Driving Lessons: A Novel (9 page)

“I poured myself plenty of extra gulps in New York, thank you very much.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do miss it, it’s true. But I know in my heart that I don’t really miss the true New York. I miss my idealized version of it.”

“And what’s happening with the baby thing?”

“What baby thing?” Heat rose to my face.

“Our baby,” he said softly. “I thought that we were all-systems-go here.”

“We are,” I replied, avoiding his gaze.

“Are we? Are you? Because every time I mention it, you change the subject or get shifty, like you’re doing right now.”

“I’m not shifty!”

“Look at me, then. Are we still on the same page?” His puppy-dog eyes broke my heart.

“Of course we are,” I lied. “Why are you bringing that up now?”

“Because everything else is on the table, I guess. I’ve been scared to ask you about all of this. You’ve got your invisible force field thing going on.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

I scooted over and patted the empty space beside me. “Come back here.” When he did, I took his hand. “Sorry about the force field. I’ve been dealing with a lot of transitional stuff, I guess. Stuff I don’t want to burden you with because I’m not sure if they’re legitimate worries or just growing pains.” There, that was the most honest I had been with Josh since we’d moved. God, it felt good.

“Sarah, your ‘stuff,’ as you call it, is never a burden to me. Is my stuff a burden to you?”

“No. But your stuff is neater. Less complicated.”

“Is that an insult?”

“Not at all.”

He raised his eyebrow as he plucked a French fry from the plate.

“Honestly, it’s not. There are moments when the idea of a baby freaks me out, but I’m pretty sure that those are just moments.”

“Pretty sure?”

“I mean, I’m off birth control. What more do you want?”

“What more do
I
want? Shouldn’t it be ‘we’? Shouldn’t we both be rooting for it?”

“I am. I promise. Can we just keep winging it for a while and quietly hope that I get pregnant? Making a big fuss over the whys and wherefores of ovulation at this point seems unnecessary. It’s only been, what, a month of trying?”

“Okay, fair enough. I just wanted to clear the air.”

“And what does going to New York for a week or two have to do with our baby making? I’ll have my period anyway.”

“Maybe you won’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“The other day. In the kitchen? Who knows?” He smiled, and I summoned all of my strength to give him a convincing one in return.

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Surmising about the state of my uterus and shooting my blood pressure up in the process. Please, let’s just play dumb for a little while longer?”

“Okay, you’re right. Sorry.” He squeezed my thigh.

“Josh, I know in my heart that Mona needs me now. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I didn’t use this time that I have to help her. I really don’t. Even if she lived in Utah, I would want to go to her now.”

“Utah? Really?”

“Well, maybe it would take me a bit longer to deliberate about it, but yes.”

“Look, Sarah, I love you. Of course you have my blessing if you really want to go. Just come back, please.”

“Of course I’m coming back.” I hugged him. “I love you,” I said, whispering into his ear.

10

U-turn
: turning your vehicle around in the street to go back the way you came.

T
he straps of my backpack created sweat shadows down the front of my T-shirt as I marched determinedly down the main road to town. The ladybug infestation at home had driven me out. There were only so many tiny red-and-yellow bugs that I could pick off of blind slats before going certifiably insane. My mission was to make it to the coffee shop, drink a thousand gallons of water and ingest a sandwich, call Mona to tell her that I was coming whether she liked it or not, and then walk over to Bauble Head and promptly resign.

I rehearsed my resignation speech in my head as gnats dive-bombed me from all sides. A pickup truck wailed at me as it whizzed past and I gave it the finger.
So, Mitzi, I’m so sorry to have to do this to you on such short notice, but since asking for two weeks of vacation at this stage of my employment qualifies as the highest level of douchery, I’m afraid I have to resign.
I wondered how Mitzi would react to the word “douchery.” It was probably not my best choice of words.
Highest level of inappropriateness?
Better.

Finally, the strip mall appeared like a shimmering mirage on the horizon. Inside the coffee shop at last, I gulped in the air-conditioning as though it were oxygen and collapsed dramatically at a small table in the corner. As I removed my backpack, I took in the other patrons. All of them looked like college students, the boys in ratty fraternity T-shirts and cargo shorts and the girls in some derivative of workout gear with their hair and makeup deliberately straightened and applied, respectively. Mitzi really had to change her tune, or she was never going to make a profit. Even if some of these girls were into bedazzled devil horns at Halloween, they wouldn’t be caught dead at a place called Bauble Head. Unfortunately, I would never be able to tell her as much, unless of course I wanted to salt the wound of my resignation even further.

At the counter, I pulled a bottle of water from the cooler and guzzled it unapologetically as I read the chalkboard menu.

