Chapter Text
When I was 15, my aunt Brielle got me a copy ‘The alchemist.’ When she put it in my hand she smiled knowingly and said with the confidence only a woman who outlived 5 husbands could have,
‘This is going to change your life.’
I didn’t take her seriously. This was the same woman who told me ten years later that I’m never really broke as long as I have a Vagin and pushed for me to marry her 63-year-old brother-in-law. Of course, I gently refused. But to her credit, one part of Paulo Coelho’s work stuck with me.
When you want something, the whole universe conspires in order for you to achieve it.
Those words were like a lit candle in a dark windowless room. A piece of literature that inspired me more than anything in the Bible ever could.
Mére Elaine called me a blasphemous whore after reading that little tidbit in my diary. I ended up getting 'Femme de Péché' tattooed on my lower back in memory of her when she passed away.
But it wasn’t God's words in my head when lied my way backstage at a Spice Girls' concert. Or when I painted a thick black line with a wide brush up a 24x36 canvas and called it ‘Duality of man’. An elderly couple bought it off me for $2200 after I accidentally added the second zero on my Craigslist post. They praised me for my minimalist style. Called me innovative, even though I knew it was lazy bullshit. Coincidently, what I was paid was the exact amount I needed for a trip to Thailand I was saving for.
I believed in those words, like a mother’s promise to her a foolish child. I believe that the universe was always conspiring in my favor, for me and my benefit. If fate was real, then I was her maker.
So if the universe, fate, God, myself is always conspiring in my favor, why the fuck is Erwin looking at my steaming engine on the side of the road with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows?
The car had been making odd sounds all day. But that’s normal, it always made those sounds. Persistent flicking, like taps to a window from a flimsy branch. Occasional popping that reminded me of microwave popcorn. Then my favorite, the squealing. Like nails on a chalk board every time my foot pressed against the breaks. A real symphony of mechanical distress. They used to be terrifying, but now I find them comforting. Never did it break down or get a flat. As long as this car didn't break down, I reasoned I wouldn't break down either.
Sooner than later, I hope to stop musing.
I had been driving down a back road, my hair still damp from my shower at the woman’s fitness gym. The heat was cranked and there was a slight fog inside the van from all the bowls I had smoked after. I was so lost in my thoughts, that I hadn't noticed a new sound to the vehicle's orchestra. Hissing. Low hissing.
My attention span only came back into focus when I noticed that smoke wasn't just on the inside of the windshield, but from under the hood.
“Shit,” I said under my breath. I had very little experience dealing with car troubles. I got an ear full when I added olive oil to my first car when I was 16. My heart sank further when the smell hit me. The acrid burnt scent filled my front seat mingling with the faint scent of the lingering cannabis in the air.
My coolness was now replaced with a sense of irritation and dread. I gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand and wiped the window with the other as I tried to find an appropriate place to stop.
My knuckles turning white as I try to see past the rising smoke. The road was isolated, framed by thick tall trees on both sides that loomed ominous shadows over the road. Warning signs of deer the only real sign that people come here often enough to need a warning. I cursed myself for not driving in a more populated area.
In front of me stood an endless ribbon of road with no traffic in either direction. Behind me mirrored the same. I hadn’t driven past anyone in the last twenty or so minutes.
“Come on baby,” I murmured to the van, willing it to get its shit together so we can be on our way. But instead of listening to my pleas, the engine sputtered and the white smoke thickened. There was no choice but to relent; I slammed my foot on the break, the squeal it made sounded like a pained animal. I pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the suffering beast. The sounds that just soothed me flooded me with nothing short of anxiety.
My mind was hazy, and the smoke inside and out wasn’t helping my thought process at all. I fumbled for my phone in the back, a phone that had zero contacts inside. I only got it to use the GPS, but I suppose it could be of some real use now.
I was flooded with doubt; what if the van was unsalvageable? Would I have to sleep somewhere else? Is roadside assistance covered by the car's insurance? Did I even have insurance?
I reach into the glove box. I fumbled through paperwork and used and unused EpiPen's, who's purpose still remain a mystery to me.
'Found it.'
'Y/N' had her car insured for the next 6 month. Goody. My lidded eyed look for the paper as I take my keys out the ignition. I finally smile once I find the number for roadside assistance, only to throw the paperwork down when I see I have zero bars on my cell.
