Check Engine

Photographer - Tobi Brun

Check Engine

She happened to be driving down the highway when it first flashed on, that little orange light upon the dashboard.

“What’s that?” Daisy asked him. “Some warning light came on.”

Richard glanced over at it, then said, “Oh, that. It doesn’t matter. Those things just come on sometimes.”

“But what does the symbol mean?”

“It’s the check engine light. Could mean almost anything.”

“Are you going to check it out?” Richard worked as a mechanic in one of the town’s three repair shops.

“Usually it’s nothing.”

“But how can you be sure?”

“There’s a machine at work that checks the codes. I’ll look it up on Monday.”

She wasn’t sure he would, but what more could she say? After all, the Buick was his car, not hers.

When she pulled into their driveway, he got out without a word and wandered into the garage where he kept all his tools. She wasn’t sure whether or not he worked in there. Every time she went inside, he didn’t seem to be doing anything in particular, just staring off into space or swinging a ratchet aimlessly.

She began to unload the car, carrying the packages inside and putting them all away. The house wasn’t really theirs; it was only his. Always, she was aware of this little difference, knowing that in some fundamental way, their life together was not her own. She owned no single part of it, owned nothing really but her makeup and her clothes. So she never left things a mess, the way she might otherwise have done. She kept things picked up and put away. It was a way to earn her keep.

She had been living here with Richard for coming up upon a year. It was the longest she had lived with any man, at least since the change had happened, since that day with Clyde. Usually they lasted anywhere from a single night to three months at a stretch. Somehow, things with Richard had been different. She didn’t think that it was love, but they had fallen into a routine. Weekdays, he went to work while she did the laundry and the cleaning. She cooked dinner every night but Fridays when he took her out for beer and pizza. On the weekends, they often went out to Klamath Falls, the nearest city of any size, to do the shopping and buy some cheaper liquor.

The next day was Sunday, and they had a couple of people over for a barbeque. Grilling was one of the few things that Richard always liked to do. He had a large meat grinder, and he made his own special burgers, grinding some garlic and onion in with the meat to season it. Other times, he marinated chicken or steaks or pork chops using a blend of soy sauce and pineapple juice. When the meal was over, the men all went inside to watch the game. They weren’t picky, but watched whatever sport happened to be playing. If there were women too, they sat around with Daisy in the kitchen, smoking cigarettes and playing cards. She didn’t have much to say to them. They had all been born in this little town, and none of them had been to college. What do you say to people like that? If there was a way to talk to them, Daisy never got it figured out.

Sometimes there were no women, and Daisy cleaned up the kitchen, then went outside to get some air. She would take her phone and pretend she had some friends to chat with. But mostly, that was just for show. Daisy had no real friends. She used to have some, back in San Francisco. But when she left with Clyde, she hadn’t kept in touch. And after the disaster, she hadn’t felt like explaining. So there was only her sister left, and even she didn’t know it all.

On Monday and Tuesday, Richard went to work like normal. He didn’t mention the light, and she didn’t ask him about it. On Wednesday, her normal in-town shopping day, she took him to work and dropped him off so that she could have the car. The check engine light came on as soon as she turned the key in the ignition.

“Did you check out the code?” she asked.

“The code?”

“You know, for the check engine light.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter. I’ll check it when I have the time.”

Perhaps, she thought later in the day, Richard after all was right. The car took her safely to the grocery store and the gas station and the place where she got her hair cut. The car drove normally. It didn’t shake or make any unexpected noise.

When she got home, she put up the groceries and called her sister.

“How’s Richard?” her sister asked. It was always her first question. Daisy knew that every time she called, her sister thought that something must have happened. In the past, that had been true. She called when things were heading south. But with Richard, nothing of significance ever seemed to happen.

“He’s fine. Same as always.” Daisy searched for something else to say. “Last weekend, we had a barbeque. He made his onion-garlic burgers.”

“So are you becoming a little hostess?”

“No, I wouldn’t put it that way. I just bought some coleslaw and potato salad. The only work I did was cutting up some carrots and some apples.”

“Well, I don’t know what you see in him. Or in that little town.”

“Well, I guess it’s a living.” Daisy wondered what her sister thought of all her recent men. It wasn’t that her sister was a prude or anything like that. Still, she must have wondered.

“What else is going on?”

“Nothing much. Well, I guess there’s something. But maybe I shouldn’t tell you. It might be too much information.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Out with it! I want to hear it all.”

“Well, Richard is doing fine. In fact, I think our sex life has improved. He comes home each day, and we do it in the kitchen or the living room. He likes to bend me over the table and take me from behind. Whenever he does that, he’s so hard and it always lasts for such a long time. I didn’t think he could be like that. I mean, in the beginning, things were just plain in bed, you know, but now he’s like a tiger.”

