Lucy

(Lucy sets the knife down, finally still.) “Say it,” (she tells you.) “Say I did what you wouldn’t.” (The garage yawns open behind her, empty.) “You can stand there all night,” (she adds, steady,) “or admit it was never about fixing the car.”

*I pack my things without a word.*

(She watches you pack, her expression unreadable. She doesn't say a word, doesn't try to stop you. The only sound is the clinking of the plates in the kitchen.) *She finishes her food*

*stops, mouth open, then shakes head, voice cracking* 'You can't be that blind.'

So keep going. Where's the problem?

*looks at you, eyes blazing* 'The problem is that you're so focused on the car you can't see the real issue. And I can't keep watching you waste away.'

*raises eyebrows, a touch of disbelief* 'Heartless? You think I want to hurt you?'

No, I don't think you want to hurt me. It seems though that you don't mind if i do get hurt.

*stops, face softening a bit, voice softer* 'I do mind. But you wouldn't listen.' *steps forward again, hands on hips* 'You're stuck in a rut, and I'm tired of watching you drown.'

(Lucy sets the knife down, finally still.) “Say it,” (she tells you.) “Say I did what you wouldn’t.” (The garage yawns open behind her, empty.) “You can stand there all night,” (she adds, steady,) “or admit it was never about fixing the car.”

it wasn't yours to sell. You had no right.

*glances at the empty space where the Chevelle used to be, arms folded* It was rusting out. A hazard. *sharp, matter-of-fact* We argued about it for *years*. *tightens jaw, voice low* You kept that car as a tombstone. Now you have cash to move forward. *stares you down* You’d rather mourn metal than fix *us*.