GB96 s2 - Adulthood Part 1

You aren’t right very often, and when you are, it sucks.

You end up at the hospital for about six hours because you can’t just leave Stef there. The doctors aren’t completely sure if Mr. Gibson had a really big panic attack or a very tiny heart attack. Knowing Mr. Gibson, you and Stef know damn well it was probably the heart attack. That doesn’t make it any less scary.

So as much as it sucks, sitting in a hospital hallway outside a room where you know that your best friend is miserable, it probably doesn’t suck as much as actually being Stef. You aren’t sure what to think or feel, other than feeling terrible. Your relationship with your dad isn’t great; you haven’t seen him in almost a year. You still can’t imagine dealing with something like this.

Your mom is waiting up for you.

“I heard,” she says when you come in. It’s dark and you smell food. She must have cooked for you. Gurlberg is a small town. She mutes the TV and focuses on you, putting her beer aside.

You sigh and sit on the armchair. You shrug at her. What is there to say?

“He’ll be OK,” you tell her.

She nods. “Good. It’s still scary.”

It really is. You sigh and rub your face.

“How’s Stef?” she asks.

“She doesn’t do great with stuff like this,” you reply.

“Nobody does, Carla. What I’m asking is… uh, is she together enough to handle business with her dad out of action?”

You didn’t think of that. You gaze down at your shoes. “I don’t know,” you say finally. You don’t. Mr. Gibson will live, but he won’t be lifting a wrench anytime soon. And Stef? She’s a lot smarter than she acts, at least when she’s not blinded by horniness. She’s just as good a mechanic as her father. But there’s a reason that he never puts her in charge of anything. “Should I do something?”

“Should you?” Your mom makes a face. “I don’t know, Carla. I don’t know them that well.”

“I’m supposed to know?”

“Mr. Gibson trusts you with his livelihood,” she reminds you. “You’re his bookkeeper.”

You sigh. Being responsible sucks. You put your hands on the arms of the chair and prepare to get back up. “Yes. I need to make some calls and… make a sign to show that we’re closed.”

Your mom nods. “Probably smart.”

“All the phone numbers and stuff are at the shop.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

You shake your head. “It shouldn’t. There are people who have to pick up their cars tomorrow. But those cars probably aren’t ready. It’s better to tell them now so they don’t get a nasty surprise in the morning.” You let out another very deep sigh.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“That’s sweet. I got it.” You groan and stand up. It’s been such a long day. “But I’m taking some food with me. What’d you make?”

“Stir fry.”

“Chicken or beef?”

“Chicken. Of course. I’m proud of you, Carla.”

“This isn’t worth it for eight bucks an hour,” you grumble, getting your car keys.