White walls. Blue trimmed, faded and chipped. They stared at me for four easy hours a day, dripping impatient soap down their lengths. Pillars to my right, three of them, creating a blockade between what I know and what I don’t, my side, and theirs. I see them working. Some are diligent, others are slackers. I know them by face, not by name.
To my left, a small bay that harbours necessities: paint, tape, keys, and mouldings. I enjoy the sharp smells that linger, the garbage compressing machine against a wall that leaves giant wads of paper for us to clean out. Us, the faceless. They pay us by name.
I ran a paper towel over the dashboard, damp with a secret mixture of strong soap and water. I sat in the driver’s seat of a Pontiac Vibe, a red one, a 2006 version. It came to me straight from the guys who fixed It’s bumper. Dusty white powder covered It’s hood and windshield, the kind that came off with a bit of scrubbing. I was responsible for cleaning this car, interior and exterior, spick and span so my boss’ company could hold it’s reputation as “Best Kirmac Shop All Around.” I enjoyed the repetition, spraying, wiping, sticking, painting. It was not mindless though, I could not get lost in my job.
x.x.x
“Jetta, can I talk to you?”
He sat by the tables alone. I could see others, students without faces or names. They would not matter.
“Y-yes?”
My voice shook with excitement. I walked up to the sultry boy, his amber eyes never straying from my own. I stood before him, wondering over my appearance. Was my hair in place? Did my makeup hide my childish expression?
“Can I take you out this Friday? I was thinking for dinner and a movie?”
Thrilled, I was thrilled.
“I would love that.” I replied calmly. He was not allowed to know how fast my heart beat. He would never understand the reason I had to pretend I was collected and indifferent. Invisible soap dripped down the walls, impatient and full of thought.
x.x.x
“Jetta, we’re getting backed up, where’s Andy?”
I thought of my co-worker, his loose fitting uniform and pierced eyebrow.
“Dunno.”
The truth, like always, sweetened my breath.
“Tell him to get these first two outta here, pronto, eh?”
Andy, with his eyebrow piercing. I know only his name around here.
“Will do.” I called back, stepping out of the vibe. My old shoes turned slick with soap, the cars inside shone like a fresh, dentist-cleaned mouth. No pride though. It was too dirty on the exterior.
I picked up the pressure washing gun and aimed it at my reflection in the window. Too close, I stepped back as water splashed all over my front, bouncing off the glass. The car was small. I set about rinsing and dipping my sponge in the soap bucket. Three cars could fit in the shop. Seven cars had room to line up outside.
“Jetta.”
Cheery and legitimate. I continued washing.
“You gotta move the cars.”
My tone disappointed me: excited and fond.
“Can’t wait till you can move cars on your own.”
I heard keys jingle, a smile playing at my lips.
“Well, keep waiting.”
Scrub until the paint shines. Nothing but a distraction for my thoughts.
x.x.x.
“You live on your own?” I asked, a bag of half-eaten popcorn in my hand. He held a large pop, coke, and his keys.
“Got fed up with the ‘rents. Besides, solos more fun.”
Black. Shiny, even beneath a darkening sky. It looked custom, a silver racing stripe running through its It’s back. We had something in common, at least.
“How’d you afford a Jaguar?”
Bewildered. He didn’t act wealthy.
“Present from my dad.”
A shrug. An opened door. I entered. Safety first. Click.
“I’ll show you my place, after we’ve dated for like, a month.”
Simple structure. He didn’t wait for a reply. His car seemed to have a true cat figure: sleek, agile, curvy. Not to mention, It’s engine purred.
x.x.x
Two new cars behind the vibe. A beige Sierra and a simple red Toyota truck. I loved jumping in the backs of trucks, pretending to be out on the highway with the wind in my long brown hair. I chose to do that one next. Thud. My shoes made a loud sound against the metal. I couldn’t understand why I liked that. It made my heart jump in my chest. Perhaps just a side effect of the action, not a notion in my mind.
“Jetta, Jetta, I could do betta than you can washing trucks.”
“That doesn’t even rhyme.”
Thunk. His shoes were heavier than mine, as was his body. The truck made a different sound when he jumped in the back than it had for me.
“Whatever. How’s detailing going?”
