“What?”
Mason smiled.
“You know.”
Eli thought.
Then recited:
“Before you blame the machine, check what somebody touched last.”
“Exactly.”
“And Victor touched it.”
“Yes.”
“Did he break it?”
“He made it not start.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Eli frowned.
“That’s dumb.”
Mason laughed.
“Best analysis anyone gave.”
Eli looked toward the motorcycle.
“So I didn't fix it.”
“No.”
“Were you disappointed?”
Mason stared.
“Why would I be?”
“I thought I was special.”
Mason put one hand gently on his shoulder.
“You are.”
“But not because of a motorcycle.”
Eli looked uncertain.
Mason continued.
“You looked carefully.”
“That’s useful.”
“But you were four.”
“You also believed dinosaurs could become firefighters.”
Eli laughed.
“I did not.”
Sarah shouted from inside:
“You absolutely did.”
Eli groaned.
Mason smiled.
“You don't need a miracle story.”
“Okay.”
“Your dad didn't leave you homework.”
That sentence stayed with Eli.
His father did not leave homework.
The motorcycle belonged to him eventually.
But he did not have to become Daniel.
At twelve, Eli wanted to play baseball.
Sarah bought a glove.
At fourteen, he joined a robotics club.
Mason pretended betrayal again.
At fifteen, he finally asked to learn basic motorcycle maintenance.
Mason made him start with manuals.
Eli complained.
“Dad taught by doing.”
“How do you know?”
“Mom.”
“Your mother edits history.”
Sarah, from across the garage:
“I heard that.”
Mason smiled.
Then gave Eli a service manual.
“Read.”
Eli did.
He learned oil changes.
Tire inspection.
Battery care.
Basic electrical safety.
Not because of destiny.
Because he enjoyed it.
At sixteen, Mason handed him Daniel's old multimeter.
Not the motorcycle.
The meter.
Eli stared.
“Was this his?”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
“You finally stopped dropping mine.”
Eli laughed.
“Seriously.”
Mason looked at him.
“Tools are responsibility.”
“Not inheritance.”
“Understand?”
Eli nodded.
Mason handed it over.
The plastic case was scratched.
Daniel's initials on the back.
E.B.?
No.
D.B.
Eli ran his thumb over them.
“Thanks.”
“Don't thank me.”
“Your mom kept it.”
“I just waited until you were less stupid.”
Eli smiled.
“Gentle, Mason.”
Mason froze.
Sarah's old word.
Gentle.
He laughed.
“Your mother has corrupted you.”
At eighteen, Eli graduated high school.
He did not become a mechanic.
Not immediately.