They had known each other for a long time and so felt free to just mumble a greeting when having to meet up early on Monday morning. Nothing of that English politeness, such as the weather is hot and humid for this time of the year or we lost another game.
They just nodded and he took the car key from her sweaty hands. She made herself comfortable on the worn-out leather sofa in the waiting area with a book while he exited through the back door silently. Through the broken office window, she saw him getting in her red Ford, jerking the clutch of her baby, then like Hamilton on the Silverstone F1 track rather than a back street of an almost depressed town, sped off into the garage with a loud screech. Within a few seconds the baby was hanging high in the air waiting to be poked, like a wounded animal, checked for any damage or malfunction.
The book she brought this time was a heavy, blue covered, hardback, 245-page travel guide to an amazing destination chosen by a dear friend. Truthfully, she was hoping to finish the book by the time the baby check-up was over, as she only had 10 pages left and it had taken her a long time to read about a country, she had no desire to visit. She wasn't a quitter.
While she was travelling through the pages, he, the car mechanic, a nice bloke, was in and out of the reception area, huffing and puffing, making her wonder if the car had a terminal illness. Like the feeling when you go to the doctor with a bruise on your knee thinking it’s fourth-stage, inoperative cancer, but it turns out it’s just a young bruise courtesy of a mischievous dog. Sensing her anxiety, he smiled politely “All done.”
The last time she brought the car for its yearly check-up, they swapped notes on elderly parents. Grateful the car didn't have any major fault and he wasn't overcharging her, she felt a need to continue the conversation they left off a year ago.
“How is your father?” she asked meekly in between pushing her card into the money-eating slot.
“He is fine.”
“How old is he?”
“92 this year.”
“I have a neighbour who is 92 and still driving. Is your father still driving?”
It’s kind of an obvious question if you are in the garage and fixing a car. And it’s a kind of woman thing to ask. Sentimental and caring.
“He hasn’t got any legs.”
“Oh, sorry!”
Panicky, she pulled the card from the machine too early, wanting to run, only to have to repeat the whole process, and prolong the conversation.
“Yes, he has diabetes and both legs had to be amputated so I have to get him into a care home.”
“Well, it’s the best place for him” she said, tensely staring at the screen of the PDQ machine praying to tell her the payment had been approved.
“I couldn’t deal with him; I couldn’t lift him plus he was aggressive towards mother.”
“How awful. Is she in a care home too?”
“No, she died.”
“Oh sorry.”
And now she began to worry where her wallet, car key, the book, were, and how she needed to run.
“It's nothing. Sometimes you have to make all these decisions on your own.”
“Yes.” she replied but desperately wanted to run.
“My brother overdosed himself on insulin and he was in hospital in a coma on life support.”
She turned around checking if he is talking to her, praying for someone else to walk into the office. She just needed another human to stop the calamitous life-story unfolding in front of her.
“Then the hospital declared my parents’ incapable of making a decision about switching my brother's machine off and they asked me. So, I had to say yes.”
He was calm and collected and there was no life in his beautiful blue eyes. She wanted to ask if he had gone for any professional help but instead, she made a trite statement. She was good at that.
“That is one hell of a decision you had to make.”
“Yes.”
“But your parents and your brother were lucky to have you to make the decision for them. I don’t have anyone to make a decision for.”
“Well, I keep telling my missus to be ready to decide everything for me.”
He gave her the receipt. Outside the garage, her whole body was shaking as if it was caught in a life and death situation. She was like an animal ready to fake death in the face of impeding danger but somehow, she found the car thanks to the electronic bleep.
She drove off thinking of the new garage which had opened very close to her house and that maybe she should try them next time.
Later that day she managed to finish the book, with even less desire to see the country now but grateful to her friend for the gift. She also made a note to stop being polite and avoid small talk with strangers. If you have to, then talk about the weather and the last game. Not family life.