Chapter 10 The Headlamp
THE HEADLAMP
CARTER
Icarefully open her car door and straighten my headlamp.
Becky loves her old Rover, but it has some old man aches and pains.
To stay on the safe side, I’ve been checking the engine, brakes, tires, and fluids every couple of weeks since she first brought it in.
It’s a little over the top. However, I don’t need her getting stranded.
She was hilarious that day she brought her Rover into the shop. She was all blushes and solid attempts at sounding like she knew what she was talking about. The bluster was adorable, but also infuriating because I know why she felt like she needed to play expert.
Many mechanics are assholes. Paul is one of them.
They see a lovely little woman like my—like Becky, or really any woman, and see dollar signs.
These men all have an assumed, sexist they’re clueless bullshit mentality.
They up-charge and call for chaos on any tiny thing they can with the vehicle they’re meant to diagnose and fix when their client fits a certain description.
Seeing Becky put on an act to protect herself made my hackles rise, so I promised myself two things.
One, I would be around Paul anytime he dealt with a woman customer.
Two, Becky would never have to deal with anyone except me as her mechanic ever again.
I’ve kept both promises so far, but now I have to be her silent, behind-the-scenes mechanic.
I didn’t want her to have to deal with me when she didn’t want to, and I definitely didn’t want her to deal with asshole Paul.
I already have a rotation for general maintenance: Oil change, rotate tires, check belts, spark plugs, wiring, brakes, fill tires, and more.
Now, I just have to adjust the time of day I do the work.
Monday morning, I set my alarm for before she woke up and checked her tires and her fluid levels.
Today is an oil change, so I had to come over after she came home so the car was still semi-warm to make it all easier, but late enough that she won’t realize I’m out here.
The sun is far lower than I wanted it to be, but the hood to the car is still warm.
The job won’t be too terribly difficult.
I pull the lever and pop the hood to get started when the porch light flips on. I duck as fast as I can, but I can still hear the voice of my own personal angel call out in clear exasperation.
“What in the actual Sam’s hell are you doing?” I can’t help but smile at her sass. Riling her up is—was always my favorite thing. That fire of hers is delicious.
I pop my head back up and say something stupid. “Spying.” What in the fuck, Carter.
“What the fuck, Carter.” She says, mirroring my thoughts. It's not even a question, and that makes me smile wider. Her hands are on her lovely hips, and she's squinting in my direction.
“Yeah, so…I’m changing your oil. It’s due, and I know school is starting, and I know you’re busy, and I don’t want you going to Paul cause he’s a creep and—” I'm rambling, I know it. I can’t help it because I haven't seen her in almost a week.
“Carter.”
“I know he’d make you pay extra and wait in our gross waiting room—”
“Carter!” She shouts my name, and again I just, gah. I just miss her.
“Yeah.” I respond, knowing a goofy look is plastered on my face.
“Can you turn off the blasted headlamp? You’re blinding me with it.” Aww, hence the squinting.
“Oh, damn. Sorry.” Whoops. I'm being stupid as hell, but then she laughs, possibly in exasperation, but my heart just swells and breaks at the same time. I love this woman. My whole soul sings for her.
“Are you almost done?” She asks, laughter still in her voice.
“Uh, no. I just started. Do you want me to leave? I’m sor—"
“What? Hell no. It’s the least of what I deserve. Just don’t screw it up.”
Ever practical Becky.
“We need to talk anyway.”
Oh man. My entire body freezes up. “Becky, I promise it meant—“
“Stop!” She shouts. Then quieter. “Stop. I’m just going to ask you some questions. Your job is to be quiet and listen and then answer only those questions. Do you understand?” I watch her steel her spine for my response.
“Yes.” Anything. Just don't leave.
“Did you sleep with her?”
“Hell no!” I burst out. “It never went that far.” The idea makes me sick.
She starts moving toward me, finally stepping off the porch. Almost like that question knocked down some invisible wall between us.
“Why did you spend so much time with her if it wasn’t for sex?” She surprises me with the next question. A little less accusatory, a little more curious.
“Becky. First of all, when did I have time to sleep with her when I was literally always working?”
