The You I've Never Known(24)

but my luck or Dad’s, the hot dogs end up dirt free on the barbie. Watching the scene unfold initiates my huge sigh at the domesticity of it all—something I struggle to reconcile in connection to Dad and me. The idea of extended family is totally foreign. I command my inner voice to shut the hell up and let me enjoy what’s left of this day without overthinking or dissecting or second-guessing or otherwise closing myself off to perhaps very real possibilities.





After We Eat


Dad switches from beer

to tequila. This will turn

into a long Saturday night,

and I don’t really want

to spend the rest of the day watching Dad and Zelda

get blotto, so I ask Gabe

for a ride home. When

he agrees, Dad insists,

I’ll have an eye on the clock.

I know exactly how long it takes to get there and back, so don’t get cocky, hear?

No worries. Straight there and back, and I promise to be the perfect gentleman.

Your daughter is safe with me.

Dad slaps Zelda on the butt.

Wish I could promise your aunt is safe with me, but I am a man of my word. The two of them cackle like crows.

I’m glad to be out of there, and grateful to Gabe for

taking me home. His junker

is what some people call a classic, but I mostly see

it as just plain old. It could use some body work, not

to mention upholstery.

“What kind of car is this?”

It’s a ’67 GTO, and it’s fast.

He starts it up, and any doubt of its speed dissolves with

the rev of its well-tuned engine.

“Well, in that case, maybe

I should remind you that

you said I’d be safe in your care.”

You don’t like speed? He pulls out onto the road carefully, putts through town. Is this slow enough?

“You don’t have to drive like an old woman. I won’t jump

out or do anything stupid.

I guess I’m a bit overcautious.”

Always worried about losing

whatever advantage I might’ve recently gained. Sad really.





What Fun Is That?


That’s what he asks, and it’s a valid

question. Wasn’t I only recently thinking about the folly of taking no chances?

So when we get far enough out of town,

I tell him, “So, go for it. Show me what

she can do. I’ll even keep my eyes open.”

He grins. Okay, if you’re sure. Hold on to your hat! Pedal to the metal, we’re over a hundred in mere seconds

flat. The acceleration forces me back

into the seat and the landscape outside

the windows blurs. The rush is incredible.

If I ever do get my own car, I’d better

settle for a clunker with an engine half this size or expect regular ticketing.

When Gabe dials back, regret descends.

“Wow. That was awesome. I’d never

have guessed this car could do that.”

Never judge a book by its cover. But I’m glad Fiona and I could impress you.

“Wait, wait, wait. Fiona? Are you, like, a Shrek fan or something?”

Is anyone not a Shrek fan? But hey, I’ve got an idea. Wanna drive? Fast?

He’d let me drive his car? Of course,

he has no idea. “I don’t have my license.”

Why not? No one ever taught you how, or you flunked the test, or what?

“Actually, I’ve got my permit, and logged in my hours, but Dad won’t sign the application.”

You live pretty far out here. You’d think he’d want you to have transportation.

“I guess it’s his way of keeping me close to home. Doesn’t really matter. I don’t

have a car or any way to buy one. No car, no job. No job, no car. Catch-22.”

If you’re comfortable behind the wheel, you can still take Fiona for a short spin.

I won’t ask to see your license. It’s a tempting invitation, and I’m thinking it over when . . .





I Spy Something


“Hey. Take it easy. What’s that?”

It’s hard to see in the failing light, but it’s in the road, moving toward us.

I think it’s a horse. But no rider.

The saddle on the tall trotting

chestnut is, indeed, empty. “Can you

angle the car across the road and stop?”

He manages to block most of

both lanes diagonally, and when

the winded horse notices, it slows

to a walk. I get out of the car, approach the sweating mare carefully. “Whoa,

now,” I tell her. “Hold on, big girl.”

She tilts her head, perhaps considering escape. But when I hold out my hand,

something makes her decide to come

toward me and allow me to take hold

of her reins. I stroke the length

of her wide pale blaze. “Atta girl.”

I steer her to the shoulder, allowing Gabe to park the GTO off the asphalt.

When he gets out and joins me, he says, That was awesome. You know horses?

“Some. My Oklahoma grandparents own

them, or did. Pops taught me to ride when I was little. And one of Dad’s girlfriends lived on a ranch. Nadia, who worshipped her warmbloods, showed me a lot more.