This Reminds Me of Us

by Julia Gabriel

  “How much is ‘a lot?’”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Ollie, either we’re in this together or we’re not.”

  “It was a little over seventy grand.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “We don’t need to buy another car yet. I can’t drive it yet anyway.”

  “We should get you started practicing.”

  “I can practice in the SUV.”

  “You never liked driving it.”

  She stared sightlessly as the houses and front yards thinned out the closer they got to the edge of town. He was right. She was never comfortable driving the SUV. Maybe I’m just not a good driver. Her parents weren’t, not that her father would ever admit to that.

  They drove past strip malls and car dealerships, the businesses that every town needed but that no one wanted to live next door to. Least of all people like the Secretary of State. She spotted the now-empty lot where the Trevor family’s quilt shop used to stand.

  Oddly enough, she remembered where Quilt Therapy used to be. She didn’t mention it to Oliver, though. Truth be told, she was remembering more things than she told him about. It felt childish after awhile to bombard him every day with “guess what I remembered today?” And he attached too much significance to everything when even the doctor had cautioned that there would be no rhyme or reason to any of it.

  Oliver turned the car into the car dealership. Behind the low, grey building row after row of shiny new cars glittered in the sunlight. Serena wondered whether this was where they’d bought the other car. Not that it mattered. Not all memories were equal. Some were downright unimportant.

  She hopped down from the passenger seat before Ollie could get around the hood to help her. A tall, heavyset man burst from the office building and strode quickly toward them.

  “Serena!” he boomed. “Oliver! My man!”

  She felt Ollie’s hand on the small of her back, then heard him whisper, “Charlie Thomas. I went to high school with him. Took his younger sister to the prom.”

  Serena fought back a snort of laughter. “I’ll try to be nice.”

  “So what are you two looking for today? Another minivan? Our Valentine’s Day specials don’t start until next week but I’ll speak to the manager. For one of our first responders, I’m sure he’ll give you the incentives today.”

  “Sure, we’ll look at some minivans. Maybe a sedan?” Oliver turned to her. “What do you think? A sedan?”

  “Mmm. A minivan might be better, with the boys getting older and bigger.”

  “Well, we got plenty of minivans around this way. Follow me.” Charlie turned and began walking toward the back of the lot.

  “Besides,” she said quietly to Oliver, “would I have survived if I’d been driving a smaller car?”

  He shook his head. “Possibly not.”

  In Oliver-speak, that meant “definitely not.”

  He slung his arm across her shoulder and squeezed her into him as they followed Charlie. He stopped at a row of gleaming minivans in a rainbow of pearlized colors. She couldn’t remember what color their old minivan had been. She slipped out from beneath Ollie’s arm to wander in and out of the aisle of cars, letting Oliver and Charlie discuss upgrades, packages, and safety features.

  Ten minutes later, they had the keys to a shiny blue minivan, the color of which reminded Serena of blue birds she had seen in Puerto Rico over spring break one year. Another useless memory.

  There are no useless memories.

  That sounded exactly like something Angie would have said.

  “Can I ask something weird?” she said as Oliver fiddled with knobs on the dashboard, responsibly acquainting himself with the functions and features of the car before driving off the dealer’s lot.

  “Sure, babe. Ask away.” He cranked up the heat, causing a blast of air to hit them right in the face. “Sorry.” He dialed it back down.

  “Do you ever, like, talk to yourself—not aloud, just in your head—in the way your mom used to talk?” Realizing how weird that sounded, she leaned her body toward the passenger side door, anticipating a burst of laughter from Ollie.

  “Oh god, all the time.” He turned toward Serena with a sympathetic smile. “Some days it’s like a constant running commentary.”

  “You had a good mom.”

  “I did.” He leaned over and pulled her toward the car’s center console. “You’re a good mom, too, Serena.”

  “I was?”

  “You were and you are. Mason and Cam are two lucky boys to have you as their mother.” He cupped the back of her head in his hand and kissed her. “How about we go find someplace private to park this jalopy and make out in the back?”

  She smiled into his lips. “Is there someplace private in St. Caroline?”

  He pretended to think for a moment. “I could always call Elliott Parker and tell him we’re going to park in his back field for awhile.”

  He let his fingers trail through her hair as he released her head. The sensation sent a tiny shiver down her spine.

  “I’m not sure Charlie would be okay with us off-roading in this vehicle.”

  Oliver laughed and pressed the ignition button. “Yeah, probably not. He was nice enough to let us take this out for a test drive by ourselves.”

  “Unlikely that the deputy fire chief is going to steal a car.”

  He shot her a mischievous look. “One of these days I’m going to let my wild side out. Then you’ll be sorry.” He winked.

  “Just warn me ahead of time, okay?”

  For a moment, things between them were relaxed and normal, like old times. But it was getting harder and harder to sustain those moments. It was her fault, obviously. She was the one who couldn’t remember things. And increasingly that made them feel like strangers. Instead of getting closer to each other after the hospital, it felt like they were drifting further apart.