She gives me a skeptical look, arms crossed, and I hate that she can no longer trust my word. “You were home late almost every night.” She states, flat.
“Yeah? Cause I was workin’!” I bite out, and shake my head. This isn't her fault, but will it always be like this? Me talking and her not believing?
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe that.” She sounds completely resigned and frustrated, so without thinking, I pull my phone out and hand it to her.
“Here, check it. Conversations with Paul and…Taylor about when I’m leaving work and other stuff.”
She takes my phone and then gives me a look. Déjà vu. “And all the deleted messages. I get to see those too?”
Well shit. “Yeah, those too.”
She goes to contacts first, and I think I hear her “hurumph,” and say, “Sure, now you fix it.” Then louder, “you’ve been in contact with her.”
“Not really. I’ve had to call her a couple times about a few things but not, like, in person.” I fumble through my explanation and know immediately that it was the wrong answer.
She straightens, and her knuckles go white on the phone. Thinking about any deleted messages she might see, I realize I’m going to have a lot to answer to.
Her hand relaxes and she meets my eyes. “How did all of this even happen, Carter?”
I look at my Becky, like really look at her, and I see the damage I’ve brought to her life. She didn’t deserve anything that happened to her, so I know I’m going to tell her everything, even if it does end up putting that final nail in the coffin of our life together.
Becky
“I’m…” he stutters, “I guess I’m embarrassed. I’m mortified by everything that happened, and by what set it off.”
Becky
“You should be.” We could be planning our wedding. I look at Carter wearing a headlamp standing in our yard, and I just get so sad.
He looks terrible. For once, his aged hair seems to match the rest of him.
His eyes have luggage stacked up under them, his mouth turned down in an unnatural frown.
Mostly, though, the exhaustion plays out in his posture.
The way he’s standing is so not Carter. This man has his shoulders hunched down and in like he feels smaller and needs to look smaller too.
His head is cast downward, and the ever-present humor is nowhere to be found. He looks wrecked.
Yet, this Carter, right here? This man showing up for me in the little silent ways is the man I fell in love with. The man that always made me feel taken care of. Special. Loved.
I just wish it was enough.
“What happened, Carter?” I prompt again. I don’t want to know, but I do? I don’t think I can understand it.
With a deep sigh, he rolls back his shoulders and meets my eyes.
“I went to the bank a few weeks ago. Wait—I guess by now it’s been about two months.
Late May. So, I went to the bank late May, and I asked them about getting a loan to buy out Paul from Billy‘s Auto Shop, but they denied me.” He casually meets my eyes when he finishes.
Casually, like he didn’t just drop a bomb the size of an autoshop on me.
“You wanted to buy the autoshop?” He nods his head quietly, holding my gaze with that same casual assurance.
“I thought you were content with being head mechanic?
" I'm reeling at this information, and he stands calmly by me while this huge revelation sits between us.
I think through the myriad of questions bombarding my brain and blurt out the first that fully forms. “How big was the loan you were going to get?”
Carter considers his answer, chewing on his lip before responding.
“Billy says Paul didn’t really put in that much toward the shop initially, but enough to have a say.
He’s confident that I could buy him out with about two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars cause Paul hates it there, but feels stuck or something. ”
Billy is the brains behind the business, but he has become the definition of a recluse.
He was already not a people person, but when his wife left him a few years ago, right before I came into the picture, Billy left his nitwit of a brother, aka Paul, to run every part of the business that deals with human interaction.
I truly believe that if it wasn't for Carter and his way with vehicles and people, it would have become another post-covid casualty.
"Wait a damn second.” I pause, fixating on that quarter of a million dollars he just admitted to trying to get.
“You were going to—” I eye the houses surrounding us, then temper my voice down from a shout to an aggressive whisper.
“You were going to take out a two-hundred and fifty thousand dollar loan without telling me?” Honestly, the fact that he’s just now telling me all of this, and only after I asked, tracks.
I tuck my shaking hands into my pockets and drop my head to try and hide my disappointment.
This revelation fits neatly in place with the way the rest of the summer played out, and the additional knowledge adds another dent to the once shiny memories of our relationship.