Written: 2/19/23
Word Count: 2,484
"Looks like you've been into some trouble, huh, honey?" His voice was amicable enough, and I could tell instinctually that this was the kind of man who had one or two kids off at college, maybe another in a trade school. Each one, he probably had an assortment of pictures up in his office shack. His wife, steady and lasting for decades, showed up in some of the pictures, but they weren't the main attraction.
No.
This was the kind of man who'd started a family because it was expected of him. He didn't care much for the wife but became pleasantly surprised at how much he treasured those kids they'd made.
Affairs weren't such a big deal to him—he probably didn't think his wife would mind if she found out.
But if anyone ever said anything against his kids, he'd rip them a new asshole, shaming that person's kinks and airing out all their skeletons like they were the most shocking, scandalizing thing he'd ever witnessed.
I blinked, forcing myself to get out of my head. "Haha. Yeah, my neighborhood was attacked last night. The guy must've had some kind of torch on him. Can't imagine he'd have a flamethrower. Woke up to see this in the parking stand."
The man wasn't listening, and it's not like he could even hear me if he tried paying attention. No. He was already moving right along.
"You've come to the right place, hun. We do business with a reputable scrapper. Of course, since the vehicle isn't fully whole, we can't discount quite as much as if it was an alright piece."
I stepped next to the man's side, staring at the charred back end of my trunk, bouncing up and down in the breeze. Kakashi was nowhere in sight.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and a brief spike of calm fell down my skin. Maybe everything will turn out alright. Maybe I can actually do this.
"I understand," I said, quickly, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. "I understand the difficulty of trading this in, but more than anything, I need a new car. I have to work tomorrow, so I need to walk out with a new vehicle today."
"Of course," the man said, holding out his hand, no smile upon his cheeks. "Name's Roger Benten. We'll get you set up with a new dig."
I took his hand, our calluses from two different livelihoods grating against one another. "Gracie Abrams."
When the touch lingered perhaps a little longer than it should have, I cleanly retracted my hand, turned to the lot of cars, and moved the conversation forward.
"Can you bring me to the cheapest ones in good condition, please?"
"Right away, right away," Roger said, sweeping his arm out and taking the lead, escorting me into the lot.
My calm didn't have the chance to last very long.
Roger and I stood, both smiling fake smiles, under the trunk flap of a nine-year-old, dark-green Subaru.
"Of course, the vehicle has a spare tire," Roger said, his eyes closed nearly shut from the grin spread all across his cheeks. "Why even ask such a thing, Miss Abrams?"
My eyes mirrored his, all narrowed up in the fakest of smiles. "I once purchased a vehicle that didn't come with a spare tire and felt the pain of being stranded with a flat and no replacement. I need to make sure the car I buy has all the basic amenities. I didn't mean any offense, Mr. Benten."
"Yes, but," he steepled his hands, bringing the triangle point up and down to emphasize each beat of his syllables, "I'm not that dealer. I wouldn't sell a car without a spare tire in its compartment."
I stepped further under the flap, laying a hand on the rough, fuzzy carpeting within. "Then, it shouldn't matter if I look, just to make sure, right? Just for my own assurances, sir."
I almost felt bad when I undid the clasp, lifting the lid of the compartment, seeing immediately that no such tire was present. My lips twisted down, and I felt a shake of fear for having to call out a man after such a hassle had been made over nothing.
By Mr. Benten's reaction, there was no way he hadn't known.
"Can we look at a different vehicle, please?" I asked, instead, my eyes lowering of their own accord. I didn't want to make this into some long, awkward thing. Moving on seemed best for now.
"Hey, hey," Mr. Benten spread his arms wide. "I didn't know there wasn't a tire in there. I was assured by my guys that it was all up to snuff. Young lady, don't just avoid the issue. You think I'm lying to you, don't you?"
Of course, sir.
I shook my head, rapid enough to feel my chin-length hair ricochet and hit against my cheeks. "No, sir. I just don't want a car without a spare tire, so I'd like to see a different one. Things happen, I understand."