  Oliver steered the minivan off the dealer’s lot and immediately launched into a recitation of the car’s features. Heated seats, heated steering wheel, driver assist technology, pre-collision braking.

  “Even the headlights respond to the driver’s steering,” he added.

  “Seems like there are a lot more gizmos in cars these days than I remember.”

  “Yeah, just imagine how many there’ll be when the boys are driving.”

  “Ugh. I’m not ready to think of them being that old.”

  She knew Oliver wanted the safety features for her. Cataloging them out loud helped him feel more in control. She understood that about him, his need to have everything under control. It was a part of his personality that had been sorely challenged over the past year.

  Five minutes later, Oliver turned the minivan down a narrow country road and pulled up to a small house. She recognized it as a former fishing camp. They dotted the outskirts of town, the ones that hadn’t been razed for mansions and summer estates, that is.

  “What’s this?” she asked. “You didn’t go real estate shopping while I was out, did you?” That seemed unlikely for Oliver, but what did she know these days?

  “No.” He put the car into park but left the engine running. “This is where Matt lives.”

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Switching places.” Oliver opened his door, then came around to open the passenger side. “I want you to drive for a bit.”

  A fluttery feeling skittered over her heart. “I’m not cleared to drive yet.”

  “You’ll be fine.” He took her hand and helped her out of the minivan.

  “What if I have an accident? This isn’t even our car.”

  “Better their car than ours.” He grinned boyishly. “Serena, I’m not worried. We’ll just drive a little on the roads out here where there’s no traffic. We won’t go into town.”

  She shot him a dubious look but hauled herself up onto the driver’s seat. She sat there for a moment, assessing, trying to tap into some feeling of familiarity. Was driving like riding a bike? One of those things you
never really forget how to do?

  She clicked her seatbelt into place, right before Oliver did his.

  “Well. We’re strapped in.” She released the parking brake, then executed a three point turn to get the car pointed back toward the main road. So far, so good. “Where do you want me to go?”

  “Wherever you want. Just stay outside town. There won’t be many cars on the road at this time of day.”

  She drove cautiously at first, then grew a little more confident.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Good.” Her lips spread into a wide smile. “Muscle memory is kicking in, anyway.”

  Oliver had missed that smile so much. He didn’t realize exactly how much until she was away for four months. No matter what happened at work, just knowing that she was home waiting for him made it all okay.

  She took a few turns and looped around Elliott Parker’s land. Oliver watched the familiar landscape pass by. He couldn’t imagine waking up one day and not remembering any of this, the way storm clouds gathered low on the horizon in the summer. Or the faint, salty smell of fish and bay water on a breeze.

  This was home for him.

  He knew his brothers didn’t feel the same way about St. Caroline. Hell, lots of the kids he went to high school with didn’t. They all wanted to get out of Dodge before the ink was dry on their diplomas. But Oliver had never really felt that tug—to leave town, live somewhere else. Why? Everything he wanted was right here. His parents and brothers, his friends. A job he loved and was good at. Serena and the boys. His fishing boat. What else did he need?

  He looked over at his wife, feeling his heart swell with love and contentment. He knew his reputation around town was that of a stable man—code for “boring.” But the world needed stable, boring people. And he might not be a worldly man, but he was smart enough to know that at least some of his appeal for Serena was probably that he was so different from her father.

  The distant whine of an ambulance siren snapped him from his reverie. He focused his gaze on the landscape outside the car. Oh no. They were headed straight toward the site of the accident.

  “Are you ready to turn around and head back?” He tried to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible.

  “Mmm. Do you mind if we drive just a little further? I know where we are. I used to come this way when I would meet your mom for lunch at the college.”

  She definitely hadn’t been meeting his mom on the day of the accident. His mother was in the hospital for the final time at that point. Jack was at her bedside when the call came in.

  “I always admired your mom,” she continued. “Being a college professor and raising three boys at the same time.”

  “Yeah.” They were about a quarter mile from the site. “She was lucky to find a tenure track job in the area.” Less than a quarter mile. “Hey babe, I really don’t think we should keep going this way. Let’s pull over at this next road and turn around.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t drive all the way to the college.”

  “It’s not that … it’s …” The spot was just ahead now and Oliver’s heart was racing. He tried to avoid this stretch of road whenever he could. When he couldn’t, he held his breath and kept his eyes trained straight ahead on the road, not looking at the tree that stood twenty feet back from the shoulder. The tree his wife’s car had been practically wrapped around. “This is where the accident happened,” he blurted out.

  He felt the car slow beneath him.

  “Oh,” Serena said.

  She slowly steered the car over to the side of the road.

  “I don’t think we should stop here,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Bad memories.” That hardly did it justice. “This is where the worst day of my life happened.”

  She put the minivan into park, set the brake, and pushed the ignition button to cut the engine. He looked at the lovely wood-grained dashboard, the leather trimmed seats—and began to wonder whether they could even buy this car now. Would he think of this moment every time he looked at it? Like that even mattered, he realized a split second later. He would never drive through this intersection without thinking about the accident, no matter what car he was in.

