The Design of Goodbye by Kara Renee

Author:Kara Renee [Renee, Kara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

chapter twenty-eight

My dad was stressed.

He’d woken me up early, trying to find something around the house to fix. His form of stress relief normally involved a home improvement project, like replacing tile in the laundry room or re-staining the back porch.

It never ended well, and he always had to hire a handyman to fix whatever he’d started.

Today, though, he hadn’t been able to find anything to fix. Apparently, he’d been stressed a lot over the past few years. With no projects left to accomplish, he decided to work on his car. He’d been putting off changing the oil and topping off fluids for the last few months for good reason: he was terrible at car maintenance. I didn’t suggest he take his car to the auto shop like I normally did, because after Thanksgiving, I was determined to make sure I said nothing that would upset him. So, while he attempted car maintenance, I hid in my mom’s sewing room and planned to work on Starlight until Liam showed up for tutoring.

I’d become so engrossed in sewing I hadn’t realized Liam was late until it was almost one. Determined to drive around town and search for him, I ran into the garage, only to find my dad sitting in a plastic chair, relaxing, laughing, and talking to—

“Why is Liam under your car?”

“Well . . .” My dad laughed. “He caught me putting windshield fluid in the coolant.”

“Dad.”

“He almost did,” came Liam’s muffled voice. “I showed up right in time.”

I pointed to Liam’s legs. “But why is he under your car?”

“He’s changing my oil,” said my dad, proud. He leaned back in his chair, as if he was hanging out on a beach near Lake Michigan instead of his garage.

At least he seemed relaxed, but . . .

“You put Liam to work?”

“He offered.”

“Did he?” I asked.

“I did,” said Liam.

My dad whispered, “I don’t think he trusts me.”

“I don’t,” replied Liam.

I glanced around the garage. My car was in the driveway, and in its place were empty bottles of car stuff, dirty rags, and strange tools. A lot had been going on. “How long has Liam been here?”

My dad shrugged. “An hour?”

“An hour?”

“We were chatting.” My dad said this casually, like he and Liam had conversations without me all the time.

“About?”

Liam slid out from underneath the car. “You.”

This was bad. This was really bad.

“Don’t worry,” said Liam as he stood, carrying the drain pan and setting it on one of my dad’s tool benches. “No embarrassing stories were told.”

Liam grabbed a bottle of car oil before walking to the hood of the car, where my dad joined him. “Did you know Liam’s never had a real Christmas tree?”

I gasped. “You haven’t?”

“I haven’t,” said Liam, as he started pouring the oil.

My mouth fell open at his nonchalance and the audacity of it all—everyone should have the experience of picking out and decorating a real Christmas tree at least once. My dad gave me a look that said, See? We need to fix this.

“Let’s go get one,” suggested my dad.

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