Page 11 of A Man of Prestige

He smiles and I want to freeze-frame his face because it looks like the carefree young man I fell in love with nearly eight years ago. “1966 Jaguar Roadster. I just bought it last month at auction.”

A memory pops up in my head from where it’s been buried in some sort of brain file cabinet. I can recall sitting on his bed. I was reading a textbook for the class and he was flipping through a magazine about cars. He had paused on a page for a long time, so I glanced over. It was this car. I asked him about it, and he said he had always wanted one since he saw it at a car show with his grandfather years earlier. His father got in a fight with his dad, and that was the last time Aiden saw his grandfather. I wonder if they’ve spoken, reconnected ever, but I decide not to ask. Some things are better left unsaid.

“You finally got one,” I state as the memory recedes back into the recesses of my mind.

“You remember,” he replies softly as he comes up next to me, his arm grazes mine, and I swear I feel an electric current pass between us, but it’s probably just static electricity.

“I do. You were always looking at them in car magazines.”

“I could have used my father’s money to buy one, but I wanted to do it on my own. And then, I became obsessed with finding the perfect one. It took years, but I found it.” He motions to the car. “She needs to be refurbished, but when I’m done, she’ll be a beauty.”

I tuck my left foot behind my right one, balancing a bit on it. I’m not sure why I always do this. Maybe it’s the years of yoga or karate, but I like standing on one leg. My dad used to call me his little flamingo.

I look over at Aiden and find him watching me. “You still stand on one leg, huh?” he says motioning to my feet. He remembers.

“I do.” I look around again. “Why so many? Are you going to sell some?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have the heart to sell them.”

“Won’t you run out of room eventually?”

He shrugs. “I guess I can build another garage.” His face suddenly morphs into a frown, and I wonder why.

“Maybe you’ll find a different hobby?” I suggest.

He shakes his head. “I like rebuilding cars. You can always fix cars. They aren’t like people.”

I see a hint of sadness on his face. Without any thought, I reach out and take his hand in mine and squeeze it. He looks at our joined hands before slowly moving his gaze up to my arm to my chest and then my face. I see a myriad of emotions play out across his features.

“I like them,” I finally say as I look around. “You did a good job. They look professionally rebuilt.”

“You want to go for a ride?” he asks, pointing to the Ford.

“Sure,” I answer as he pulls free from my hand and grabs a set of keys out of a box that requires his thumbprint to open. He opens the car door for me, and I take a seat as I watch him walk around to the driver’s side. He turns the car on and revs the engine as he opens the garage door. I can’t help giggling at his boyish enthusiasm.

He peels out of the garage and down his long driveway, down the street, and out onto the main road. The rain has stopped, but the roads are still a bit wet. He carefully maneuvers us onto the parkway. I watch the cars on the road as he expertly drives us in and out of traffic. He veers off the parkway and onto a side road. I squeal in delight as the road dips down and my stomach does that little bouncing feeling like I’m on a roller coaster.

Aiden laughs and takes us down another hill. When he finally parks the car, I can see we are by the river. I can hear the water rushing and see the traffic of a highway in the distance.

“She runs like she’s new,” I say with a giant grin on my face.

“She does.” He pats the wheel.

I watch as his hand slides along it. More memories spring into my consciousness. Memories of the times we made out in cars. God, we made out in the car so many times. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Once we parked at a spot like this one and made love in the back seat. Until a park ranger came knocking on the car door. I blush at the memory.

His hand reaches over the console and clasps mine. I look over at him.

I wish I could put the past behind me. But it’s hard because so much has been left unsaid between us. There are loose ends everywhere. I don’t like loose ends. I want neat little bows.

“Ells…I…” He trails off as he searches my eyes. “I’m sorry for how we left things all those years ago.”

I swallow. This is happening, then. “We were young. I said some things too…” I stop because I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it all. “I shouldn’t have left like that.”

“You shouldn’t have. You… It wasn’t fair,” he stammers, and I wonder what he was going to say.

“It wasn’t.” My agreement has him raising his eyes. “I was scared and young. I made a rash decision that changed the course of both our lives,” I admit with a shrug.

“But why?” he asks. His voice is almost pained as he speaks the question. Aiden puts up a strong front, but I know him better than that. He has a fragile inner core. He let his walls down once for me, but I’m not sure he’ll do it again.

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