Love, Milo

I haven’t been here in ages.

Walking up to the garage door of my dad’s repair shop, the sound of metal clanking against each other and machines at work meet my ear.

It smells of oil and burnt rubber.

I don’t really know what made me want to visit Dad, especially alone.

Well, not entirely alone…

Pausing right before I pass the opening of the garage, I peer behind my shoulder at the Tesla several feet away, Milo in the front seat tapping his finger on the steering wheel. He smiles at me, nudging his finger for me to walk forward.

I smile back, inhale, and walk.

Inside the garage, the annoyingly loud sound of an electrical drill makes me wince. I grew up hearing that and many other sounds like it, with my dad being a car mechanic.

Twirling the rings on my finger and tapping my tongue on the roof of my mouth, I look around the dim room.

Maybe this was a mistake. I don’t speak to my dad much, why try now?

He had nothing to do with me being forced to have that abortion years ago. That was mom. He just never intervened, which is just as bad to me.

Speaking of Dad, the bottom half of his body is visible underneath a car I don’t recognize; he who he’s in the drip and uses another tool that causes a glow to shine on the floor every use.

I knock on the metal garage door.

‘Genome, is that you?’ Dad calls out for one of his workers from under the car, lying on a skateboard. ‘Can you pass me the wrench?’

I don’t respond; instead, I walk towards the wall filled with hanging tools and grab a wrench, handing it to my dad’s open hand. He thanks me.

I wait till he’s done, looking around the same place he wishes I take over for him. He’s wanted me to work here ever since I was able to work. It was never my thing, don’t think it ever will be.

‘Raelynn?’ I turn to the sound of my dad’s low voice. He’s sitting up of the skateboard, the metal safety mask lifted above his face marked with oil stains. ‘What…what are you doing here?’

I push off the desk I was leaning against and slip my hands into my Jean pockets. My eyebrows jump. ‘I’ll just leave then. Clearly, you don’t want me here.’

I haven’t seen him in forever since the terrible dinner, since he found out I was raped, since he last spoke to me. And he asks me why I’m here.

Walking towards the garage opening, he calls out, ‘Hey!’ His gloved hand grabs mine, spinning me to face his tall figure. Sweat trickles down the side of his bronze skin. The same one I share with him.

‘You know I want you here, Sweet. I just didn’t expect to see you.’ He exhales, and I stare at him, my eyes stinging just a bit at his sad eyes. ‘You uh… how’ve you been doing?’

‘Fine.’ He lets go of my wrist, pulling off his face guard. ‘Was just gonna ask if you’re going to Gia’s wedding tomorrow.’

That’s not why I’m here. In fact, I don’t know why I’m here.

‘Yeah, of course. Are you going?’

I nod, and he folds his arms, trying to suppress the surprise on his face, leaning his body against the car he was just working on. ‘I’m glad to hear.’

‘But really, Raelynn,’ he adds. ‘How’ve you been? You.’

‘I said I’m fine, okay?’

‘If you were fine you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have visited me.’ He stands straight, walking towards me. ‘When you were much younger, you never went to your mother when you were hurt. You came to me. You’d tell me, Dad, I’m sad. Can we go to the park?’ He laughs for a second, shaking his head. ‘You knew I’d do whatever you wanted—’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t need a trip down memory lane, alright. Those days are over.’

‘They don’t have to be.’

‘Well, they are, I’m older now.’ My face turns away at the neighborhood outside, a tear rolling down my cheek.

‘And I’m still your father. Your age doesn’t change a thing. Maybe it’s me you’re waiting for to say something, and I…’ I look back at him when his words fade, his head dropping into his head as if choking on his own voice. When he looks back up, shiny tears cover his eyes.

I’ve never seen him cry before, not once.

‘Dad?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ He whispers like if he spoke any louder, his voice would crack. Steps closer. ‘I should’ve known. I should’ve protected you.’

I shake my head. ‘I’m fine now.’

‘Now is not enough. I’m your dad. I should’ve been there, sweetheart. I did everything wrong. From the moment you told me and your mother about the child, it was like something in me shut down. I didn’t know what to do or say, so I let her take over.’ He squeezes my cheeks with his palms, his gloves now off. ‘And I’m so sorry, Raelynn. I’m so sorry.’

My hands grip his wrist tightly and it’s only when the salty tears meet my lips that I realize how hard I’m crying. I didn’t think I would hear these words. As I said, we haven’t spoken much over the years, and to finally hear them is like a twist to the stomach.

I shake my head, licking my lips. His fingers wipe away tears as I speak, ‘I felt so alone, Dad,’ my voice cracks.

I drop my head into his chest, not caring about the oil stains on it or the metal smell he gives off.

My hand grips his shirt. Crying into him as he hugs me tightly. A warm feeling floods my body, one I’ve never felt before, one that even Milo can’t provide me with.

The love of a father is unmatched.

‘I know, my little girl.’ He kisses the top of my head as I cry into him.

