Sarah drummed her nails on the plastic of the car, bent over the open hood, and staring at the task she had set herself.

"That's definitely an engine," she observed out loud despite not having an audience. She picked up the manual for the car that she had tucked between parts she didn't know the function of. She opened it, wondering if she could make any sense of it and finally gave up.

"Guess I should call a tow.." she muttered and dropped the manual to the still wet asphalt.

Sarah looked up, wiped her hands on her shirt and frowned at the man that lived across the road, trying to recall his name.

"Father Kramer," she greeted him coldly, "If you're here to sell Jesus, I'm not buying."

"Your immortal soul is your business, my child. Well, yours and His, but I wanted to know if I could help you with your car. Being a good neighbor. Mark 12:31."

The man offered her a smile that was all teeth, which made him look like a used car salesman.

"I'll leave it to a mechanic," Sarah said and slammed the hood to punctuate, "So unless there's something about cars in Mark, you can head on home."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, miss..."

"Becker."

"Miss Becker. The Lord teaches us to look out for our neighbors. Please don't be ready to throw one away after one bad meeting."

"Let me ask you one thing," Sarah said, picking up the manual so she could put it back in the glove box, "Simple yes or no."

"By all means."

"Have you ever yelled at people outside an abortion clinic?"

"My child. As it seems you are someone that can quote scripture by heart," was the start of his reply, referring to their previous meeting, "And you should know that in Psalm 139 it says..."

"Yes or no, father?"

"My child..."

"Sounds like a yes to me. Have a nice day, sir."

Sarah slammed her car's door, then headed up to the house. She heard the man's footsteps behind her and prepared to defend herself if necessary, trying to remember the three weeks of self defense classes she had taken. When his feet sounded closer, she picked up the pace, which was when the front door opened.

The sound of footsteps behind her immediately stopped when Diana appeared in the open doorway. She lazily leaned against the door frame, briefly brought two fingers to her mouth before pulling them back and holding her hand loosely at her side. Even though she was holding nothing, let alone a cigarette, she blew out a cloud of bluish smoke, then smiled politely at Father Kramer.

"Can I help you, neighbor?"

"Luke 13:3, hellspawn," Kramer snapped, turned on his heel and stormed home.

"Luke wishes. More like seven..."

"Uh, Diana. What was all that?"

Diana brought her fingers to her lips in her imitation of smoking and smiled, "That would be the neighborly love of Father Kramer. Our local preacher."

"And he knows about your... condition?"

"Oh, he does. He does very well."

"I thought you hid it well."

"I do now, yes. Even I have my slip ups. And what a sweet slip us she was..."

Diana looked dreamily at the drifting clouds, then stepped aside to let Sarah in.

"...so how's the car?" Diana wanted to know, her dreaming forgotten."

"Fucked."

"Do you need it this week? I think Dennis knows cars, so I can always have take alook."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"He would?"

Diana grinned cheekily, "You think many people say no to me?"

"No. No, I guess not."

"Where were you going anyway?"

"Out. Was done working for the day."

Diana didn't respond, simply waiting for more explanation from Sarah.

"Thought I might go for a drive. Get my head straight and think about your question."

"Well, if that's off the table. I have an alternative. Go get your computer."

Sarah frowned, shrugged and headed upstairs to get her laptop as told.

Sarah stared at the screen, moving the slider on her screen from right, to left, back to right, and back to left. The screen turned red, green, red again.

"You seem conflicted," Diana mused, looking up from her crafts, "What are you picking?"

"If I'm indecisive."

"Well that seems obvi... That's not what you're picking is it?"

Sarah smirked, "Nope. They want to know if I like to work with my hands."

"Mechanic?"

Even though they were in the kitchen that had no view of the driveway, Sarah glanced over her shoulder to where about she thought her car was parked, "Definitely not a mechanic."

"Farming then? Sewing? Let's see, what else..."

Sarah dragged the slider to the left, "Guess I'm not working with my hands."

"Suit yourself," Diana said, "Of course, you could learn to bake. That's working with your hands. Open a little bakery and sell cake."

"I don't think I'm suited for that either," Sarah sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"All you've been saying is 'no' to all my suggestions," Diana offered, "Maybe you should be a stay at home mom."

