Driving Lessons: A Novel

by Fishman, Zoe

  “Which one is that?”

  “Something about the road less traveled?”

  I took Mona’s arm and we walked slowly into the crisp air. The sky was as blue as the Caribbean, with not a cloud in sight. “Oh of course, his famous one. ‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—’ ”

  “ ‘I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference,’ ” finished Mona. “That’s how I feel right now. Sad, but somehow a little optimistic at the same time.” She took a deep breath. “Mostly sad, though.”

  “You’re incredible,” I said, grabbing her hand.

  “Thanks, Sar. Let’s go home.”

  17

  No right turn on red in New York City.

  I stared at my blank computer screen. How could I take Minnie’s Driving School to the next level? Did we lose the mouse ears altogether and start from scratch, or did we capitalize on the publicity the cars had already created for themselves? There was something comforting about the fact that no matter what, even the most reserved student could not take himself too seriously behind a furry wheel.

  I brainstormed quickly, feeling enlivened by the click-clack of the keys. Mona was taking a nap. It was day three of my nursing duty, and really, it wasn’t bad at all. She seemed to be recovering nicely, and for the past two nights we’d eaten ice cream in bed as we watched back episodes of Mad Men. It was kind of lovely, actually.

  Other than the very occasional wave of nausea, I felt perfectly normal and had even found myself wondering if that pregnancy test had been wrong. Two more tests had disproved that theory, however. It was official, and I was grateful for the—so far at least—easy ride. Mona didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell. We had an unspoken, and smart, in my opinion, agreement not to bring my uterus up again until she had sufficiently mourned the loss of her own.

  “Sarah?” she called.

  “What’s up?” I asked from her doorway. “How may I assist you, madame?”

  “Could you pour me a glass of orange juice?”

  “You got it.” I hustled into the kitchen.

  “Shake the carton first!” she yelled.

  “I did!” I brought the glass to her and she leaned back against her pillows.

  “Can you fluff these, please?” she asked, leaning forward immediately.

  “You serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. They’re flat. Please, Florence?”

  I rolled my eyes and complied. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. Just tired.” She closed her eyes. “God, I hope I’m not depressed. That’s the last thing I need.”

  “You just had major surgery, Mo. Your body is exhausted.” I sat on the bed and smoothed her comforter.

  “I know, but it’s weird to be in bed for this long. Despite my best efforts, my brain is spinning like a hamster wheel.”

  “I know what you mean. But try your best to just surrender to your recuperation. In a few days’ time, you’ll be back in the functioning world and wondering why the hell you were so anxious to jump back in.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Just brainstorming about the driving school.”

  “Cool. Any winning ideas yet?”

  “Not really. But I feel like I’m getting there, you know? Which is good. I really think this consultant idea could work.”

  “I know it can work. And it seems like it would be the perfect solution for the whole return-to-work-after-the-baby-comes dilemma.”

  “Yeah,” I replied flippantly, not wanting to dwell on the subject. “I’m eager to hear what Meghan thinks.”

  “I bet she’s going to be really supportive.”

  “I hope so.” I stood up. “You want to take a slow walk around the block before we leave for your appointment?” Mona and I were due at her doctor’s office for a follow-up visit later in the afternoon. She grimaced in response. “Come on, the doctor said you needed to do that at least once a day.”

  “Really? In the rain?” She looked out the window and sighed. “Can we go to Tart and get cupcakes?”

  “The ones with the vanilla frosting piled about eight inches high?”

  “Those are the ones.”

  “Done. Just throw on some rain boots and a jacket over your pajamas. No one will be the wiser.” On the street, I held the umbrella over our heads as we shuffled through the mist.

  “You know, it would be nice if that umbrella actually kept the rain off of us,” whined Mona.

  “What? It’s hard to keep it in the middle!”

  “Oh God, give it to me.” She yanked it out of my hand.

