Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [62]
Alice is struggling with the socket wrench and the drain plug and hoping she’s not going to have oil pouring down on her head. But Uncle Eddie is right there with a bucket to catch the oil. She pulls out the old gasket with her fingers and watches as Uncle Eddie removes the old filter with the oil filter wrench. Alice installs a new oil filter under Eddie’s watchful eye, and replaces the drain plug gasket. All of this is so messy and absorbing that neither of them notice when Ellie leaves the garage.
“Tighten the new filter hand tight. Just use your fingers. That’s it. You don’t want to overtighten it.”
He hands her a rag to wipe up any spilled oil, she puts their tools away, and he returns the car to earth so she can pour in four fresh quarts of oil.
“That was easy.” Alice is grinning from ear to ear.
“It’s not rocket science.”
“Thanks, Uncle Eddie.”
“You feel okay doing this on your own at home?”
“Sure.”
“Jacking the car up? Sliding under there?”
“Piece of cake.”
“Be careful with the jacks. You ever done that before?”
“Dad taught me how to change a tire when I was twelve.”
“Figures. I could come by on Saturday if you want. Just to make sure the jacks are safe and everything.”
“Sounds good.”
“Next time I’ll show you how to rotate your tires and check the brake systems.”
“Cool.”
He tosses her a grimy rag. She wipes her hands.
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything I can do?”
“You’re doin’ it.”
“Ha!”
“Hey, Mom said you might have met somebody.”
“Angie and her big mouth!”
“I heard her talking to you on the phone last night.”
“It’s a long shot.”
“She from around here?”
“I’m not ready to share details.”
“Oh, c’mon—”
“She’s a teacher. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Not at my school—”
“No, not at your school.”
“You promise?”
“Absolutely.”
“How many dates?”
“Two.”
“And she still likes you?”
“No accounting for taste.”
Alice looks into the empty waiting room.
“Where’s Ellie?” Alice asks.
“She was right there.”
“Ellie . . .?”
“Did she walk home?”
“No, her backpack’s still here.”
“Ellie . . . !”
“The bathroom?” Eddie suggests.
“You know how Ellie feels about that bathroom.”
Alice starts to panic, and then closes her eyes.
“I think I know where she is,” she says and heads for the door.
Eddie follows Alice to the parking lot out back where Matt’s truck is up on blocks. Sure enough, the tarp has been loosened next to the driver’s-side door.
“I’ll get her,” Alice says.
Crossing the parking lot, just those few feet to her dad’s truck, Alice almost can’t feel her feet touch the ground. When she opens the door and finds Ellie asleep on the seat, relief washes over her and threatens to spill over into tears. She waves at Eddie to let him know they’re all right and climbs up into the cab.
Ellie has a snapshot under her cheek and her thumb in her mouth. Alice looks at the photo: it’s a picture from Ellie’s birthday party last year, the one with the princess theme. Only Ellie doesn’t look like one of those perfect little princesses, she looks slightly possessed. She’s wearing a pink tutu and bright yellow tights and her red Dorothy shoes that Uncle Eddie gave her. And a fluffy white sweater and crooked homemade angel wings and long white gloves and a striped ski hat with a long, pointy top and a pom-pom. It’s a photo to make you laugh. It must have been in Matt’s visor. What else is up there?
Alice pulls the visor down and finds a whole collection of birthday photos. The year he and Angie made the dragon cake, the year they made the volcano cake; the silly hats and the candles and the wishes.
She pulls down the other visor and there’s a photo of Matt and Angie in bathing suits, with a Frisbee, laughing. Before kids, it looks like. She opens the glove compartment. A mini road atlas, a first-aid kit, a flashlight, a level, a tape measure, a packet of gum. She pulls out a piece. Not too stale.
Ellie opens her eyes, jerks her thumb out of her mouth, sits up, and grabs the photo from Alice.
“You okay?