Not for you (FIN)

>"You see," said Dirk, we're all three not exactly happy that you're moving half around the globe, and be if just for a year; but if you want it, so be it. But we thought you'd need something to remember us, so..."

"We build you a little something." Finished Christian.

My stare wandered between the two of them and the open garage door into which Michael had disappeared. "You what?"

"Well, you do remember Michael's last car?"

The B-Kadett Turbo? That was a show, yes." I still had no idea what they were up to.

"Help, please?" came the call from the garage.

We all got up, and I found myself running.

In the garage, Michael stood smiling next to something that was hidden by a sheet.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This, my dear Dana," Michael proudly said while the other two came to stand at his sides, "is our gift to you. I know you hate things that you didn't assemble yourself, but be assured that this was manufactured by three of the finest mechanics in Germany. We proudly present..." He lifted the sheet. "The CMD 16V Turbo for your car!"

I stared in awe at the block of chrome and white paint. It looked a bit like the C20XE - the half-way regular 2 liter Opel motor I already had in my car, and if I wouldn't have known the engine so well, I could have easily confused it - but it obviously wasn't.

Someone had redesigned the inscription on the block, instead of any Opel trademarks it now bore three letters - CMD; and that was not the only difference to the regular motor which I could see right away, but it was the most obvious one.

"What the hell is this? What's a CMD?"

"Christian - Michael - Dirk. We considered DMC, but that's something else, so we went for this option," Michael grinned. "We've taken my old turbo engine, restaurated it - new piston rings, new valves, new gaskets and so on, redesigned it a bit to make it fit for front wheel drive car, gave it the look of a regular C20XE so you won't get into trouble for having a different engine than your papers state and there it is - your new engine, already fit for your Corsa. The sheer brutality of 320 horsepowers for your 800 kilograms of car. I also got you a new six-gear transmission and stronger brakes, in case you're worried about not being able to stop that monster once it's running. And if you should wonder about missing cables - we've just cleaned it up a bit so no one will be able to see what it can do. Cables are still there, just in a place where no one can see them."

I felt tears coming to my eyes, yet I laughed at the same time, hiding my face behind my hands. "You so didn't do that! This engine was your baby, you worked so hard on it! When did you three find the time to do that, anyway?"

"Weekends," said Michael.

"I took some days off," said Christian.

"And I came here at night," stated Dirk.

They all looked as if they were Santa Claus, I swear it. And I felt as if I was a kid who just got the gift of her life.

I couldn't take my eyes off the sheer mass of chrome and white painted engine which was visually stripped from all cables and tubes that an engine usually has. Discovering blue pipes coming from the carburetor which seemed to end nowhere, I finally looked at them again.

"What's this?"

"Oh," Dirk said, "those are the pipes for the NOS - we thought you'd better buy some bottles over there, in case the freight company would object to transporting a car with explosives on board their ship... plus, it's cheaper in the US."

I stared at them and the engine open mouthed and couldn't speak.

"Say something?" said Christian after two minutes or so.

"Or just consider closing your mouth unless you want to catch some flies." Said Dirk.

Michael just looked at me, arms crossed, with an unreadable expression.

Finally I found some words.

"You are all so fucking insane, you know that? I - I don't know what to say, I don't even think I can accept this!"

"Well, we can't exactly take it back, either. Too much work to fit it back into one of our rear-wheel drives, you know?" Christian grinned.

"Remember, you didn't wear a skirt to get it. So it's perfectly alright to take it." Dirk said.

And then I did something two of them never saw before. I cried openly and tried to hug them all at once, which didn't exactly work so I just caught Christian and Dirk in my arms. "You three are so insane. Thank you, thank you so much."

They patted my back. "It's alright, Dana."

In the corner of my eye I saw Michael slightly backing away with a still unreadable expression on his face.

"And how the hell am I supposed to get that into the container? It's full!"

"Well, then only one thing helps..." said Christian

"...and that would putting the engine into the car where it belongs." Continued Dirk.

"That is, if you don't mind leaving your old engine here with us." Finished Christian.

Now I was really staring at them open mouthed.

"Put the engine into the car? Boys, I'm leaving tomorrow in case you should have forgotten. The car will be picked up tomorrow too, so..."

