Forever, Interrupted(15)

“Oh, you just leave that to me,” he said, and he started the car.

“You’re being very cryptic,” I said. He ignored me. He reached over and turned on his radio. “You’re in charge of music and possibly navigation if it comes to that.”

“Fine by me,” I said, as I immediately turned the station to NPR. As the low, monotonous voices started to fill the air, Ben shook his head. “You’re one of those?” he said, smiling.

“I’m one of those,” I said, owning it and not apologizing.

“I should have known. Pretty girl like you had to have some sort of flaw.”

“You don’t like talk radio?”

“I like it, I guess. I mean, I like it the way I like doctors’ appointments. They serve a purpose but they aren’t much fun.”

I laughed, and he looked at me. He looked for just a little too long to be safe.

“Hey! Eyes on the road, Casanova!” I said. Casanova? Who was I? My dad?

Ben immediately turned back and focused on what was in front of us. “Sorry!” he said. “Safety first.”

By the time we hit the freeway, he had turned off the radio.

“That’s enough traffic updates for me,” he said. “We will just have to entertain ourselves the old-fashioned way.”

“Old-fashioned way?”

“Conversation.”

“Ah, right. Conversation.”

“Let’s start with the basics: How long have you lived in L.A.?”

“Five years. I moved right after college. You?”

“Nine years. I moved here to go to college. Looks like we graduated the same year. Where did you go to school?”

“Oh,” I said. “Ithaca. My parents both went to Cornell and made me take a tour, but when I got there, Ithaca seemed a better fit. I was originally premed, but that lasted about two months before I realized I had absolutely no desire to be a doctor.”

“Why did you think you wanted to be a doctor?” We were speeding up the freeway at this point. The driving was taking up less of his attention.

“Both of my parents are doctors. My mother is the chief of staff at the hospital in my hometown, and my dad is a neurosurgeon there.”

“A neurosurgeon? That’s intimidating,” Ben added.

“He’s an intimidating guy. My mom’s not easy either. They were not happy when I changed my major.”

“Oh, that kind of family? The pressuring kind? Overachievers?”

“They are definitely overachievers. The thing is, I’m just not like that. I’m a work-to-live not a live-to-work type of person. I like to put in my forty hours and then go have my life.”

“But that doesn’t sit well with them?”

I shrugged. “They believe that life is work. It’s not about joy. It’s not about laughter. It’s not about love, really, I don’t think, for them. It’s about work. I don’t think my dad likes saving lives as much as he likes being at the top of a field that is constantly growing and changing. I think it’s about progress for them. Library science isn’t exactly cutting edge. But I mean, there isn’t much they can do. My parents weren’t really very engaged parents, you know? So, I think when I changed my major it was, like, this moment of . . . It was a break for all of us. They no longer needed to pretend that they understood me. I no longer needed to pretend I wanted what they had.”

I hadn’t ever told anyone my real feelings about that before. But I didn’t see any reason to tell Ben anything but the entire truth. I was somewhat embarrassed after I said it all. I realized just how vulnerable that was. I turned and looked out my window. The traffic in the opposite direction was relentless, and yet, we were flying through town.

“That’s really sad,” he said.

“It is and it isn’t. My parents and I aren’t close. But they are happy in their way and I am happy in mine. I think that’s what matters.”

He nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Smart and right.”

I laughed. “How about you? How are your parents?”

Ben blew air out of his chest but kept his eyes forward and on the road. He spoke somberly.

“My father passed away three years ago.”

“Oh, my. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.” He looked at me briefly and then returned his eyes to the road. “He died of cancer and it was a long battle so we all knew it was coming; we were prepared for it.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

Ben let out a brief puff of air. “I don’t either. Anyway, my mom is doing well. As well as you can when you’ve lost the person you love, you know?”

“I can’t even imagine.”

“No, I can’t either. I’ve lost a father and I know how hard that can be, but I can’t even imagine losing your best friend, your soul mate. I worry about her, although she insists she’s okay.”

“I’m sure you can’t help but worry. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.

Ben shook his head. “You?”

“No, sir.” I rarely met other only children. It was nice to hear that Ben was one. When I would tell people I was an only child, I felt like I was either being pitied for not having had siblings or being judged as petulant even if I hadn’t proven to be.