Page 6 of Something Like Winter

“Tim.”

He spun around. Usually his mom was the first one home, but not today. His father eyed the surroundings, the mess Tim had made, everything but the painting itself. “Your mother is going to be furious.”

And that was that. Thomas left the room, not needing to say more. Tim looked around, noticing paint splatters on the carpet. He should have put down newspaper first.

“It’s not like anyone ever comes in here!” Tim shouted after him, but there was no reply.

He considered the painting once more. For a first try, it wasn’t bad. He’d have to go over the purple with midnight blue to pull in the theme of sky, but it had potential… if he ever found a place to finish it. * * * * *

As if to prove him wrong about the guest room, Tim’s aunt and her husband came to visit the following week. As aunts went, Emily was all right. She was usually good for a laugh, unlike her stoic brother, but as the 24thof August rolled around, Tim began to worry. Like a rare eclipse, his mother’s obsessive focus on her husband ceased briefly on one special occasion, but his aunt’s visit threatened to ruin that.

As it turned out, he had nothing to fear.

On Tim’s birthday, balloons and streamers invaded the house, turning the perfect décor garish. There was cake and ice cream and only one present—but holy shit—it was a big one! The wrapped gift was no larger than a ring box, and inside was a key. Tim knew what that meant. He was out the front door in seconds, his family close behind.

“Oh, wow!”

The car was sleek and black, its curves designed for minimum wind resistance. The three diamonds on the hood screamed Mitsubishi, and that company made only one sports car this boner-inducing: The 3000GT!

Tim jumped and punched the air. “I can’t fucking believe it!” His mom’s eyes went from bright to flat in the fraction of a second. “Oh, sorry, mom. It’s just so fu- freakingawesome!Thank you!”

“Happy birthday!” Aunt Emily chirped. “We pitched in on the rubber floor mats. They’re a godsend on a muddy day, believe me. Oh, and the air freshener. Ha ha!”

“Just be careful,” his father warned, but his cheeks were flushed, perhaps from the memory of his own first car.

“Thank you so much!” Tim opened the driver’s side door and jumped in. He couldn’t get the key turned quick enough. The engine roared to life with a ferocity that would make a lion piss its furry britches. Tim checked out the dashboard and was about to adjust the seat when he remembered his family standing outside. Finding the right button, the passenger’s side window lowered.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he shouted.

He watched them debate over who would go, surprised when his father got into the car with him. He hadn’t let Tim drive him anywhere since a few basic lessons last year.

“I have an errand to run,” Thomas said.

Tim grinned. “Hold on tight!”

He put the car in gear and hit the gas, the car’s engine more powerful than he was expecting. He nearly ran over some guy who was gawping at him instead of walking his dog. Tim couldn’t blame him. The car was pure sex. He turned the steering wheel before committing involuntary manslaughter, then zoomed down the street and around the corner, laughing with mad power. When he looked over, his father was holding on to the door handle for dear life, complexion even paler than usual.

“Let’s take it easy, son!”

“Sorry.”

Tim brought the speed down before turning on to the main road. This was too cool! Maybe his parents were a little preoccupied most of the time, but they sure knew the right way to compensate.

“Thanks,” he said again. “I honestly wasn’t expecting this.”

“I hope not,” his father said, but added, “A man should have his independence. Turn here. I need to go to my office.”

Tim was dying to gun it, but he didn’t want his dad to regret giving him such a souped-up car. He stayed on his best behavior all the way to the generic office building where his dad’s company was located. The parking lot was empty on the weekend, so he pulled right up to the door. Tim wanted to wait in the car while his father went inside, unwilling to be separated from his gift. Hell, he might even sleep in the backseat tonight! But his father wanted him to come along, so Tim grudgingly killed the engine.

Once inside, they walked past the reception area and a row of cubicles to a hallway where the real offices were. When they reached a door as nondescript as the others, Thomas dug a key from his pocket and handed it to Tim.

“As I said. Independence.”

Tim’s stomach sank. His father was giving him a job. He could see through the window in the door that the room beyond was empty, but he took the key and used it anyway.

“This is more a necessity than a present,” Thomas said.

Tim opened the door and stepped inside, unsure what to say. His father filled the silence for him.