CHAPTER 6
"Why do you even believe Cassie's lies?" Casey demanded. "You know just as well as I that she's dishonest, and jealous, and bitter!"
Michael wouldn't meet her gaze. "And what if I sort of suspected you anyways, before Cassie said anything?"
"You're kidding me!" Tightness made its way through her intake, choking her. "I've been nothing but honest, and loyal to you. You can't even believe my word over my sister's!"
"Why else would you be sneaking off without me, if there was something about me you didn't like? Something I lacked, that someone else could give you, maybe?" His tone was cold.
"That's not the case." Casey didn't know how she managed to keep herself together, but she kept focusing on the tension in her springs, rather than the heartbroken feeling inside, and it seemed to work.
"Fine," Michael snorted. "But I'm not giving up." He turned to face her, headlights glowing coldly. "I'm setting things aside for now, since we have a little daughter whose life we could ruin by splitting apart right now. But, don't think I've forgotten about anything."
It's all over for me. "When will you realize that Cassie's only ambition is to ruin my life? And I hate her for it!" Cold rage made her tense suspension burn.
Michael remained steady on his wheels. "Prove to me that nothing happened back there, prove to me that you're innocent, and I'll believe you."
"I can't!" she snapped. "Prove to me that I'm guilty." That'll show him.
"For now, I just have Cassie's word." He turned back to his computer screen. "You should probably finish cleaning this floor."
He's still that spiteful, cocky young man he was when I first started falling for him, and, oh, I hate him as much now as I did then! How was it possible to hate someone she loved so much?
"Your dad said not to be in here long," Michael continued. "If you started cleaning instead of staring at me, that would probably work in your favor."
"Shut up!" she hissed, turning away. "You're ridiculous, and stupid, and the biggest know-it-all I've ever met." She rolled the rag beneath her wheel, scrubbing hard at the floor beneath her.
"You don't mean that."
He's still going on! "Where do your loyalties lie, Mike, if you believe my jealous sister over me? You know she's wanted you from the very beginning. She thinks I took you from her."
"Really?"
She had to turn around to look at him again, and maybe smack him for what she thought was a witty remark. But, she realized his headlights were clouded now with just a little confusion. He's stupid to have not realized.
"Maybe you should have gotten with Cassie to start with, to save me the heartbreak."
"Don't be silly." His gaze softened.
She turned the other way, and started scrubbing again. And maybe, I should have just tried things out with Bryan. He's so much more sincere! The poor young truck was terrified of being alone, so much so that he had made a deal with her: if they were both single by the time her dad hired again, they'd get together. And I agreed to it. Right now, it was looking like Casey may be single again, in the near future. She shivered. I was young, and impulsive, and I made rash decisions when it came to Mike. Not that he's terrible or anything, but he's bad enough if he can't believe me over my sister!
"You missed a spot." She flinched away when she realized he was right beside her. She could feel warm air rolling off his engine, enveloping her. "You're missing a lot of spots, actually." He chuckled softly. "Maybe it's best you take a little break, and come back to it when you're more focused."
"What are you saying?" She shuddered with a sudden longing.
"What I'm saying is," he nudged the rag away from her wheel, "let's stop your cleaning, and do something more fun. What do you say?"
I'll use this to my advantage. "I say you apologize first, then we'll do whatever you want."
"Really?" He pushed his wheel against hers. "What is there to apologize for?"
"Your stupidity," she hissed.
"Hmm, I dunno." He took in a breath. "We'll think about that later, okay? And I'll help you clean this floor as soon as we're done-"
Thump. George was rolling into the building.
"It's always him," Michael whispered, backing away.
"What's happening, lovebirds?" George halted beside them.
"You weren't supposed to be here this morning," Michael said.
"I never am." George shifted his wheels. "Anyways, Rob wants you to try and breed a pair of those red colored dinkemorts in Zone 3, because we're running out of space in Zone 1, and-"
"Why can't Bryan just do it?" Michael snapped. "Is he incompetent?"