I looked down at my work in progress, realizing I’d brought a sponge but no soap bucket. He seemed to realize as well.
Thud. Thunk. In and out of the truck he brought me the soap bucket, sitting against the opposite edge. I could feel eyes, scrutinizing. Scrutinizing what? Get off my back.
“What?” I asked, curious but friendly.
“You over it yet?”
I averted my gaze lower. Soap on the truck walls, dripping, melting. My façade was melting. How could Andy see through? Andy, with nothing but his eyebrow piercing.
“Over what?” I asked. Subject change coming up soon.
“Him.”
“Are you over her?”
Stumbling over words. I could hear him choking against my retort. Choking on useless vocabulary.
x.x.x
“So, what’s your family situation?”
“I live with my parents, and I have no siblings.” I told him, shrugging. “What about you?”
“Live alone, remember?” I nodded, wondering why that mattered to him so much.
“Yeah, I remember Hun.”
His eyes looked like honey today.
“What about like, pets and stuff?”
Full of answers. I needed to find questions.
“Well, I had a dog named Caleb, and two cats named Caleb. I once had a spider named Caleb, and a couple fish named Caleb.”
Raised eyebrow. His cologne wafted towards me. Old spice?
“You, uh, liked someone named Caleb or something?”
“Naw, I just really like that name.”
Shake my head no. I didn’t know anyone named Caleb; Caleb, rolled off the tongue rather nicely.
“Huh, that’s interesting.”
We sat side by side on the hood of his Jaguar in a field, watching the clouds drift by in the sky. Dandelions surrounded us. Surreal. Dreamlike. I couldn’t understand his fascination with clouds, he would name shapes and relate them to things: to life, to our relationship. Now That, was interesting.
“Hey look, that cloud looks like a winged woman.”
I looked. I saw her, beautiful and majestic, only one wing visible, her face turned away. She looked upset, maybe burdened. Long white hair.
“That…” He stopped, struggling to find the right phrase to describe her.
“I don’t know. Yeah.”
His amber eyes were darker now. I could see something change within him. He touched me, on the leg, and then jumped off of the hood.
“Lets go, I’ll take you home now.”
“Well, okay.”
I sat in the passenger’s seat. The clouds looked soapy and impatient. It gave me something to think about as he drove me home, It’s engine purring against me.
x.x.x
White. Red shining through, bubbles falling down the ninety degree incline. They had no hope of sticking together, only a few ever did. Only the few with perfect chemistry and enough room to share stuck together. Soap didn’t remind me of clouds, ever.
“You wanna work on this truck with me?” I couldn’t see him:, I was facing the truck wall, washing it with steady hands.
“Yeah sure, guess we’re getting backed up anyways.”
I nodded. Pop music played on the shop radio, heard in every section above the sound of drills and saws.
“Cool. So, how is she, anyways?”
“My girlfriend?”
“She’s your girlfriend again? I thought you guys broke up for the last time!” My tone, sympathetic and curious. My hand, steady and undaunted.
“Yeah, I thought so too. We just decided, it wasn’t worth it. We broke up for no good reason. We were just fighting too much over little things, we said we’d change that. I’ll stop drinking and coming home, she’ll stop provoking me and trying to pick out the stupid stuff to talk about, you know. It’ll work this time.”
So he believed in second chances. Rambling. Deceptive, did he really believe, or was it just easier to persuade himself?
“Yeah.”
“What about you and Shane?”
“What about us?”
Pause. Scrubbing in circles. Most of the truck’s back was done. Soon we’d have to jump out and work on the rest. My heart almost sunk at that prospect.
“Well… I mean, you guys were together what, three months?”
“Yeah… Three months.”
“That’s not very long. Besides, it’s better it ended early, you didn’t drag it out.”
Like you? I wanted to say. My mouth stayed shut. I knew better than to pull him down with me, he did that enough himself.
“Yeah. It was full of mistakes though. I’m just not good at relationships.”
Scrub in circles. Time to jump out. I stood up, my back aching slightly from my bent over position. Bubbles fell against my blue sweat pants, drawing lines down my legs. I jumped down, sponge still in hand.
“Bring me the soap bucket?”
I could hear the handle hitting the bucket as he picked it up, carefully bringing it over the side, setting it down on the concrete; concrete was sometimes referred to as stability, I liked concrete.
