8. Savvy
MY FATHER’S ashes are sitting beside my breakfast.
Somehow, despite finding the cremation service, signing lots of paperwork, and being his only child, it never occurred to me that I’d be the one responsible for doing something with them.
My grandparents have been dead since before I was born, and my mother is too busy trying to save her marriage to her third husband to care about the remains of the first. Darwin is the only person I could ask about this, and inviting any kind of emotional connection between us seems like a bad idea.
What do you do with the ashes of someone who was, in life, a good if absent-minded father, and in death, a man who might have ruined your life?
Google didn’t have an answer, and my Reddit post was flagged, so I’m on my own. It’s been over a month since I got his remains back from the funeral home, and I still don’t have any idea. He’s just… sitting there. Right next to a pile of unopened bills and my birth control prescription.
Living alone in my childhood home, with only Dad’s ashes for company, feels like I’ve fallen through a wormhole into a parallel dimension. Everything is familiar, but it still doesn’t feel quite real.
Maybe, it’s because everything happened so fast. When he was first diagnosed and began treatment, I could make the drive from the city where I was living with my ex back to the hospital whenever he needed me. His health deteriorated fast, though, and before I knew it, I was back at home, shuffling Dad to and from chemo appointments in between rideshare shifts.
We spent a lot of time together in waiting rooms, and later when he was admitted to the hospital. We talked about a lot, too, but it hadn’t occurred to him to mention the state of his business. Any time I brought up Galactic Guild, he insisted he had a “great manager” in place and that I didn’t need to worry about it.
I was stressed, exhausted, and sad about being dumped by my boyfriend of six months who wasn’t “really into the long distance thing.” Accepting what Dad was telling me—even if there were a few red flags waving around in the back of my mind—was easier than adding another massive responsibility to my plate.
In a predictable turn of events, burying my head in the sand didn’t turn out well. Dad’s “great manager” was a guy named Ted (last name unknown), and the only thing he was great at was doing as little work as possible. Do I wish I’d investigated the situation sooner? Of course. It wouldn’t have made much difference in the financial situation, but maybe I wouldn’t be spending my entire weekend working. With Dar.
I’m working to fix up Galactic Guild with Darwin.
Darwin is helping me fix Galactic Guild.
Repair and cleaning assistance provided by Darwin Wilder, best-selling author with a penchant for gagging when confronted with dirt.
Yeah, it doesn’t matter how often I say it. It’s still weird.
Heaving a sigh, I gather up my breakfast plate and pad to the kitchen sink. It’s kind of grim to stack my dishes atop three meals’ worth of plates and cutlery from yesterday, yet still not have enough to justify running the dishwasher. Then again, everything about this room is pretty depressing.
I’m living in a tomb, complete with human remains and all Dad’s worldly possessions.
Leaning back against the countertop, I survey the room. It’s almost exactly the same as it was when I was growing up and spending every other weekend here. Everything from the dark wooden cabinets to faded magnets on the fridge. A hand-drawn Father’s Day card is tacked to the wall beside an old landline that hasn’t been connected for years.
It’s mine now.
My useless brick phone. My chipped tile. My sky-high mortgage payment.
Do I want to live in the same aging, split-level suburban hellscape that I grew up in? No, but I’m going to be here for a while, and it wouldn’t hurt to clean this place up a little. Maybe I’d feel less dread coming home every night if I got rid of Dad’s old video game collection and the rows of collectable figurines—still preserved in their boxes—sitting on shelves above the couch.
My heart is heavy as I push off the counter and begin gathering my things to go. The search for my phone (which occurs at least three times a day) takes longer than normal, so by the time I make it to my car, I’m already running late.
My plan was to hit the hardware store before Galactic Guild, but all plans evaporate when I turn my key in the ignition and… nothing.
I try again, because maybe today will be the first time in my entire life that I get lucky and my car will magically recover from whatever ails it.
It doesn’t.
Hands shaking and eyes burning, I shove the door back open and stumble out onto the driveway.
“Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?”I punctuate each word with a kick against the tire.
Was I a hostile dictator in a past life or something? Because the amount of bullshit raining down on me is starting to feel really personal. I know for a fact I haven’t done anything to deserve such an extreme dose of karmic justice.
Panting, I lean back against the heap of junk and stare up at the sky, weighing my options. I could call a rideshare or a cab. Or, I could stab myself in the eye with a fork and eat my weight in chocolate pudding at the hospital instead of deciding anything.
All are viable options, but my bank account really isn’t in any state to afford such luxuries, especially with an unexpected car repair bill coming.
There’s one other choice, but calling him feels… personal. You call friends or family for a ride. Darwin is my father’s best friend, the man who broke my heart and, more recently, my reluctant business partner (also the star in some very graphic dreams which I’m pretending didn’t happen).
Despite the conversation we had the other day after he rescued me from the wheel, I never intended to actually call him for anything. We’re not friends. Asking for his help and inviting him into my life outside Galactic Guild, feels like it would cross the unspoken boundary we’ve drawn. I’ve drawn.
Boundaries are important here. It’s so easy to be around him that I find myself scrambling to keep it together about a dozen times a day. For me, loving Darwin Wilder is muscle memory, like riding a bike or dancing to your favorite song. It just happens, and I need to make sure it doesn’t.