"And then?"

"Then you get to say 'no' to some rugrats all day."

"No thanks."

"There you go again," Diana giggled, "Hey, what about teaching?"

"No to anything with kids, Diana."

"Suit yourself."

The two continued in silence for a while, until Sarah suddenly stopped clicking buttons."

"Hey, Diana?"

"Hm?"

"How'd a sex demon like yourself end up as the all American housewife?"

"Bit rude," Diana said with a frown.

"I'm essentially your prisoner, so I think we can skip niceties."

"That's fair. Anyway, first of all. I'm not a sex demon, I feed on intense human emotions. It's just that that's easiest to get out of them while having intercourse."

"That's an answer to an entirely different question."

"Secondly," Diana said, "I just wanted a change from what came before. Can't say this is what I had in mind though. In the eighties I was a pop star in Japan."

"Were you now?"

"Oh yeah. Every week they'd fill live houses and scream my name. Now that fills a lady."

"But wait, you're obviously not Japanese..."

"Not in this life, no."

Sarah frowned, shrugged and continued on her test, unsure if Diana was messing with her.

"Well that's that," she said fifteen minutes later, "The computer says I should either... be an umpire or an orthodontist."

"Oh yeah," Diana said, continuing to cut paper into shapes, "Those tests are trash."

Sarah blinked, her voice incredulous as she asked, "Then why did you make me to it?"

"Because it got you thinking! Any breakthroughs?"

"Well, it's not going to get me any money, but I... I kind of want to try painting."

"Then I'll get you some supplies."

"Shouldn't I start tomorrow. After a good night's rest?"

Diana frowned so far that her glasses slid down her nose and fell off her face. She managed to get them on her pinkie before they reached the floor.

"Just start today," she said calmly, dropped her crafts to the kitchen table and left the room, "There's still hours of daylight left. I'll get you set up in the back yard."

"I'll start to..."

"'I'll do it tomorrow' are the words of somebody who is not going to do anything to begin with, so you're going to start right away."

"But..."

"No buts," Diana said and resolutely left the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later Diana stood staring at at a blank canvas in the backyard. She almost looked the part, but her clean apron and undisturbed palette clearly betrayed her inaction. She tapped her phone, changed the song for the fifth time, hoping a new tune would inspire her. She sighed, ripped her earbuds out and continued to stare at the taunting white canvas. She closed her eyes, then pushed one of her brushes into the paints, mixing without looking. The color she created vaguely reminded her of roast turkey. After briefly considering to mix another color, she just splashed the brown paint on the canvas. She started at the smudge for what seemed like forever, only to come to the conclusion that it was just paint spatter. She sighed, forming a line between them, then decided to stop thinking and simply let the paint brush do the work...

"How's it going?" Diana asked.

She left the house, holding two steaming mugs of cacao like the last time Sarah had been in the yard.

"Uhhh," was all Sarah had in response.

"Sounds promising," Diana laughed, handing Sarah the warm drink. She turned to study the painting. As far as Sarah could tell, she was squinting behind the her glasses while she studied her work.

"What is it?" she finally darked ask.

"Beats me," Sarah replied with a shrug of her shoulders, "I call it 'paint on a canvas'."

"So it's up to the audience to decide what it is," Diana said and downed her hot cacao in one gulp. She folded her arms and let the empty cup dangle from a delicate finger.

"...It's the Rape," she said decisively.

Sarah choked on her drink, sputtering an answer, "Excuse me?"

"The rape of Helen of Troy. So more a kidnapping, then... you know?"

"I can assure you that's not what I went for," Sarah said a lot more confident than she felt about it, "And honestly. I think we're better off trashing it."

Diana looked at it, then smiled at Sarah, "Well it's only your first attempt. Maybe the second will be better."

"Or maybe painting's not for me."

"Tell me that after you've done a hundred, Sarah. How often did you fall off your bike when you were little? Same general idea. Now, I'll leave you to it. "

Diana glanced a last time at the browning painting, before explaining her sudden departure, "I suddenly feel like making moussaka."

Sarah just watched her leve, then started on putting a fresh canvas on her easel.

"Two," she said to herself ten minutes later when the brush connected with the fresh canvas.