Continued from Part One.

I woke and went to the mechanic early to get a jump on the day, eager to get some miles behind me.

Ah, there she was in the parking lot. My magnificent steed! The little trusty gold five speed VW Golf. A triumph of German engineering from the late eighties. Dull with salt. I had performed many of my own minor surgeries on her with my friends in their parent’s driveways over the years. Oil changes, wiper blades, a new bumper procured from the local junk yard, even a length of exhaust.

The mechanic from the night before stood outside smoking. An older guy. White hair matching the surroundings. Oily, hands. The fingernails black.

“How’s the old girl doing?” I said.

“Throttle was frozen,” he said. “Big block of ice on it. All we did was wait for it to thaw. You’re good to go.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

I went inside to pay. $120 for the tow and the time. After just a day I had already chipped away at more than a tenth of my savings and still had almost 1400 miles to go.

Key in hand I climbed in. There it was, the old VW smell. A mixture of burning oil and my own baked in body odor from countless summer driving sessions sweating deeply into the cloth seats. The AC had been on the fritz for years and never repaired.

I fired her up, let her purr. Sat idling for five minutes while I smoked a butt and thought about my next move. A bright day, cold as death. The giant plows had performed admirable work in the wee hours of the night, flinging sand and salt from their backsides like a mechanical version of old, cherubic Johnny Appleseed on wheels.

On the highway toward Southboro. Lighting up a ciggie every half hour or so and listening to a catalog of my old tapes on the deck. Lot’s of mixes made from CDs just for this excursion. 90s hip hop the main focus of that era but also lots of Pearl Jam.

I threw the album Ten into the deck for old time’s sake. Oh Pearl Jam. The ex and I used to listen to them ad infinitum. Vedder’s soothing pipes bringing tears to my eyes as I hurled down the road in my little tarnished gold ride. What exactly was I doing? I hadn’t seen the Ex since we had broken up six months earlier. The distance had been too great for either of us to handle, but the divide was greater than that. She wanted a spotless, motivated type with a good job, an education under his belt. She always mentioned me going back to school. “Move down here,” she often said in our conversations. “Go back to school somewhere in Boston. Leave restaurants.” I would always agree it was a good idea but never actually go through with it and now I was moving to the bottom of the country.

I just wanted her.

The plan was to go to her parent’s house where she currently resided. They were gone for the weekend. We’d have some time alone. The lurid thoughts swirled in my head as Pearl Jam blasted. One of the small blown out speakers over in the passenger side dashboard buzzing like a trapped wasp.

Less than two hundred miles and a half pack of Camel Lights later, I arrived at the doorstep of the Ex’s parent’s. A palatial six bedroom McMansion packed together with many others similar but slightly different. I went right in through the side door in the garage but the entrance to the kitchen was locked. I rapped, waited.

She arrived in all her shining blondeness. Blindingly beautiful with the sunlight shining behind her. Her smile forced, heavy. She loved me still, but I was the wrong choice. I stood there, a raggedy, skinny, long haired bad decision stinking of smoke. A bad dream materializing here amidst the sparkling towers of upper class suburbia. My old jalopy dripping oil and other precious liquids in the driveway, a stain, a scab to be picked off and flung away.

The first time I had driven down here, the old Golf had gone totally kaput and thrown a bearing in the left front wheel. A weekend had turned into a week while we waited for the part to be ordered. Her father had made me sleep on the couch in the basement so no “funny stuff” occurred but she had slipped down to see me every night while they slept, unaware, while the demon in the dungeon had his carnal way with their eldest angel. The old memories hit me like a hammer. The old man! He was to blame for all her stipulations and judgements. The success story with the four brilliant, beautiful children and the gorgeous housewife. He had built every house in that sprawling neighborhood. Dug, transformed the very earth around him like a god.

I expected her to lure me in so I could have my way. One last shag for the rest of eternity between the two of us. The swan song. A passionate bout so intense, we could take it to the grave.

Instead, she grabbed her coat and a purse.

“Ready?” She said.

“Huh?”

“I thought we’d get some lunch.”

“Ok.”

We went out toward the driveway. She went to her car and I went around to the passenger side.

“Oh,” she said. “I thought we’d both drive. Easier that way.”

“Ok,” I said.

“Follow me.”

I was a young idiot, but I wasn’t that dumb.

The lunch was at some weird chain. A Bennigan’s if I have to really reach and think. The two of us across from one another and her shellacking me with the details of her new guy and how happy she was. both of them grad school bound. Well, lo di fucking da. When it was over, she insisted on paying for lunch.

A tender kiss on the cheek in the parking lot. Her lips leaving warmth and the waxy residue of lip balm. I watched her jet away in her new SUV, stood there, lit a smoke. Blew it up, up, up into the cold afternoon air like a factory breathing pollution.