Flower Moon

Why is it such a common thing to group women and cars together? There are all those stupid quotes about women being like cars, and I am trying for the life of me to understand why. Where does it come from? I s'pose misogynists. But still.

Cars are easy. She is not.

Which is why I've been sweating under the hood of the Rabbit all day. Not cause it was hard work but because I was thinking about our date later on. It wasn't hot out, it was raining, and the work was totally mindless.

Thing is, I never overthink when I'm actually with Bella; it's the lead-up before I see her that has me walking into walls acting a fool. Billy says he's gonna throw me in the corner and put a dunce cap on me next time I zone out when he's trying to talk to me. Honestly, I deserve it, especially considering the fact I'm sort of flunking in school.

Hail started to pound down on the garage roof that sheltered me. Damn it. Watch, I get the thing finally running, and first drive out, I gotta replace the windshield for hail damage. Would be my luck.

I continued tinkering around under the hood, adjusting the carburetor and spark plugs. The engine still made that annoying ticking noise, which meant the timing belt needed changing. It was a delicate task but still a thoughtless one.

Meanwhile, I'm over here like: "should I bring her something this time? Flowers? Snacks? Her coffee order from Shot in the Dark?"

No, she'd be so embarrassed and would definitely kick me.

The bowling alley we're going to looks so small on the outside I'm not even sure I could fit in it. And yeah, I Googled it. Along with the menu. And yeah, I already know what I'm getting and precisely what bowling ball I want. The lime green one. What other one is there to get? I like to be prepared, is all.

I wiped the sweat beading on my forehead with my bicep. Goddamn, did she make me sweat.

I had one thing left to do on the car until she was all good to go. (Wait, I just had an epiphany: I gendered the car. Is that where the comparison comes from? If so, my next car is gonna be named Sir Kevin Ronaldo.) I grabbed a wrench from my toolbox and tightened a loose fan belt, the last quick fix to complete my masterpiece.

When finished, I dropped the wrench, let it clatter to the floor, and stepped back. I dragged a rag from my pocket across my head and exhaled.

"It's alive!" I said aloud, slamming down the hood. I ducked down into the driver's seat and turned the ignition. Aw, yeah. We're in business, baby.

In my room, I yanked out the nicest casual outfit I could find from my dresser. Dark blue jeans, a crisp white v-neck and my vintage brown leather jacket. I looked in the mirror and smoothed out any wrinkles. Upon closer inspection, I had a few streaks of grease on my face, which I scrubbed off with a washcloth. My hair was also a mess, so I brushed it out, and on my left side, I twisted the hair that framed my face into a braid, the way Bells taught me. She's gonna be proud. I completed the fit with my black utility boots and headed out the door.

—-

I can't lie; I felt cool as hell driving down the rez in the rabbit. I was not gonna let the obnoxious rain stop that. Sadly, Quil or Embry wouldn't be outside to see me driving by, but that's okay; I was excited to show Bella. She'd been watching me work on the thing for months.

When I pulled up to the Swan house, I honked the horn. After fumbling with the radio to shut it off, I noticed it was 7 pm on the dot, just in time.

A few minutes later, Bella came darting out of the house with an umbrella. She wore her light brown parka with the fuzzy hood, those adorable fucking mittens, faded blue jeans, and hunter wellies. She opened the passenger door while hilariously attempting to close the umbrella that wouldn't close.