“What went wrong anyways?”
The soap is impatient, it slithers down the wall of red paint as I press my sponge to the truck.
x.x.x
“Shane, it’s been a month. Please?”
My words, mock pleading. He knew I wasn’t that desperate.
“Fine. Get in.”
His car, so shiny. I wondered if soap dared itself to cling to the Jaguar’s lustre. I knew I would, because I was like the soap: always impatient and thoughtful.
Ten minutes. Subway wasn’t that far from his house. Engine purring all around me, filling me with a calm, a sense of security. I could literally feel the way It’s materials encased me, the interior leather smooth against my palm, my fingers. Sticky with anticipation. Was it feeling the same way I was?
“Here it is.”
Concrete driveway. Stability. He had a little, cozy two bedroom house, black exterior walls with a bright brown trim. Interesting, I wonder what it’d look like on a car.
“It’s really nice, how’d you afford this one?”
A chuckle. Amusing? Because I should already know the answer?
“Dad.”
I nodded, aware, but only half listening. His house wasn’t as shiny or beautiful as his car, but I could tell he kept it in mint condition. Everything was of even tones, there seemed to be no touch ups, the front lawn was trimmed nicely and there were even flowers framing the walkway from the driveway to the house. It was only one floor, the roof was square, but it was, to put it simply, nice.
“He must really love you.”
“Or is making up for a lack of.”
Car door slammed shut. Mine, quieter, less force.
“I’m sure he loves you.” I knew we needed a topic change. “Just like me.”
I received a smile, toothy, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, taking me to the front door.
“There’ll be no loving today though, I must warn you.”
Dissapointment. Only a little.
“I wasn’t intending on that either, just so you know.” I stated matter-of-factly. Why was his grin so cheeky?
“Whatever Jet.” Hands in pockets, fishing for a specific key. Turn of the lock.
“And, whallah.”
“It’s, just as beautiful as the outside. Geez, are you actually this clean or does your mom come here every day to do it for you?”
Laughter, like the roar of It’s revved engine.
“No, I just like a clean house.”
“How clean is your room?”
He leaned against the doorframe, brown locks in front of his eyes, a pensive smile on his youthful face.
“I don’t know, guess we’ll have to go check it out.”
x.x.x
“Nothing did.”
“Nothing went wrong?”
“Yeah. We just, weren’t compatible.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure that’s what it was.”
The truck was fully soaped down. I took the pressure washer to it, watching as water streamed in all directions, forming a large puddle near my feet. There were drains everywhere, I wasn’t worried about my shoes getting soaked.
“So, working on the inside now?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of why I took a break… I need to get to know myself, you know? Working on the inside, figuring out what I want, and need.”
Silence. Spraying stopped, the opposite side needed a rinse. I began walking around the truck.
“Uhm, I meant the interior. But, ok Jet, good to know you’re working on your interior too.”
Working on my interior. Interior and exterior, just like a car. I am a machine, bright and seductive, just like my paint job. On the inside, my leather is sticky with anticipation, and my windshield is fogged up with lust. Just like a car, I can be controlled. I have gears that turn, and there is a limit to what I can do. If the gas pedal is pushed down far enough I lose my will to slow down, lose sight of speed limits and other signs that might have been there for my own good.
“Right, sorry, I’ll go get the paper towel.”
x.x.x
“Wow. This place makes you look like you have OCD.”
“I can promise you I don’t.” Another cute chuckle, his hand on my back, leading me towards stairs.
“Your room is upstairs?”
“Yeah, didn’t you want to see it?”
Gazes, meeting at a two way intersection. Stop signs on either side. My gas pedal is being pushed down, I don’t even see them.
“Of course I do. I’ll tell you what I think, too.”
He winked. A perfect wink, no crinkle of the cheeks, no smile. Just an eyelid moving up and down, covering liquid amber, hiding emotion.
“You can tell me what you think about everything, once you see it all.”
Now it’s my turn to smile.
“I somehow doubt I’ll be disappointed.”
Hands on my bum, gently guiding me upwards. He pushes against me with a shoulder. Laughter. Stumbling. His door opens.
And it closes.
x.x.x
Black leather. Rips and tears on the passenger side, crumbs in the cup holders, dirt on the seat covers. A three-seater with no other room. The outside is shiny and new. The inside, not so much.
