Mechanic's Hands I

Mechanic’s Hands

As he was jogging down the main road out of town he came up on the interstate. At this point in the desert it had narrowed to a single lane each way made of cracked asphalt and covered in gravel and dust. The two roads intersected each other at a perfect ninety degree angle, making blown tires and flipped cars common in these parts. He would always just jog past and shake his head at the speedsters that tried the sharp turn at full speed, but this couple caught his eye. Standing on either end of last year’s Lexus model were a woman and what looked to be her younger sister. The way the woman held herself completely erect and the younger sister scuffed her shoes in the dirt made it look as if they had a fight just before he passed them. There was steam billowing out of their still shut hood and the woman was holding what looked to be a calculator up to the sun.
“Hey, was just running past. It looked like ya guys needed help.”
The woman tucked her calculator behind her hip and eyed him suspiciously. Taking in the stained undershirt, and the greasy blue jumpsuit pulled to his waist her voice caught.
“Your, uh, th’ car looks bad.” He offered, trying to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and leaving a dirty smudge across his strong brow.
He could see the woman spinning what looked to be a huge diamond ring, so big it may have been fake, into the palm of her hand. “God Mother! Answer the damn man!” The young blond snapped from atop the trunk of the car.
“N-No. My uh, my husband, the Police officer, is on his way. He said he would be here in three minutes. With his gun.”
He just looked at her very perplexed, trying to run through his head what officer he knew but not the family.
“Shit Mom! Look buddy – we’re from New York, my grandma lives about thirty minutes down the road and our car crapped out on us right here.” She said, kicking the tire. “Well – ten feet that way, but we coasted.” At this she sent a hateful look at her mother and said, “And my father isn’t on the way. He’s an accountant in Jersey and probably couldn’t lift a bag of flour. And they haven’t spoken in two years.”
The mother shuddered and just looked at her daughter. Then she turned the callous look at him and it changed to fear. “Sir – I don’t have any money. All I have is five dollars. But I’ll give it to you, if- if that would help.”
Finally realizing that he had found two young women alone in a compromising situation he changed tactics. Backing up a few feet he said, “Nah, Lady. I’m just the mechanic in my town. Bout a mile thata way. I’ll be back twenty minutes with the tow truck to get ya some help.”
“No – no. We’re fine. I said help is on the way.” The woman had visibly started to tremble.
“No.” The girl barked, this time marching to the front of the car. She stood her full height and looked dead into the boy’s eyes. “No help is on the way. My grandma is in a nursing home and doesn’t even know we’re coming. Damn cell network crapped out on us, and I’m getting a sun burn. Now, if you really are a mechanic you can tell us what is wrong with our car. If not I’ve told eight people where I am going and they expect to hear from me tonight.” It was almost a dare he saw in her eyes.
“Sure. No problem.” He dropped the ‘b’. “Pop th’ hood I’ll take a look. Turn the car on too.” The mother took this chance to run into the car and slam the door. He heard the pop of the hood and then the kick of the engine.
“There is a bunch of steam and a ping-pong sound. It won’t accelerate.” The girl stated. Even through the glare on her face he could see she was a very pretty young girl with high cheek bones and bright green eyes.
“Well, ya run a pin through the engine. No oil. N it looks like you’re outa antifreeze. Gotta go back to the shop, may need a new engine.”
“K. Well you said that you can go get a truck? Sorry I was so mean, but you are a bit rough looking.”
“Ya don’ mix your words do ya. Yeah, I’ll go get the truck, be back in twenty. Maybe half hour.”
“K. Well thanks. I’ll, uh. I’ll stay with the car – my mom would shit herself if I joined you.”


He returned 25 minutes later in the truck. It hit every pot hole and bump in the road, he had always found it ironic that the mechanic shop had a bad tow truck. When he rounded the corner he found the girl in a big sun hat, skinny shirt that showed her boobs and stomach, and a pair of sandals. She hadn’t changed her jeans, and she was sipping a diet coke. When he got out of the truck he could smell sun block and the heat of the engine, the mother had been trying to run it for the air conditioning.
“Told her not to.” The girl said. “Told her it’d burn up the engine worse. Guess she didn’t care. “
He backed the truck up and lined everything up. The woman was refusing to get out of the car, so he tried to speak with the girl instead. He’d heard that people from New York were very rude, so he stepped lightly. “So, ya said she your mom?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Thought you was sisters.”
