Page 6 of The List
“Yes!” Addison snatched the phone from the sink counter and walked into her bedroom, grabbing a change of clothes for tonight’s shift. It would buy her more time at the shop if she didn’t have to come home before work.
Once she locked up, she walked past the elevator and started down the six flights. Unless she was hauling groceries or picking up furniture, she always opted for the stairs. She was given a healthy heart, and she planned on making use of it. It had become a running joke in her family, especially after her surgery. “Give that heart a rest.”
No.It was intended to be used, and she would do just that. As she made it to the lobby, she waved at Bill, the mail carrier. He’d always been friendly but became a little more intrusive last year. Not in a bad way. He’d mentioned he liked seeing her get letters.
“People don’t write anymore. Half the kids out there haven’t even heard of a pen pal. It’s a damn shame. You know, with technology we get a lot of good things. Too bad some old ones are sacrificed.”
And he was right.
“Hey, Bill.” She waved and approached him, shoving a stack of envelopes in one of the boxes.
“Hi there, sweetheart.” He sifted through the pile and grabbed a small handful with a smile playing on his lips. “You got a letter.”
Addison had been expecting one from Cleo, Knox’s sister. They’d started writing to each other a little less than two years ago. Once she’d gotten the contact information, it took her over a month to finally send her first letter. She would start it, then scratch it out, crumbling the paper in her fist. Every day for a month.
There weren’t any guidelines or handbooks with advice.How to write your first letter to your donor’s family?It was trial and error. Lots of error. Even when she’d written a whole page, it always seemed wrong. Too personal. Not personal enough. Too much about herself. Or asking too much about Knox. She would only get one chance, and she didn’t want to ruin it. Addison settled on being herself. Authentically grateful to Knox and wanting to know about him.
Addison sent the letter and obsessed over it the following week. Seven days later, she received the first of many letters from Cleo. His sister seemed as eager to talk about her brother as Addison was to know him. They’d since graduated to regular texting and the occasional phone call. They’d forged a little friendship outside of their circumstance. Still, she loved getting letters.
Addison took the letter and a few bills. “Bye, Bill.”
“Be safe, sweetheart.”
She walked outside and glanced down at her phone. It was after three. Danny’s shop was only about a mile from her apartment. Most days, she walked over, not willing to give up her street parking, but today she made an exception for the sake of time.
Addison pulled into the lot, parking near the back, closest to her garage. Technically, it wasn’t hers. Danny, who she’d knownfor years, owned the garage. He’d been her family’s mechanic since she’d started driving. When she’d mentioned her new endeavor, he’d offered her the space. She was renting the small slip on a monthly basis. It was set behind the main building.
Addison dug in her bag and grabbed her keys, unlocking the door. She flicked on the lights and scowled. Not because anything was out of place. It was part of her routine withthe enemy.
It was a small space. Enough room for a workbench and car. She dropped her bag on the counter and circled the motorcycle. Danny had loaned her a lift, along with every tool she could think of. And even some she didn’t.
A 1969 BMW motorcycle.
It looked nothing like those she’d see on the roads today. This was a classic. And a mess when she got it. It took her two months searching daily, three failed attempts from men who didn’t know the correct year of the bikes they were selling, and one unsavory encounter with a man who tried to lure her into the back of his property. But she’d finally found it. Initially, she’d thought she was getting a deal with the price. Then she saw it. Even with her limited knowledge of motorcycles, she’d known this would be a challenge. It was in awful condition, but at least the engine started.
“Late start?”
She glanced over at the doorway. Danny was leaning on the doorframe. He was close to her dad’s age and recently started talking about retirement. It was an ongoing joke that she could take over.
“Worked a double, overslept, and here I am.”
Danny chuckled, pushing off the door and rounding the bike. He lifted his chin, gesturing behind her. “Body looks good.”
Addison glanced over at the frame. It was the only part of the bike she’d paid to have done. She’d considered giving it atry, but Danny and some other mechanics talked her out of it. Between the rust and scratches it was in need of a professional. While initially she’d resisted, they’d reassured her that almost everyone who rebuilt bikes had a professional do the body. It was pretty standard. She’d finally relented.
“Yeah, I’m happy with it. Now, if I could make some progress on the inside.”
“Go easy on yourself, kid. You’ve done a damn good job, especially since you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. A lot of people would’ve given up already.”
Oh, trust me, the thought has crossed my mind several times.
“You finish up the brakes?” Danny asked, angling his head for a closer look.
“Yeah, last week, and it only took me four days to do it.” So far it had been the shortest repair project, which spoke volumes since it should’ve only taken a day at most according to the video she watched.
His lips twitched. “What are you working on now?”
She groaned and dropped her chin to her chest. “Transmission.”