I don’t know how long we stand like that, sniffles and cries filling the garage, but this moment is something I never want to end.

Lifting my head, I look up at dads face, a smile on it. ‘So,’ he says. ‘That guy you’re with. How is he?’

I struggle to find words at first. Guy talk was never something I had with anyone.

‘Uh…’ I bite my lip, memories of Milo passing across my eyes. Him climbing my fire escape, sitting in my bed, appearing at my flower shop, dropping of his pickle, his sweet words, the way he handles children—

‘Lost in thought?’

I jump out of my thoughts and begin pacing, feeling a burst of energy. ‘I love him.’

Dad opens the hood of the car, grunting in surprise. ‘Love?’

‘Yeah, love,’ I repeat. ‘He’s a really good guy, dad. Not like the ones I used to be around in high school. He’s different. Milo at the dinner was just him being protective.’

‘Hey, I never said he wasn’t good. I believe you. But if he ever hurts you, I won’t be silent this time.’

‘I—’

‘You don’t have to worry about that, Mr Garcia.’ Milo’s British accent causes us to turn our heads to him.

Wearing black slacks and a white button-up with its sleeves slid up his arm, he leans against the garage.

‘She’s very safe with me,’ he adds.

I smile at him. ‘How long you’ve been standing there?’

‘Not too long.’ He steps up to my dad, who is just about the same height as Milo.

‘Milo, ain’t it?’ He sticks out his hand.

Milo shakes it. ‘That’s correct, sir.’

Dad chuckles, nodding. ‘David.’

‘David.’

I laugh at the exchange, Milo’s politeness, and my dad’s effort to speak to him.

‘Milo, how about you come here and help me with this hood since Raelynn refuses to.’

Milo looks over to mess if questioning it, or maybe he’s begging me to pull him away.

I grin, nodding.

He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his forehead, and walks towards the car. ‘Of course. What do I do?’

‘Have you ever used this before, rich boy?’ He raises the electric drill and points it to Milo as who looks absolutely on edge.

Milo clears his throat. ‘No, should I wear gloves?’

‘Nah.’

‘You have gloves on.’

‘For safety reasons.’

Milo glances at me, and my dad bursts out into laughter. ‘I’m fucking with you. Raelynn, did you see the look on his face?’ He walks to the shelves, grabs a pair of gloves, and tosses it into Milo’s chest. ‘Now, if you’re gonna be with my daughter, you gotta know how to fix a car. I don’t care how expensive they are. They break down. Now…’

Milo listens in as if the world might crumble if he doesn’t catch every word my dad says. And dad looks more than excited to share his love for cars with someone willing to listen.

***

‘Don’t touch me. Your hands are filthy.’ Getting home late with a dirty Milo and a tired me, we didn’t get a chance to buy a dress for the wedding tomorrow.

I feel better going, knowing I’m on good terms with my dad. At least it won’t be an entire disaster.

‘You think I care whether I get you dirty or not?’ Milo challenges. His shirt was covered in oil stains and dirt.

I miss his words; they fly right past my ear as my worry about what I’m going to wear fills my head.

‘Are you alright?’ Milo asks.

I sit on the bed. ‘I need to run down to my apartment and find something to wear for tomorrow.’

He shakes his head. ‘Open my closet, darling.’

I look at him, confused. He nudges his chin towards his closet across the room, and I walk towards it, opening it.

Right beside all his suits and shirts hangs several dresses. I remember picking out earlier for myself.

‘You kept them?’

‘Of course, I kept them. You never got a chance to try them on for me.’ He whispers himself down with disinfecting wipes as he speaks and sits at the edge of his bed. ‘You can now, however.’

I grin at him. Pulling the dresses off the hangers I throw them over his chair. Milo manspreads, leaning back onto one elbow.

‘You have to close your eyes so I can get dressed. It has to be a surprise.’

‘Closing them.’

I watch him closely. Seconds later, he peaks one eye open.

‘Milo!’

‘Okay, alright.’ He slaps one hand over his eyes, and I laugh, grabbing the first dress.

It’s a black dress first, along with a slit. One shoulder is off, and the other is long-sleeved. I undress, putting the dress on.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Open.’

Milo drops his hand, and his eyes drop down my body. I pose, turning in a circle so he can see the whole thing.

He licks his lips, his hips rising off the bed for a second.

‘You like it?’

‘I love it.’

‘Do you think it’s wedding appropriate? Since it’s black.’

He clears his throat. ‘Yeah, you should try the others on for me. All of them.’

‘Okay, close your eyes.’

Red is the color of the next one. Short and has slashes on the side that show my hips and thigh. Getting it on, I tell Milo to look.

‘I think this one might be a little much.’

His lips part. ‘Fucking shit.’

‘What? You don’t like it?’

‘What? No, Rae, I love it. A lot. Give me a spin.’

I spin for him, putting my hands on my hip and end with a pose, laughing. He extends his hand, humming as I take it.