“Her doctor would appreciate that. She’s had eight plastic surgeries and three bouts of liposuction. She’s not a blonde either. Her hair turned poop brown when she had me.” The girl seemed to relish in telling him this.
“So. Ya uh. Ya th’ oldest?”
“Only. She hates kids. Well – I’m not a kid anymore, but she hated me when I was one. “
“How old are you?”
“What?”
He stood up and wiped his hands on his butt. “Tell your mom to turn it off.”
“Turn off the fucking car mom!” The girl screamed at the window. “Sorry.” She apologized as she sauntered back over to the front of the car.
“Ya, uh. Ya guys arguing?”
“Arguing? We hate each other. Have since I turned ten. But you asked me something else…”
“How old are you?” He felt like a broken record.
“Twenty one. You?”
“Oh. Uh. Twenty two.” He had run out of polite conversation and had to chain the car up. He felt weird about bending over in front of her, he was aware of the grease on his pants. Making effort to look casual he walked over to the other side of the car and crouched down, trying to find a safe place to hook such a new car.
“What are you doing?” She asked, bending over, her hat falling to the ground. This also made her full breasts fall out of her tiny top as well.
“I uh.” He was too bashful to speak to a woman he could so clearly see. “Chainin’ up th’ car. Gotta pull th’ front wheels off th’ road and take her home.”
“Her who?”
“Car.”
“Oh.” The girl stood up at this point, much to his relief. “You call a car ‘her’?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“They’re beautiful. ‘N I like takin’ care of ‘em.” Suddenly aware of how stupid he sounded he blushed and tried to shut up.
“Takin’ care of ‘em huh?” She said imitating him.
He looked up to see her legs shoulder width apart, hands on hips, and a friendly smile on her face. The smile somehow softened her harsh demeanor and made her more beautiful. Feeling bold at the positive reception to such a stupid comment he tried to crack a joke. “Plus – makes me feel good to say th’ sentence, ‘I got her all figured out.’ N mean it when I’m sober.”
At this the girl started to laugh. She folded her long, thin frame down to the ground and hugged her knees watching him. He was very handsome. She had somehow felt safe seeing him jogging towards them. She had seen him long before he’d seen her. She watched his broad shoulders and narrow hips rotate towards her for almost a full minute before he’d noticed them. His arms were strong and defined, and she could see his pecks through his shirt. The rest of his body, from the belly button down, was shrouded in a baggy blue jumpsuit that was stained on the knees and thighs with grease. He had a handsome face and strong brow. His hair was shorn very short; she had thought he was in the military.
“Why do you keep your hair so short?” She asked, imagining him with longer hair.
“Live in the desert.”
“That the only reason?”
“I run. N I work on cars.”
“Are you saying you can’t have nice hair and work on cars?”
“Nah. I know lota boys at work keep their hair long. Most of ‘em still in school. But they gotta grease it back real heavy to keep it outa their eyes. They greasy from head to toe, looks bad.”
“You said you run.”
That was a statement. No one in town replied to statements with a statement unless they were done talking. So he quietly finished his job, figuring that he’d said something wrong. When he was done he started towards the driver’s door, and she headed over to the passenger side. Jumping in beside him she seemed to be appraising him with her look. “It’s hot. Why did you put your jumpsuit back on?”
“Workin’. Gotta wear my uniform on th’ clock.”
“You make your own hours?”
“Nah, I was on lunch.” He said as he tried to start the truck. He had hoped that the engine would turn over the first time – he took it personally that the truck didn’t work. He never cared in town, but with these people, who didn’t know the work he did, it was embarrassing.
“You’re a mechanic and the truck doesn’t work.”
“Yeah. I’m a mechanic. Promise. Really am.” He was worried she didn’t believe him. He’d heard about guys that pulled women over on the empty parts of the interstate pretending to be cops, but really they raped or killed the women. He didn’t want her to think he was one of them.
“I believe you. I just think it’s funny. Your shop fixing cars and then the shop car not working. It does have the logo on the side of it, bad advertising.”
“Ya really don’t mix words. Yeah, said that to my boss. We don’t get ‘nough business to ‘ford repairs.”
“Can’t you do them yourselves?”
“Yeah. But we gotta get parts. Starters, hoses, few other things. Aint ‘nough money for payin’ customer’s parts and ours.”
“Well, you guys have got to be pretty busy.”
“Nah. Town of hundred fifty people, don’t get too much work. Some-a the kids at work say we should mess up people’s cars at night. Get more work.”
