The Last Flower on Earth

A Fixer-Upper

"And our last destination, the garage. Probably the most useful room in the bunker as if anything is broken the solution is somewhere here." I open the door to show Emma everything inside, but the first thing she notices is the vehicle, and I call it a vehicle as I don't quite know what to categorize it as. But it's somewhere between a car and an SUV.

"You made that?" She sits herself down in the driver's seat. "It's really impressive."

She sat down so easily since it was missing a door. "Thanks, but it's lacking power steering fluid, so for lack of better words, the wheel won't turn for shit. And I still have parts to change, the crankshaft is broken as hell." I notice Emma staring at me in confusion.

"The wheel can't turn easily and the engine can't make the explosions which let it move." That simplification seemed to work.

"Well, did you name them?" Emma ponders.

"Name them? Like, name the vehicle?" I've seen people do it in shows and movies, naming cars and boats, but I never thought about naming it anything. Maybe because I've never had those powerful connections with anything.

I think I should sleep on that part. "I haven't. And I don't think I should name it yet." I don't want it to have a name only to combust when its life flickers for the first time, I don't want anything else to die.

"Aside from that ongoing endeavour, there are numerous engineering tools like lathes, welders, laser cutters, hydraulic presses." I stop so Emma can process the sheer amount of stuff just sitting in front of her.

"Drilling thing!" She points at the drill press.

"Twelve-inch drill press, rarely use it." Emma's mouth is open as if she's about to say something but clamps her teeth together to cut off any potential words. Her outstretched arm slowly contracts and falls back to her side.

This brought up something for her.

"How about we go back to the living room for a bit."

Emma sits in the center of the couch with her head hanging low. "So, whatcha want for dinner?" I look through the fridge in case anything pops out, but except for a few leftovers, nothing blows me away.

"How about," She leans back enough so we meet eyes, "crème brûlée!"

"Hmm." I think for a second, "I've never made crème brûlée before. And that isn't supper anyway, that's a dessert."

Emma's face shows immense disappointment, "You're so lame!"

"I am not!" I face her straight on. "A healthy diet is essential to survival, and last time I checked desserts are not healthy."

She rolls herself over. "It was more on the part of you not knowing how to make it, but both still apply."

"Why don't you get up and try making crème brûlée." I place my hands on my hips and give an extremely stern look, Emma sits herself up.

"I want something with chicken then!"

I smile, now that's reasonable. "I'll get working then, any specific profiles or parts you want to go for?" I begin flipping through my notebook of favourite recipes and alternative ingredients through the beef section and into the chicken.

I look through the markings to find a good recipe. Since I don't know her spice tolerance and really don't want to risk absolutely destroying her mouth with my secret recipe, I mentally tick off those. Yes, I could ask her, but since I doubt she'll give a straight answer I land on a simple curry recipe.

If I knew beforehand that I was making chicken for dinner I would've brined it, but since life doesn't take pity on me I have to suck it up and deal with it. It won't be perfect, but hopefully, she won't be able to notice.

The sauce simmers as the bits of chicken are placed in. "fifteen minutes. Should check the rice."

Emma scans over the media selection. "Is there anything playing currently? On the TV that is."

"Working, it's a workplace sitcom, I really like it. I've watched it like, 4 times now, a friend I had really liked it." I stir the rice again. "The case is on the coffee table for the back of the box description."

Emma reads over it, "Let's watch this then." I give her a brief summary of everything that happened to the point it's at, I verbally double back and decide to start from the beginning. As that would be easiest.

Once the rice is done, I sort out the plates. I still have some leftovers. That's fine.

I place Emma's plate in front of her and go back for the drinks. "Aren't boys supposed to like gore, nudity, and action? Not workplace romance sit-coms?" This question took me by surprise.

"First thing, action comes first." I put the water pitcher back into the fridge. "And second, it lets me have an idea about what pre-world-end was like. A vivid place of love, colour, and life. Seeing others happy makes me feel at least a bit better since people are social creatures and all. And a friend of mine liked this show."

I sit down beside her as the first episode plays again, being able to watch something I enjoy with someone feels infinitely better than watching it alone.

The usual silences are broken by giggles and chuckles.

Those chuckles are something I had forgotten about.