Miscommunication (boyxboy)

Chapter Seven

~ Adam ~

Marty was in a bad mood when Adam arrived at work that afternoon, not that it mattered. Marty has been in a bad mood since the seventies.

"Camry." Marty tossed Adam a set of keys as he walked through the door. Adam had to leap to catch them. "Radiator's busted. Whole thing's rusted from the inside. Old fucker wants it done by tomorrow."

"The parts won't even be here by tomorrow."

"I know that," Marty growled, "try tellin' the bastard that yourself."

Resigned to his fate, Adam set to work on the night's task. It was best to get started on the Toyota quickly since he had a mountain of paperwork waiting for him in the office later that night.

Despite Marty's endless temper, Adam wouldn't trade this job for anything. It didn't pay well, but he liked fixing cars. He liked working with his hands. It's what he was good at.

Adam's father had taught him the basics of being a mechanic when Adam was a kid. In their small, crowded garage working on a '74 Leyland P76 that had seen better days, Rodney Grey showed his six-year old son how to change a spark plug for the first time.

"The key is knowin' your woman," Rodney Grey had said, referring to the car. "Treat 'er right and she'll run like a beaut'."

Of course, ten minutes later Adam's father had thrown a wrench through the car window because he'd bought the wrong spark plug. Glass lay shattered across the concrete floor as Rodney slammed his fist into the bonnet. "Asshole at the auto store said this was the right fit! Fucking bastard!"

Adam had received two scars that day. One from a shard of glass that buried itself in the skin on his arm, and a nasty, long scar that trailed from his wrist to thumb when he'd pointed out that maybe his father 'didn't know his woman'. It wasn't the last scar Rodney Grey gave his son either.

Adams set to work on the Camry. His face scrunched up when he found the radiator full of rusty sludge. He didn't understand why some folks around here couldn't treat their possessions with more care. If you were going to throw thousands of dollars at something, the least you could do is maintain its condition.

The sky grew darker as the hours ticked by. It was ten o'clock by the time Adam sat down at Marty's ancient desk in the yellowing office, stack of paperwork beside him.

His stomach growled despite Piper's generosity, but it would have to be enough. Adam didn't have the money to buy food until next week and he never brought anything to work. Being hungry most of the time was minor in comparison to other things.

The twenty-year old picked up a pen and drew the first document to him from the pile. He was already yawning by ten-thirty but Adam's first class tomorrow didn't start until eleven. There was plenty of time to catch up on school work in the morning.

Adam closed the garage at eleven-thirty, sliding the weighted set of keys into his pocket. They'd been a comfort to him over the years.

It only took ten minutes on bike to get home. The streets were dark and quiet. Cars could be heard on the highway in the distance but Adam's neighbourhood was like a ghost town. He didn't mind one bit.

Locking his bike in the tiny garage adjacent to the front porch, Adam fumbled his way inside and made it up the staircase without tripping in the dark.