The G(r)ay Area

Part Twelve

Part Twelve.

Aiden age 13.

"He needs some time, Aiden. I'm sure you can understand." Lucas's mom said, standing at the door.

"What if he never wants to talk to me again?"

"He's your best friend. I'm sure he will."

I sighed and scuffed my shoe on the step. "What if I made a mistake? You know, by telling him the truth."

"If it was a mistake, he wouldn't have kissed you."

"Can you... can you tell him I'm sorry?"

"Of course, sweetie."

I couldn't see Lucas but I knew he was crying. When he was stressed out, he cried.

I headed home and was just about to walk in the door when I heard my dad call for me from the backyard.

I rolled my eyes before I turned and walked around the house. Dad was waxing the car, a towel draped over his shoulder.

"Wanna help change the oil?"

"You want my help?"

"You need to learn sometime, Aiden."

"But I don't do car stuff."

"It'd be helpful to learn in case you have to change the oil on your own or if the car breaks down."

"That's what you're for."

"Aiden-"

"I'm not good at this stuff, dad."

"You can learn. Come on."

I sighed and walked over to where he was leaning over the engine of the car.

"Alright, I need you to crawl under the car with me."

"Dad-" I groaned, hating the idea of getting dirty at all.

"All you need to do is hold this bowl for me."

"A bowl?"

"Yeah, to collect the old oil."

"Why can't you just refill it?"

"It's not good for the car, Aiden."

I sighed and got down on my hands and knees. I crawled as close to the car as I could then lowered myself onto my stomach.

"Hold it right here. Careful not to get the oil on the pavement."

"I'd rather have it not get on me."

"Yeah, don't do that either. Your mother would have my head."

We worked in silence for a few minutes. Dad poured the new oil in as I caught the old stuff. He showed me the basics on how to do it, saying next time I could do it myself.

Mom must have seen us outside because she came out with lemonade, a smile on her face.

Dad and I sat down on the steps leading to the back door, our drinks in our hands.

"Have you met any cute girls at school? Middle school is a chance to mature and grow into yourself-" Dad said, looking over at me.

I groaned. "Dad."

"What? Come on, Aiden. You can tell me."

"I don't like any girls."

"Still in that cootie phase, huh? Alright. Well, it'll pass. Believe me."

"Dad, it's not that."

"It's okay to not want to get into anything now. I mean, you're young. You have the rest of middle school and high school to enjoy yourself."

"And after that?"

"Then there's either college or..."

"Or?"

"Have you thought about your future? At all?"

"Dad, I'm 13."

"It's never too early, son."

I rolled my eyes. "I haven't thought of anything, dad."

"Well you're going to need to know early so you can hit the deadlines on time."

"That won't be for like another five years."

"Thosefive years will fly by. Thirteen sure have."