Saturday Story: Rags To Riches

Hello! Thank you for visiting my blog to read part 8 of my Saturday Story: Rags to Riches. Feel free to let me know what you think by commenting below, and please be sure to come back next week for part 9!

Give your life the green light. It’s A Go!

Amber Green

Rags to Riches: Part 8

To Riches:

I looked up at the brand new sign- Engines & Fenders; it was one of hundreds in the country. I had been to a number of new openings, but it was always a thrill. In the coming years, we planned to grow the chain to thousands of locations worldwide. It had come a long way from that one little location on Main street.

From Rags:

I concentrated on looking normal; my face relaxed and interested (but not too interested) in the conversation my family and Chris’s friend, Dave were having during brunch at my parents’ house. (Dave may or may not be Chris’s secret make-out partner from the auto repair shop yesterday, dubbed ‘Mr. Mystery Arms’ by my sister, Priscilla and I).

“Thank you very much for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bruno,” Dave said politely, after introductions had been made.

“Not at all!” my mother replied. “I miss when Priscilla, Frankie and Chris were in school. We always had their friends over.”

“So, Dave what do you do?” my father asked.

“I’m a mechanic,” Dave answered. I have my own auto repair shop on Main Street.”

“Engines & Fenders?” my dad asked him, as I dug into my mom’s famous frittata.

“That’s the one,” Dave said with a smile.

“I like that place,” my dad said, approvingly.

“You’re very young to have your own business,” my mother said, admiringly.

“Well, my parents owned the business; they sold it to me when they retired last year. I learned about cars from them.”

“See, Chris, your friend may have had a leg up, but he’s clearly driven-” my mother started.

“Yeah, you should hang out with him more- maybe his good habits will rub off on you,” my father finished my mother’s thought. Whether it was simply bad timing, or my father’s statement caught me off guard, I started choking on my eggs.

Everyone stared at me, as I continued to choke. My mom and dad asked if I was okay, and looked ready to jump out of their chairs if I required the Heimlich maneuver. I motioned that I was fine, and took a sip of water. Clearly, I was failing miserably at ‘looking normal.’

Once I had recovered, and conversation resumed, I noticed Chris glance at me from the corner of my eye. It was brief, but I swear I saw him smirk.

Why would he smirk? I wondered. No one had just told a joke– unless… That little putz! I thought to myself. He did see us last night! And now, what? He’s punishing my sister and me for not telling him? What’s wrong with him? 

We finished brunch, and my sister started gathering the kids after we helped our mother clear the table. “You can’t leave yet,” I whispered to my sister, after she thanked our mother for brunch.

“Why? The boys need to go,” Priscilla said- our brother and his possible-lover clearly not high on her list of priorities.

“They’re kids! Whose birthday party is it? One of the royals? Seriously- they can be five minutes late,” I hissed at my sister. “Boys, help grandma tidy up. Dad, I’m sure Dave would love to see your car-” I said. The boys set to work (getting in my mom’s way more than helping, I’m sure).

“That’s a good idea, Frankie,” my father replied, predictably. “Luke, come with us,” my father said.

“We’ll be right out,” I called to my father. Before Chris could follow them, I grabbed his arm and commandeered my siblings into my parents’ laundry room, closing the door behind us.

“Who goes into the laundry room to talk?” Chris asked.

“Shut up, Chris,” I said, immaturely. I locked eyes with my brother, and waited a beat. “You saw us,” I said, looking at my sister.

“You saw us,” my brother said. Immaturity was running rampant today; I thought it juvenile for my brother to bring ‘Mr. Mystery-Arms’ to brunch before we spoke, and I had just forced my adult siblings into the laundry room at our parents’ house; despite all of it, in that moment, Chris didn’t look like my little brother; he looked like a man who knew who he was. Unafraid. Unapologetic. Honest.

Without another word, Priscilla and I embraced our brother.

………

Continue reading Rags to Riches: Part 9 here.

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© 2018 Amber Green