"So you think by coming to a used-car dealership that you're gonna be skeeved of your money?" Mr. Benten seethed, his face turning dourly red.
I backed up, out from under the shadow of the dark-green hood. "N-No, sir, I—I d-didn't say tha—"
"You listen here, young lady." Mr. Benten stepped in close enough for me to smell the overpowering stench of the cigarette smoke that emanated from his entire body—from his hair, his clothes, his breath, everything. "Even though you're a paying customer, I can't let this insult slide. I built my entire life right here. What do you think a child like you can comprehend about what it takes to make a business?"
I retreated even more, one of my hands clenching my worn purse strap, the other laying uselessly against my chest like a furled leaf awaiting the sun's light so it could unravel.
"Sir, I think I'm going to leave now," I said, striving for calm as I worked out how to get around him to get back to the parking lot on the other side. "I think we've had too many misunderstand—"
"Now you're just going to leave, huh?" Mr. Benten loomed ever nearer, his teeth gnashing openly. "Is that all you young people know how to do? To walk away from having a proper conversation? Just because you're in the wrong, and you don't know how to apologize?"
My mind performed something like mental gymnastics as I tried to connect how the situation had gotten here from my initial question of, "Does it have a spare tire already inside it?"
"Gracie?"
My heart stopped, no, shuddered violently at the sound of that dark voice.
With horror gripping my gut, I looked over Mr. Benten's bulky shoulder to the shinobi standing as still as a leafless tree during winter.
"Ka—Kamron?" My voice asked, quietly. "I'm not quite done yet."
Kakashi appeared behind Mr. Benten in an instant. Peering at the man, nearly cheek to cheek, he glanced between me and the dealer. "Is there a problem here?"
Mr. Benten startled like the spot he'd been standing had been blasted by Rengoku's blaze.
He turned, fidgeting, his eyes careening back and forth between me and Kakashi's dark form. "Ah—no, no! Nothing like that! Are–Are you the boyfriend?"
Kakashi tilted his head toward the side where his hair smushed over his scarred eye. He drawled, "That's right."
My eyes widened for comical effect, though there weren't any cameras there to enjoy it. I felt the moment Mr. Benten looked back at me in utter disbelief that such a creature would ever date someone like me.
I took the judgment head-on, fully agreeing with the sentiment.
"Are you trying to stop her from leaving?" Kakashi asked. His hands were stuffed inside the pockets of his long, navy sweatshirt, his stance falsely casual. "That doesn't sound like nothing to me."
"Um, uh—well, you see here, young man—"
One of Kakashi's brows very visibly lifted at that. "Young man? I don't think so. We're done here, sir. Let's go, Gracie."
On wooden legs, I followed after Kakashi's steps, a mere child trailing after an adult with downcast eyes.
Those wooden legs somehow returned to the burned-out husk of the car, put the key into the ignition, and drove back onto Mayhop's streets. This time, the looks of disbelief leveled at me by other drivers didn't even make me pause.
I took them all, every stare, every clearly-visible expression of shock.
Like a great, yellow raincoat, I just let the drops soak into my water-resistant material. It grew heavier and heavier, each drop not sliding off like the coat was designed for. No. Each drop only hovered over the coat's surface.
Kakashi stood behind me as a silent and deadly scarecrow at the next dealership. With sweat dripping down the workers' temples, I walked out with a maroon 2012 Jeep Patriot and a new monthly payment that was decidedly low yet still almost gave me a heart attack.
All the way home, watching my burned-out husk of a Kia recede further and further away, that raincoat glimmered with each tender drop, coalescing into an ocean that hovered right along its surface.
I pulled into my favorite spot, but the comfort was small, to say the least.
Kakashi trailed behind me on our short walk to my front door that was—miraculously—already fixed. The new blue shine of its metal exterior welcomed me home, but I wasn't in the mood for forming new connections.
I missed the door that had three dents from when my sister's stupid boyfriend drunkenly fell into the damn thing one night after tirading Tenna for hours and hours on the phone while sitting right outside on our doorstep and pissing off the neighbors.
