lights.
Jackie came back to the office, wiping her hands on a rag, the flashlight under
her arm. “Feel like a card game?”

Natalie looked at her, surprised. “I guess. Why not?”

Jackie went behind her desk and pulled open
a drawer. “Have a seat,” she said, nodding toward the chair. She shuffled a
pack of cards. “Gin rummy?”

“Sure.”

Natalie was relieved to be able to focus on the cards and not this
awkward situation. After a couple of games, Jackie leaned back. “Should you
call home? Let someone know where you are?”

Natalie froze for a second, then laid her cards down. “There’s no
one who needs to know where I am these days.”

“Oh.” Jackie swept up the cards, then stopped. “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have . . .”

“I don’t mind. It’s been over for some time
now.”

Jackie stared at her hands and took a breath. “Me too. Divorced,
that is.”

“I’m sorry.”

She cut the deck. “It’s also been a while.”

Natalie examined Jackie, keenly aware of what
she both knew and did not know of her. Professionally, Jackie was reliable,
courteous, kind, thoughtful, and honest. She could fix anything. No, not everything.
“Jesus, who’d divorce the best mechanic in the world?” she said.

Jackie looked up, startled, then burst out a laugh and shook her
head. “I’m glad someone appreciates that.”

Natalie took the cards from her. “My turn.” She shuffled the deck
then dealt cards, each sliding across the smooth desktop.

A thought began to form.
Should I take a chance?
Then as
quickly, her heart raced and her hands shook. Instead, she focused on the game.

When it was Jackie’s turn to deal, she watched the cards flutter across
the desk. Balancing everything she both knew and did not know about Jackie, she
came out on the side of making that leap. That reminded her of the joke her dad
used to tell. It’s not the fall that will kill you. It’s the sudden stop at the
end.

She didn’t know who was winning and Jackie wasn’t keeping score.
Natalie reached for the cards. Her turn. This time, before her heart could race
out of control, she braced her hands on the desk and blurted out, “Once the
power comes back, would you like to get some dinner? If you don’t have plans or
anything.”

The time it took for Jackie to respond stretched to several hours,
month, years. What if she said no? What would she do once they broke up?

It’s only dinner
.

To brace for the blow, she stared at the candle flickering on the
desk.

“I’d like that.”

She looked at Jackie. She was grinning. She’d really said that.

Natalie’s breathing resumed. She picked up her cards. “Great. I’ll
drive.”

Elaine Burnes
grew up and lives in Massachusetts. After earning a B.S. in biology, and
learning it qualified her for pretty much nothing, she worked first at a pet
store, then at a bookstore, and finally broke out of retail by attending
secretarial school. She spent the next twenty years working and writing for a
variety of environmental nonprofits. Finally wearying of reality, she turned to
writing fiction in her spare time, publishing her first story, “A Perfect
Life,” in
Skulls and Crossbones
(Mindancer Press) in 2010. Since then,
she has had several more stories published, including those in this collection.
Her first novel,
Wishbone
, was published by Bedazzled Ink in 2015.