It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

Why Must We Complicate Things That Are Really Quite Simple? (2)

He didn't remember the drive back onto the estate being so drab. The trees were spindly, most stripped of their leaves by the winter winds, charred skeletal hands reaching up towards an empty sky. Matthew didn't really care that his foot was on the Prius' accelerator, or that he was driving so dangerously that Eli was encouraging him to go faster, his eyes sparking with recklessness. They nearly crashed through the second set of gates for the estate, though Matthew still did not ease up on how fast they were moving. He wanted to believe it. He didn't want to believe it was over so soon.

The car seemed to launch itself over the final hurdle, scattering the gravel of the entry court. Matthew swerved to avoid hitting Toby's red Nissan Cube or scraping against Liza's gently-worn Mercury Milan. Audrey ducked under the cover of the front loggia, covered in pale shadows, hugging herself against the cold. Matt didn't even remember turning off the engine, climbing out of the driver's seat, but he certainly didn't undue his seat belt, falling backwards before unclicking himself from the car.

They all approached, saying something, but Matthew couldn't hear them. His vision had started blurring.

But there was Lloyd. His soft, little, '66 VW Beetle, sitting under the cover of the carport, his headlights facing out towards the barren forest. His chrome glittered against the snow, and his paint was crisp and vibrantly sea blue. Its wheels had new hubcaps, the tires whitewalled and positively gorgeous. The luggage rack on the roof gleamed chrome and wood, too, and from a distance, the car looked like it had just rolled off the factory floor. Not even a speck of dust sat on Lloyd's body.

Matthew took off, sliding on his knees in front and wrapping his arms tight around the front hood. Despite the cold metal against his face, Matthew laughed, sat back, taking in every gleaming nook of his car. "You're beautiful, bud," he said, standing and brushing himself down. The glass wasn't scratched anymore. No discoloration or bumps or a visible history before this moment.

"Hate to admit it," Liza sighed, "but your car's beautiful, Matt."

"And you wanted to get rid of it," Toby sneered.

"Oh, I still want to. For Matt's safety," she said. "Doesn't mean I'm going to spoil the moment right now."

"Look at him," Matthew beamed, gesturing childishly. He hopped from one foot to the other. "Augh, it's so good to have you back, buddy."

"Dammit," Eli sighed, stomping his foot. "They got rid of the etchings."

"But they worked," Matthew laughed, wrapping his arms under Eli's arms and swinging him. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"I'm getting dizzy!"

Matthew dropped him and threw open the engine hood. The machine inside was unreal, clean and beautiful. He closed the lid, listing to the click as it did. He sighed, too pleased with the sensation. "He's back and safe, and – " He threw open the passenger door, swinging so beautifully open that he wondered if Eli had also enchanted the car to sound so beautiful, and then his smile fell.

The normally spartan space was empty. Where the backseat had once been was removed; the front seats were gone, as well. The dashboard had been immaculately restored, yet the steering wheel was absent in this setup. The stick shift stuck up from the floor pans like a single tree in a clearing. The headliner – once faded and smelling delectably like faded cigarettes, exposed the blue ribbing of the roof. While everything was clean and shined like new, Lloyd's interior was unfinished, hollow.

Matthew's stomach flared.

Audrey cut in before he could spit fire. "Before you say anything," she warned, "I was told by Mr. Yang that this was part of your agreement."

"I agreed to nothing," Matthew spat. "He promised me a full restoration."

Audrey sighed. "To my understanding, he said he'd do a full restoration – body and engine – but leave the interior to you."

He tried to think back. He tried remember how long ago words similar to that were said, but only foggy memories surfaced. Matthew remembered the starting smells of autumn, the changing trees. He could barely remember Yang saying anything comparable to that. "This s bullsh – " He stopped himself, eyeing Eli for a moment. "This is ridiculous. He wasn't supposed to be delivered back until the end of next month."

The loggia doors opened. Mr. Yang wrapped his undone blazer around himself. He pushed his hair back, but it did little to add to his composure. "Good afternoon, everyone," he said, a clear waver in his voice. "How are you all today?"

"What's this?" Matthew asked, gesturing to the car. "You half-finished the job, Yang."

Mr. Yang blinked. "Mr. Robinson, I told you when you got back from the hospital. I ordered a body and engine restoration. You were so torn up over doing the restoration yourself, and you were supposed to be taking time to heal, so I said the interior was left to you."

"What, you want to push me out faster? Is that it?"

"No," he answered, his sunken brown eyes wide at the accusation. "I...I know what I did was reprehensible. I cannot stop you from leaving, but this is not my way of 'pushing you out'." He glanced down, shuffling back into the doorway of the loggia. "The garage is sending someone up, to talk to you about the conversion of the car to electric. I didn't want any work done without your consent." Yang paused. "It's here because they'd taken on another project and had to move the car out." Yang glanced at the cold graveled drive underfoot. "I...thought you would be happy to see it."

So much about Lloyd's restoration, the electric conversion included, had dropped from Matthew's mind in the haze of events over the past few months; the car's return was this foggy, distant daydream of revenge and color, but now that it was here, sitting, tangibly, before him, Matthew wasn't sure what to do. He turned away, hugging himself. "When is the guy supposed to be coming?"

"He didn't say," Mr. Yang said. "I was going to send an email after it was delivered, but I got wrapped up in a call." He fished a business card out of his pocket, offering it to the nanny. "You can reach out to them if you want...if you'd prefer my not being involved anymore."

Matthew straightened up.

"I know this is probably pushing my luck, but...I would be fine, as well, paying for the materials for the interior." His hand stayed outstretched, but now Yang was leaning in, as if the gesture would tip Matthew over the edge.

He grimaced.

"Or not," Mr. Yang stammered. "Let me know what you'd like to do." He placed the card on Lloyd's rear fender and backed away, though the business card fluttered to the ground a second later. His eyes drifted to Elliot, and he nodded.

His nephew glanced away, trotting around the front of the car.

Mr. Yang pursed his lips into a thin line, nodding. His gaze was distant. Clearing his throat, he turned and closed the loggia doors behind him, sealing himself off into the house.

Liza groaned and tilted her head back, a smile on her lips. "So unbelievably satisfying," she sighed, grinning.

"There's something wrong with you," Toby said.

"Who takes pleasure in seeing someone like that?" Audrey asked.

Liza shot Matthew a look, but only grew annoyed at the shake of his head, ignoring the amused smirk adorned on her friend's lips. "Matt's just being a role model right now," she said. "He's enjoying this just as much as I am."

Seeing Mr. Yang disheveled did scratch an itch in him, but seeing it this prolonged with no end in sight made Matthew want to reach out, shake him out of the supposed depression and shout, "BE A FUCKING GUARDIAN". He didn't want to help the man – this was all his own doing: the distance between himself and children, the dilapidation of the house, the coldness that he radiated. He wanted to help him in the same breath, to fix the world they had thrown off-kilter, and set things right. All he had to do was

Matthew wasn't sure about what, though.

"I'm not enjoying this," Matthew finally answered, a sadness swallowing his chest. He seethed at the feeling at the same time. "I'm, just...annoyed at how...needlessly complicated its all become."