Fragments Gallery
Retirement
"Ya know… I'm goin’ to miss this place. I’ll even miss those buckets o’ bolts we fix."
"You can always come back and visit you know. In fact I expect you to return."
"I know, I know. It jus’… it won' be the same ya know?"
"Yeah it'll be different, but things always are. Moving forwards I mean."
"Yah, yah…"
Silence reigns as the two gaze around at the old shop. As far as mechanics shops go it was probably run of the mill, but to this pair it was special. They had built it from the ground up. Were they the owners? No… but that was beside the point. The pair of them had worked here together since the place opened ten years prior.
Mike, the older of the two, had been a veteran mechanic when he had started here while Jerome, the younger, had been fresh out of school. Jerome may have learned the trade in school but it was here that he had learned the tricks and underlying workings of the craft. If was here, under Mike's mentorship, that he had become an expert mechanic. Now, or soon rather, everything was going to change.
Soon Mike would retire and it would be up to Jerome to train a replacement to take his place. In that way the student would become the master; such was the way of things.
The entire situation seemed surreal; it were as though neither could entirely believe that the day of retirement could actually come pass. Together the old friends would discuss it while reminiscing on good times and recounting the bad; but if work were a dance then they were just stepping in the same old patterns with no real belief that the song would ever end.
But it would end in just a few days.
Every grimy bin, rusted bolt and oil smeared tool in the shop was as familiar to the two men as the wrinkles on the backs of their own hands. They knew the general contents of every single pile of spare parts better than they knew their own hampers of dirty laundry. Sure the tools and parts had been replaced or swapped in the day to day at the shop but there was always a similar shape to take its place. The two absolute static objects in the shop had always been the mechanics.
It was a lazy Friday afternoon. Mike's official last day was the end of the month, so on Monday, but they both knew that on Monday work would pick up and they wouldn't have the opportunity they had now to stare around the shop. In ways this was their last day together and neither of them really knew what to say.
"I'ma gonna grab a Coke," Mike growled after a moments uncomfortable silence, "Want one?"
"Yeah, sure," Jerome replied, grateful for some normalcy to return.
Weaving his way through the shop was second nature to him at this point but for once Mike didn't walk through on autopilot. Instead he stepped carefully and brushed his hand along the counters and shelves that he passed. The fridge door was stuck, as per usual, so it took a firm yank which rattled the nearby steel mesh shelves to dislodge the door. Inside was a temple of plastic containers and metallic cans. He dove determinedly into the mess and within moments was clunking a pair of cans onto a counter near the fridge. He snorted with laughter as he pulled himself free of the clutter.
"Hmm?" questioned Jerome.
"Oh, I was jus' thinkin'… I don't wan' to forget 'ow this place feels. This shop has been my 'ome for years and this job has been my entire life. Well my workin' career anyhow. I've loved my job and I don' wanna forget it and ‘ow it feels. But you know, I won' forget it. Not ever. You know why?"
Jerome shook his head and continued to watch and listen. He knew the old man well enough to know he wasn't really looking for much of an answer. He was just asking for effect.
"I realized tha' there is no way I could e’er forget this. I couldn't forget the feel of this shop any more than I'll be able to get the smell of oil outa my hair. It's part o' me now, so how could I forget that?"
With that Mike swiped the pair of cans from the counter and made his way back across the shop to return to his seat at Jerome's side. Jerome accepted the can with a murmured thanks and then it tapped down on the counter beside him, still unopened. That was classic Jerome for you; he always liked to take his time with his drinks.
The front buzzer rang and the pair looked at each other and sighed. A late coming customer had arrived and would be seeking attention. With a bemused look Jerome slipped from his seat on the countertop and passed through the steel door leading to the front of the shop. He'd deal with the customer and then return when things were quiet once more.
Mike sighed gently as he stared around the shop and idly cracked the Coke. Bright amber light streamed through the dirty windows and dusty air to illuminate the shop’s dimly lit interior. In its own way it was beautiful. Maybe it was better described as ruggedly handsome.
He really was going to miss this place.