"So what? We have half of this day and all night to get that thing into it." Said Christian.

Michael had taken two steps back and was staring at the floor.

"Michael, what do you think?" I asked.

"I think we could make it. Besides, I've once put an engine into a car in one day all by myself, and we're four. Together we should manage before the sun goes down." He still didn't look at either of us, just stared at the floor.

"Humm - alright - Dirk and Christian, start bringing my car in here; remember it can't be driven because all gasoline has been removed. And Michael - I'd like to talk to you." I walked towards the door, crooking my finger so he would follow me.

Outside I took a deep breath and leaned against the garage wall, eyes closed, the sun on my face, waiting for him. A moment later he was standing next to me, I couldn't see him but the slight vibration of the garage wall told me that he as beside me.

"What's up?" I asked, looking at him.

"Nothing," he said, staring at the floor and chewing his bottom lip.

"Come on, usually you're the one who's talking most of you three, but in there I heard almost nothing from you except when you introduced the engine to me."

He looked at me, an intense stare from blue eyes. "You really want to know?"

"Sure, otherwise I wouldn't ask."

"I'm fucking scared." He whispered.

"Of what?" I asked, my brow creasing.

"Of you going away and me never seeing you again."

"That's really nice, you know. You could have told me earlier, and I'm just going for a year. Besides, what exactly do you like about me? Since we broke up, we've mostly been arguing."

"Perhaps that's what I'm going to miss. I'm scared out of my wits to find myself driving along this street and realizing you're not there. I'm scared finding myself looking around on the streets and finding that your car is nowhere to be found. I'm scared to dial your number and find that someone else got it." He sighed. "I'm scared to look up Youtube and see you wrecking your car against that fuckhead or in an accident he orchestrated. You know what happened to members of his gang some years ago?"

"They were a team, not a gang. Plus, as far as I know, it wasn't his fault. And I'm not wrecking my car for no one. Especially not with that darling engine of yours. I know you'd personally come over and kill me."

"You still have no idea who that guy really is!" His voice was close to screaming. "What if he rapes you, Dana? What if he kills you?"

I found myself laughing. "Rape me? Kill me? Michael, Toretto is known for many, many things, but none of them has anything to do with rape or killing. Well, at least not on purpose - almost killing, I mean..."

"Maybe," he spat, turning around, standing before me and putting both hands next to my head to the garage wall, "but there are other people there who could do either of those to you. And what if - just if! - you fall in love with him and he breaks your heart? I won't be there to beat the crap out of him..."

"I can very well take care of myself and don't need you to beat the crap out of anyone. And as you know, it's still my choice who I fall in love with, and you know that I don't give my heart easily. I'm independent, and I like it. That's the reason why our relationship didn't work, you remember?"

"Yeah, and that's exactly the reason why I'm so fucking worried. You're so freaking independent and proud of it that I don't even think you would cry for help if someone raped you."

"You just stop worrying, Michael. I promise to call you once a week, and if there's any kind of problem, I promise to call you right away. I know that in case I need you, you wouldn't hesitate jumping on a plane and I appreciate this more than you can imagine. But see, I'm grown up, I make my own decisions and you can't stop me. Chances are good that I'll come back some day, in a year, to be exact and I don't want to part from you in anger. We've known each other for too long to have a fight over this."

He took a long look at me. "I know, it's just..." He chewed his bottom lip.

"I know," I smiled, touching his face, surprised to find that he was leaning into the touch, "I'll miss you too. Now..." I took a look down the driveway. "Shouldn't we help those two with the car and the engine? I'm afraid they'll break something if they're doing it alone or that they'll need more than the year I'm planning to go to do it..."

We spent the rest of the day and a good part of the evening working on the car, changing the engine and almost everything else that was connected to it. The four of us had been knowing each other long enough to know what the capacities of each of us were, so everyone of us took a part of the work that he or she could do best.

Michael was responsible for anything concerning the motor, exhaust system and transmission, Christian did most of the electrical wiring, Dirk took care of the brakes and I - well, usually bodywork was my specialty, but there wasn't too much to do as the boys had really done a good job on making sure that the engine and everything else would fit into the small space under the hood. So I lended helping hands to all of them, gave them tools when asked for, helped tightening screws and whatever was required.

