Page 6 of Olivia's Only Pretending
“Need a ride, baby girl?” a syrupy sweet voice asked outside my window.
I glanced up at Victor leaning over my car door. I pushed the door open. “I think my car is broken,” I whimpered.
“Pop the hood,” he said, walking to the front of my car.
I sat in the passenger seat of his truck, listening as he told me what he thought might be wrong. I nodded along.
“You won’t know for sure until it’s checked out professionally, though,” he said. “I could tow it over to theRogers’ auto repair shop, but I’ll call ’em first. They might pick it up.”
He pulled out his phone and started dialing.
He helped me with my broken house one day, then helped me with my broken car the next. The man was multifaceted. I smiled to myself. It wasn’t hard to see why women fell all over themselves for him.
Silly, playful Victor one moment, and then confident and caring Victor the next, helping me like it was second nature.
I felt lucky about our friendship. That I’d walked into the coffee shop the day we met.
Lucky that even though we were years apart—missing each other’s groups and circles in school—God had brought us together now at just the right time. My heart had needed a friend like him.
Victor and I arranged for the auto shop to come pick up my car over the phone, then I pulled up my mom’s number to see if she could give me a ride.
He put his hand over the screen of my phone, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m right here. Let me take you.”
My chest twisted in guilt. I felt like he was always going out of his way for me. I didn’t want to interrupt his morning now, too. “Are you sure? You were here working on my deck last night. Now you’re going to mess up your morning by driving me out of town?”
He started his truck. “Happy to help,” he said casually. “Buckle up.”
“You’re always helping me,” I said softly, reaching for the buckle. “How can I help you?”
He ran his hand through his hair thoughtfully. “Stop scratching up the new dining table.”
“Victor.”
“Okay, okay. How about one of your famous grilled cheeses?” He hit the turn signal.
“I’m serious.”
The car slowed to a stop at an intersection. He swallowed. “I’ve been working on business plans, actually.”
“What?” I twisted toward him in my seat.
Victor had toyed with the idea of starting his own carpentry business a few times before, but noncommittally. He was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he could pull it off.
“It’s still in the early stages, low-key. But I would love a second opinion.” He paused, his eyes darting over to me. “And your opinion means a lot to me.”
“I’d love to see your plans. I’m excited you’re doing this.” I’d been quietly trying to encourage him, without pushing too hard. A few mini pep talks when he mentioned what hecould maybe do someday.
I’d seen his work over the past few months. It had the potential to be big.
A few weeks ago, we’d stayed up late in my living room talking after working on some reno project. The conversation took a serious turn, toward the future.
We were sitting on my tan sectional. I was facing him, a soft pillow to my chest. It was dark, only a couple of table lamps on.
I’d opened up to him about how I dreamed of teaching new classes that excited me. I wanted to challenge myself and pour into my students in a new, fresh way.
He cleared his throat and told me he wanted to do something new, too. He wanted a carpentry business of his own. “I’ve thought about it. Maybe I would start small, just something on the side. But it’d be cool if it grew over the years. I’d start with furniture, tables, and chairs like I’ve done for you, then maybe one day … renovations.” His eyes stayed onthe pillow beside him, toying with the loose thread. “It’s just an idea, though.”
Victor’s eyes always turned downcast when conversations turned toward his potential in a way that made my hands ball into frustrated fists. He couldn’t see all the good I saw in him. I wished I could fight his doubts away.