I press my hands over my face, trying to think through the self-pity and panic clouding my mind. Am I being ridiculous? Probably. Why should I pay twenty dollars for a cab when my house is barely out of the way for Darwin? We’re going to the same place. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.
I pull out my phone and find the contact I haven’t used for nine years, but never deleted.
I’m a little surprised by how quickly Dar’s expensive electric car pulls into the driveway. It’s not even fifteen minutes later, and when I called him, he said he was at home. Which means he must have jumped in the car the moment we hung up.
Darwin steps out before I can even make it off the front stoop, brow furrowed.
The man is wearing a black T-shirt today—a tight black t-shirt—and it’s all I can do to stop myself from cursing out the universe for the second time in one morning. God actual fucking damnit. Even seventy-year-old Mrs. Paul from next door has stopped sweeping pine needles off her walkway to check him out.
He’s a science-fiction author. Aren’t they supposed to be skinny and weird smelling? Couldn’t he have had a weird mole on his chin or fart when he laughs?
“Hi.” I arrange my face into something (hopefully) resembling a grateful smile. “Thanks for this.”
“Is it the battery?” asks Darwin, already circling the hood of my car in problem-solving mode.
“Maybe.” I pull the elastic off my wrist and gather my hair into a messy bun. The roots are beginning to show, but a trip to the salon is definitely not in the cards now. “I’ll deal with it later. I just figured since you were driving to Galactic Guild anyway and this is sort of on the way?—”
Darwin’s sharp look puts an end to my rambling. “I’m happy to help. Would you rather we try to jump it now or tonight after I drop you off?”
We.
My stomach rolls, but I stand straighter, glaring at him. “I’m not helpless, Darwin. This is just… It happens! I didn’t do anything to cause this. Cars break down! I’m an adult. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” I sound like a lunatic, stumbling over my words in my rush to get them out.
God, I’m so stupid. The last few weeks, when it’s been just the two of us alone at Galactic Guild, it’s felt good. Easy. So easy that, despite my resolve not to, I’ve allowed myself to relax around him. Then, with the whole giant wheel thing and our narrow escape from super rat… I allowed myself to believe Dar doesn’t see me as a giant, bumbling idiot.
Even with a lifetime of fuckups behind me, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so ashamed of myself. This man thinks I’m a helpless little fool, fumbling her way through life. That’s what all this has been about. He is overcoming his disorder because he’d rather be miserable and uncomfortable than sit back and watch me burn Galactic Guild to the ground.
Darwin stares at me, bemused. “I didn’t say you couldn’t handle it, Savvy.”
Hah.
Not bothering to respond, I turn, marching around his car to the passenger side. I feel the weight of eyes on me, but I avoid looking back as I yank open the door and plop down onto the cool leather seat, slamming the door behind me a little too hard.
Awesome. Now I look like I’m having a tantrum too.
The interior of this thing is even fancier than it looks from outside. My sneakers are scuffed and dirty, and I wince, thinking of the face he’ll make when he realizes I’ve left dust on his impeccably clean floor mat. The seat under my cheap-shorts-wearing ass is so pristine, it’s like no one has ever sat in it before.
Maybe no one has.
I’d hoped that giving myself a few seconds away would help me get my shit together, but I hadn’t considered that I would be in a small, enclosed space that smells like him.
My stomach twists as the driver’s side opens and Darwin gets in, folding his long limbs into the tight space with more grace than I managed. Neither of us speak as he presses a button—because why would someone as evolved as Darwin need something as pedestrian as car keys—and backs out of the driveway.
Mrs. Paul is still craning her neck for one last look at him as we pull around the scruffy tree in the center of the cul-de-sac.
He glances at me when we stop at the end of the road.“Savvy?—”
“Can we not?” I keep my eyes trained forward. I don’t need more half-hearted attempts to keep up the pretense that anyone in this car thinks I’m a competent adult; I’m not. The only thing worse than Darwin thinking it, is for him to pretend he doesn’t for my benefit.
He makes a small, frustrated noise. “I was trying to help.”
“You are helping me.” I gesture vaguely around at his fancy car. “I asked for a ride, and you’re giving me a ride. Thanks, partner. By the way, do you remember that annual laser tag tournament my dad used to do? I’m thinking we should restart it. Also, did you hear about what they did to poor Pluto? So disrespectful.”
Darwin isn’t distracted. “You’re being ridiculous. Are you so proud that you can’t let me help jump your car battery?”
I let out a hard, disbelieving laugh. “Yup. I’m super proud. That’s exactly right, Darwin. Your deductive reasoning remains top notch. I’ll be sure to work on that.”
We stop at a red light, and Darwin rounds on me. In the confines of the car, we’re almost nose to nose, and something tightens inside me as those dark eyes bore into my own.
“I’ll call someone to pick up your car.”
Oh my god.
I whip around, my heart beating harder than that time Raven forced me to go running with her. “If you do that, I’m going to pee in your gas tank, you condescending butthole.”
“It’s electric. There isn’t a gas tank to pee in. Also… okay, how would you even do that?”
I cross my arms. “I have my ways, Wilder. Don’t test me. And leave my car alone.”
He lets out a long hiss, like he’s trying to vent the frustration that’s built up during this argument. “I don’t understand why you won’t let me take care of this for you. It’s a small thing.”
“Oh my god, drop it! It’s none of your business!”
He stays silent for all of five seconds. “Will you please just?—”
Darwin’s next words are drowned out, however, as I open my mouth and start to sing.