Driving lessons

“Okay, put in the clutch, put it in first, and give it some gas,” Jonah coached.

“Jonah, I don’t want to do this.”

We were in the Beamer Jonah had inherited from his father after the ball bat incident. It was a few days after my sixteenth birthday. We were going to Des Moines for dinner and Jonah decided it was time for me to learn to drive a stick.

“Once you learn this, you’ll never drive an automatic again,” Jonah said.

I gave the car gas without releasing the clutch and the engine revved.

“Okay, but this time slowly let out the clutch.”

I did, the car leapt forward, and died. I slammed a fist into the steering wheel. “Damn it!”

“Put the clutch back in and try again.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“What’s wrong?”

I restarted the car, slid into gear, and we were on our way. My nervousness about driving faded and I was in control.

“Will’s dad’s out of town and Will wanted me to stay the night. I told him that you and I had plans, but he just wouldn’t let it go.” Will and I met through mutual friends. We started dating; within weeks we were inseparable. Infatuation hit hard.

“Shift. Do you still want to go?”

“Yeah. I just feel bad.”

“Shift. Why?”

“Because I feel like a hypocrite. Every time he makes plans with someone else I get bitchy and he cancels. Now I’m the one with the plans.”

“So… you want to stay?”

“No. I can be a hypocrite for one night.” I steered onto the interstate, shifted into fifth, and set the cruise. The sun was tucking itself in for the night, resting its weary head under cloudy pillows. The snow on the ground was a luminous purple.

I looked at Jonah. He seemed tired; all of his energy and enthusiasm seemed forced, contrived.

“Look at that!” Jonah said.

“What?”

“You did it. Without my help. The trick is to get you bitching about Will and you can do anything.”

“Very funny.”

Photo: canvasproductions