"Maybe." George bounced his springs. "Don't shoot the messenger. Anyway, he wants you to head over to Zone 1 and get them, and he said Casey can help, since it's better to carry them in a van. More concealed, he said. But he said when she's done cleaning – is she? Still looks dirty in here. Maybe that's from me, I tracked dirt in-"
"George, you're fine," Casey interrupted.
"If you've done all you needed, you can go," Michael added.
"But I'm not sure I have, that's the problem. I want to be sure I'm not forgetting... Kimberly says my mental state is getting worse." He was turning his wheels back and forth now. "I think it's just because I don't care to hide it anymore, the older I get. So, just make sure they're two red ones."
"We've got it, George." Michael gave him a hard stare. "Thank you. You can go."
"Okay, uh, thank you." He turned around, wheels chirping a little as he accelerated on the slippery floor. "Sorry. I always do that." He kept muttering to himself as he left the building.
Michael let out a heaving sigh.
"You think it's his old age?" Casey asked. "He's not going crazy, is he?"
"No, no." Michael chuckled. "He's always been that way."
"What's wrong with him?" Casey wondered. He's a bit different from anyone else. No doubt just as smart, and kind, in his own funny ways.
"I don't know." The pickup turned and headed back to his computer screen. "He's a little hyperactive. A little lacking on attentiveness. A tad impulsive. And sensitive."
"So, he's flawed." Now it just sounds like he's picking on him. "Aren't we all?"
"Some more than others." He flashed her a look.
"So you still don't believe me, about the street race?"
"I still don't know what to believe, but I'm going to put this all aside for now. Until Omaira is older, that is."
So I have just several months left with him, and then it's over. Her transmission sunk. Cassie had ruined her whole life.
...
It had been awhile since Casey had managed to have a genuine conversation with Michael, and possibly even longer since he had told her he loved her. We're a married couple, though. He's not going to say it to me every day like he did when we were young lovers. Her thoughts didn't soothe her, though. Nothing would. This is never going to get better, and it couldn't get any worse, so maybe I need to step up and make a change that's going to save me. Right now, more than anything, Casey needed someone to talk to. She'd been racking her mind these past few days, but nobody in the fleet seemed the perfect fit. Nobody in the fleet would want to listen to her problems. But I know one car who might. That orange Mustang she had met at the street race seemed like he might be willing to listen to her. But, if she went there, even just to have a friendly conversation, she was certain Michael would call it quits for certain, and possibly even humiliate her. Then what if he gets with Cassie? That would be awful!
That was why Cassie was trying to drag Casey away from him, though. She wanted him. A shiver worked its way through her, and it wasn't caused by the frigid breeze that blew freely in the lot she was sitting in. My life is in ruins. I should never have helped Cassie become a part of the fleet too.
She could hear an engine rumbling now; drawing nearer, and knew it must be her grandmother, who was carrying two of the workers and some snow shovels. There was just a sprinkling of snow this time, but many of the sidewalks in the properties needed to be shoveled. Casey was happy to be getting a job other than cleaning, because she couldn't stand another second in Zone 2 with Michael.
"How's Omaira?" she asked as Carol parked near her.
"She's loving the snow." The old Chevy truck gave her frame a shake. "At least somebody is."
"Did Michael stay with her?" Casey wondered. At least he's still giving her all the devotion she deserves, despite the secret falling out between us.
"He was, but he had to go back to Zone 2, so she's with some of the others now. She gets along well with everyone. I won't admit it to everyone, but I kind of miss when my Ed, Christian, and Rose were that little. They were all such good kids." She sighed wistfully.
And mine's just a terror, Casey thought. She was truly beginning to believe the only way to soothe her rushing, fearful thoughts would be to talk to the Mustang, Jerry, next chance she got. The street races were held on weekends and usually one or two random days within the week. Casey also knew they were held within three random spots, all of which she knew. Am I really considering doing this again? It might ruin my marriage, if it's not already ruined, and I'm only about a month or so into it!