“Well, isn’t this just peachy," I mutter to myself in exasperation.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat next to the abandoned insurance policy.
I get out the van. The cold air hits me hard like walking into a walk-in freezer on a hot summer day. I shiver and hug my arms to my chest as I walk around to the hood and lift it up, wincing as the cloud of steam hits my face. I was forced to take a step back. Once it cleared, I looked down at the engine for maybe five minutes.
‘I have no clue what I’m looking at.’
A jumble of metal, hoses and wires. The van might as well had been the Challenger. I was about as likely to fix a rocket-ship as I was this junker. I rarely drove in my own world. Reliant on Ubers so I could space out on the drive and not worry about things like insurance or car maintenance. I didn’t appreciate it enough it seems.
I shiver and my teeth chatter reminding me of those old cartoons. The shirt I’m wearing is way too thin for the season. When this vehicle debacle is over, I’ll buy a coat. I shouldn’t have put it off, but it’s putting in any work for this life that’s not even mine feels fleeting. It’s bad enough that I took the college experience from her, but been there, dropped out, done that. Why would I repeat a boring aspect of my own life here.
Just as I’m about to go back inside the van to keep warm a black car whose model I’m not familiar with drives past, slows down and does a U-turn and pulls to the side of the road in front of my van. I’m shivering, but this time it’s not because of the cold. I know this car.
The door opens with a click. In black slacks and caramel sleek coat, out he steps. Brows furrowed in recognition as he walks closer. My heart throbbed in my chest, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“‘Y/N, I almost didn’t recognize you.” He says it in a relived sort of way. Shoulders relaxed and a small smile on his face. As if he’s under some sort of obligation to help me. I suddenly don’t feel as high as I felt before, my mind alert now for danger is at my very heels.
“ Mr. Smith.” I greet, with an even tone that I don’t know how I manage. I hug myself tighter. My arms a faux shield around me. Erwin pauses in his steps, a weary expression in his eyes.
“Car problems? Can I take a look?” His voice is irritatingly calm, coaxing even. I turn back to face the slightly steaming engine.
“Yea, it’ll be fine. I can walk until I get service to call roadside, so you don’t have to worry about getting your coat dirty.”
There’s a silence behind me, but only for a beat.
“You don’t have service?”
The wind howls lowly as it cuts through the road and into the trees. If this was a movie id think it was a cliche to add such an ominous sound at this moment.
I must be an idiot, or higher than I thought. I inwardly curse myself.
“Not this far up in the sticks, no.”
What horrific luck I have. This isn’t his normal route to work, so what is he even doing here? The threat of bile rising from the back of my throat haunts me as much as his presence does.
I hear shuffling and I turn my head . One must never turn their back on the enemy. A cautionary rule for a world full of caution and corruption.
Erwin has slipped off his coat and taken several steps to end up by my side.
“Hold this for me.” He pushes his coat into my hands before I can protest.
“You don’t have to do that.” I say trying to give him back his coat, but he isn’t even looking my way.
His coat is warm, in my hands, the texture smooth and heavy. Wool maybe.
Erwin doesn’t respond. He glances over my engine without expression. I shiver and absentmindedly flip the collar of his up to look at the tag. Anything to distract myself.
70% Wool
30% Nylon
Dry clean only.
“Y/N?”
I glance up. Had he been calling me?
“Hmm?” The less words I give the better.
He gazed at me with intense concern. It felt like he held that skeptical, worrisome expression for hours when in actuality it was mere seconds.
“I asked you where your coat was.”
Erwin gives me a concerned look over, at my arms bare damp shoulders of my shirt.
“Why aren’t you wearing a coat?”
I pull Erwin’s coat tightly to my chest. A makeshift faux shield that offers zero protection from his inquisitive eye.
“Oh, uh,” I glance back down at the coat in my hands.
“It gets warm in the van, so I didn’t bring my coat.” An easy reasonable excuse. An excuse I shouldn’t have to give because I’m not a child.
“And your hair?” He inquired, curiosity not yet satisfied.
“I took a shower at the gym.”
Erwin’s side eye reads disapproval, but he doesn’t comment. Thank fucking God for that small miracle.