At nine p.m. we were finished, standing around the small car which looked so innocent and girlish but now truly had the engine from hell under its hood. Some blue tubes lay blankly on the floor of the co-driver's side; this was where the nitrous bottles were supposed to be installed once I would get to the US. I placed the carpet over them so they wouldn't be seen by the transport company.

"I think we're finished," I sighed and wiped the sweat from my face with an oily hand.

"I think not," said Michael, "Christian? Get the sticker from your car."

"You think this is a bright idea? I think she'll stuff it into one very dark place of yours if you try to put it on her car..."

"What sticker?" I asked confused, looking from one to the other.

"You'll see," said Michael and gave Christian a dismissing wink of his hand. Christian shrugged, then went to his car.

"You see," said Michael, turning to me, "we thought it would be nice for your opponents to know what's inside this thing once you overtook them, so..."

"...so you did what? 'Noli me tangere' isn't exactly what I would like to read on my bumper..."

"What does 'Noli me tangere' mean?" asked Dirk.

"'Don't touch, thanks very much.' Well, something like that." I answered.

Christian came back, in his hands a big roll of something that I suspected to be the sticker, but it was unfamiliar large. He looked at Michael, then at Dirk. Michael nodded approvingly.

"Alright, Dana, we're your very bestest friends, you know that. Now, without doubt, you trust us to no limit after all we've given to you today, so.... get out."

"Beg pardon?"

"You get out of here, we'll put the sticker on your car, give the car to the shipping company tomorrow when they pick it up... and you'll see the sticker once you're in the US."

"Nice plan," I said, "but no. I want to see what you're planning to plaster over my rear bumper. I-"

Michael grinned, shook his head and looked at Dirk and Christian.

""It's not exactly the rear bumper, Dana. You two, get her out of here and if needed tie her to one of those garden chairs. I doubt it will hold her back for long, but perhaps long enough so that we can stick this to this sweet little white menace of a car and lock the garage so she can't see it. I already have her keys, so she can't get in once we're finished, either."

"NO!" I faked shock, I faked kicking without (badly) injuring them and I also refrained from biting them too hard when they brought me to the chair. Deep inside, I laughed. A sticker could easily be removed if it was too bad, and besides, I should let them have that last surprise for me. Plus, this way I could just do nothing while they were busy and relax on that warm summer evening...

After they were finished, locked the garage and untied me - over which I faked indignation how they could possibly tie me up like this - we all climbed onto the roof of the garage and pulled out a mid sized bag of small alcohol bottles, in Germany best known as 'Feiglinge', containing fig schnapps. Those small bottles had a long tradition in our meetings at the garage; they were the usual way to let a day of hard work end for us.

"To the independent girls of this world!" Christian said, unscrewing his bottle and emptying it in one shot.

"To the turbo equipped engines!" Dirk emptied his.

"To the racers of this world!" I said, shifting mine.

"To the poor assholes who will have the crap beaten out of them if they hurt the independent turbo equipped racing girls of this world!" Michael said dryly, taking his.

The collective crashing of the four empty bottles into the next garage door sealed our toasts.

We sat all night on the garage roof, drinking Feiglinge and Coke, talking about old times we had spent in the garage, laughing about the fun we had. At eight in the morning a truck with trailer stopped in front of the house.

"They're picking up my car and the container," I said tired, leaning back to back with Michael.

"You still sure that..."

"Stop it for once!" Dirk, Christian and I yelled, having heard that very beginning of a sentence too often that night.

"Alright! Alright! I won't say anything!" Michael said grumpily. "I'll go help with the car and the container, and you two take care she doesn't see anything."

The container and car were gone later that morning, so were Christian and Dirk who had driven off for their beds, Michael was sitting in my mostly empty living room, waiting to drive me to the airport and I was standing in my bathroom which was empty save a small bag that held my meager collection of showering- and makeup items. I stared at myself in the mirror. "You can do this..:" I said to myself, hesitating. "You'll get along just fine. And if not, there's still Michael."

"Who the hell are you talking to?" The bathroom door was opened, Michael peered around the corner.

"Myself," I said, still looking at my own face. "I'm so tired, Michael. Hope I won't sit next to a wailing child on the plane so I can get some sleep."

"You'll do just fine," he said, patting my back.

"What's up with you, no more arguing about my departure?" I grinned.

