Layla – Present #2
“I saw the ad in the window,” I say as I approach the counter.
“Which one?” He thumbs through a magazine, not looking up.
“The one about the car. It said to inquire in store.”
His eyes shoot up at the mention of car, and he grins at me.
“You’re interested in the car?”
“Yeah. Do you know who owns it?”
“I do.” He rubs along the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t think it’s the kind of car someone like you would want, though.”
“If it has four wheels, and it moves, then I want it,” I say, and then I regret it because it makes me sound too eager. I need to bargain with him, and I’m not sure I have the ability to bargain with someone like Owen.
“Come with me, then.” He jumps up from his stool, grabs a pair of keys from under the counter, and ushers me outside.
“She’s not a looker, but she’s dependable,” Owen tells me as we make our way into the parking lot beside the pier.
I can tell which car he’s talking about immediately, it doesn’t fit with any of the other cars.
It’s rusting in places I’m pretty sure cars aren’t supposed to. He runs his hand along the hood.
“So, what do you think?”
I open the driver’s side door, and the smells from inside the car clash with those of the salt sea air. It smells like something’s decaying in there. I close the door quickly and step back.
“How much?”
He grins. “For you, Layla, I can do it for nine hundred even.”
I look back at the car. It’s not worth seven.
“Jacob!” Owen shouts across the parking lot. Jacob is setting a folder with some paperwork into the front of his truck. When Owen waves him over, he crosses the road.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day. The paint for Landon Gardens finally arrived.”
“Took it long enough.”
“I know,” Owen says. “The suppliers were having some sort of issue.”
Jacob nods, then looks between me and Owen. “What’s going on here?”
Owen taps the car. “I’m working out a deal with Layla for Farrah.”
“Farrah?” I ask.
“It’s her name,” Owen whispers.
“You’re buying this?”
“I need a car.”
Jacob opens the passenger door and peeks inside. “What’s that smell?”
“I’m not sure, man. I think I split coffee or something. We sell some great upholstery cleaners at the store, should take it right out.” He winks at me.
“What’s the price?”
“I’m working out a deal with Layla.” He rubs at the back of his neck.
Jacob looks at me. “How much is he asking?”
Owen gives me a look, and I swear I see him mouth don’t tell him. I look back at Jacob.
“Nine hundred.”
“Owen.” Jacob sounds irritated.
Owen looks uncomfortable.
“Open the hood,” Jacob says.
Owen rushes around to the passenger side and pops it.
I stand next to Jacob, having no idea what I’m looking for, but I watch as he seems to. There’s a heck of a lot more rust on the inside than on the outside.
“Absolutely not,” Jacob says.
Owen blows out a breath. “Why not?”
“You’re ripping her off.”
“She can afford it.”
My eyes widen as I look to Owen. I’m about to tell him where he can put his car when Jacob cuts in.
“Give us a minute.”
Owen backs away. “Take all the time you need.”
“What’s your budget?” Jacob asks.
“About six hundred.” I pause. “Maybe.”
“Are you sure you want this one? I can ask around and see if I can get you something better. This thing won’t last a week, Layla.”
“Everything else will cost too much.”
He looks back at the car. “What if I promise I can get you something better, and cheaper?”
“I’m not sure that’s a promise you can make.”
“Give me till Friday. I’ll tell you at Mabel’s if I’ve found anything. And if I haven’t, you can get this one.”
“What if it sells between now and then?”
Jacob looks at the car, then at me.
“Good point.”
When we call Owen back over, he claps his hands together and rubs them. “Well, what will it be?”
“I’m going to look at some other options first. I’ll let you know.”
Owen looks significantly less optimistic. “You’ll be hard pressed to find one as great as Farrah.”
“Thanks for letting me see her.”
He’s about to say something else when his phone rings and he excuses himself.
Jacob closes the hood. “I’ll see you on Friday?”
“See you Friday.”
***
I set Dad’s keys in the dish by the door.
“Dad, I’m home,” I shout.
I walk into the kitchen and grab an apple before I make my way upstairs. When I get to the top, I freeze. My bedroom door is wide open. Four boxes pulled from my closet sit on the floor, lids pulled apart.
I rush inside to see Dad going through a box. He’s lifting things out and throwing them onto the floor. Dropping to my knees, I let the apple fall as I start putting Ben’s things back in.
“What is all this, Lays?”
I don’t answer him. My breath catches at the sight of Ben’s jersey, scrunched in a heap. Anger ripples through my veins.
“Did you and Ben break up? Is that why your trip’s been extended this long?” He rubs the stubble on his chin. “It’s been four months. That’s not normal for any marriage.”
“Tell me you didn’t do this on purpose. Tell me you didn’t come in here to snoop on me.”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, maybe asking me would have been a good place to start!” I yell.
“I have!” he yells back.
I scoff.
“Don’t, Layla. You don’t get to be mad at me. I’m not the one that’s been lying and keeping secrets.”
“I wasn’t keeping secrets.”
“Then what’s all this, Lays?” He throws a photo of me and Ben on the ground.
“Don’t do that!”
“Tell me why you really came home. Did he break up with you? Is it because of Jacob?”
“What?”
“Did you cheat on Ben?”
“How dare you!” I run my hands through my hair, down my face, and hold them at the back of my neck. “I can’t believe you would even suggest that I would–”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“Whatever you want, it seems.”
He pulls himself up off the floor and sits on the edge of the bed. Leaning down, he grabs one of Ben’s jerseys.
“What’s going on? You say I don’t listen, but I’ve been trying to. I ask you about Ben and you keep telling me he’s busy, he’s training, you’re lonely, and you have friends here so he doesn’t mind. And then all of this, you’re not even living with him anymore, are you?”
I swallow. “No.”
“You’re getting a divorce.”
“No.”
“Dammit, Layla! Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you.” I take Ben’s jersey from his hands and refold it, setting it back in the box. “I haven’t told you because I didn’t want to. Because I didn’t feel ready to.” My hands shake. “Ben died.”
His eyes widen. He looks around the room again, gaze lingering on the boxes.
“Layla. I shouldn’t have… I’m sor–”
“I don’t want an apology.”
“Layla, please. I didn’t know. I saw the boxes, and I assumed…”
“The worst.” I wipe at the tears. “You assumed the worst because that’s all you’ve ever been able to see.”
I leave the room before he has a chance to reply. Grabbing the keys from the dish at the bottom of the stairs, I let the front door slam on my way out.