Erwin continues to fiddle with the engine, checking hoses and pulling out nozzles. Pretending to be a good fucking citizen. An all-American hero with blue eyes. Maybe I’d have fallen for it, in another life. But not here.
“I still haven’t heard from your father.” He says casually. He's intent seeking an explanation no doubt. I shift my feet and push my damp hair back off my forehead.
“Really? I gave him your card.” I lie easily.
The man who is my father isn’t even a person I’ve met. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t want to know. Just one more irritating piece of lore.
“He’s a busy man. I’m sure he’ll get to it eventually.”
Erwin hums in response.
Despite the cool chill in the air, I feel droplets forming on the back of my neck. Not from my damp hair but sweat.
Huh.
A gust a wind hits us and sends another chill back up my spine.
“How odd.” His tone is light, musing almost.
I swallow a lump in my throat. Me, the overthinking, ever perceptive and well versed in shifts of tone and room reading. At least when sober.
“I wouldn’t call it odd. People grow apart, don’t they?”
I don’t like mind games. Not when I was the prey at least. Erwin doesn’t give me the satisfaction of responding. There’s a faint smile on his lips that makes me feel nauseous.
“There’s a crack in coolant tank. It’s an easy fix. I might have some duct tape in my trunk.”
I barely comprehend his words. My hands and trembling and he mistakes it for me being cold. Erwin’s amused face goes back to his sickeningly worried expression, and he takes my coat from my hands and wraps it around my shoulders. It’s gentle, its kind, it’s a fucking trap.
“Why don’t you wait inside my car while I fix it. It’s warm.”
His hands are still on my shoulders. I can’t look him in the eyes. I focus on my engine. My legs are trembling, begging me to run. But run where? Not at all fast, with no place to go.
“Y/N?” Erwin’s voice calls me softly. I barely catch it over the sound of my drum like heartbeat.
“That-“I start and stop. I take a breath.
“I can wait in my van. It’s still warm inside.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He counters without harshness.
My frown deepens. I’m losing the battle with my stomach. I roughly shrug his heavy weighted hands off my shoulders.
“ With all due respect, “ I start with forced conviction.
“You know, you’re basically a stranger to me.”
Erwin’s shoulders drop. He almost looks hurt. Much like a kicked puppy.
“Stranger?” He asks, his tone leaning into disbelief.
I move to pull his off coat off me, but he grabs my hand lightly.
“It has been some years. You were a child the last time I saw you, it makes sense you’d see me as a stranger.” He concedes.
I nod as I pull my hands away from his. I still shake his coat off my shoulders.
“I’ll sit in my own van. And you don’t have to fix my tank or whatever. I’ll manage.”
I hold his coat out towards him.
He doesn’t move to take it back.
“It won’t take five but five minutes Darcy.”
My brow furrows.
‘Darcy?’
My mind races as I try to recall that name. Had he mentioned it in passing before? Erwin heads to his own car swiftly, unaware of my mind racing to find connection in dots shrouded in a haze of my own foggy recollection.
Erwin walks back with duct tape in his hands and set to work taping up.
“You’ll need to get more coolant.” He says expertly.
I nod slowly.
‘The only thing I’ll need to do is get the hell away from you.’
“Got it.” I say calmly.
He pulls the hood of my engine down and takes his coat from my hands.
“Drive safe ‘Y/N.’”
Before he can walk away, and before I can stop myself, I ask.
“Who’s Darcy?”
Erwin’s face hardens and he sets he’s coat on my hood, leering over me.
“What are you talking about?” His voice is calm and low, like the quiet lightning before booming thunder, I know this isn't good. I look down at my shoes, as I will myself to speak. I clear my throat.
“You uh.” I’m faltering, words caught in my throat like a dry pill.
‘Breathe Elena. In and out. He’s not going to do anything in public.’
Or maybe he would. It’s not like there are any witnesses. Only the trees would see if I were to be whisked away, and they certainly wouldn’t be telling anyone. I swallow spit to moisten my throat; sweeten my words, soothe my soul that wants to bolt.
“You called me Darcy a second ago." I explain, looking up. His expression slightly relaxes but still oozing with tension.
"‘It won’t take but a moment Darcy’.” I imitate him with an exaggeratingly deep voice and an uptight tone, while waving my hands awkwardly in front of me. I drop my hands to my side, and look away, feeling embarrassed.
