Page 60 of Severance

Once we get downstairs, Mikah leads me to the back of the building where the tenants’ vehicles are neatly lined up in several rows. The moment I see the glimmering of the sun on the hood of Dakota’s Mustang, all the memories made in that car creep up on me. My feet stop moving and I freeze in the middle of the parking lot.

Mikah turns around, his gaze locked on mine.

“I thought we were going to washyourcar.” The words come out of my mouth in shallow breaths and dissolve in the warm April air like a drop of paint in a jar of water.

Mikah ignores my question. “Are you coming or what?”

I swallow the bitter lump in my throat and quietly follow him to the car.

* * *

The car wash we end up taking the Mustang to is down the street from the apartment complex. It’s a self-service one and it’s empty.

I’m not exactly sure why Mikah asked me to come, but I’m really glad he did. I’ve been a nervous wreck during this past week since we didn’t talk. I’ve replayed our kiss in my head a million times in an attempt to recreate that strange feeling I had the second our lips got a taste of each other. It was guilt wrapped in something new and exhilarating and I’ve wanted to experience it again.

“Have you ever washed a car before?” Mikah asks as we get out of the Mustang.

“I’ve helped my dad.”

“All right, then you’re not totally useless.”

“You’re underestimating my skills. I’m a woman of many talents.”

“We’ll see.” He pats his pockets and pulls out two cigarettes. One for me and one for him.

We smoke in silence, staring at the car. Mikah’s puffing neat rings into the warm air that mix with the messy clouds I’m blowing out. There’s something brewing between us, and although I can’t put my finger on it, I can sense the shift. He wouldn’t have texted me for no reason. Not after what happened.

“Are you selling it?” I ask carefully, motioning at the car.

“No.”

“I’m glad.”

He responds with a low grunt and more smoke.

“Jess came over today.”

“Okay.” He seems uninterested in my friend.

“Did you know she runs a weekly support group for…everyone who was at The Crystal Room that night?” I’m not sure how to word what I’m trying to say. “She asked me about you. You haven’t been returning Luke’s calls.”

“I haven’t had time.”

Somehow, I don’t believe he’s telling the truth.

“She’s just worried.”

“Why’s she worried about me?”

I decide not to bring up the rally Jess mentioned. I don’t want to stain this moment with the filth that comes with the name of the person who’s the reason we’re all so fucked up right now. “She’s worried about everyone.”

“I’m fine.” Mikah goes to the trash can and puts out his cigarette. “Are you ready?”

I may have lied a little. I’ve never helped my father wash his car. Things like this have never been required of me. My chores are mostly dishwashing and helping around the kitchen. The self-service car wash is a whole new level of knowledge for me, but Mikah’s presence makes me want to say what I wish I could do or what I think he wants to hear.

As usual, he’s stingy with his instructions and it makes me look like a blind kitten tossed into the lake. Except my eyes can see. And they stare at him shamelessly as he moves around the car, spreading the soapsuds with a big yellow sponge.

The wet front of his t-shirt stretches across his pecs and I feel warmth gathering in my chest and stomach.

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