I missed the door with the missing paint near the door handle, where I had missed the keyhole one too many times after a long day at work.
I missed the door that I had first opened, walking into my apartment for the first time.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I opened the door. Reflexively, I sought out the dark-green couch with the box of wiggling kittens sitting on it.
Wait. My foot thudded over the high, metal lip of the entrance as I noticed.
One of the wiggles was missing.
Where was the orange one? Where was Hable?
"Oh my god!" I rushed toward the couch, a scared cry for help caterwauling against my flimsy white walls.
Falling to my knees, I grabbed the little orange bean that had somehow wiggled its way out of the box and fallen into the space between the higher middle cushion and the lower one beside it. Pitifully, Hable waved at the sky, those weak little claws scrabbling for purchase against the open air, screaming.
My baby was screaming.
"Hinnie, oh my god!" I clutched her to my cheek, letting her little claws dig harmlessly at my skin. "Oh my god."
Kakashi appeared like a shadow over my shoulder. The warmth that emanated from his body made me clench my teeth, grinding out an audible noise that made me wince.
"Looks like they'll be moving more now," he commented. "She'll be okay."
"I know," I said, voice thick.
"It'll all be alright," Kakashi continued, squatting down next to my graceless form wedged up against the couch. "We'll watch them. They won't get stuck again."
"We?" I asked in disbelief. Gently, I placed the orange kitten back in the box, then turned, staring at Kakashi with wide eyes. "What the heck are you talking about? They're my responsibility. Mine."
Kakashi's head visibly moved back as he watched the first tracks of tears leave wet lines down my cheeks. "Gracie—what—why are you crying?"
I stared at him, unblinking, feeling the tears fall from my eyes and warm my skin on their way down to my neck. "I'm not."
Kakashi reached out with a gloved hand, patting my hair like I was a dog who had performed my mission accordingly, despite being just a dog. "She's okay, Gracie. She's okay. She's just scared. She didn't fall far enough to hurt herself."
"I know that!" I snapped, frustrated. "I didn't ask!"
Kakashi's hand froze on my hair, slowly moving away and back to his own bubble, stilted and unsure. A puzzled frown wedged a crease between his dark eyes.
"Are you upset about that guy from earlier? Whatever he said, don't worry about it. Guys like that shouldn't be listened to. Don't let it bother you."
"I'm not letting it bother me," I lied.
"Then what's the matter?"
I huffed a dry laugh. "Nothing's the matter."
Kakashi pulled off the knit cap, letting his hair spill all over the place in strange angles. "I don't get it. Did I arrive too late? I thought I stepped in before anything bad happened. What did I miss?"
I shook my head. "'Arrived on time?' I'm not a child who needs someone to look out for her every step. Who cares if he was getting nasty? That's how some people are."
"But he shouldn't have acted so threateningly towards you," Kakashi said. "I had to step in before he turned physical."
"You didn't have to do anything!" I snapped, the tears blurring my vision. "I never asked for your help!"
Silence echoed in my living room, until Kakashi slowly creaked up from his knees.
Voice subdued, he put the cap back on. "I see I've crossed a line I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I think—I think I should leave you alone for a while."
Then he left.
When Tenna had wailed about the multiple times Evan had walked out on her, I'd always dismissed it. Why was it always such a cliche to bring up the way someone walked out? Why was that such a big deal? If two people needed space, it was only natural that someone had to be the one to walk out first.
As the new metal door closed with a softer sound than the one I was used to, sobs struck my body, and I turned into a puddle of absolute goo.
Hello darkness, my old friend.
I wailed into my hands, utterly uncaring of which neighbors could hear me, as I berated myself, again and again.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! You're so stupid! Why are you like this? What is wrong with you? You fucking idiot!
Eventually, I cried myself to sleep, stuck in the middle of feeding the kittens. I dozed off on my blue carpet, one bottle hovering perfectly above Sable's dark blue coat.
When I awoke the next morning, it took several tries to open my eyes, but when I did, I found myself lying in my bed, the kittens sleeping happily in their box beside me.
The covers were still properly tucked in around my body.