“Thirsty?” asked the woman at the register. I took the bottle from my mouth, embarrassed, and smiled.

“Sorry. I’m not used to this kind of heat in October.”

She laughed and cocked her head. “You’re Mitzi’s new girl. From New York?”

I blushed, feeling conspicuous. “That’s me.”

“I’m Bonnie.” She extended her hand to shake mine. “Welcome to Farmwood.”

“Thanks.”

I ordered and returned to my seat. In New York, you could go years without ever so much as meeting your neighbor, but here, even as the employee of a friend, you were acknowledged heartily. It was nice. Well, nice until you screwed over said friend by quitting almost immediately after being hired. Something told me that Bonnie wasn’t going to be quite as cordial the next time I needed a caffeine fix. I dug my phone out of my bag and dialed Mona.

“Hi,” she croaked.

“You sleeping?”

“Not anymore.”

“It’s Monday.”

“And?”

“You took the day off from work?” My heart fluttered with worry. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Well, my surgery is next week. I’m just tying up some loose ends now and will take off for three weeks on Thursday. I just went in for an hour or two this morning.”

“Oh, got it. That must have been something—telling them about your diagnosis.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t a picnic. It is cancer, you know. Not like a pregnancy or anything, where everyone has to act all happy for you even if they’re disgusted by the concept.” Mona’s boss was not a child enthusiast.

“What did Suzanne say?”

“She cried, actually. I was a bit taken aback.” Mona coughed. “I mean, I realize that I have cancer, but in my mind I can’t quite grasp the reality of what that means to other people when they hear me say it, you know? It’s almost like I’m telling them about someone else who has cancer, not me. An acquaintance of ours or something.”

“How are you doing with everything? Emotionally, I mean?”

“I’m a mess. A certifiable mess.”

“Oh, Mona. I feel like an asshole.”

“Why, because you don’t have cancer?”

“Maybe. And because I’m not there.”

“You know, I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to pinpoint any specific moment when the cancer would have taken hold, you know? I mean, it’s all so fucking mysterious.”

“Mona, I’m coming up to take care of you while you recover,” I blurted out. “Please don’t argue with me.”

“I’ve been reconsidering your offer, actually. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she said, surprising me. “I need to accept the fact that I am going to need help for a bit. Maybe two weeks or so.”

“Good! Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that. I was prepared for a battle.”

“The question is, though, are you coming up here for me or are you coming up here to escape?”

“I want to help you, Mona, I really do. What am I doing here? Selling costume jewelry and feeling sorry for myself most days, to be honest. I can’t think of a better purpose than helping my best friend. And I have the time, so why not?”

“What about figuring out what you want to do next? What you and Josh want to do? How does he feel about all of this?”

“He gets it. He loves you, Mona. And he knows how important you are to me.”

“Still, he can’t be thrilled about the fact that you’re leaving him.”

“In the grand scheme of things, two weeks is nothing. He’ll survive.”

“Okay, good.” She sighed heavily. “Good.”

“When is your surgery?”

“Next Wednesday.”

“Oh wow, soon.”

“Yeah, they’re anxious to get in there. Sarah, I’m scared,” she said, lowering her voice significantly. “I really am.”

“I know, honey. I am too. But I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I promise. I am going to watch you like a hawk. Whatever you need—I don’t care if it’s tandoori chicken from Little India at two in the morning—I will make it happen.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

“What about if I crap myself and you have to change me?”

“Could that happen?”

“Probably not. But it might. You never know.”

“I will change you.”

“I love you, Sarah.”

“I love you too, Mona. I’ll try to book a flight for Friday, and I’ll send you the confirmation.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Bonnie deposited my wrap in front of me. I thanked her and picked at it delicately, as though it might be alive. It was happening. I was returning to New York to take care of my best friend while she recuperated from a hysterectomy because she had cervical cancer. Cervical cancer.

Here I was, obsessing about the receptive state of my own uterus and having panic attacks about merging onto the highway, while my best friend was dealing with the fact that she was going to lose her reproductive system to cancer. Alone, no less. What an ungrateful asshole I was. I unwound my wrap and poked around its insides with indifference. My appetite was gone.

W
ell hey, darlin’, what are you doin’ here? I swear this is your day off. Or am I really losin’ the few marbles I have left?” Mitzi was perched behind the register on her pink polka-dotted stool, daintily eating a Caesar salad, a crouton speared on the tip of her fork like the point of an exclamation mark.

“Oh no, it is my day off, I just, well, I was just in the neighborhood,” I explained nervously.

“You miss me or somethin’, Miss New York?” She eyed me coyly. “I know better than that. What’s up?” She put her salad down and gasped, bringing her hands together in the prayer position. “Are you pregnant, honey?” she whispered excitedly.

