In an Instant(3)

“Earth to Finn.” Aubrey throws my sweatshirt at me, and I realize she has re-dressed in her street clothes and that we are moving out of the dressing room.

I follow her into the store. My mom and Aunt Karen have stopped at the register to talk with the shop owner, and Aubrey and I continue outside. Aubrey immediately pulls out her phone to call Ben. She titters and giggles with excitement about her dress and then about what she should wear to meet his parents. This weekend she and Ben are flying to Ohio so she can bond with her future in-laws.

She says “I love you” and hangs up.

Her manicured hand goes to her mouth, and she gnaws at a cuticle.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Nervous.”

I pull her fingers from her mouth before she draws blood. “Yeah, they’re going to hate you. You’re completely intolerable.” I roll my eyes, and she crinkles her nose at me.

“At least Ben and I have an excuse for not joining you for Dad’s family-bonding experiment.”

“You mean you and Ben aren’t totally bummed not to be spending three days in a remote cabin in the woods with no television or radio or internet, only the delightful company of our family for entertainment?”

“I can’t believe he really thinks this is a good idea.”

“You know Dad; he’s an optimist.”

“He’s delusional. This isn’t going to fix things.”

I shrug and look away, hoping she’s wrong while thinking she’s probably right. Rocky waters have reached squall levels at home. Between my parents’ constant fighting; the growing problems with my brother, Oz; Chloe’s frequent acts of rebellion that seem specifically targeted at pissing off my mom; and my own recent screwups, I think I spend more time at Mo’s house these days than my own. Like an active volcano, five minutes together inevitably triggers some sort of eruption, and three days together is going to be like tempting Mount Vesuvius to blow.

“Well, at least Mo will be there,” Aubrey says. My sister loves Mo almost as much as I do.

“And Natalie,” I counter.

“What?” Aubrey says, her expression turning to sympathy.

My mom’s passive-aggressive retaliation to my dad’s cockamamy plan was to invite Aunt Karen, Uncle Bob, and their annoying daughter, Natalie, to join us, which means Mo and I will now be required to include her in everything we do.

“And Chloe’s bringing Vance,” I say, putting the cherry on top of the whole harebrained scheme. The only reason Chloe agreed to join us was because Vance loves to snowboard and he’s broke. The free room and board and lift tickets were too enticing an offer to pass up, even if it meant putting up with my family for the weekend. There’s almost nothing else in the world that would have convinced Chloe to spend even a minute with my mom, let alone three days, except her devotion to Vance—devotion the rest of us don’t share. The guy is a grade A sloth with a dose of cocky thrown in because he’s ace on a tennis court and thinks he’s going to turn pro.

“Wow, sounds like a rip-roaring good time,” Aubrey says, her in-law weekend looking better by the minute.

Aunt Karen and my mom walk from the shop, and my mom clicks open the locks to her new Mercedes, a white SUV she bought herself a month ago for her birthday.

“Let Finn drive,” Aunt Karen says innocently, though there’s nothing innocent about the comment at all. Aunt Karen is what my dad calls a pot stirrer. Like a leprechaun, she loves to stir up trouble: a mischievous little imp full of devilishness, which makes her tons of fun, except at moments like this when the fun is directed at you. Her finely teased brows lift. “You got your permit, didn’t you, Finn?”

I watch as my mom tenses, her whole body stiffening at the idea of someone else driving her beautiful new car.

“I’d like to be alive for my wedding,” Aubrey weighs in.

“I’m sure Finn is a fine driver,” Aunt Karen says, snatching the key fob from my mom’s hand.

“Perhaps another time,” my mom says, reaching to take it back.

“Nonsense,” Aunt Karen says, pulling it out of reach as she threads her arm through mine and leads me away. “No time like the present.” She gives me a conspiratorial wink and smile.

Normally, I would love this. There’s almost nothing I enjoy more than watching my mom squirm, and I totally pride myself on my daring and my athletic prowess, so the idea of jumping behind the wheel and tearing through the streets like Danica Patrick while terrifying the bejeebers out of my mom and Aubrey and delighting Aunt Karen is right up my alley.

If not for one teeny-weeny little problem.

“In you go,” Aunt Karen says, holding open the driver’s door.

I swallow. My driving instructor, a bald man with severe halitosis and nerves of steel, labeled the impediment “pedal dyslexia,” a slight major problem I have of mixing up the gas and the brake, an issue I haven’t been able to correct despite how simple it seems.

“I haven’t really driven a car this big,” I say. “So maybe it would be better if—”

Aunt Karen cuts me off. “Nonsense. Easy peasy. Mercedes practically drive themselves. Upsy-daisy,” she says with a Cheshire cat grin, clearly determined to have her fun.

Aubrey has already climbed into the back seat, and my mom is buckling herself into the passenger seat. My mom knows nothing about my affliction. When my parents have asked how my lessons are going, I’ve offered a noncommittal “Fine.”