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“No, not that big a deal at all. And now, please, if you’ll get out of the way, I will change the tire and pay for my terrible, irreparable, and tremendous mistake.”
Eric’s sweating. I’m sweating. The sun won’t give us a break, and we didn’t bring even one miserable little bottle of water.
“Very well, smarty-pants,” he says. “Now you can change it all by yourself.”
Without another word, he starts off for a tree about thirty feet from the car. As soon as he hits the shade, he sits down to watch me.
Fury engulfs me, and my neck begins to itch. I shove the jack under the car and hike up the car. I’m sweating like a pig. My breasts and back are drenched, and my bangs are stuck to my face, but I proceed, refusing to give in.
After an incredible effort during which I think I’m going to keel over, I manage to take off the flat tire. I’m smeared with grease everywhere, but there’s no going back. When I’m about to scream with frustration, I feel Eric lift me up by the waist.
“C’mon, you’ve proven you can do it all by yourself,” he says in a softer tone. “Now, please, go rest in the shade. I’ll take it from here.”
I want to say no. But I’m so hot that either I go to the shade or I’m going to faint.
Ten minutes later, Eric starts the car, turns it around, and backs up to fetch me.
“C’mon ... get in.”
Still cross, I do as he says.
I’m dirty, angry, and thirsty. He’s the same, though I recognize he’s in a better mood than I am. He drives carefully on the damned road and exits out to the highway.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks when he spots a big gas station.
When I see how he’s looking at me, I mutter, “Of course I want something to drink.”
“Can I ask what’s wrong now?”
“What’s wrong now is that you’re a sourpuss. That’s what’s wrong now.”
“What?” he asks, surprised.
“Do you really think that because we blew a tire and got our clothes dirty, our beautiful day is ruined? C’mon!”
He’s about to say something but thinks better of it. He sighs, gets out of the car, and disappears inside the gas station. That’s when I see the hand car wash, and I know exactly what I need to do. I start the car, put it in gear, shove three euros into the little machine, and the hose comes alive. The first thing I do is wash my hands. I’m so hot that I loosen my ponytail and stick my whole head under the hose, without a care. Oh, it feels so good!
With my head cooled off, life is once again in Technicolor. Eric comes out of the gas station with two big bottles of water and a Coke, and strolls over to me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m cooling off and also washing the car.” And then, without warning, I aim the hose at him and soak him while I laugh my head off.
Once more, his face says it all.
People are looking at us, and I’m having second thoughts about what I’ve just done. Oh my God, the way he’s glaring at me! But to my surprise, Eric drops the bottles and comes right up to me.
“Very well, baby, you asked for it!”
Then he grabs the hose and turns it on me until I’m soaked. I scream and laugh and run behind the car. For a few minutes, we get each other sopping wet, and our anger drains away with the mud and dirt.
When the water shuts off because our three euros are spent, I’m dripping and leaning up against the car door. Eric drops the hose and presses against me before kissing me. His lips crush mine with real passion and give me goose bumps.
“Something as unexpected as you is making this embittered German feel.”
“Really?” I ask like a silly girl.
Eric nods and kisses me again.