Driving Lessons: A Novel

by Fishman, Zoe

  Early in our relationship, I had met Josh on the Manhattan side of the bridge after work to walk home, and we had bonded over our mutual respect and affection for it. That had been the first time we had held hands. Like so many things I was scared of, I had scorned all hand-holders until Josh came along and took mine sweetly into his own.

  I paused for a moment by a bench and then quickly moved on. I was not a lingerer, even when I wanted to be. I wasn’t sure if that was the New York in me or something ingrained from birth. Josh was the opposite. He was a bona fide stop-and-smell-the-roses person, which was, although at times infuriating, exactly what I needed in a partner. Without him, I’d never notice anything. I wondered whom the baby would take after in this regard. I hoped Josh. It seemed like a nicer way to be.

  I couldn’t believe that I was going home in three days. Three days. Two weeks away had felt like months, and although I was excited to return, I was nervous. We had so much to do.

  I forced myself to stop for a moment, holding my phone up with the rest of the tourists and snapping what I hoped was my head and the water behind me. I surveyed the photo, approved it halfheartedly, and texted it to Josh with the words: Missing you. As I pressed send, I began to tear up again. These hormones were no joke. I put my phone back in my bag and began the descent into Manhattan.

  As I adjusted the waistband of my pants, I thought of Mona, mostly because they were her pants. She and Nate were a bit wobbly, but they weren’t over by any means. Mona had told him everything that day, and by the time she was finished the sweat from Nate’s run had long dried. He hadn’t known what to say at first, so he had asked for some time, and then, to her surprise, he returned a few hours later showered and shaved with Italian takeout and a bottle of wine under his arm. He had come clean to Mona about his plans to go back to school, much to her delight. Now there were no secrets between them. He was understandably wary but open.

  In Manhattan, I turned around to get one last look at the bridge before heading down into the subway station. Being on this side made me want to scamper back across its slopes at lightning speed, but I continued my journey. Hopefully, lunch would be free, and that was always worth the trip.

  Sarah.”

  I looked up from my seat to find Meghan smiling wryly at me, her impossibly white teeth beaming out from her immobilized face like headlights. She was a Botox fanatic but swore to the public that her wrinkleless visage was all due to the company’s most expensive moisturizer, a bottle of which cost about as much as my round-trip plane ticket to New York.

  “Hi, Meghan.” I stood up to bestow an air kiss on each of her unlined cheeks.

  “Well, the southern air must work for you, my dear. You look fresh as a daisy,” she replied.

  “Oh, it’s just sweat.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them, but this was how our conversations always went. She paid me some vague compliment that she didn’t really mean, and I responded with the verbal equivalent of a burp.

  The Japanese hostess escorted us to a low table surrounded by pillows, indicating that we should remove our shoes and sit on the floor, but Meghan’s pursed taupe lips said no in any language.

  “How have you been?” I asked when we were seated at a regular table.

  “It was a hell of a summer,” replied Meghan, cupping her mug of green tea. “Don’t look at my fingernails. They’re an abomination. I haven’t had a manicure in two weeks.” I curled my own fingernails, which hadn’t seen polish in months, into my palms under the table.

  “I couldn’t find anyone decent to replace you for the longest. Every person I interviewed was worse than the last. I told you about the woman with the whale tail, didn’t I?” She rolled her eyes.

  “You did.” I took a sip, burning the roof of my mouth on contact. “I’m sorry I left you in the lurch, Meghan. That certainly wasn’t my intention. I did offer to work remotely, you know.”

  “Yes, and I offered to stand in for Beyoncé at the Super Bowl. Some things just aren’t realistic, my dear. Anyway, enough about that. It’s water under the bridge.” She blew on her tea before taking a ladylike sip. “I mean, a month’s notice as opposed to two weeks would have been nice given our, I don’t know, zillion years together, but you did what you had to do.” I nodded. “The good news is that I’ve got someone now who seems like a proper fit. Not as smart as you, but smart enough.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad.”

  “Literally, I was steering the ship with only Emily on deck. Can you imagine? Emily. Brainstorming with her was like working with a ventriloquist minus the dummy. Every question she asked me she answered herself.” I giggled, and Meghan followed suit, leaning back against her chair in relief.

  “She is pretty bad about that. It used to drive me nuts,” I said.

  “I finally had to tell her about her habit. Poor thing, she had no idea! I couldn’t believe that no one had told her sooner.” Our plates of sushi appeared in front of us, mine minus the raw fish. “Enough about poor Emily. That’s not why you’re here. Talk to me, Sarah.”

  “Well, I’m at a crossroads of sorts. I’ve been trying to figure out what it is exactly that I want to do with my life, and nothing really seems to appeal. Or at least, nothing did until recently.”

  “How old are you, Sarah?”

  “Thirty-six.”

  “That’s a little old to be looking for that proverbial pot of gold at the end of the career rainbow, don’t you think?”

  “It is a little pathetic, I know, but with Josh’s job offer and the move, I figured I finally had a chance to figure out what it was that I really wanted to do.”

  “And it wasn’t marketing, I take it? Or at least you hoped it wasn’t?”