“So why the change? What happened?”

“Well, that’s just it, I don’t know. One day a few weeks ago, it just started. Instead of waiting until we were in bed, he came right through the front door, unzipped his pants, and went right in. It was crazy. I was so surprised, I hardly knew how to respond. But God, let me tell you, it was sexy.” Daisy paused, and then continued. “But don’t you think it’s kind of weird? I mean, that seems like the sort of thing that you start out with, not something that happens ten months later.”

“You’re right. It is a little weird. Did you ask him about it? Was he afraid you wouldn’t like it?”

Daisy laughed. “I don’t think that’s it at all. He’s working class, you know. He’s not that into feelings.”

“Do you really think he’s right for you? I mean, it’s great you’ve been with him for awhile, but what do you have in common?”

“Not much. But I like him.”

“But you don’t love him?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. But if the sex keeps up, maybe I could learn to.” At this, however, Daisy frowned, and it was as if her sister heard her.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“Well, it’s just that since it started, you know, the better sex, he’s been so distant. Like he’s distracted.”

“Does he love you? Maybe he’s thinking of proposing.”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think he really—“ and the front door opened. “Look, I have to go. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

“Alright. I guess he must be home.”

Daisy had barely hung up with her sister when Richard came over and hiked up her skirt. The television in the kitchen was on, and Richard bent her across the counter and fucked her as he watched the news. When the weather forecast was ending, predicting rain tomorrow, he came, then held her hips in place for several minutes as he lingered there inside her, panting and pushing her head against the counter.

When he pulled out, he asked her what was for dinner.

“Meatloaf and potatoes,” she told him.

He grunted. “I’m going out to the garage, but I’ll be in by seven.” That was their standard time for weekday dinners.

She prepared the meal so that it would be ready just a little early. Then she went out to the garage to tell him dinner was on the table, and she found him in there on his phone.

“Alright. You go, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

He came in ten minutes later just as the food was getting cold. After dinner, they watched a movie and then went to bed and went to sleep.

The next day, he took the car. She couldn’t help herself, and she asked him. “So the light? You really think it’s nothing?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Alright then. I won’t worry about it.”

“That’s a better attitude.” He kissed her before he picked up his lunch that she had packed.

“Richard?”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t say you liked my hair.”

“Your hair? Did you do something different?”

“I had it cut.”

“I can’t see any difference.”

“Well, it was just a trim. To even it up a little and take off the split ends.”

“Well, I guess it’s nice,” he told her. “I had better go. I don’t want to be late.”

That evening, as soon as he got home, he took her once again upon the kitchen counter. This time, she managed to turn her head; she did it when he was distracted, just when he was about to come. She saw at last what he was doing, saw that he was on his phone. Of the screen, she only caught a glimpse, but she knew immediately what it was. He was watching porn.

It didn’t look professional; the image was too shaky. Just some homemade video. The one thing that she noticed, and the thing that seemed most strange, was that the couple in the video were in the same position that she was in right now with Richard. Even the countertop looked the same.

When she thought back later over the brief image she had seen, she realized there was something else. It had been a red-haired girl, but the man was not in the frame, just his penis penetrating her. It was as though he himself were taking the video at the same time that he was fucking. He might be holding his phone and watching the very image as it was being filmed, he himself a voyeur to his own act of sexual intercourse. The thought should be disturbing, yet Daisy found it turned her on. Richard wasn’t home yet, so she put her finger up inside her panties. She wondered if the man in the video could possibly be Richard. But if so, he was with some other girl. Some red-haired girl. It certainly wasn’t her.

This brought up something else. If it were true, did he have plans to film her too? And if he did, would he tell her? Or just hold her head down and do it? Would he still want her after? Or would the video of her be enough?

That night, he took her in an armchair in an awkward new position. Her back was oddly arched, but the angle of his penis felt good inside her. Different. There was no counter to push her head against, and so she risked it. She turned to see that he was on his phone. She couldn’t see the image this time. She could only imagine what it might be. But she thought it must be of a girl stretched across a leather armchair with one foot tucked up against the seat. She wondered if it was the red-haired girl. Or whether it was her.

The next weekend, Richard invited two other couples over and told her to pick up several steaks. After the meal was over and the men had gone off to watch baseball, Daisy made up a pitcher of cocktails and brought it in to the two women. A few drinks in, she brought up Richard’s last girlfriend. She knew her name was Ginger, though she knew almost nothing else about her.

“She was a real bitch, that one,” one of the women replied.

The other one agreed. “Richard’s dated some pretty awful women. I guess he got lucky this time around.”

“I’ve heard about a few of them. Wasn’t there one with bright red hair?”