“Nope, not pregnant.” It occurred to me that I did not know that to be fact, which was a very strange realization indeed. Then again, I felt completely normal, all things considered.
Move it along, Sarah.
“It’s something else entirely, actually.”

“Uh-oh, this sounds serious.”

“My best friend in New York, she—she just found out that she has cervical cancer.”

“Oh my,” replied Mitzi. “That is just terrible. Is she your age?” My eyes welled and I nodded. “Well that’s just awful, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. The thing is, she’s all alone. Single. I need to go up there to help her recover from her hysterectomy.” I paused to take in a gulp of air. “Unfortunately, she’s having it next week. And the recovery time is two weeks. So.” I placed my sweaty hands on the glass counter and peered into the sparkling mass of gems below, immediately regretting the Windexing that Mitzi would have to do in my wake. “I realize that the timing of this is shitty, especially since I’ve barely begun to work here, but I’m afraid I have to resign.” I looked up, finally, meeting her eyes.

“Why do you have to resign, Sarah?”

“Well, I just figured that that would be the best thing for me to do. Taking a two-week break from a job I’ve just been hired for is not exactly employee-of-the-month material.”

“Lucky for you, we don’t have employees of the month here at Bauble Head,” replied Mitzi. “You don’t have to up and quit, honey. Don’t be silly.” She pulled out the matching stool beside her and patted it with a French-manicured hand. “C’mere. Have a seat.” Rendered speechless by her reaction, I complied silently.

“You know what?” she asked. I shook my head. “There are times in life when things make sense in unexpected ways. I call them my whaddayaknow moments.”

“Your whaddayaknow moments?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She smacked her forehead gently in mock surprise. “Whaddayaknow? Like that.” She patted my hand. “About fifteen years ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was the worst day of my life. I was shocked and, of course, terrified, as was Clyde. My doctor prescribed a double mastectomy along with aggressive chemo and radiation, and so of course, we hopped right to it.”

“Oh, Mitzi, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, darlin’. I was too, believe me. Now, I love Clyde with all of my heart, and he is nothing short of my ideal partner, but let me tell you, in terms of the sympathy and care that only another woman can bestow in that situation, he was crap. Utter crap. Bless his heart, he tried his best, but it just wasn’t doin’ the trick. So you know what I did?” I shook my head. “I called up my best friend, Regina, who was livin’ in Idaho at the time; cried my eyes out to her; and asked her to come down.”

“You did?”

“I did. And you know what? She put her whole life on hold and did just that. She came down here to Farmwood to be my support system for a few months and saved my life. Not literally saved my life, the treatment did that, but emotionally, she saved my life. True story.”

“That’s incredible. What are the odds that you would have gone through the very same thing?”

“Zero to none, darlin’. That’s why it’s a whaddayaknow moment. Now, all of this is to say that I have no problem with you takin’ off to take care of your friend for two weeks. I won’t be payin’ you, of course, but your position will be waiting for you when you return. If you want it.”

“I want it,” I replied, grateful and moved by her kindness.

Mitzi was a good person. I realized I could learn something from her, and maybe, if I came up with a new business strategy for her store as part of my consulting work, she could learn something from me in return. This realization didn’t make the idea of selling costume jewelry any more enticing, but it did brighten my horizon a little bit.

C
an I just pull over here?” I asked Ray as we drove around my neighborhood.

“Well, yeah, but actually pull over, you know? To the side of the road. You just parked right in the middle of it.”

“Oh, okay, sorry.” I eased onto the shoulder in front of the elementary school playground. A Cadillac passed me, its driver’s face contorted into a scowl of extreme impatience.

“Oh, excuse me!” I shouted after him. “Sorry to make you late to bingo, asshole.”

Ray laughed. “You havin’ a bad day?”

“Well, I was. It took an unexpected turn, though.”

“A good one?”

“I think so. I mean, in terms of being the recipient of genuine, uncalculated human kindness and understanding, it did.”

“Imagine that.”

“I know.” On the playground in front of us, three little girls held hands and performed a slow Ring Around the Rosie. “You know my best friend? The one I was telling you about?”

“The one that wasn’t calling you back?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Well, you were right. She did have her own stuff going on.”

“Big stuff?”

“Yeah, she has cancer.” My eyes welled with tears. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never makes any sense,” said Ray. “I lost my mother to it.”

“You did?” I felt nauseous. Did everyone either have cancer or know someone who did?

“Yes. Terrible, disgusting disease. Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“I’m so sorry, Ray.”

“Thanks, Sarah. I appreciate it.” He cleared his throat and turned to me. “Now, are we going to do some lane changes or what?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, I guess we could do a couple,” I answered, surprised by his abrupt changing of the subject.