Erwin’s shoulders relax and he lets out a small laugh.
“Did I? Slip of the tongue.”
At least he doesn’t look like he’ll snap my neck anymore.
“One of my students you slightly favor.” He excuses. He picks his coat back up.
“Y/N, you should consider getting a newer vehicle. This one is older than you.”
I rub my arms.
“Eventually I will.” Erwin nods his head.
“Don’t forget what I said.”
What was it that he said? He had said so many things that I wanted to erase, or I had already successfully erased by never absorbing it at all.
I just nod.
“I won’t forget.” Anything to get him to leave.
He nods.
“Drive safe Y/N.”
He goes back into his vehicle, and I get into mine.
I start my engine.
There’s no steam coming from under the hood this time. Erwin could be useful, at least in this moment. I linger, waiting for him to drive away first. But after a few minutes it seems that he has no intentions to leave first.
Fine with me. I pull off, my eyes repeatedly shooting towards my driver's side mirror. Thankfully he doesn’t follow me. And I think to myself; Maybe he took the hint. Maybe he doesn’t want me this time. I pull a white pill out of my cup holder and blow it off without looking at it before flicking towards the back of my throat.
Maybe isn’t good enough. I need more assurance. I decide to take up the offer that was given to me the day before. A little ‘self-care’ after dealing with a demon cloaked in flesh and bones.
The entire ride from the sticks to back downtown took maybe an hour. An agonizing ride I spent checking my rear view mirror every 30 seconds. To Erwin’s credit, he and his black car never appeared behind me. Still, I didn’t relax my knuckles along my steering wheel until I saw several more cars around me as I got closer to downtown.
Finally, the familiar street came into view. Black brick, ‘Nail’s by Carly’ in neon lights. Between an old bookshop, and a metaphysical shop, it’s no surprise there aren’t more customers. It’s barely 3pm when I park up across the street from the book shop. Thankfully my hair is no longer damp.
As I reach for my seat-belt, I hear a laugh. A group of laughs, all recognizable. I glance up and see Mina, Thomas, and Nack are walking out of the crystal shop. I can scarcely make out what's being said, something about the creepy reading. I ignore the urge to run out the car and catch up. My first life friendships don't carry over to the next life, and I'd rather not try another go at a re-friendship attempt. Their voices fade as they continuing walking further and further away until I can no longer hear or see them.
Only then do I unbuckle my seat belt and shuffle to the back of my domicile. I pull a hoodie from my laundry bag; it would have to suffice for now. Even if it wasn’t the cleanest thing. I pop open the back door of the van and pull the hoodie over my head before climbing out and locking the door behind me. I blow hot air into my hands and pull the hood over my head. I check to my left, and then my right, preparing to cross the street when I hear.
“‘Y/N’," Another familiar voice stopped me in my tracks. It seems that people are out to aggravate me today. I smile as I turn around. ‘Be polite.’ I remind myself.
“Officer Nile.” I greet warmly. Friendly enough but no less annoying. He walks up to me, and I glance around for his patrol vehicle.
“Been staying out of trouble?”
I narrow my eyes and smile harder. What sort of question is that?
“When have I ever been trouble?”
Nile gives me a sympathetic look before sighing.
“People have been going missing around here ‘Y/N’, especially women.”
I had seen the posters around, faces of missing people stapled on telephone poles, trees, and outside of the gym I frequent. This isn’t new information. I rock on my heels. Already bored with the conversation.
“And what are you doing about the missing people?”
Nile taps the side of my van with the back of his palm gently.
“Why don’t you go back home?” Ignoring my pointed question. I scoff. It’s not the first time he’s said this. After crossing his path multiple times, he made his concerns known after demanding my ID under the guise of writing me up for loitering a month ago in front of a Ponzi’s Pizza. I think about my response for a moment. Trying to determine what will get him away from me quickly. Something dismissive or something appeasing. Before I can open my mouth, he speaks again.
“I have three daughters, the oldest is 19.” He starts casually.
I nod. “ Yea.. Yes, I think you mentioned that before.” I remind him, hoping he’ll skip his lecture. No such luck. He continues with his unsolicited speech to my irritation.
“I couldn’t call myself a parent if she ever had to reduce herself to living in her car.”