“They don’t really.”
“Nah. They good Christian boys. Just kiddin round so they got more money for th’ movies and arcades.” He had figured out that people from New York rarely asked questions. They just said things and expected you to continue to conversation. So every time that she said something, but he could think of an answer, he said it. By this time they had reached town.
‘Town’ looked more like a few shacks strung together, in his opinion. There were two restaurants in town, a diner and a cafe that only opened after five in the evening. You took dates to the evening place. It had a movie theater and attached arcade, and a grocery. The seven eleven was attached to the gas station, which was across the street from his mechanic’s shop. Beside that was the library and bank, and across the street were flower shops, candy parlors, clothing shops, dress shops, a handmade toy store and the pharmacy. And that was downtown. The town ha d a newspaper, but it was a bit pointless. By the time it had hit the papers everyone knew the news. It was run outside of an old home someone had converted into the “Press House” so it was down in the neighborhoods. The main road, “downtown”, deadened into the church, which held the entire town. Right when you entered the town limits there was the police station on one side and the doctor’s office on the other. Everyone joked they were the gate keepers. The doctor didn’t do much good in emergencies. They called the hospital and they send a helicopter out. And the police had little to do, not much happened in town. To the right and left of the church were the roads that led out to the neighborhood, mainly cul-de-sacs and deadens. From the air it looked like a big huge letter “T” or an oddly shaped tree. The town was only about five miles wide and looked like it had been passed by time.
“Wow, you guys are stuck in the sixties. Minus all the political tension.”
“Yeah.” His shoulders had dropped a little, and his head hung slightly.
“It’s not bad here. I mean – it’s cool. I can’t believe my mother stayed in the car that whole time, I am so sorry.”
“Nah. I think you’re a nicer person when she’s not around.” He smiled, but it was an honest response.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t even be hanging out with her, but she insisted it would make grandma happy to see me. So I obliged. I’m on spring break from school.”
“How long?” By now they were just sitting a few yards away from the mechanic’s shop. He was waiting to finish the conversation to pull into the shop; he would have to go back to work and couldn’t finish talking to her. It felt like he wanted to know more about her the more she said.
“Well, I was done with testing on Thursday. But break officially runs next week. I’m going to Maui on Monday, going back to school Sunday.” She said this with a big grin.
He pulled into the parking lot in front of the shop. It was empty, and they made it room to work and turn vehicles around. Parking was out back. He killed the engine and she hopped out. By the time he was in front of the car the mother was out and looking furious.
“How long will this take? I want to be out of here by six.”
“Ma’m. With all due respect, it’s two p.m. on a Saturday. Aint nothing happenin by six.” His boss Tony had come out of the office when he heard the truck pull in. Tony owned the place, and it had his name on it. Which meant he dealt with all the customers personally.
“What do you mean aint nothing happening by six?! I have appointments, I am a busy woman!” She barked.
While she screamed at Tony the girl walked back over to the car and took her bags out of the back. She had two shoulder bags and a roll case. They were all brown and pink and had the word “Coach” on them. “Gift from my dad when I went off to college. Mom wanted me to go to NYU, but Brown had a better Pre-Med program.”
“Brown. That’s in Rhode Island, right?”
“Yes, no one knows that. It’s small… but not this small.” She said, appraising the main road. “Where do we stay?”
“Holly’s B&B. Jus’ past th’ café, see it? It’s got a pink sign.”
“Yeah. I see it.”
“I’ll get Tommy to take ya. He th’ shop’s kid. Only 13.”
“And he’s allowed to work here?”
“Yeah. Well, he’s Tony’s kid. He cleans up and keeps all the tools straight.”
“You seem to be talking a lot more. Must be comfortable in your element. So what time does this place close?”
“Five. Probably won’ pop the hood ‘till Monday.” He dropped his ‘b’ again. He had been doing it all his life, but now that he was speaking to her it upset him. He braced himself for her to get angry as well.
“Ok, where is Tommy?”
“Yo –Tommy!” He called.
A little freckled redhead came out of the garage with a large streak of grease down the left side of his nose. “I tol’ you –its Tom!”
“Sure. Take her bags to Holly’s will ya?” He said, motioning to her with his head.
“Yes Ma’m.” He said to the girl. He took her bags and the roll case and started down the street.
“So, I’ll see you at six?” She called over her shoulder. “At the diner across the street.”
