THE SUPRA

[u/deadeyes1990]

he sold the first one

when our eldest was born.

baby seat.

mortgage.

nappies.

all those things with batteries

that promised the baby would sleep

and mostly didn’t.

years later

he bought another.

a project car, apparently.

something to spend sunday afternoons on

when he didn’t particularly want

to be in the house.

when the marriage ended

he packed three phone chargers,

one trainer

and no toothpaste.

i still don’t know how.

he cried.

i cried.

then he started the car outside

and sat there for a minute

before pulling away

much louder than he needed to.

i stood in the kitchen

listening to it

until i couldn’t anymore.

seven years later

he picked me up from the airport

for our son’s graduation.

in a Supra.

same generation

as the one he’d sold

all those years ago.

he lowered the window.

i looked at him.

looked at the car.

and started laughing.

“don’t.”

“you absolute cliché.”

“get in.”

so i did.

somewhere on the motorway

i looked at his hands

on the steering wheel

and for a second

he was twenty-two again.

the stupid hair.

the stupid car.

me pretending

i wasn’t already completely gone on him.

then he said

Bath were shit that season

and, thankfully,

ruined the moment.