"No, I sort of gave up."

"Don't know if I like that or not," I said.

"You know if you want to return, I'm here, waiting for you," he said with a soft small voice that so wasn't the Michael I knew.

"What?" I stared at him.

"Me. Here. Waiting. You know, as in: for your return." He said, sounding a bit impatient.

I shook my head, throwing the last items of cosmetics into my bag. "No, you're not. Didn't work between us, you remember?"

"I do remember that it worked for three years."

"Yeah, with one 'interruption' on your side and about - how many? - five, six 'interruptions' on my side?"

"That 'interruption', as you obviously like to call Bianca now, was just because of your 'interruption' with that guy you 'needed' to get your plumbing in the house done."

"I didn't blame you, in case you shouldn't have noticed, I blamed myself. See the facts, you wouldn't be happy with me, you're too good for me, Michael. I would never stop being what I am, who I am. You deserve something much better." I smiled at him. "I'm still incredibly thankful that we both are still friends. You know, not many men would have still wanted me after all that happened."

"You're not easy, but I'm not that simple, either."

"Yet and still you deserve someone better. Now, what about driving? I only have four hours until my plane takes off, and you know that I should be at the airport three hours before the flight for the security checks."

He took a long look at me. "Would you mind if I would ever visit you over there?"

"Not at all, would be great." I carried my bag to the suitcase in the living room, trying to stuff it into it and close it without much success.

"And what if I would decide to stay there?"

"Just you stay where you want, it's fine with me." I said absent minded, still trying to close my suitcase.

"And what if I would want to stay with you?"

I stilled every movement. "What the hell are you talking about? Want to move to the US within the next year? Fine. Want to live in my neighborhood there? Fine! Want to stay in my apartment? Are you still sane? You know how this will end: Me with some other guy who won't be around for too long, you heartbroken and crying in your car, racing along the motorway in a suicidal manner. No, Michael, I've seen that once - not planning to repeat that experience."

"Perhaps you could change," he whispered.

"Perhaps not," I said.

"Perhaps I could tolerate those little escapades of yours."

"Perhaps you should see a psychiatrist, Michael. No one tolerates what I did. No one tolerates what I'll always do, no matter how good my intentions may be in the beginning."

"Perhaps you just yet have to meet the right man to keep you from those escapades. Perhaps I wasn't good enough."

This man really knew how to unnerve people. I was so angry that I finally managed to close the damn suitcase on my own.

"You know what? If you don't stop talking like that, drowning yourself in self pity and guilt and myself in innocence, then I'll call a cab. I so have no nerve to listen to that crap all the way to the airport."

"Perhaps you should do that," he said, turning around and walking to the door.

I knew I was supposed to say something. I knew I was supposed to run after him. As always, I was too stubborn to do it.

He hesitated for a moment at the door but didn't look back. "You don't worry, I'll still take care of the house while you're gone," he said. The door opened, and he disappeared. A moment later I heard the engine of his car wake to life, and just a split second later it was driving down the street.

"You stupid cow!" I grumbled at myself. "Can't you for ONCE say you're sorry? Can't you for ONCE play nice?" Groaning I typed the number of the cab company into my cell phone.

Waiting for the cab I was still hoping that Michael would return, but he didn't. On the way to the airport I looked out for his car on the highway, but couldn't see it. At the airport, while checking in, I was still looking for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

As I went through the security inspection, just at the point when I was finished and was just about to board the plane, I took one last look at the crowd in the airport. A sharp whistling from somewhere above made me raise my head.

There he stood, on a different level of the airport, leaning to a balustrade, looking at me. I felt the urge to run back through the security inspection, just to see or hug him a last time, but I knew that this would make me miss my flight. So I just raised my hand and waved.

He still just stared at me, and even if he was at least 90 feet away from me, I could see that he had obviously cried.

I raised the fist to my ear; the universal sign for 'I'll call you'. This was the only thing that came to my mind besides shouting through the airport which I didn't consider an option.

Still no sign of movement from him. Just that stare.

When I was already about to turn and walk towards my flight, he finally did something. He pointed at himself, then at his watch, and then at me. I understood. 'I'll wait for you.'

I shook my head and smiled sad at him, then waved one last time, turned around and boarded my plane.