  “Maybe I’ll remember something.” Serena unsnapped her seatbelt. Oliver left his buckled. “You can stay inside. Just tell me where it happened,” she added.

  He said nothing, just stared at that damned infernal tree.

  “Or we can do that ‘warmer and colder’ game.”

  “You hit that tree up there,” he replied finally, quietly. “On this side of the road.”

  “The big white oak?”

  “That would be the one,” he confirmed.

  Serena got out of the car and started walking toward the tree. For the first few steps, she favored her right leg, the one that was broken in the accident. Then her gait became normal. The incongruity of the scene struck him. It was a sunny day. A downright gorgeous day for February. And he was watching his wife walk straight toward the tree that nearly killed her.

  He jammed the base of his palm against the seat belt lock and flung it open. Then he shoved open the door and ran after her. What if she did remember something? He couldn’t let her face that alone. He wasn’t that kind of man.

  “Serena! Wait!”

  She stopped and turned. The look of mild surprise on her face stung him. She thought I was going to stay in the car.

  “Tell me what happened.” She took his hand in hers.

  He took a deep breath. “Your car ran off the road here.” He scanned the macadam for the thick, dark tire marks from that day but they were long gone. “It hit that tree. That’s all we know. You might have swerved to—”

  “Shh. Don’t put any ideas into my head. I want to feel what I remember.”

  He followed as she marched up to the tree. On the day of the accident, it had looked huge and immovable, malevolent almost, its branches heavy and thick with summer-green leaves. Today, denuded of its foliage in winter, it appeared smaller and weaker. Serena ran her hand over the wide scar on the trunk where the car had stripped away the bark. She reached back, as if to wave him forward.

  “Come here.”

  He hesitated. His lungs felt raw from the crazy storm of emotions swirling inside him, emotions he couldn’t pin down long enough to even name. But she was spreading her palms wide and flat over the bark and he could pin down one thing—he did not want to touch this tree. But a real man had to be at least as brave as his wife. So he stood behind her, his palms on her shoulders, his face easily clearing the top of her head and putting him face to face with the white oak.

  “This tree almost killed you,” he said. Mature white oaks were massive trees, with hard lumber.

  She ran her fingers along the edge of the scarred bark. “It didn’t, though. And I’m the one who ran into it.”

  She pulled his hands off her shoulders and placed them, palms down, on the trunk. He supposed he should feel something beneath the calloused skin of his hands—some connection to the tree or nature or mother earth. But he he felt nothing. Except … that wasn’t exactly true.

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss into the top of Serena’s head, then rested his chin there. “I felt so inadequate that day,” he began, gathering his thoughts and words together. “With Dad and Matt restraining me, and all I could do was stand there, helpless while other people cut you out of the car.”

  “Why didn’t your dad make you leave?”

  “He wanted me to. But there was no way I could go until I knew you were okay. I thought I was about to lose everything that mattered to me.” He pulled her back against his chest, breaking her kumbaya moment with the tree and wrapping his long arms around her.

  All he had ever wanted was an average life. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary. He didn’t need everyone to think he was smart and ambitious, like Jack did. He didn’t need every day to be a party, like Matt. He wanted a wife and kids, a modest house, a yard in which t
o throw a football or a baseball with his boys, a summer vacation at the beach. He wanted his dad’s job someday when his father saw fit to retire. It would be nice to maybe have a daughter, in addition to the boys.

  He wanted his parents’ life, basically. Minus the bad parts like when his mother’s twin brother died on a call … or his mother dying of cancer in her fifties.

  You don’t get to minus the bad parts.

  “Did you remember anything?” He began to walk her backward, away from the killer tree.

  She spun around so they were facing the minivan and walking forward toward it. “No. I’m sorry, Ollie.”

  “I just can’t imagine why you were driving out this way, without the boys. You asked Charlotte Trevor to watch them.”

  “Has anyone asked her why I left the boys with her?”

  “The police spoke to her.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “You told her you had an appointment and that you’d be back in a couple hours.”

  “Maybe I was going to the OB. I was pregnant.”

  They stopped next to the minivan. “The doctor’s office said you weren’t scheduled for an appointment that day.”

  “Oh.” She walked around to the passenger side. “You’d better drive back. Don’t want to push our luck with the dealership.”

  “Sure.”

  They climbed back into the car, buckled their seatbelts, and then turned to look at each other.

  “Maybe I swerved to avoid hitting a deer,” Serena suggested. “Maybe the sun was too bright in my eyes. Maybe a tire blew out and I lost control of the vehicle.” She sighed. “I wish I knew. But I look at Ashley and think ‘if this accident is the worst thing that happens to us, we’re doing pretty good.’” She reached out and stroked his smooth cheek. “Becca said you let your beard grow out while I was in the hospital.” She flipped her hand over and ran the tops of her fingers over his skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a beard.”

  “I can’t have one in the fire department.”

  “I know. But you grew it out when you were on leave.”

  He shrugged. “Just for a little while. The boys gave me a hard time about it, so I started shaving again.”