Sophomore Year Part Two #2
A million needles burrow their way into my skin while the hot water pounds against my back and abuses the cold flesh. I thought this would be the fastest way to warm up, but I guess I forgot about the painful bite of hot water after being cold for so long.
“When you’re done, come to the front door.” My mom yells to be heard over the shower.
“Okay.” I quickly scrub my body and wash my hair, making sure all the soap is out before I step out of the shower to dry off.
I throw on my pajamas, an old cut off shirt from last year's training camp and a pair of athletic shorts.
My feet are bare as I pad through the house, my heavy footsteps thudding against our wood flooring.
My dad is waiting by the front door, and my mom is nowhere to be seen.
“Is this my surprise? Mom left and now you get to eat whatever you want without her complaining about your health?” I’m rewarded with a gentle smack upside my head, messing up the long tresses of my hair that I keep tucked behind my ear.
“My health is not bad and I can eat whatever I want even if your mother is here.” He says and I hear a throat clear behind us.
My mom is standing there, with her arms crossed and her eyebrow cocked in my dad’s direction.
His chuckle is nervous and he walks over to her and wraps her in a hug.
She pushes him away and comes towards me instead.
“Are you ready for your surprise?” I shrug my shoulders, not sure what response they want from me.
I hate being put on the spot with other people watching my reactions to surprises.
I never act the way I feel like I’m supposed to, the mask covering my true emotions is too deeply rooted now to know what’s truly me or what I think I’m supposed to do, based on societal norms. The only time I’ve truly felt like myself is…
My dad joins us by the front door, making a cupping motion with both his hands, and waiting for me to do the same. When I do, my mom drops a small box into my waiting hands.
It’s red, and a gold piece of twine is artfully wrapped around the outside, keeping the top and bottom piece secured together.
I pull the twine gently, feeling the glitter pull and grate against the other until it’s undone. The top comes next revealing a set of keys.
My own car.
I knew this was coming, or I at least assumed it was. It’s my sixteenth birthday afterall, and that’s usually when parents get their kids their first car. I had been practicing in mom’s and I figured when I got my license, we would just share the car when we needed it until I got my own.
But this was a big deal, bigger than I was originally anticipating. My own car. For my sixteenth birthday.
“It still needs some work, but this is what my dad, your grandpa, did for me when I turned sixteen. It’s in the garage.” My mom leads the way, holding the door open to the garage for me and my jaw drops.
Sitting inside, protected from the elements outside, is an old school Chevy pick up truck.
My dad has one almost the exact same, but his is tucked away for safekeeping.
He drives it once a month to keep the engine good on it, making a day trip out of it for me and mom as well.
I didn’t realize it was something he had done with his dad.
“Can we get started on it tonight?” I ask, excitement thrumming through my veins as I circle the truck and take in all of its glory. There are some signs of rust and wear and tear that can be easily buffed and replaced with new parts. The body is still in pristine condition.
“Would you rather do that or watch a movie?” My dad asks, already walking towards his toolbox in the far corner of the garage. My mom shuts the door behind her as she walks in and sits on a chair she drug up beside the truck.
We work together, my dad explaining how each part and mechanism works to make the truck move as a whole piece. Each individual thing has its own job, and even if something small isn’t working, the rest will follow its lead until the problem is solved.
Working on this truck with my dad, both of our hands getting dirty and greasy, with my mom watching us, taught me a lot about things that weren’t necessarily about trucks.
Sometimes things break down, no matter how much effort and hard work we put into it.
The right parts and pieces have to be used in addition to hard work, it's an equal balance of resources and capabilities.
My dad yawns for the third time, covering his mouth and making a dramatic show of raising his arms above his head.
“I’m tired, I’m going to go to bed for the night. Maybe I can sweet talk your mom into calling into school tomorrow to get you off to play hooky with me.” I look at mom pleadingly, and she sighs loudly. But the smile on her face says differently.
“Fine, but I’m sleeping in.”
I go to bed that night, my eyes sliding shut with a mixture of excitement and despair. Today, I made a big decision in letting go of things that weren’t mine to hold on to. But tomorrow is a new day, and it looks pretty promising.