Gotcha Day

Mackenzie

The engine in my ailing Mini Cooper sputters as I slow to a standstill at the stoplight. “Come on, Beast. You can get another two blocks and have a nap. How about that?” I pat the dash with affection despite the fifteen-year-old clunker’s increasing threats to quit on me. When the green signal comes, I ease off the brake and hold my breath as I press the gas pedal down.

Beast trudges through the intersection, and I release the air from my lungs. “Good job, old boy.”

Honestly, I’m not sure why I haven’t been able to let go of my car. I don’t need it anymore, having recently moved from Orlando to New York City. Selling it would help me recover from the astronomical expense of shipping my life up the entire east coast. But this car has been with me since high school, seeing me through my clumsy attempts to become a successful adult.

Pulling into the alley, I park Beast behind the dumpster my office shares with the ramen shop next door. With the harsh bite of winter settling in, I might need to stop in to see Mr. and Mrs. Kimura before heading home to my shoebox of a flat tonight.

Inside, the air is still chilly, but tolerable with the warmth emanating from the kitchen next door, heating the bricks that separate us. The heater had already been on the fritz when I took this place over from my great aunt, but the day I walked in, it decided to quit entirely. After the unit rattled its last breath, Aunt Linda handed me the office keys, patted my shoulder with a sympathetic look, and told me, “Good luck.” Last I heard, Aunt Linda was trekking up her third of the seven summits of the world. It’s not how I’d spend my retirement, but she is happy.

As I am booting up the ancient computer in the reception area, the back door opens and slams shut again, followed by an audible shiver. I roll my eyes and let out an amused snort at Tyler’s dramatics.

Tyler has been my closest friend since I met him halfway through my veterinary program six years ago. I had gotten a job as a kennel tech at a nearby vet clinic to supplement my income while I finished school. Within my first week there, Tyler had noticed the dark circles under my eyes, the hair I started keeping in a messy bun to hide the greasy strands and tangles, and the six-packs of energy drinks I kept in my locker to get through the day. He was already a licensed vet tech, but he started helping me during particularly gnarly shifts and eventually started helping me study for my exams. Without him, I’m not sure I would be here, taking over my aunt’s animal clinic in the big city. I cried all over him the day he announced he would be moving up here with me. “You’ll need an experienced tech, and I’m the best.” I couldn’t tell him to check his ego on that one; he really is one of the best things in my life.

“Mac, please tell me we can prioritize fixing the heat now.” Tyler’s whining echoes down the narrow hallway as he strips off a half-dozen layers. “It’s been below freezing the last two days.”

“I don’t know, Ty. It seems pretty comfortable in here to me.” I try to keep my voice even, choking down on the giggle climbing up from my belly. “I’m not sure we need the heater. Mr. and Mrs. Kimura’s stoves seem to do the job pretty well.”

My appalled tech cranes his head around the corner to give me his iciest glare before he harrumphs and returns to peeling off his wool sweater, revealing a thick hoodie.

“I know you’re a Floridian, Tyler, but I don’t understand how you can wear that many layers and not spontaneously combust. Even if it is twenty degrees outside.”

“You know being born and raised in that state qualifies me as a reptile. I need sunlight and heat to survive!”

My laughter fills the room as I finally lose the battle to keep a straight face. “Those conspiracy theorists have been looking in the wrong place this entire time. The lizard people aren’t scattered around the globe, taking positions of power. They’re in Florida, taking over the beaches to lie in the hot sand.”

A quizzical glint flashes in Tyler’s eyes—probably wondering what the hell I’m on about, before he shakes his head, deciding to leave it alone. I continue chuckling to myself while opening the appointment schedule. It’s filled with a dozen of Aunt Linda’s most loyal clients; the ones who were willing to give me a chance, at least. We’re scraping by on the bills to run this place, but we really need new clients to do more than just survive.

Clicking my tongue in thought, I turn to Tyler who is turning the “Closed” sign on the front door over to “Open”.

“I’ll tell you what, my cold-blooded, best friend. If we can add three new clients to our schedule by the end of the week, I’ll call someone to repair the heater. Deal?”

Tyler flashes the big, goofy grin that tells me he’s ready to dive into a challenge. Then, he sticks out his palm waiting for mine to seal the promise with our super secret handshake that’s actually a variation on the one from the 90’s remake of The Parent Trap. Okay, we might be cringy millennials, but our pop culture fucking ruled.