You can tell a lot about a person through their cars.
“This is my least favourite part of the job.”
“What is?” I’m in the driver’s seat., Andy is in the passenger’s seat, along for the ride.
“Cleaning other people’s crap, thinking about them living in it…”
“Really? So, you’re ex-boy’s car, clean or dirty?”
I gave him a sideways glance. The audacity. We talked about too many personal things in close range. Perhaps I enjoyed his comfort too much. Damn him and his, comforting personality.
“Clean. To the point of OCD. Same with his house.”
“Ah. What about the outside?”
Another sideways glance. Andy profiled people the same way I did: through their cars.
“Spotless, custom paint job, Jaguar. He obviously loved his car.”
“So he was a decent guy?”
“Yeah except, one time I opened his glove box. There was nothing in it, and there was a huge rip in the fabric. I was sitting beside him and he shut it really fast, asking me not to open it because he was afraid it’d be damaged further.”
“That’s odd…”
Wipe the dashboard. Wipe in circles, again and again. Clean the tricky places, where only my smallest fingers could fit into with a towel wrapped around them. Do it again, because it feels good, to just let loose. Smell the car soap, the tang of oil on the steering wheel, the spilt coffee collecting its own sample of bacteria in the coffee holders.
“Yeah. I always thought the glove box was like, the heart of the car, you know?”
He smiled, stopping his own ministrations on the passenger door.
“Empty? With a big rip in it?”
I suddenly shrugged, not looking at him.
Sounds more like my heart, I thought to myself.
x.x.x
“So, you’ll call me?”
Call this amber eyed boy? What reason did I have not to? He was, amazing.
“Of course I will. And hey, put a shirt on, my parent’s will think it’s weird if you drive me home in, that…”
Jeans, boxers messily sticking out in places. He had a gorgeous body, even if I didn’t. I liked my body though, more so without clothes on. There were less unruly curves that way, it was more natural. I liked natural. I didn’t need a paint job, or fancy rims. I came full price just the way I was.
“Fine, get in the car, be there in two minutes.”
Unlocked doors. I admired the paint for a minute or two, running a finger along the door. It came away clean, no dirt. That was interesting, I hadn’t seen him wash it, or heard him talk about washing it, for weeks. The door handle was hot against my skin as I opened the door. The sun was high in the sky, it was summer time now, after all.
The interior wasn’t antsy today. The leather was cool, his front windows slightly tinted against the rays of heat coming from the sky. It was almost, mysterious. I could feel my hands wanting to touch everything. I didn’t deny myself the pleasure. His dashboard, soft, smooth… Fleshy, it moved with my hand almost, like skin. His steering wheel, hard and almost veiny against beneath my fingers. It was the warmest part of the car so far., I smiled, my hands moving to the middle compartment. I opened it. Nothing much, two pens, a pad of paper, and coupons.
His door opened asnd I reached for the glove box, fingers prying at the little lock in the middle.
“So, did you have fun?”
“Yeah.” I opened it, glancing inside. It was empty, and there was a big rip in the fabric. What from?
“I did, it was real-“
“Get out of there.”
Stern hands slapped the box shut. Eyes averted, flickering to mine in his rear view mirror.
“Sorry, I should’ve asked first.”
“I just don’t want it to get, further damaged… Nevermind that, lets just get you home. You’re really beautiful, you know that?”
I smiled shyly, looking out the window as the engine began it’s It’s enchanting melody beneath my feet.
“Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.”
x.x.x
“You know, Kaylie doesn’t own a car yet.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
The dashboard was clean, the steering wheel sterile, and the middle compartment was not sticky anymore. This truck was done. I knew that within a week Itit would be in the same condition Itit had come to us in: filthy beyond repair. I wondered why that bothered me. I didn’t own a car, but I knew if I did I would treat It with utmost respect.
“So, you just had to figure her out the old fashioned way?”
A nod. Car doors opened. Car doors closed. I was in the detailing bay a few steps away now, throwing out my used paper towel. Andy did the same, coming up behind me, ending up next to me.
“It took more time to profile her, but I think I got it down now. We get by.”
I understand. Lucky Andy.
“So, what did happen anyways? I mean, you told me a while back it was something big, but, what?”