  “Well, no,” I answered. Meghan chewed thoughtfully and I seized the opportunity to shove my first piece of California roll into my mouth.

  “Well, that’s a shame, Sarah,” she said finally. “Because you were really very good at what you did. Very good.”

  “Thanks, Meghan. I appreciate that. I’m starting to realize that it wasn’t the marketing itself that burned me out, though.”

  “It was working for me?”

  “Well, not you, per se. More like Glow as a corporation.”

  “I can see that. I think that was because you weren’t cut out for makeup marketing, my dear. To be honest, it never seemed like a match to me.”

  “True. I’m not exactly an advertisement for the brand.” I waved my hand in front of my bare face.

  “Right, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a knack for it. In your e-mail you said that you were thinking about starting up your own consulting business down there in—what’s it called?”

  “Farmwood.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re kidding me, right?”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “Good lord. Your first item of business should be changing the name of the town. Do people there even know what marketing is, or do they assume it’s some version of grocery shopping?”

  “Meghan, come on.”

  “Oh, I know! I’m ridiculous and that was a terrible joke. Forgive me. I love playing the catty New York snob role. Actually”—she peered around furtively before lowering her voice—“I grew up in Arkansas.”

  “Shut up.”

  “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” She placed her chopsticks neatly on the plate. “Back to you. Do you have any clients lined up?”

  “There’s one. He’s looking to rebrand his driving business.”

  “Driving as in limousines to the airport and whatnot?”

  “No, driving as in driving instruction.”

  “Like driver’s ed?”

  “More or less.”

  “Oy. Wait, is that how you met him?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Well, I don’t blame you for taking lessons. The last time I was behind the wheel I think the first Bush was in office, and I am not exaggerating.”

  “Tha
nks.”

  “You’re welcome. Okay, so you’ve had the real sit-down with him? Asked him about his vision for the company? Where he wants to be in two years? Five years? The standard spiel?” I nodded. “Does his company have a name?”

  “Yes, but I’m thinking about some new ones.” I told her about the mouse ears.

  “Oh God, that’s awful.”

  “Well, in theory it sounds terrible, I agree, but somehow in person it’s charming.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I can’t explain it. Anyway, I’ll keep brainstorming and if anything else comes to mind that really sings, I’ll suggest it. Speaking of names, there’s also this jewelry store that could use my help.”

  “What’s it called? Bauble Head?”

  “How did you know?”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Sarah! I love it. Farmwood is screaming for your help. It was meant to be. You came up with that fantastic men’s lip balm name in less than three seconds the other day. You could single-handedly rename every business in town if you wanted to. For a fee, of course.” She motioned to the waitress to bring the bill.

  “Sarah, you should go for this. Take this town by the balls. These people are practically begging for your expertise. You know what I’m saying? Get excited about this next phase of your life. You’re free of all the New York, hierarchical bullshit that was bumming you out.” She brushed nonexistent lint off of her sweater. “By the way, hello—do you have a company name? What about your branding? Please tell me that you have a business card at the ready.” The waitress brought Meghan’s credit card back; she signed and tipped and slid it back into her sleek wallet.

  “In the works,” I lied.

  “And if your business doesn’t pan out immediately, what’s the big deal? Just get pregnant and focus on that for a while.”

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably.

  “What, you’re not pregnant right now, are you?”

  “No, no,” I replied, squirming in my seat.

  “Oh, okay.” She smiled suddenly—a real smile that lit up her blue eyes like candles. “Did I tell you that my partner and I are adopting a baby girl from Ethiopia next month?”

  “No! That’s incredible.”

  “It really is. God help me, I’m going to be a mom.” She looked at her watch. “Listen, I have to dash. Great to see you. E-mail me your address and I’ll send you a giant box of goodies. We have this new cream that’s supposed to take ten years off in ten days.” She air-kissed each cheek and was gone in a flash of black cashmere.

  I walked out and stood on the sidewalk dumbfounded. A baby girl from Ethiopia? I had worked with this woman for over ten years and this was the first I was hearing of any maternal inclination. All of this time, I had thought regular Botox injections were the extent of her outside interests.

  A fine mist started to descend from the sky. As I moved to retrieve my umbrella from my bag, I found a red ladybug politely planted across the teeth of its zipper.

  “Hello,” I said softly, choosing to soldier on, damp be damned, instead of disturbing its journey. A little rain wouldn’t kill me.

  20

  How long have you been up?” asked Mona groggily as she padded into the kitchen.

  I lowered my laptop screen to get a better look at her and raised my cup of tea in greeting. “For some ungodly reason, I was wide awake at five.”

  “That’s terrible,” she grumbled.

  As Mona went about making coffee, I repositioned my screen and continued to divide my time between googling every pregnancy question under the sun, fleshing out Ray’s business proposal, and brainstorming new store names on Mitzi’s behalf. It was my last day in Brooklyn, and I was feeling purposeful and optimistic about my return to Farmwood. If this was the pregnant version of me, the next nine months didn’t look so bad.

  Mona sat down beside me and eyed me warily from behind the rim of her mug. “Okay, I’m human again. You may speak.”