This time he couldn’t think of an answer, so he didn’t say anything. She didn’t really give him the chance to either, she had already walked away. He couldn’t help but watch her as we walked away. He kept looking at her butt, and long hair swishing over her shoulders. Suddenly he was filled with apprehension and self doubt.


Her head spun with the day’s events as she waited for him. She didn’t even know his name, but something about him just drew her. It wasn’t the confidence, the boy had very little of that. His speech was quaint, but that wasn’t it either. To be honest, it was his body. He turned her on immensely. She couldn’t help but play out how it would feel to kiss him, what he looked like naked. How he would feel on top of her, his weight supported on those big shoulders, his hips dropping onto hers. She had arrived early and ordered a diet coke. Wanting a chance to look over the menu and take in the town. After she had checked into the B&B, in her own room on the second floor (her mother was on the first) she had roamed the town. Enjoying the scenery and the atmosphere; his place was completely closed off from the modern world. She had run out of the screen door of the house, hearing her mother on the phone in the lobby. The woman was ranting about the rinky dink town, the deplorable businesses, and her need for a cab.
When he first walked in she didn’t recognize him, but he saw her right away. She gave him a wink as he walked over.
“Hey.”
“Hi. You look really good.” He had gone home to shower and there wasn’t any grease on him at all. His face was clean and bright. He was obviously a pretty fair person, but the sun and desert had permanently tanned him the color of an ice coffee. He had very blue eyes and black hair. He was also clean shaven.
“Oh. Uh. Thanks.” He had worried that the t-shirt and jeans were too casual, but relaxed when he saw that she hadn’t changed her outfit at all. He made sure to keep his hands in his pockets or lap. “You go to Brown.” He tried very hard to do the statement-question thing she had perfected, but it sounded stupid coming out of him.
“Oh yeah. I’m way into the environment and people, so I’m going to become a pediatrician. I plan to work for a few years with Doctors Without Borders, then come back for my masters and go into practice.”
“Who?”
“Doctors Without Borders. You’ve never heard of them?” He shook his head no. “Oh. Well. They are a group of doctors that travel the world and nurse sick people, usually in third world countries where people can’t afford doctors.”
“That’s cool.” He felt very stupid.
“Yeah. My dad is this big wig accountant that works with millionaires, and my mom was his trophy wife for years. Then they split because she hates men almost as much as kids. So now she went school and she’s a broker. She’s always bringing men home. Rich ones.”
“She don’ like men?”
“No. She’s not gay. No. She loves sex with men. But after divorcing my dad all she does is date them for a few weeks and breaks it off.”
It embarrassed him to talk about sex with anyone. Especially her. He was no virgin, nor was he prude. But he had just met her, and for some reason couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was the first time in his life he couldn’t get a girl out of his head for even a moment. By then the waitress had come over and he ordered water.
“Want some fries?” She asked him before the waitress had left.
“Sure. Sidea fries, Emmy.” He said.
“You know her?”
“Know everyone in town. Only hundred fifty people.”
“I remember you saying that. Do you often get people off the side of the road, same way you found me?”
“Sometimes. They’re usually from round this state and the next.”
“Ah. So. What about your parents?”
He didn’t want to answer that. He took a deep breath and prepared himself. “My Daddy left when I was three, jus’ me n’ my mama. She makes clothes for the store, n’ sometimes cleans people’s homes.” Not even his school mates in town were too kind about his mother’s jobs when he was younger. They were alright now that they had grown up, but as boys they were relentless. “She use to drink. She quit now, but I can’t be drinkin’ roun’ the house.”
“My mom takes pills. But most the people I know are messed up somehow – that’s what make’s them who they are. Why work at the mechanics?”
“Love cars. Almost as much as women. Can tear ‘em up and put ‘em back together again. Can work on engines, frames, drive trains, body work… everythin’ from the grill t’ the tail pipe.” He knew it wasn’t much. He was afraid to say that he did it because he was never good in school. It was easy work. He liked doing things with his hands.
“Wow! So you’re a master mechanic. Can you do that with things other than just cars?”
“Wha’d ya mean?” The fries had come, but he didn’t want to take any.
“I mean. Like, if I gave you an alarm clock, a radio, the remote to a TV. You could take it apart to the screws and put it back together so it would work?”
“Better ‘n before.” He felt a bit of pride in himself.
“Not many people can do that. Very few can actually! It’s a very rare talent.”
“Guess I am only one in the shop that can do it.” She thought it was very cute the way he smiled when he said it. Apparently no one had ever pointed out that he had such a special skill.