He asks too many questions for my liking. Write down my hours on my detailing log so I could get paid. Watch the pencil hit the paper, trace the numbers three and zero against the page, the word “minutes” following suit. Red Toyota, the trucks number, what I did to Itit. I cleaned Itit, inside and out as best I could, just like I cleaned up after everyone else.
The soap on the walls, my only consolation. It understands cleaning up after everyone else. It understands cleaning up after itself.
x.x.x
“Shane?”
Three knocks on his front door, black against my tanned hand. Brass framed the small window at the top, but I could not see that high up. No answer. Three knocks against his door a second time. Six knocks in total. The lock turned, the door opened. He stood in his jeans again, slightly out of breath, his hair inexpertly smoothed down.
“Jetta, whats up?”
His tone, different than usual. Too laid back, as though he’s playing.
“I wanted to come over, so I did.” I smiled. We’d been together three months now, I usually showed up and got what I wanted.
“Uhm, yeah… Sure, come in.”
His tone, so different. I couldn’t place it.
I followed the gorgeous boy up the stairs, tugging at his jeans the entire way to his room. He laughed, finally relaxing. He laid me down on his bed and nuzzled my ear as my eyes wandered.
Closet, unnaturally clean floor, laundry basket. He was whispering something to me, but I was barely hearing it.
Pink thong, thrown about, quickly hidden beneath other clothes. Was it coincidence my eyes had spotted it amongst them? Just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things I traced it’s lineoutline, the string readily available for viewing. His laundry basket was mesh. It was the only thing I could see through in the room, the only thing that seemed to be it’s true self.
Even It’s paint job had been custom. I should have known he wasn’t the perfect guy, that he was hiding from me the entire time. Hiding beneath a paint job and a lustrous personality.
x.x.x
“Uhm… Well… He cheated on me.”
Relief? At telling someone? I had told a few people after breaking up with him. I turned to Andy, work forgotten for a few moments as I gazed into his comforting eyes. They were patient and mindless sometimes. They were listening eyes, they did not try to find and they did not try to hide. They simply took in what they saw and that was that.
“It was the custom paint job, wasn’t it?”
I suddenly laughed, and then I couldn’t stop. His question struck me as some strange form of closure. Andy understood, he could relate to me.
“He was such a great guy in the beginning…”
Andy put a hand on my shoulder. He was a makeshift brother, because I’d never had an older brother, and I’d always wanted one.
“They’re all great in the beginning. We show them off, everyone likes them… Gas is a little expensive, even at first, but it all seems worth it.”
He ruffled my hair, shrugging and sniffing at the same time. Crossed arms against a skinny chest.
“Then something happens. The engine light turns on, gas prices go up… And one day you realize they aren’t the perfect machine after all. Worst case scenario, they break down. Sometimes we can fix them, with a little bit of welding and bondo…”
I smiled, happy.
“And sometimes they’re destined for the trash heap. And you know what, the cars destined for the trash heap sometimes look like treasure to another person. Sometimes you lose something that you once cherished, but you’ll always remember, from that moment on, how much effort you want to put into a broken down piece of junk.”
His eyes wouldn’t meet mine until that moment, and he smiled.
“Shane was one of those cars who’s glove box wasn’t working properly, you know? It was one of those relationships where the car was so useless putting more time and money into it would be too much effort.”
I nodded, picking up fresh paper towel with a new sense of vigour. Shane and I were over, and I was cheated on, but that didn’t mean it was me who had to change necessarily. Shane wasn’t perfect either, despite his marvellous paint job.
I decided when I get a car, I’dll fill my glove box with all kinds of things. Little things, meaningful things, because my heart has room for all kinds of people, but I’d never put anything in my glove box that wouldn’t be useful. I’d learned my lesson, Andy-style. Learning what was useful would take time though, and experience. But I didn’t mind, trial and error had always suited me just fine.
“So, then you and Kaylie are the type of relationship where the car keeps breaking down, but somehow magically keeps working and coming back to life? You’ve got like, a “bondo-relationship?”
I was cuffed upside the head gently. Laughter in the detailing bay.
“Shut up Jet, you’ll see, we’ll work this time.”
And the soap dripped down the shop walls, impatient and thoughtful.