I scratch at my cheek. The more I see Nile, the less cop he seems. He’s starting to feel more like a broken record.
“How lucky for your daughter.”
Nile doesn’t seem to be happy with the compliment. I truly meant to sound sincere and genuine. I really did, but my false chipper tone probably sounded as if it was edging on the side of mockery.
“I could call your family for you if it’s too hard.”
A sweet offer, and I’d take it if it was my real family. My face hurts from fake smiling. I let my jaw go slack.
“Maybe I’m safer here than I would be at home. Did you ever think of that?”
Nile gives me a sympathetic look. It’s filled with pity and empathy. It’s disgusting.
“The women’s shelter, Frida house, has resources. They could help you. They can get you housing Y/N, and you can stop living in this clunker.”
I know all about Frida’s house. Hard pass.
“I told you multiple times that it’s Elena.”
Nile pauses caught off guard by my sharp tone.
“Your ID says-“
“I promise you I don’t give a shit what that piece plastic says. "I snap. My voice is sharp and pointed. There needs to be a line drawn. " The name I choose for myself is valid, and I'm sick of correcting you."
Nile rubs his head.
“Fine. Elena then.” He walks past me and points to a sign.
“No parking after 10. I know life isn’t easy for you right now, so I’ll ignore the smell of pot lingering on you.” I roll my eyes in an exaggerated manner. The condescension is more than I can stand.
“Aren’t you just so kind and courteous?” My tone is flat, but the sarcasm isn’t missed. Nile doesn’t respond and he doesn’t need to. I was done with this conversation before it even started.
I make my way across the street, not sparing officer Nile a second glance. I wonder if his daughter smokes pot. Or if she finds him as annoying as I do. Or maybe she closes him off and that’s what he pesters me. Who could say? No answer would be satisfying.
Carly’s blinds are down in front of her windows, but not her front door.
I push open the unlocked glass door. I’m met with the usual chime.
“She’s closed!” A harsh male voice shouts at me.
A man is facing Carly at her desk. Tall, broad shoulders, long brown hair that’s in a braid that cascades down his back. Voice unfamiliar, I don’t move. Carly face is strained, her standing frame unmoving. I see a tremble in her clasped hands. This situation looks a bit… intense.
‘Intense, but not my problem.’
I turn to leave, my hand pressed against the door bar when I spot a black car with tinted windows drive and pull to a stop about three parking spaces from my van. I purse my lips and pause my movement.
‘Coincidence,’ I try to convince myself without success.
That’s not his car. He didn’t follow me here. He’s not trying to do anything to me. Gain any intel about me. No. Erwin is just downtown on the last street on a dead end road for no reason. Maybe this person who has the same car as Erwin is just here for a dusty used copy of The Metamorphosis from next door.
Then he steps out. It is him. Erwin Smith in all his glory. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it for a second when someone calls out his name. Nile is still lingering around, fucking around instead of solving any real crimes.
“Oi Bitch!” The male calls out to me drawing me out of my thoughts.
I turn my head, he’s partially facing me now. He has big brown eyes that read, ‘Don’t fuck with me. I’m crazy’. And a boneless, scanty beard that showed much a lot of his skin underneath.
“You slow? Get the fuck out.” His tone gruff and dripping with agitation.
I glance back outside, Erwin and Nile look real chummy. Erwin leaning against his car with his small smile gracing his face and Nile facing him moving his arms with emphasis as he goes on about something. I turn around. Best not rock that boat.
“Sorry, I have an appointment.” I say plainly, placing a hand on my hip. The corner of his mouth twitches irritation as gives me an astonished bewildered look fully facing me. He glances at Carly.
“Is she fucking serious?” Carly opens her mouth, stammers and broken words spill out.
“Uh-oh,..” Her hands go to her appointment book laying on her desk.
“ I thin- uh. Fuck. Hang on and let me ju-“ Her shaky hands drop the book accidentally on the desk making me flinch. He sneers in her direction.
“You think I really want to know if this bitch has an appointment?”
Carly looks on the verge of tears. This is all too much.
The man takes a few steps towards me, his hand pulling out of his pocket with a short silver open pocket knife in my direction. I take backward into the door, my left hand slightly pushing it open to release its chime.
