Page 60 of Heartfelt Pain
“She said don’t be surprised if that’s exactly what he thinks of you.”Mom smiles.“And then she pulled out a bottle of champagne she’d stashed in the car. Father found us drunk and giggling hours later.”
Giggling? I’d say it’s a foreign concept to Mom’s side of the family, but apparently not.
“I’m sorry I never met Grandpa,” I say quietly.
Mom begins to pace again, studying the walls. “He’d like this very much, Roma.”
Something like pride glows in my chest at her compliment.
“You know your grandfather left you some money.”
Saying I’m well off is putting it lightly. But on my next birthday, I’ll receive another windfall. “Yeah.”
“Mikail Morozov bought a new car. A 1964 Impala.”
“He’s always been a car guy.” My father’s friend collects vintage cars.
“He needs help fixing it up.”
Morozov might be a car guy, but he doesn’t like rolling up his sleeves.
“What if he brought it here?” Mom asks.
“Here?”
Mom takes another look around the place. There’s space for six cars, though, right now only my Barracuda is here. The building once operated as a car shop, an actual business, but fixing up cars has only ever been a hobby. But Mom’s question is genuine and she looks to me for an answer.
“I mean I could help him out, but I thought he went to Sam for all that?” Sam is well-recommended among my father’s friends, especially since he specializes in European cars.
“Sam retired,” Mom states. I had no idea.
I rub the back of my neck. “Well, I guess if he brought it over. But he knows I work, so I won’t get to it like Sam.”
Mom, hands still in her trench coat pockets, paces. “Sam had a profitable business. Have you thought about opening your own shop?”
“Me?” I know I just bought the garage, but I’m not that good. “You know I work.”
For the family business.
She nods, but after a second she speaks again. “You could talk to your father. And like I said, you have an inheritance from your grandfather. I can’t imagine the pride he would feel knowing his grandson is working on sports cars all day.”
My mouth dries a bit at how sincere she sounds.
“Y-you don’t think being a mechanic would be beneath me?”
Ice blue eyes cut to me. Her mouth tightens just slightly, but her disdain isn’t toward me.
“You are hardworking, Roma. And it takes courage to go after your dreams, to make a business work.”
“But we have a family business.” I might not rise through the ranks like Elijah and Max, but how can I tell them I’m fucking off to do my own thing?
“Your father understands the joys and hardships of owning something that is entirely your own. Speak to him. He admires men with goals.”
I’m still hunched over on the stool as my mom walks around. She’s calm now, but I can’t imagine my father’s response. He might smile and say ‘Sure, son’ but the annoyance he’d show already zaps at my nerve endings.
I shake my head, picking myself off the stool. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m fine. You never mentioned why you were here, though. Are you okay?”
She appears sad for a moment, before blinking. Then her face is the blank mask she wears every day. I didn’t realize how much it hid.