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” She took a handful of fries and smiled over at him. She really was beautiful. Her blond hair was kind of wavy and went down past her shoulders a bit, and her green eyes lit up when she talked about something she liked. He still felt like a dumb small town boy when he spoke to her, but was relieved that she wasn’t the same as her mother. Rich and looking down upon others.
After dinner he offered to take her back to the B&B, even if it was only a few doors down. He wanted that extra few minutes with her. He didn’t understand how it could be that some girl he had just met today could intrigue him so much and in so many ways. As they left eh restaurant he was afraid of what she would do next.
“May I hold your hand?” She asked. It was the one thing he didn’t want to hear.
“You don’ wanna do that.” He said very quietly.
“What?”
“I got mechanic’s hands. You don’ wanna do that.”
“What are those? And now I want to because you said no. Let me see.” And she stuck both her hands out like she was waiting to be handed something.
He closed his eyes and stuck out his right hand. He had stared at them in the shower, and was very embarrassed by them. He had removed the skin off of this middle knuckle today, and his knuckle on his little finger had an infected cut. There was grease under his short nails, none were the same length. His hands were rough and dry, they snagged his mother’s sweaters when he hugged or touched her. And the grease he could not get off settled in the pads of his fingers giving the impression he had just been fingerprinted. The tips of his fingers were almost numb because of the calluses, and the pads at the base of each finger had a callous from the socket wrench he always held. Having such dry skin you could see the grain of skin and how it grew on his hands, and he had very little hair because it was always being scratched off. He wore a silver band on the pinky finger of his left hand, the only thing of value he owned. It was a token from his grandfather, and incredibly scratched up. It had two generations of wear and tear from car maintenance. And he had burnt the knuckle of his first finger today while he was welding a piece onto the frame of a car. The skin hadn’t blistered, but he had turned raw and hard like an animal hide and it burnt to put it under hot water. There was a large white scar across the top of his hand from six years ago when he was trying to salvage pieces out of a wreck. He had needed five stitches for it.
She ran her fingers over each scratch and scar, then turned his hand over and ran her four fingers down the palm of his hand and out to each fingertip. This action somehow soothed him, sent an electric jolt up his arm, and made all his hair stand on end at the same time. He had never been touched that way. At this he opened up his eyes and looked down at her hands. Each finger was meticulously manicured, she had a large ring, probably from high school, on her right hand, and her fingers were long and nimble. They were the hands of a doctor. At seeing her perfectly kempt, flawless hands, he pulled his away in shame. But she reached back for him, this time grabbing at the base of his elbow and sliding her hand all the way down to this wrist. She turned it over and inspected his fingertips closer.
“How long have you been a mechanic?” She asked.
“Nine years.” He managed to say.
She was still looking at his hands, both this time, one in each of hers. “These are the hands of a working man. Someone who has earned an honest living for almost a decade, and someone who goes to bed each night full of pride at what he has done. These hands have changed countless lives, and I love them.” As she said the last part she looked up into his eyes. All at once he wanted to kiss her. To hold her, to hear her say more. Never had a girl, or woman, complemented his hands. Any time he tried to reach for someone, run his fingers over her body, she would complain about his hands. Or would hand him some lotion the next day. Or ask that he stop what he was doing. It was worst when he was trying to be intimate. Everything from touching her face to pleasuring her body, either she complained or he felt guilty. She interrupted his thought process, “It’s who you are. It’s what you love. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your hands ever, they bring you joy.”
They walked in silence the rest of the way to the B&B, her holding his hand, him worrying about how much he was sweating.
She kept thinking about the day. It was not ask important to her as before to sleep with him. She may have been even more attracted to him now than before, but the physical act of sex had dropped on her priority list. Now she wanted to know more about him, his history, what he liked to do. Once they got to the B&B he stopped abruptly, as if not noticing that they had made that short distance already. He turned and looked at her, but couldn’t say anything. He felt as if there were no air in his body, and if he opened his mouth he wasn’t sure what would escape. So instead he reached for her face, but at the last moment touched her hair where it hung right below her ear. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight. He left before his true feelings could show themselves and he did something that would make him feel stupid or regret. As he walked towards his home he stuck his hands deep in his pockets and realized that he would still keep them there, would still avoid shaking hands and touching fine fabric. He would still wash them three times every night, and try to prevent them from cracking with Vaseline before bed. But it would also be more proud of what he did each day, and would know that it was worth something.


(to be con't)