"I think Omaira's a little like my Rose," Carol said, kind of surprising Casey.
"How?" she wondered. I never thought about that. But, I never knew young Rose.
"She's rebellious, and also a little perfectionist. Not as much as Rose, though." She paused. "I was always worried about Rose in particular, because she's a sensitive soul with a touch of uncertainty. Her perfectionism makes her question everything, because she wants to be certain she's doing things right. I don't think Omaira's quite like that, lucky for you. It's difficult mothering a tender child, especially as they grow older, and you realize you're always going to worry about them just as much as when they were young."
Casey's transmission lurched. I don't think of Omaira nearly as often as I should, do I? She hadn't intentionally gotten pregnant with Omaira, and she also hadn't known she was pregnant with her for some time. She wasn't ready to be a mother. What a mistake. Now she has to suffer from it. Casey stared at her grandmother, determined to stop being such a failure.
"What can I do to be a better mother?" she blurted.
Carol shifted her wheels carefully, creating scuff marks in the dusting of snow. "Do you think you're not a good mother?" she asked softly.
"I'm not sure if I am. That's why I wanted to ask you. You've been a good mother, and you'll be a little more honest with me than my mom would be. Just because she's my mom, of course."
"You're not a bad mother, Casey," Carol said slowly.
But I'm not a good one? Casey had to wonder.
"You're young," her grandmother continued, "and I'd be lying if I said you didn't have a lot to learn still. But, my dear, you're trying, and that's what's important. You need to keep trying, and keep pushing yourself to be better, even when you feel it's impossible. That's the only thing that'll ever make you a good mother."
It sounds so much easier than it is! "I will," Casey promised. "I'll try, and try, and try until I can't! I don't want to regret anything when Omaira's older, because I won't get to give her a second chance. I won't get to be her mother again."
"Dear, you'll always be her mother," said Carol. "Even when you're old and rusty, and she's a bit rusty too, you'll still look at her and see the same tiny thing that you see today, spinning circles around the parking lot. That's just how it is."
Casey felt a flicker of hope within her. If I could be a better mom to Omaira, maybe Mike would realize I really am genuine, and he would want me again. Or maybe, I wouldn't even feel like I needed him anymore. "Thank you, Grandma Carol," she murmured. "Thanks for sharing all that with me."
"Of course, darling." She gave her a soft tap with a wheel.
...
Cassie hadn't felt sorry for anything. Casey could tell by the way she always sat by herself, and she'd been giving her smug looks since the night she'd seen her sitting outside alone, crying. Has she no compassion?
Her conversation with Carol earlier had left her a little more hopeful, but now that Casey was back at the main facility, and evening had fallen without anyone saying much to her, she was feeling empty again. Omaira was the only one who cared for her presence; her parents were too busy with each other, and had no idea she was struggling. But I guess it's my fault for hiding it. And I hide it because, despite everything, I'd still feel wrong for getting Cassie in trouble!
She didn't go into a garage that night. It was a Friday evening, and, by midnight, it would officially be the weekend. She knew what happened then, and she knew where to find it.
...
"I feel like I try so hard to do the best I can." Casey stared at the bright orange Mustang. The headlight glows all around them made him look brighter. "I'm sorry I hadn't told you the first day that I was married, and that I had a daughter."
"It's fine." Jerry turned the other way. "You could tell I was interested in you, though."
And he probably still is. It wasn't like this was his first day finding out! Casey felt a lump in her intake. I think I'd be happier with him than I am with Mike. That's horrible, though. I committed way too early, and that's not even Mike's fault. He knew what he wanted, but that didn't mean I did!
"You're always in your head," Jerry muttered. "Relax a little! Enjoy this. That's why you're here, isn't it?"
"Yes." She shifted her wheels. If Michael finds out I came back, our marriage is over. But is that really so bad?