“Did you hear me say she’s closed?” He says stopping a half a step in front of me. He baby soft looking skin, bright brown eyes, and the demeanor of an ass.
“I think you might have said that.”
“Then you’re on your way out. Come again real soon now ‘Princess’” The way he says princess sounds like a slur. Like slut, bitch, cunt, or whore. Except it somehow feels worse. Like I’m weak, delicate, or incapable. It doesn’t work for me.
I shift on my feet, putting more of my weight on my left side. I nod my head towards where Erwin and Nile are chatting across the street.
“You see that cop? Next to the blonde?”
He doesn’t answer me, but I notice him glance that way. Good enough.
“He really wants to fuck me.” False. Or at least I hope to god.
“Ha!” His smile is big and wide.
“Right. And I’m the senator. “
I narrow my eyes.
“ I think I would have noticed you on the ballet.” I mutter below my breath.
“Come again Princess?”
I clear my throat.
" I said, you don’t have to believe me. But he did watch me walk in here. Maybe he doesn’t wanna fuck me, but he’s damn sure all up in my business. And if I scream, that fucker is going to come running.”
I push the door open wider, the chilly air blowing in makes my teeth threaten to chatter.
" We can test that theory.” I offer. He stares down at me, meeting my eyes. I try not to glance at the knife in his hand.
“Benji.” Carly’s voice calls out.
The man, or Benji looks back.
“I’ll do what you want. Okay? So.. so just go home.”
Benji glances at her a moment longer before closing his pocket knife, shoving it into his pocket.
“See? That was all I wanted. “ He asks lightheartedly. Like he didn’t just pull a knife on me for not leaving quick enough.
“ But Cars just likes to do things the difficult way.” He muses to himself while glancing at me.
Just as quickly as his changing mood, he’s out the door. His shoulder bumps me, causing me to grunt as he leaves.
I rub my shoulder gently as I close the door. Erwin and Nile as still talking, unaware of the small chaos happening just across the street. I look back at Carly and take a few steps forward. She’s wiping at her eyes, shuffling papers on her desk, and doing a bunch of anxious fiddling.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She says without looking at me.
I’m facing her nail polish wall. I close my eyes and pick one at random. I clutch the nail polish bottle in my hand. ‘I bet it’s pink. I hope it’s not green. ‘
I open my eyes and look down. Baby blue.
Clicking my tongue in displeasure I turn to face Carly.
"I want this color.” I hold it out to her.
She looks confused, her head tilts slightly as she looks at the nail polish bottle in my hands.
After a few seconds I cough to break her out of whatever nonsensical thoughts might be running through her head.
“You don’t think it’ll look good on me, right? “I ask rhetorically. Who doesn’t look good in baby blue, may in be a nail color or an eye color.
Carly meets my eye, with the same puzzled look on her face.
“You actually came here for me to do your nails?” I can see why she’d be confused.
“That’s right ‘Cars’”
The puzzled look drops off her face and is replaced with an offended one.
“Don’t call me that.” I unintentionally struck a nerve.
“My bad.” I concede without fight.
She takes the nail polish bottle from my hands and points to the station closest to the back wall, closest to a bathroom door. The door next to that leads to the back. I sit down ceremoniously. I tug my hoodie over my head and place it in my lap. Carly sits in front of me pulling out tools wordlessly.
Nail file. Buffer. Cuticle pusher. Cuticle cutter. Nail clippers. Blue and clear polish. She sets them on the table to her side and grabs my hand. She looks it over with a disapproving glance.
“It’s nice you keep it toasty in here.”
“You shouldn’t bite your nails.”
I hold in snarky comment.
“ I know.”
Carly sets my hand down and pulls out a small closed jar, a bottle, and a paint brush.
“I just want regular polish on my own nails. “
Carly pulls out a box with multiple smaller boxes with nail tips and sets it on the table.
As she reaches for my hands I pull them back towards me. Acrylic nails? When I need to be able to defend myself? That won’t do.
“I said tha-“
“ Do you really know that cop?” Her voice cuts my sentence off like a serrated blade.
I glance at her face. Her face reads nothing. Blank and
“No. He bugs me about loitering. That’s all.”
She nods slowly. If she believes me, I couldn’t say.
“My offer to frisk me still stands.”
