While I was growing up, we had a second refrigerator in the garage. It was an old thing and existed inside of the house long before I did. The Garage Fridge always felt like it was in another dimension from our own, and the different magnets that cluttered it gave a peek into the other family’s mind. There was one that was neon purple from my parents’ honeymoon to Wonder World, despite my mother’s strong disdain for amusement parks. Another from my little sister’s cheer competition in Florida, which her future cheer career was promptly ended by an ankle injury the month after. 

I was seven when Garage Fridge’s freezer no longer had enough suction to keep itself shut. Dad installed a homemade solution, which was just a bungee cord. He was always a handyman, not by trade, but out of boredom. Even though he had four daughters and a full-time job, he was always bored. 

Quinn asks me on a hike after she gets out of school. I don’t want to say no. Ever since I moved out of the house, we haven’t seen much of each other. As a part of the middle child club, it is essential that we spend time together. 

“I’m surprised Aiden didn’t come with us,” Quinn comments as we pass the first and only rest stop. 

“Well, that’s because Aiden and I broke up a month ago.” 

Quinn immediately stops and turns to me. “What?” 

I pause, not exactly sure what to say next. “…Aiden and I broke up.” 

“I heard you the first time! What happened? I thought you liked him?” She speaks quickly and fiddles with the hand sanitizer clip on her backpack. 

“He was…alright. Aiden and I never really had much in common, anyway. He asked me to dinner, and we both decided to end things.” By this point, the end of the trail is coming up quickly. 

“Alright? I thought you were going to marry him, Marley! If I broke up with Gavin, I would be an absolute mess. Not ‘alright’!”

 Quinn walks backwards, which makes me nervous that she’s going to trip over a stick. I don’t know what else to say, so I just shrug. I wonder if seven months means a lot more for a highschooler relationship than an adult one. Quinn’s face contorts but she turns around as we hit the crest of the hill. 

“Fine, just let me know if you need ice cream or a box of tissues later.” 

We stand there in silence and admire how the sun sits low in the sky, waiting to paint it in its colors. 

The next thing Garage Fridge lost was the actual refrigerator part. Granted, it took a few more years, but it still happened. This time, Dad decided to go all out to find a solution. He pulled out a cam-buckle from an old space which my older sister, Lilly, lovingly called the toolbox graveyard. It was a cluttered space in the back of the garage guarded by the rusted bikes and an occasional garden supply. That cam-buckle turned out to be my nemesis. Every day, even though the fridge barely had anything in it, I would trudge out there to retrieve the drinks that my mother would eventually toss into our lunch pails for school. 

The first part, in which I clicked the middle button and loosened the strap, was the easy part. I took out the various juice pouches and placed them onto the floor for easy access later. The next bit required me to toss my lanky tween body to one side and pull the strap tight with all my might. I made it a routine to push the back of my hand up against the opening of the fridge. If I felt cold air, I would tighten it more and pray it was enough. I always felt cold air. 

Every three weeks or so, I meet Lilly for coffee. We never plan for it to be like this, but it always ends up on a Tuesday. Since she has a nine-to-five corporate advertising job and I’m a freelance writer, it makes more sense for me to take the half-hour drive into the city than for her to come back to the suburban town of Monroe Court. 

Little Stars seems to be busy today. It’s a small place tucked into the corner of Downtown, with pastel green walls and fake sunflowers on each table. There’s a group of teenage girls who chat away about prom at the table next to me, probably from the private school down the street. I’m in the middle of listening to one girl complain about the theme “Cloud Nine”, when Lilly plops in front of me with an apology about being late. 

I push the, hopefully not cold, Americano towards her. Unlike me, who changes their coffee order every week, Lilly always orders the same thing. We talk about the usual things, like what pieces I’m ignoring or why her son won’t take nap time. When I ask about work, there’s a small smile on her face.

“I, uh, got a promotion offer. The only thing is that they want me to move to another office. Josh thinks it’s a good idea, but I’m still thinking about it.” She taps her fingers against the cardboard cup. 

“The one in Central West End?” 

“They want me in the Seattle branch.” Her tapping stops. The prom group’s voices are suddenly louder than they were before. Lilly and I stare at each other for a few seconds before I shift in my seat. 

“Well, I’d hate to agree with Josh, but I agree. When are you going to get a chance like this again?” Lilly’s mouth curls upwards in a smile and I see her body lose tension. “You’ll only be a plane ride away from the rest of us. Knowing our family, we’ll see you every holiday.” 

“Thanks, Mars.” 

A loud buzz catches her attention. She picks up her phone and sighs. 

“Josh was asked to stay late and can’t pick Carter up for daycare.” 

We say our goodbyes and she leaves the shop. I decide to stay and nurse my latte a bit more. The prom group continue to chatter away. 

My dad’s birthday party was meant to be a surprise, but it turned out that he was able to get Parker to spill the beans with just a promised lollipop. Quinn and I both agreed that it was a cheap move to use the youngest to his advantage, but he let us drink soda that day, so we quickly dropped it. Our small house was filled with family and his work friends, and it had gotten overwhelming, to say the least. After they cut the cake, I took my slice into the only place I could get away from the noise—on the floor, with my back pressed against Garage Fridge. 

The device behind me hummed softly, which provided a nice white noise effect. I was always more of an icing person rather than an actual cake person, so the moment that portion was gone, so was my interest. Instead, I turned my attention to the rainbow-colored letter magnets and tried to spell the longest word that I could think of. Naturally, it was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I quickly gave up hope after the first ‘i’ but convinced myself that I could not return to the party until the job was done. 

Lilly found me in the garage half an hour later when she went to put the leftover cake away. 

Today’s the first Tuesday since Lilly moved. Usually, around this time, I would be driving my god-awful lime green car on the highway and inevitably get stuck in traffic an hour in. Instead, I’m at my parents watching my dad fix their dishwasher, which isn’t broken.

“Mars, can you get me a wrench?” 

“Sure,” I reply, pushing myself off of the kitchen counter and making my way to the garage. The moment I open the door, I notice something different. Garage Fridge is gone. The only thing left behind is a rusted orange stain on the concrete. 

I apprehensively take a step forward and enter the silhouette. The moment I enter, I feel a rush of coldness hit me. It starts at my fingertips and creeps up to my cheeks. Tears blur my vision until the toolbox graveyard becomes a cluster of shapes. 

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