  “Man, what is with you today? You’re lucky I don’t quit. Just put it over your own head, I don’t care about the rain.”

  “No, here, I’ll hold it over us.”

  “Mona, we’ll have the same issue. Seriously, it’s fine. Just go ahead.”

  “Sorry, Sarah. I’m just feeling tired and sore and sorry for myself today.”

  “It’s okay. You’re entitled.” We walked past an abandoned and sodden love seat on the curb. “Hey, remember that time I made you help me move one of these into my apartment?” I asked.

  “I do. That was when you were in that place on Henry, right?”

  “Yep. I loved that place.”

  “I was on my way to meet an Internet date when you called.”

  “It was perfect timing! You were practically right outside.”

  “Sarah, I was dressed up. I had blow-dried my hair, for chrissake.”

  “Since when does moving a couch mess up your hair?”

  “Since always when it’s eighty-five degrees out.”

  “Well, who else was I going to call? You’re the brawniest woman I know, Mona.”

  She smiled at me. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Man, we really had to wrestle that thing through the door. Didn’t we end up having to screw the legs off?” I asked.

  “Yep. A solution that we only came up with after an hour of attempting to get it through in one piece, mind you. My date ended up bailing.”

  “Wasn’t he the one who played the drums in some no-name band?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I did you a favor.”

  “You’re probably right. Where is that love seat now, anyway?”

  “Rescued by another broke twentysomething and currently residing in their apartment, I’m sure.”

  “Right, and I bet some other best friend got suckered into helping.”

  “It’s the circle of life.” I reached to grab the pocket of her coat. “Hey, in case I haven’t said it enough, thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being such a wonderful best friend. You’ve always been there for me, no matter what.”

  “As you have for me.” She grabbed my pocket with her free hand in return and we became a walking human pretzel. “You know, a lot of people fall in love, get married, and forget all about their single bestie. Not you. That says a lot about the kind of person you are.”

  “Yeah, but a lot of people don’t have the history that you and I have,” I replied. “We spent our twenties together in New York. That’s a lifetime in other cities. And besides, I wasn’t always so great about it. Every time I met a guy who was even remotely into me I would inevitably disappear for a month or two.”

  “That’s normal. Part of the girlfriend code. You’re allowed three months max. I did it too,” said Mona.

  “Yeah, you did. Remember Indigo?”

  “Oh my God! Indigo! Jesus, he was hot.”

  “And ridiculous.”

  “So ridiculous!” She laughed. “The actor who moonlighted as a nude model at Cooper Union! I forgot about him.”

  “I didn’t. I thought you’d been kidnapped.”

  “And look at me now, dating a comedian paralegal. I don’t exactly shoot for the stars, do I?”

  “Yeah, but Nate is different. There’s more to him than what he’s currently doing.” I bit my tongue, not wanting to spill the beans about his teaching aspirat
ions.

  “That’s a change from your first impression of him.”

  “Yeah, he’s grown on me. I actually miss having him around. Or rather, I miss seeing you when he’s around. He seems to make you really happy.”

  She nodded. “He does. I miss him too. I’ve been thinking—I may tell him.” We stopped in front of the bakery, admiring the goodies glistening in the window.

  “I think you should.” I took my hand out of her pocket and put my arm around her.

  Okay, I’m ready,” announced Mona, walking out of her bedroom dressed in street clothes for the first time in days. “Does this look okay? I may have cupcake-induced body dysmorphia.”

  “You look great.”

  “The headband isn’t too much?” she asked, her back to me as she gazed at herself in the mirror.

  “It’s not my favorite look.”

  “Okay.” She ripped it off and threw it onto the chair beside me.

  “You feeling okay about this?” I asked.

  “Nervous, but relatively okay,” Mona answered. “I feel pretty good, you know? Hopefully everything checks out down there.”

  “Fingers crossed.” I followed her down the stairs.

