Sasha, Not Aleks

two - laurier's mechanics

CORALINE

Laurier's Mechanics is going under. I honestly don't think there's any other way to put that. We're running short for the eighth month in a row and if we take another month of losses we'll clean out the last of our savings. It's fine. It'll be fine.

I'll find a job somewhere else. My major is in finance. Pretty much anyone would take me.

I just don't like working in offices. I like working with my Dad and my brother, under cars, in engines, back and forth across the shop floor, yelling around for the one lone 10mm wrench in the whole shop.

I'm a mechanic. I've always been a mechanic. I was a mechanic from the first moment I stepped into my parents' shop. I live and breathe it. It's my thing. It's always been my thing. It's just a question now of whether or not I can give it up. Whether or not the debt is worth seeing if we can pull through after another month. Whether or not we can make it out of whatever is going on now. Whether or not Laurier's Mechanics is going to exist anymore.

Looking at the numbers, at the sad, sad, numbers, it won't be.

Luxury vehicles. Performance vehicles. That's what we do. That's what we fix. That's what we've always done. You'd think it would be a market that exists. Somewhat. But it's really not. It really wasn't ever. There's only fifteen Lamborghinis in greater Boston. Bentleys, sure, Maserati, sure, Ferrari, sure, but there's so few of them that our specialty is worn thin.

We outsourced to normal cars but everyone already has a mechanic they go to. They revisit the dealership or they go to a local one that does all cars, not Laurier's, that's only done fancy cars for over 70 years.

It's fine, it'll be fine. I keep telling myself it'll be alright. Maybe I can find another shop job. Maybe I'll find an office that I like working in. Maybe all of that.

Except another shop won't be the same white-walled friendly shop that I work in now. I won't get to look to my left and see Briar Laurier soaked through with oil after another mishap with an oil pan, I won't be able to look to my right and see my father, St James Laurier, laughing at his son for getting oil all over himself again.

One month left.

I've got one month to save this damned shop and it's gonna be the last thing I ever do.

"Dad, I swear, just give me the month, don't close it yet, I can fix this, I have a finance degree, it'll be fine, we can make cuts, we can cut hours-"

He slides me all the papers and all the math across the kitchen table, "Cora, you know we can't cut any of our hours. None of us can afford that. We're all trying to live off these wages."

I scan the papers in front of me, looking back over the math that comes out in zeros and negatives.

"Plus, Cora, you've still got college debt, so does Briar. We've been making negatives forever, we've just been able to wiggle it out of savings, face it, the market is gone and the people that have those cars won't stick around if we up the prices."

I run my fingers through my hair, "they're all rich, they won't mind-"

"They might be right but they're all cheap. Their cars go out of date within a year and they'd rather buy a new one than get the one that they have serviced."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, "what if we expand our detailing program? What if we start advertising that we do modifications? What if we-"

"Nobody modifies a Bentley."

"Dad," I tap my head down on the table, "just one more month, please just one more month."

"Cora, I'm feeling the same way you are right now, this shop has been my entire life, but it's time to let it go, we can't hold onto it. I've got jobs lined up for Briar and I because we're only mechanics, you can easily find someone to take you with your experience, you just have to want to."