  “Oh, I don’t have anything to say,” I said, continuing to type. “Same shit, different day. Just working on stuff. What do you think about the name Gem de la Crème?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “What! It’s cute!”

  She frowned. “I guess. Maybe for like, a mall chain in—”

  “Farmwood?”

  “Yeah. Maybe you’re onto something.”

  “No, you’re right, it is cheesy. I want a name that will attract a younger demographic.”

  “That ain’t it.” She pushed my laptop lid down.

  “Hey, watch out!” I pushed it back up and saved the document. “What’s your deal this morning?”

  “You’re leaving me tomorrow.” She made a sad face.

  “I know, but let’s be honest. Nate’s a clear upgrade. He gives you back rubs, for God’s sake.”

  Mona grinned and took another sip of her coffee. “He does give a fine back rub. He really commits, you know? None of that measly two-minutes-of-halfhearted-kneading business.”

  “He’s a keeper. How are you guys doing, Mo?”

  “We’re doing pretty well, all things considered. Emotionally, I’m all over the map, so he has a lot to deal with. Sometimes I feel this sort of ache, like I can actually physically feel that a part of me is missing, and that makes me melancholy and sad. Then sometimes I’m angry, as in why me, and, no offense, why you with your spiteful fertility—I know it’s not spiteful, but that’s the way I feel when I’m at my least compassionate—and then there are good moments when I’m grateful that my cancer was caught early and I have friends like you and a boyfriend like Nate to get me through this.”

  “Did you just say boyfriend?!” I scooted my chair over and it screeched angrily against the wood floor. “Whoops. I hope that didn’t leave a mark. You know I didn’t mean to get pregnant right now, Mo.”

  “Of course I know that, Sarah. And I really am happy for you. Honestly. It’s just, you know, hard at this point to not feel at least a touch sorry for myself.”

  “I know.”

  “But every day, it gets a little better. A little easier. And with Nate, we’re just taking it day by day. The fact that he stuck around through all of this says a lot about him.”

  “He’s crazy about you. As he should be.”

  “I’m pretty into him, too.” She stood up. “So we’ll see where it goes. Speaking of, he’s coming over with doughnuts in a few minutes.”

  “Doughnuts!” I clasped my hands together in glee.

  “Yes, didn’t you know that artisanal doughnuts are the new cupcakes?”

  “Ah, the fickleness of the Brooklyn hipster baking curve.”

  “Great band name. The Brooklyn Hipster Baking Curve.” She leaned against the counter. “How are you feeling about returning to Farmwood?”

  “Pretty good, actually. I can see my future there now, you know? I think I’m finally finished with New York.”

  “That’s what you said last time.”

  “No, this time is for real. Coming back here was like getting back together with an ex you know isn’t right for you just because you’re bored. Now it’s really over. I’ll always come back to visit, though.”

  “Damn right you will.” Mona smiled. “Are you excited to see Josh? I can’t believe he hasn’t seen you since you found out you were pregnant.”

  “I know, it’s crazy, right? Do I look different to you?”

  She cocked her head, surveying my face. “Pretty much the same.” Her buzzer rang and she got up to let Nate in.

  “I’m gonna go put on a bra,” I announced, giddy with pastry anticipation.

  As I fastened the clasp, I looked down at my stomach. It did seem mushier, but then again, I had been indulging with abandon. I wondered when I would pop, or rather, how I would pop. Common sense and a hate/hate relationship with my abdomen told me that I would not be one of those women who just looked like they had a basketball shoved under their shirt. Que sera, sera.

  Suddenly, a hand pressed a
gainst the small of my back. I gasped, turning around so quickly that for a moment the room spun.

  “Surprise,” whispered Josh, a huge smile on his face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  It felt so good to see him, so familiar in all of the right ways. Just to see his brown eyes twinkling at me and feel his stubbly salt-and-pepper beard scratch against my cheek as I hugged him filled me with unmitigated joy. I released him long enough to plant a giant kiss on his lips and then jumped on him again. He stumbled backward, laughing.

  “I flew up for the day,” he whispered into my ear. “There was no way I was going to let my pregnant wife fly home alone.”

  “Get outta here!” I replied, pushing him playfully. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know, but I was worried for some reason. Plus, I just wanted to see you. To celebrate with you here, in the city where we met.”

  “You mushpot.” I kissed him. “God, it’s good to see you.”

  “You too. You look beautiful.” He stepped back, looking me up and down. “What do they always say about pregnant women? That they’re glowing?”

  “I guess.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re doing, Sar. You’re glowing.”

  “I think that’s probably just my excitement about the doughnuts Nate was bringing. He’s here, right? With the doughnuts?”

  “He’s here. Seems like a nice guy.”

  “He is.”

  Josh lifted up my shirt and put his hand to my stomach. “I can’t believe there’s a baby in there.” He looked at me in wonder, and in that moment I knew what our little boy would look like, if that was indeed who was in there.

  “Me either.” I took his hand. “I love you so much. Thanks for coming up like this. It’s very romantical of you.”

  “Romantical?”

  “Yes.” I kissed him again.

  “All right, you two, break it up,” announced Mona, striding through the door. “Making out is bad for the fetus.”