  “Yuck. Now it’s truly disgusting outside,” said Mona. We stood in the foyer of her building and frowned at the curtain of rain waiting for us on the other side of the door. “We’re never going to get a cab in this weather, and the subway is going to be slow as molasses.”

  “That’s a given.” Whenever it rained in New York, all forms of transportation took a predictable and incredibly frustrating hit.

  “That’s why you’re going to drive Gus.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved her keys, which she dangled in front of me like a fishing lure.

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m serious, Sarah.”

  “Get out of here, Mona. Don’t be crazy.”

  “Why is that crazy? You said that you know how to drive, so let’s go.”

  “Why can’t you drive?”

  “Because I don’t want to.” She put the keys in the palm of my hand and closed my fingers around them. I stared at her in disbelief.

  “Mona, come on. It’s raining and your doctor’s office is across a fucking bridge and in a different borough. I’ve barely driven to the grocery store in a town called Farmwood, for chrissake. I can’t do this. I won’t. You’re nuts.” I lowered my voice to a desperate whisper. “Plus the stress on the baby.”

  “So how come you were all gung ho to drive me to my surgery the other day? No excuses. You’re doing it.” She took the umbrella from me and opened the door. “Let’s go.” She charged ahead, forcing me to keep up or get completely soaked.

  “Mona, do you want us all to die?” I asked. “Seriously, do you? Because our chances of doing so are pretty good if I’m behind the wheel. And I wasn’t actually serious the other day when I offered to drive. It was temporary insanity brought on by my concern for you.”

  “Sarah, enough with the whining. So far this month I’ve survived cancer and a hysterectomy. I think my chances of three for three are pretty good.”

  “You just jinxed us! You said it out loud! Spit on the ground! Spit!” I was on the verge of hysteria.

  “Sarah, get ahold of yourself.” Mona turned around to face me. “You can do this. Whatever you set your mind to, you do. You wanted to work for Glow a long time ago—”

  “God knows why,” I interjected.

  “That’s not the point. The point is that you made it happen and happened to be very good at what you did. You wanted to fall in love and marry a good man. You did. You were over New York and wanted to make a change—you did that too. You wanted a new sense of self, so you’re on your way to finding it with your new business plan. The thing with the driving is, I know that you know you have to do it, but I don’t think you quite want to do it. There’s a small part of you that likes being immobile and dependent on other people, because then you can use your phobia as a convenient excuse not to have to make an effort.”

  “Mona, I—”

  “Shush. You know I’m speaking the truth. This fear of driving isn’t about driving at all, it’s about starting over in a new place and embracing change. Besides, that kid is going to have to go to the doctor and on playdates and all sorts of shit. You need to be ready.”

  “I’m not ready,” I whimpered, referring to both the baby and driving.

  “I love you and I know that you’re ready for this, even if you don’t believe it yourself. You came up here to fix me, and now it’s my turn to fix you.” She pointed to the keys in my hand. “Let’s go.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” asked Mona.

  “Okay.” We approached Gus. I stood before the car, taking it in.

  “Speed it up already, I’m going to be late!” yelled Mona. I opened her door and then ran around to mine.

  “I’m sitting in the driver’s seat,” I announced, my heart beating rapidly. “I think I may have to say everything out loud, to calm my nerves.”

  “I know I gave that impassioned speech back there about three for three and all that, but I really would like to survive this drive. Whatever works for you, do it.” I put the key in the ignition and then immediately removed it.

  “Mona, I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

  “Drive. The. Fucking. Car. Sarah.”

  “Okay, okay.” I took a deep breath. “You know what? I’m going to call Ray.” I dialed his number. Pick up, please pick up.

  “Hello?”

  “Ray!”

  “Yeah?” He sounded confused.

  “It’s Sarah!”

  “Sarah?” I could hear the television in the background.

  “From driving class? Your marketing guru?”

  “Oh yeah, of course, of course. How you doin’, girl?” Mona tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to her watch impatiently. I started the car.