‘I think you should save this one just for me.’ He grips my thighs, squeezing me as his hands slides to my ass. He twists me, and bends his head, kissing my hip. ‘Next one.’

Why does he have to be so hot? I squeeze my thighs together for a moment and shake off the feelings he never fails to give me.

I try on two more dresses, each of them getting approved by Milo.

I groan. ‘You’re no help.’

‘What?’

‘You can’t say they all just look perfect on me. That’s not how it works.’

‘Well, they all do look perfect on you, love.’

‘I can’t wear them all.’

‘You’re right, you won’t. A few are saved for my eyes only.’

I roll my eyes. And grab the last dress, making Milo cover his eyes. A cream color dress, reaching my calves, the neckline runs low. I look in the closet mirror. It’s pretty, it hugs my hips, and it’s simple enough. I fiddle with the straps, trying to get them to look a certain way.

Maybe the straps were a little tighter…

‘Beautiful.’

I turn to see Milo up and walking to me. His dirty shirt is off now, as he walks behind me and kisses the back of my head.

‘I love this one,’ he says.

‘You said that for the past five dresses.’

He grips my hips and drops his head between my neck. ‘Yes, but I think this one you should wear. You look stunning.’

I turn my body, standing on my toes to kiss him.

He freezes for a moment, then grips my body, wrapping on arm around my waist to pull me into him.

His head drops, and he sucks on my neck. I gasp. ‘Shower first.’

He hums against my skin, giving my neck a kiss. ‘Fine. But Raelynn?’

‘Hm?’

‘I did enjoy the day with your father,’ he practically whispers in my ear. ‘I never got to do anything like that with mine…’

I nod, running my fingers through his hair. ‘I know. You can as many days as you want. He seems to really like you now.’

‘Yeah?’

I nod, kissing his lips just once. ‘Now shower. You smell like oil and sweat.’

***

I never would’ve expected myself to be this nervous showing up at my sister’s wedding. But I am. And I have no idea how to control myself.

Milo, wearing one of his many expensive suits, grips my hand tightly, noticing how fidgety I’ve been all morning.

And now, walking into the venue, a sign with a picture of Gia and Dallas, her fiancé on the front. I blow out a long breath.

‘Relax, love.’

‘What if mom tries to speak to me? I don’t want to speak to her.’

‘You don’t have to. I’ll be at your side if you need me.’

I nod, walking into the room full of people Gia had invited—family members I haven’t seen in years and friends of Gia’s she made in college.

Finding out seat number, we sit down, two rows away from the where Gia will stand. I don’t say hi to anyone despite their eyes on me. My moms probably told everyone about our status. News tends to travel quickly in this family. But I couldn’t care less.

Milo squeezes my thigh, bringing my attention back to him, and smiles.

He looks different. Whether it’s the touch upon his stubble or the way his hair is perfect, there’s not a flaw I can pick out from this man.

‘I have a question,’ I whisper.

He raises one of his thick brows. ‘Yes?

‘Did you ever need milk that day you came up on my fire escape?’

He takes a second to answer. ‘No.’ Then laughs. ‘It was an excuse to talk to you. It worked, didn’t it?’

I nod, leaning my head on his shoulder. ‘It did.’

Beside me, someone sits.

I look over to see my mom.

Gia. She did arrange these seats, of course she’d put me beside her. Mom doesn’t acknowledge me other than a sorrowful glance at my face and at Milo’s. And she stays silent. Not a word spoken to either of us for the entire time till Gia is set to walk down the aisle.

Dallas stands at the front, a few of his friends at his side and a few of Gia’s on the other side when the classical wedding music begins.

Everyone turns their head and I glance at my mother sitting in front for a second before looking at the door Gia’s suppose to come through.

And she does, slowly stepping out in a beautiful dress, Dad holding her arm at her side.

But there’s something wrong. She isn’t smiling. Not a real one, at least. It doesn’t reach her ears like it should, her eyes are wrinkled at the corners like they should be. She looks almost… sad.

Reaching the front, Dad hands her over to Dallas.

‘Do you think she’s alright?’ I whisper to Milo.

He shrugs. ‘She looks fine to me.’

She doesn’t to me. Even though I haven’t been around my sister much these past few years. I grew up with her; I know something’s wrong.

The priest speaks, Dallas and Gia hold their hands as they repeat his words.

‘I do,’ Dallas says.

The priest looks at Gia, asking her the same thing. If she takes Dallas to be her husband. She’s silent for a moment. Her chest visibly rising and falling.

‘Ma’am?’ The priest questions. Gia scans the crowd, and her eyes meet mine. Teary eyes. Ones that hold sadness and regret. Then she looks at Mom and back at Dallas.

She shakes her head and chokes out a cry.

‘Baby?’ Dallas whispers.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she cries. ‘I can’t.’

I stand up, and so do a few others as Gia quickly walks off and out of the venue.