GuiTara

🎵~4

🎶Don't pretend that you need me ~ Becca

●Tara Afua Henrie●

"I can't believe you still drive this piece of junk."

Pam's small blue Kia Picanto sat in the clustered garage with a rusty grille, one cracked headlight, a broken door handle on the passenger side, worn-out leather seats, a couple of scratches on the bumper, the fender and other parts of the car. This vehicle should be rotting in a junkyard, not her garage.

"It's not a piece of junk," Pam remarked, shutting the trap door that led to the kitchen. "It's the first car I bought with money I earned." She gave the bonnet a little pat. "It's sentimental."

"It's old, Pam." I swung my bag onto my shoulder. "You need a new one."

"No, I don't. Even if I did, I can't purchase one right now cuz I invested all my savings in the restaurant." She moved to the driver's side and unlocked the door. When she sat in the driver's seat and opened the passenger door from the inside, I got in. The car's interior smelled like mold, slowly being taken over by the lavender air freshener Pam had just installed on the dashboard.

"You can ask Nando to get you one," I stated, returning to the new car topic.

Pam let out a frustrated groan. "No, I can't."

"Why not?" I strapped on my seatbelt.

"Because..." Her hands gripped the steering wheel. "There's nothing wrong with this one. It works perfectly fine! Can you please stop pestering me to get a new car?"

"Ok. I'll stop."

"Thank you!"

She fished out the key and pushed it into the ignition with a turn. Instead of the engine roaring to life, it sputtered and let out a whirring sound, sending a ripple of vibrations throughout the small vehicle. It lasted for a minute, then the engine gave out with a loud 'paow.' The expression on my sister's face was the very definition of mortified and I couldn't hide my smile.

"It works perfectly fine," I mimicked.

"Shut up!"

I shook with laughter.

Pam tried the engine three more times before losing patience with her old car. She stomped out of the car, yanking the bonnet open to find the fault.

Enjoying the brief comedy show, I felt my phone vibrate in my bag and quickly pulled it out. I'd received two messages from Mama wishing me luck on my first day, a few messages from group chats, and another foreign number.

I sighed, letting my head hit the headrest. They just don't know when to give up.

This time, I made an effort to read the messages, which I soon realized were from Sheeda. Cudjoe must've given up.

Tara, pls! Look, I never meant to hurt you, ok. What happened between Cudjoe and me was an accident. I never meant for it to go this far, and now I completely regret everything.

Can't we just put everything behind us and continue being friends?

I really miss you

Ignoring that last bit, I typed out a reply.

No.

I hit send but didn't wait for a response. I blocked the number.

"Ok." Pam plopped down into the driver's seat, wiping her black stained fingers with a grey cloth. "I think I fixed the problem." She sparked the car again. Even though the whirring sound was still there, the engine spurred to life. I threw her a quizzical look which she returned with a broad smile. "We were just out of engine oil." She dumped the dirty cloth on a short stack of tires, pulled out of the garage, and drove us down the street.