Being frisked can be a pleasant experience.
“No, I think you’d enjoy it.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m not a pervert. And I don’t do fake nails”
“No woman ever admits to being a pervert. And you clearly don’t do real nails either.”
I glance at my fingers. Nails bitten down to the nubs. I couldn’t claw anyone’s eyes out, let alone get a satisfactory back scratch in. One of the smallest free pleasures that I can’t participate in. I ball my hands into fist.
“I have bigger problems than nail biting.”
Carly places her chin against the palm of her hand, Relaxing against the nail station.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. Everything about you screams trouble.”
I purse my lips. I scream trouble?
Carly continues.
“First you come in my shop demanding pills, then you threaten to call a cop into my shop where you know I keep said drugs.”
I scoff. I can see why she’d be so testy.
“ I wasn’t going to call him in here.”
Carly sits upright. Her hands reach out for mine expectantly. When I don’t give in immediately, she huffs and puts her hand down.
“ I don’t believe you.”
“That’s fine Carly.”
Carly raises a brow.
“Fine? It’s fine?”
I nod.
“You don’t have to trust me. You just need to take my money.”
“I don’t even know your name. How are you so… entitled?”
“I’m not entitled. I’m doing you a favor. You need the money, and I need what you have”
“You aren’t doing me a favor. You’re causing problems. You have a cop that follows you around and.. and you almost got stabbed. Do you know how much trouble that would have made for me?”
Carly’s problems aside, mine are more pressing. There is no time to be considerate.
“He wasn’t going to stab me.”
“He would have, and he would sleep like a baby after. You don’t know Benji.”
I let out a small scoff. I don’t even know who Benji is, it’s more important to keep track of all current players in this world and not any extras.
“And I don’t want to know Benji. “ I say calmly before continuing.
“He didn’t stab me. I didn’t bring a cop into your shop. You looked like you were in trouble so I got rid of him for you.”
Carly looks taken aback. Mouth agape.
“Wha- are you kidding me? You didn’t get rid of him. I got rid of him.”
“You were shaking like a leaf.” I point out.
“I had it handled. All you had to do was leave.”
“Yea well, you said you’d do my nails.”
“Yea, yea I did say that. And you didn’t seem interested. Now you’re so interested in getting your nails painted that you’d risk being pin cushion. Why?” Carly is nosey. " I won’t mind your business if you stay out of mine. “
“You’re already minding my business.”
“I honestly don’t think your business is that fucking interesting Carly.”
“ I’m interesting “ She says defensively.
I nod appraisingly. Carly certainly could be interesting. Just not enough for me to care.
Carly shakes her head astonished. She motions repeatedly to her chest.
“I’m interesting. I have a degree in chemistry, okay? I own this shop and I just turned 22. How can you say I’m not interesting?” I sigh.
“So, you want me to be in your business then?”
“No, I want you to not act like a frigid bitch.” She instantly covers her mouth. A look of regret on her face.
“Sorry, I’m just a little on edge. That doesn’t give me the right to insult you”
“It’s ok. I am a frigid bitch.” Carly rubs her face.
“Acrylics will help you stop biting. I know they can be a little daunting if you’re not used to them. But it’s what I recommend. “
I place my palms flat on the table.
“I can’t fight with fake nails.”
“Fight? You fight people? You’re tiny. “
Body shaming comes in all types. In one place I get criticism for being heavy, while here I’m built like a easy target. ‘Do you even eat? You need more calories, blah blah blah.’
“No, I don’t but if I like to be prepared.”
Carly takes my left hand in hers.
"I can make them short for you. No one will ever guess you’re secretly running a fight club”
I end up relenting. As Carly clips the long nail down to a quarter of an inch past my finger tips she decides to make small talk.
“ I never did get your name?”
“You know all your clients' names?”
“I do.” She says with a lax conviction.
“How mindful of you.”
She hums in response as she continues her work.
“It’s Elena.”
“That’s pretty. What does Elena do?”
“Elena minds her business.”
“School?”
“I thought we agreed to stay out of each other’s business.”
“We never agreed to that.”
“It’s not too late to.”
Carly poorly holds in a chortled sound.
“Don’t be like that. I’m trying to be friendly.”
“You doing my nails for free is friendly enough.”
“Free?”
“Yeah, free. Like you offered.”
