Eve
The first thing people noticed when they walked into Jack’s Bar wasn’t the smell of beer. It was the smell of motor oil. No matter how many times Uncle Jack mopped the floor or scrubbed the wooden counter until it shone, the scent drifted across the street from Dad’s Garage every single day. It settled into the walls, mixed with fried onions and stale hops, and somehow turned into home.
I grew up here, between greasy floors and pool tables and I like to think I had a little of both in me. Uncle Jack is a smiley teddy bear, full of life, ex-military that always had a joke in tip of his tongue. His sandy-blond hair was just like mine and we shared green eyes like grandma. My dad is a slim tall man, serious when needed and full of smart comments when he wants.
While Uncle Jack organized the bar, I was tucked into my usual booth near the front window, my backpack open beside me and my laptop balanced between a basket of fries and a half-finished vanilla milkshake. The cursor blinked impatiently beneath the title of my English essay.
Write about the place that made you who you are.
Easy enough. I had been raised halfway between a toolbox and stale beer. I grew up in the middle of chaos. In Heaven Springs, a city so small everyone knows everyone’s names, I am lucky to have so many people who love me.
“You’re overthinking.” I looked up to find Oliver sliding into the booth across from me, dropping a pile of college applications with a dramatic sigh.
“How would you know?” I ask, even though I already know his answer.
“Your brows are too close together and you have a finger in your mouth.” He raises his eyebrows, questioning. I pull my finger away from my face.
“I’m writing.” I chuckle.
“Exactly.” He stole one of my fries before I could slap his hand away. “Shouldn’t be that hard for you.”
“Those are mine.” I say it with no heat whatsoever.
“They’re community fries.” It’s our routine. We never actually fight over anything, but our bickering is a permanent feature in our lives.
“I paid for them.” I say finally.
“No, you didn’t.” He is laughing now. I rolled my eyes and returned to the blinking cursor.
“I grew up in Heaven Springs,” I typed slowly. “Population: small enough that everyone knows your middle name before kindergarten.” Oliver snorted, running a hand through the black hair.
“That’s your opening?” He asks, looking through some of the college files.
“It gets worse.” I say, looking into his brown eyes.
“I can’t wait.” He pulled my fries near himself and is eating everything now.
Outside the front window, the familiar rhythm of “Adam’s Garage” carried across the street. A compressor hissed. Someone laughed. A wrench clattered onto concrete. I looked at my father working and the thought came by itself. It was not a place that made me who I am. It was him. A man who faced grief hand in hand with a little girl in pigtails.
“I still don’t get why you’re applying anywhere,” I said, pushing those thoughts away and glancing at the brochures spread across the table. “You already know they’re going to accept you.”
“They haven’t yet.” I know his biggest fear is getting stuck in here, so he is doing his best. Even though we still have 8 months ahead of us.
“They will.” I say and he shrugs, pretending not to care, but I knew him too well.
Oliver had been talking about leaving Heaven Springs since we were twelve. Chicago. Boston. New York. Somewhere with skyscrapers, traffic and enough strangers that nobody knew who his parents were.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I’m still contemplating, but I am going.”
“To college?” I nodded. “And then?” He asks as if he doesn’t know.
“Then I come back.” I state the obvious.
He stared at me as if I’d announced I planned to become an astronaut. “Seriously? That is still your plan?”
“My dad’s here. Jack’s here. Grandma’s here.”
“And?” He acts like I said nothing relevant.
“And...” I shrug. “I don’t want to live somewhere people don’t wave when you drive past.”
He groaned dramatically. “Evelyn Hayes, your ambition is aggressively adorable.”
“I have ambition.” I say dramatically. “I want to be a writer and I will be.” I am confident.
“You also want a husband, three kids, a vegetable garden and a golden retriever.” He says theatrically.
I roll my eyes. “I never said three kids.” I corrected him.
“So we’re negotiating?” I laughed despite myself. “Maybe two?” He pointed a fry at me. “I’m telling you right now, Kyle is going to hear this and think you’ve already named your future children.”
Heat climbed into my cheeks. “Kyle isn’t my boyfriend anymore.”
“He was.” He says looking at me from behind a page.
“For, like, three months.” I am embarrassed, I can’t deny it. Kyle is a teenager from the town. We go to High School together. The problem is that for a second I thought I might find a nice guy and start my plan earlier. But he was just not it. Too sweet for me. I wanted a bit more heat, like a hot chocolate with a pinch of brandy.
“And he cried when you dumped him.” Olie is laughing at the memory.
“He cried because I told him I’d rather finish my essay than go to the movies.” I shrug.
“You monster.” Before I could throw another fry at him, the front door swung open.
Dad walked in wearing grease-stained jeans, wiping his hands on an already hopeless rag.
“There she is,” he said with a tired smile. “Still pretending to study?” I tilt my head and he waves at Oliver.
“I’m actually studying.” I half scream.
“That’s exactly what someone pretending would say.” He kissed the top of my head before making his way to the counter.
Uncle Jack already had a cold beer waiting for him. Neither of them needed to ask.
“You are filthy, Adam.” Uncle Jack says, pretending to distance himself.
“And you are ugly, Jack.” Dad sits down, cracking his neck.
Uncle Jack looks at me and shrugs. “Fair.” He goes behind the bar. I don’t know why, but I feel like this is an important conversation and my guts tell me to pay attention. “Did I mention Derek arrives tomorrow?”
Dad seems impressed by the information, even though it means nothing to me. “The stubborn bastard finally decided to come visit?”
“Nah, he called me last week asking for that favor I owed him. He is going to live in the apartment above the bar and work here.” His voice sounds a bit tight, as if there’s something he isn’t saying.
Dad noticed it too.“Did he leave the team? Fuck, is he okay?” Dad is frowning and I could bet they are talking about someone that worked with Uncle Jack at the military. They never told me much about those years, just that when I was born, Uncle Jack wanted to come back and help dad raise me. I stopped listening to that.
I spent another hour drafting my essay and getting Oliver’s opinion. When we get up and start tidying up the place for opening tonight he says: “This is my cue to leave before you three put me to work.” He half hugs me, placing a kiss on my forehead before waving and leaving.
Dad finishes his beer, I dust the floor and Uncle Jack thanks me. “I am just paying for the milkshake and fries.”
He chuckles. “As if you ever did before. See you tomorrow.”
Dad and I walk to the truck and for the millionth time, I ask. “Can I drive?”
“Hell no. You can drive a small and slow car, safely.” He answers again. I groan and get in.
As soon as we get home, Dad goes to take a shower and I start dinner. He gets down and I freshen up while he finishes dinner. We eat in silence, do the dishes together and sit to watch TV.
The same thing every night. And I love it.