  “Do you have a minute?” Windshield wipers? I mouthed to Mona. She leaned across and flipped up the lever.

  “Sure, I got a minute.”

  “What about a half hour?”

  “Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

  “Well, long story short, I’m about to drive into Manhattan from Brooklyn, and I was just hoping that I could have you on speakerphone, you know, for comfort purposes. And also to make it less likely that I’ll, I dunno, veer off into the East River.” Mona looked at me with alarm.

  “All right, you got this. No problem. You parallel parked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, well, just take your time gettin’ out.”

  “You know what, Ray, I’m just going to lay the phone between the seats, and if I need you, I’ll holler. Just knowing you’re right here if I need you is really what counts.”

  “Okay, so I can watch TV?”

  “Yeah, just listen out for me. If you don’t mind, that is.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Hi, Ray,” said Mona.

  “Oh hey, who’s that?”

  “That’s my friend Mona.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mona.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Ray.”

  I wiggled the car out of its space, grateful that I wasn’t wedged in completely. Once angled optimally, I waited for every car in a ten-mile radius to pass before tentatively turning onto the street. I plodded slowly, sitting so far up that the wheel and my sternum were practically one.

  “So wait, I just stay in this lane until we hit the bridge, right?” The rain was lessening now, and I adjusted the wipers accordingly.

  “Yes, that’s right,” answered Mona.

  “Say what?” asked Ray.

  “Nothing, Ray, we’re all good for the moment.”

  “Cool. What’s it like in New York today?”

  “Cold. Rainy. Gray,” I answered through clenched teeth.

  “No shit. It’s sunny and blue skies in Farmwood. The kids and I just got back from the park.”

  “Okay, Ray, that�
��s nice and all, but I can’t really talk and drive at the same time yet. That’s advanced.”

  “God, Sarah, that was rude,” said Mona.

  “Yeah, it was rude, Sarah,” agreed Ray. “But it’s all right, I know how she gets behind the wheel, Mona. Like a little old lady.”

  “She does look like a little old lady!” exclaimed Mona.

  “I know, right? Ain’t it crazy?”

  “Hello!” I said. “I am trying not to kill us here! Can the two of you focus, please?”

  “Sorry,” mumbled Mona.

  “Yeah, sorry. I know you’re nervous, Sarah,” said Ray.

  “And sorry I was rude, Ray. That was unnecessary. I’m not myself.”

  In front of us, the bridge loomed like a dinosaur skeleton in the mist. The Brooklyn Bridge was one of my favorite places in the world, and my collection of memories surrounding it was too huge to catalog. I would walk it before I left, in order to give it its proper respect. At the moment, I could only focus on one thing, and that was making it across in a vehicle. Alive, preferably.

  “Good work, Sarah,” said Mona. “See, it’s not so bad.”

  “Where y’all at?” asked Ray.

  “Sarah’s driving across the Brooklyn Bridge,” Mona informed him.

  “Get out! The Brooklyn Bridge! I’ve never seen it in person. What’s it like?”

  “It’s beautiful, Ray,” answered Mona. “Stunning, even.”

  “Someday the family and I are gonna get there. Eat some pizza at that famous joint underneath it. What’s it called? Maybe see a basketball game.”

  “Grimaldi’s. And that sounds great, Ray,” said Mona.

  The rain had stopped, and the sun peeked out ever so slightly from behind the dense clouds, casting a yellowish filter on downtown Manhattan. I was coasting down from the apex of the bridge, my heartbeat elevated by the thought of finding my way through the hectic streets below. I imagined my cartoon fetus navigating the churning waters of my agitated insides. Don’t worry. We’re okay, baby.

  “Okay, now at the bottom, you’re gonna make a right,” Mona informed me.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I replied.

  “Oh ho ho! Look who’s cocky now!” said Ray.

  “Seriously,” agreed Mona.

  As I left the bridge and drove toward the light, a bike messenger suddenly swerved in front of me, causing me to slam on the brakes.