“I didn’t think you’d take me up on it.”
I don’t say anything as she puts my hands under the purple UV light. Carly is silent too as she pulls out my right out and adds a top coat. She repeats this wordlessly with my left hand. After Putting them back under the light, she stands and stretches her arms over her head. Then side to side.
“you seem relaxed.” I comment. Carly sits back down at the table and moves the UV light away.
“Stress will kill you faster than anything out here.” She picks up a bottle of oil and rubs in on my hands. Taking extra care to fully massage it around my fingers.
“Not faster than a bullet.”
Carly smiles lightly.
“That’s not likely Elena.”
When she lets my hand, I reach into my pocket and put a $5 in the jar next to her on the table.
“Thanks.”
I put my hoodie back on and straighten myself out.
“It’s really cold out for a hoodie. “
More small talk. Fine with me.
“You’re not wrong. I’m going to good will after this to get a coat.”
Carly clicks her tongue and crosses her arms.
“ I’m pretty sure they close by 3.”
I glance at the clock on the wall.
4: 27.
I let out an exasperated sound.
“Then I guess I’ll get a coat tomorrow then. No big thing.” I stand up, preparing to leave.
“Wait.”
What now?
“I don’t need to reup yet. “
Carly gives me an annoyed look.
“That’s not what was on my mind. Just stay right there for a second. “
Carly goes into her back room. Seconds turn to minutes and I’m tempted to just leave right then. The sounds of things shuffling, plastic being ripped open, makes me stay. If only to satiate my curiosity. She comes out with a dark red parka with brown fur over the trim of its hood.
“I have so much stuff I need to take to Goodwill and I keep putting it off. So you can just take it. “
She holds it out to me, and I stare down at it wordlessly.
Carly looks at me expectantly, her eyes read, ‘take it.’
“How much do you want for it?”
Carly rolls her eyes.
“The same thing Goodwill would have given me for it. “
I take it from her hands. I’m won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever that means.
“Thanks. You saved me a trip.”
I put in on over my hoodie, it’s a good fit. Slightly baggy, reaching the middle of my thighs. I pull the up the zipper. There’s a slight smell, like musk wrapped in citrusy flowers and vanilla.
Carly nods at me.
“It’s a good fit. I hate when people get me red things, so I only wore it once.”
I raise a brow.
“Because your hair is red?”
Carly gives me a small, strained smile.
“No, but that’s what I should start telling people.”
I nod. Not willing to push or intrude. I glance at my short, manicured nails and scratch at my head.
“Amazing.” I mutter under my breath.
Carly nods.
“I told you so.”
I lower my hands and put them in my pockets.
“I’ll get out of your hair.” I say walking towards the door. I stop just short of it, glancing up and down the street from the inside of her shop.
Erwin’s car is gone. Thank God.
“Do me a favor before you go.”
I glance at Carly. What kind of favor could she possibly want.
“Next time, if someone tells you to leave, just leave. Yea?” I nod. It's not like I wanted to interrupt.
“Sure thing, it won’t happen again.” I promise before pushing open the chime ringing door.
The wind pushes against me, stinging my face. I pull the hood over my head before I cross the street to get to my van. As I walk around to the driver's side, I spot something lodged into between the windshield wipers.
A folded piece of paper. I’m tempted to toss it without reading it. But I take off with my chilled hands and climb inside my van. Once settled in my seat, I open the letter. Another card, white with gold lettering falls out onto my lap. I immediately take it and toss it on my dashboard. The letter reads as follows.
Y/N,
I happened to come across your van. I’m writing this to remind you to get your tank fixed. You seemed a bit dazed, and I’m concerned you won’t remember. There's a mechanic shop on 54th street. Called Franz Auto. They won’t charge you much, if you present my card and say I sent you. Feel free to reach out if you need anything. And remember your coat, you'll get sick if you keep forgetting it. I look forward to hearing back from your father. It was good seeing you, please take care of yourself.
Best Regards,
Erwin Smith.
I scoff.
“You happened upon my van? Are you fucking kidding me?”
I believe that as much as I believe I’d be safer in the women’s shelter. I ball up his letter and toss it on the passenger side floor. I rest my head on the steering wheel before I will myself to start the engine and find a place to park with no street sign limitations.