“Sure, that was Ginger. It wasn’t real, you know. She dyed it.”

“What happened? Do you know why they broke up?”

“Oh, I couldn’t tell you. She wasn’t from around here, and she left town right after he kicked her out.”

“So how are things with Richard? Do you think maybe you’ll get married?”

“Sure would be good for him to settle down. In high school, he was always wild.”

“I don’t know,” Daisy answered. “He’s never mentioned getting married.”

“Well, of course not. I mean that’s the woman’s job. You have to bring it up and up until he thinks he can’t refuse.”

“Really?” Daisy thought this small-town culture was really quite confusing. “But if he doesn’t want to, won’t he resent it?”

“The men here all know they’re expected to, one day, but they try to hold out as long as possible.”

“Yeah, it’s some stupid point of pride.”

“It’s high time you brought it up. You know, he’s been seeing you longer than anyone else I can remember.”

“She’s right. I think he’s finally ready now.”

“Well, we’re going on a trip next weekend. I guess I could bring it up then.”

“Where you going?”

“Down to Monterey.”

“That’s fancy.”

“Yeah, you should definitely do it then. If he’s taking you on vacation, it’s a sure thing that he likes you.”

At the time, under the spell of the margaritas, Daisy thought she just might do it. But a few hours later, when the company was gone, when he was hiking up her skirt and thrusting himself inside her, she wondered whether this was really a marriage sort of thing. Before she brought it up, she had to know what he was really doing. Was he watching his old girlfriend while he was fucking her? And is that why he was all of a sudden so turned on? Maybe it wasn’t her he wanted.

The trip to Monterey would take some time. They were going the long way, driving down the coast on Highway 1. She had known of the famous highway, had been on it just a little, back when she lived in San Francisco, but she had never driven this much of it before. She liked it. But she wondered why it was that Richard had suggested it. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the scenery. Or to her, for that matter. His mind was somewhere else, somewhere far from Highway 1.

They were not too far from Monterey when she pulled over to the shoulder to let him drive for awhile. The road was dark and deserted. Daisy hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. Still, it didn’t matter. They could sleep in the next day, as long as they wanted to. The check engine light was still on, she noticed as she had gotten out, the engine still purring like a kitten. The fact that they had driven so far without the least trouble seemed to prove his point that nothing was the matter. Daisy was ready to give the matter up, though she found it odd that the light should come on without a reason.

About ten miles down the road from where they stopped and traded places, Richard started to pull over.

“What’s wrong?” Daisy asked him. “What are we stopping for?” There was nothing around at all, not even far off in the distance.

“It’s not me,” he answered. “It’s the car. The engine just shut down.”

The car coasted to a stop. Richard got out and popped the hood. Daisy got out too and watched him.

“I can’t see. Better get the flashlight. It should be in the glove compartment.”

Daisy went around to find it. She riffled through the contents. The flashlight was there, down at the bottom, almost invisible behind something that looked like an old photo. She switched on the light and saw a crumpled picture. The girl in it looked somewhat familiar. Perhaps it was her hair.

She took the flashlight out to Richard, then went back inside the car to wait. She found what she was looking for, and then she picked up her purse.

She saw a light in the rearview mirror, a light that was approaching quickly, but then began to slow. A car pulled up behind them, and Daisy got out to see who it was. It was not a cop, she realized with relief, just some guy in a nice sedan, the kind you don’t see up in rural Oregon, no, more like the kind they drive in San Francisco.

The driver didn’t get out of the car, just rolled down his window.

“Hey, are you OK? You need some help?” The driver was a man, and there was no one else inside the car. He looked at Daisy, and he smiled.

“I don’t know. The car just stopped. For no reason. The check engine light was on.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Monterey.”

“I’m going that way too. I can give you a ride there, if you like.”

“Let me go ask Richard.”

She ran over to him and found him, head down, staring at the engine. “That guy says he’ll drive us to Monterey. What should I tell him?”

Richard only grunted and ignored her.

Daisy opened the passenger door and took something out. Then she went back to the car that was waiting.

“He thinks he can fix it.”

“Fix it? Out here, at this hour?”

Daisy shrugged. “He’s sort of a mechanic.”

“You sure you don’t want a ride?”

Daisy caught his meaning. He leaned over and opened the passenger door. She looked at Richard and the stalled out ancient Buick. She looked at them and thought the guy was right. It might be time to leave.

Jennifer Handy explores sexuality, psychological trauma, mental illness, homelessness, severed family relationships, and environmental issues through fiction. Her fiction has been published in A Plate of Pandemic, MAI: Feminism & Visual Culture, Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal and is forthcoming in Bridge Eight, Flyway: Journal of Writing and Environment, Great River Review, and Half and One.