Oblivion (Completed)

Ryan

"The point is, I said 1970, not 1974. It took nearly a month to get that part in," I snap into the phone. This guy is really testing my patience, but I maintain a level of professionalism. He babbles on for a bit about order numbers and inaccurate shipment verification, but all I hear is blah blah blah I'm full of bullshit.

"Calling this an inconvenience is putting it pretty lightly," I inform him. "This is a tremendous setback and it needs to be handled immediately. I want the correct part and I want it next day aired to me the second you get your hands on it." The irritation is building inside me, so before my mouth runs off without checking in with my common sense, I rattle off a stiff but polite closing and end the call.

Unreal.

I squeeze my eyes shut and run my hand down my face in an attempt to wipe off the stress. The glow on the shop's OPEN light has been out for two hours. It's nearing 8 pm, which means I'm closing in on my fourteenth hour here. Most of the guys are gone for the day; it's just me and my top mechanic, Knox, trying to bust out some work on this project.

We've been restoring and customizing a 1970 Apollo White Buick SGX for a corporate big shot down in Chicago for the last two months. The job popped up shortly before Henley woke up, and it's easily one of the biggest accounts we've ever had. I put a lot of faith in my guys to run the everyday basics of the shop and get a start on this restoration while I got Henley settled back into our life together. Not surprisingly, they did a bang up job while I was gone. I just didn't expect the guy we ordered the parts from to be an imbecile.

I'm patient, but here's the thing. We're three weeks away from promised completion and not even half done. We've still got regular shit to do everyday on top of this project, and the holidays are just around the corner. In order for me to stay caught up with the ownership part of the shop, I'm putting in ten and twelve hour days. That means I'm spending way more time under the bellies of cars and not nearly enough beneath Henley.

So, yeah. I'm irritated.

The shop was an amazing way to channel my issues for four years; I swear I felt every single second pass while Henley was away. I was stuck in a windstorm of emotions, whipping one way, then the next. Worry. Denial. Sadness. Patience. Defenselessness. Rage.

But never acceptance—not even when the doctors told me it was looking grim. Giving up on hope meant giving up on us, and that's something I'll never do. After the initial shock, you better believe I felt a little cocky when they called me to say she'd opened her eyes. That's right. I knew it all along...Didn't I? No one needs to know I spent the next hour sobbing.

So, really. I'm not ungrateful for my work. I just need it to go back to normal so the rest of my life can, too. Sometimes it feels like I only see Henley in bed. Okay, so that's still pretty awesome, especially considering I thought she'd freak when we got home from Mom's. Lucky for me, she hasn't lost her persistence. The guest room's been empty ever since and he hasn't mentioned the friendship status in weeks.

She also hasn't mentioned remembering anything else, and I'm okay with that.

The growing want and intimacy between us is incredible, but I miss the rest of it, too. I swear I haven't sat down at the kitchen table with her since last week. I know she's staying busy while I'm at work. Just a few days ago I came home to her pored over a stack of interior design magazines and a completely redecorated living room. What the hell is Feng Shui anyway?

And now this. A few hours ago I had to fire off another text apologizing to her for staying late at work again. I think she's getting a little to used to it, because she sent one right back with a smiley face and a simple It's okay.

I'm just working myself into a really good pace around my desk when Knox raps once on my open door and pops his head inside my office.

"Yo, James. Your girl's out here with an enormous sandwich," he smirks.