Baby You Can Drive My Car
Do you ever feel like you've been caught red-handed at something? That's how I felt when my dad yelled for me to come talk to Chase. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to twist Chase's arm to make him take me on a date. How humiliating would that be?
I walked down the hall with my heart beating like crazy. What could Chase want to ask me? Jenna stood behind me, not wanting to seem like we were joined at the hip, but close enough to be able to hear everything.
When I got to the living-room Foreman and Cameron had their coats on and were leaving, Mom was at the door saying a proper goodbye. I waved at them and turned my attention to Chase, who seemed to have made himself right at home. He grinned at me like a moron. A very pretty moron.
Dad stood behind him with an inscrutable look on his face. He was keeping secrets.
"So Robert, what did you want to ask me?" I took a deep breath. I have no idea what I was hoping for.
"I'm selling my car," he said. He might as well have said, "I'm eating lima beans," for all the sense it made.
"Um. Okay. Congratulations," I waited for more of an explanation. Then Jenna squeed. I gave it at least twenty-seconds. Then I put it together. "Wait. You're selling your car…to me?" I looked at Dad, who continued to be unreadable and then to Mom who was smiling. Then I squeed. Then I remembered. Chase drives a Honda. "Oh. A grocery-getter."
"Don't be like that. It gets thirty miles to the gallon," he actually had the nerve to brag about that.
Dad stepped in, "Here's the deal. You buy Chase's car and that's what you drive for the next two years. You can go to and from the hospital, and to other places only with our permission. When you turn eighteen, you can trade this car in and buy whatever you want, with your own money. Fair?"
I stood there. I couldn't complain about Chase's car really. While it would never turn anyone's head, it was certainly reliable transportation. It had a moon roof. And cup holders. "What kind of stereo does it have?"
He thought about it for a minute, "factory. But there's a CD player."
Beggars couldn't be choosers. "Okay, that seems fair." We all made plans to meet again in the daylight so that I could drive it, have it looked over by a mechanic and basically do all that boring stuff adults do to prevent you from taking the keys and driving off into the night.
An excruciating three days later, after Dad made me wait while the dealer checked it out, I was finally able to drive the car. I mean, it's still my money I'm spending. Chase brought it over and I got in the driver's seat. At first I thought Dad was going to make me drive around with Chase. Like I could concentrate if that happened.
I fiddled with knobs until I was comfortable behind the wheel. I tried to recline the seat back, but Dad gave me the hairy eye-ball, so I put it up straight again. I had started the engine and was about to back it up out of the driveway, when I saw Dad fiddling with the stereo.
"Just wait a minute. This is your first drive in your first car. It has to be special." He slid a CD into the changer and advanced the tracks. The familiar tune washed over us.
I rolled my eyes. "Springsteen?" Could he be any more of a cliché?
"This is our song." Barroom eyes shine vacancy, to see her you've got to look hard. 'For You.' It's one of his earliest songs; I think Dad was about my age when it came out, maybe younger. When I was really little he taught me the words and he'd take me for drives out at the shore. It's very complex and to a little kid it was just abstract. But he found humor in my lisping attempts to say, 'Who am I to ask you to lick my sores…' Dad finds humor in the most inappropriate places.
I'm not a practiced driver. I still have to think about everything. Dad was pretty cool about it though. He didn't try to use the passenger-side breaks or anything like that. We went around the neighborhood a few times. "So what do you think?" He asked as I pulled back into the driveway.
"I like it. Is it a fair price?" I hadn't really bothered to check. I didn't think that Chase was going to try and profit or anything, but I still would have preferred a Jeep Liberty for the money I was spending.
"Very fair." Dad said, extricating himself from the passenger side.
"Would you buy it if you were me?" I asked. Dad will never lie to me.
"Yes. Not just because it's the only car we'll let you have." He nodded at Chase and went into the house.
I didn't want to get out of it just yet. It was full of gas and it looked like it had been detailed. It even smelled nice. A combination of Chase's cologne and upholstery shampoo. Chase opened the door and climbed in. "Where are we going?" He asked.
"Are we going somewhere?" Sometimes he acts just like kids my age. I have to remind myself that he's too old for me. Much too old for me. Practically my Dad's age. Oh, but look how pretty. Damn.
"Yeah. How about the shore? I miss the ocean." He had been smiling, but now he seemed melancholy.
I put it in reverse and backed out slowly. "I'm not driving on the expressway." Bruce was still wailing in the background, "Asbury Park okay?
"Sure." He stared out the window.
"Are you sad about selling your car?" I mean, it still seemed new, it was only a couple of years old.
"No. It's a car. Besides, I have my new car now." He didn't seem to be all that excited about it.
"What did you get?" I asked to be polite.
"Another Honda." He would. Rich and beautiful. He should have a car to match.
"How come? You could have bought a great car. A Lexus. Or a Mercedes. Maybe one of those little ones, with a moon roof that takes up the whole top of the car." I kind of drifted there for a minute.
He shook his head. "I don't need that. It's just transportation."
"I don't understand. Cars are so incredibly interesting. The new Passat has a glove box that's also a fridge. How cool is that? The VW Bug has a bud vase." I started thinking about Volkswagens.
"My parents always had expensive cars." He said that like it was a bad thing. I could tell that he didn't want to talk about it. I knew that his folks had split, that his Mom had substance abuse issues and that his Dad was sick. Funny the stuff you learn about people in the course of normal conversation.
"Oh." I stopped talking to pay attention to my driving. I was actually driving to the beach with Chase. I gulped.
Chase rolled down the window. Then he fiddled with the stereo and tuned in an Alternative radio station. Stars by Switchfoot played and he turned it down. I was just enjoying being happy, then I remembered something. I'm not supposed to be alone with a boy in a car. Crap. "Call my Dad. Tell him where we are."
"What? You're joking aren't you?" He kind of looked like he didn't want to do it.
"No. I'm not." Trust me; I did not want to elaborate.
He reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed. "Just wanted you to know that Kyra and I are going for a drive. No, not far. Okay, no problem." He hung up, "He seems fine with it."
"Really?" That didn't seem right. Wait, he planned this. He threw us together in a romantic setting. That didn't make any sense. Maybe he had absolutely no thoughts about it one way or another. Maybe he just teased me about Chase to be a big pain. Maybe he had his own life with his own issues. No. He's messing with me.
"Yeah. What's the problem?" He shifted in the seat and adjusted the tension on the seatbelt.
"Didn't want him to worry. Plus you know how strict they are." He worked for my Dad; it didn't take much of an imagination to understand how protective my parents are.
"You should appreciate that." Again, he seemed to drift to another place and time.
"I do." Actually, I really do appreciate my folks. I'd hate to be one of those kids whose parents let them go running all over creation. You know, the type that let their daughters go on Spring Break and end up in videos showing their goodies to perverts. "That's why I had you call. Ever been tracked down by a trooper?"
"No. Would House really do that?" He regarded me warily.
"I don't know, and I don't want to find out." We had pulled into the town and found the road that ran alongside the beach. There were a few people out on a chilly weeknight evening. It wasn't yet daylight savings time, so the sky was fading red to orange to yellow on the horizon. "Are we getting out, or did you just want to cruise?" I wouldn't have objected to just cruising. Driving the Honda was fun.
"Let's get out for a minute." He said. I tried to find a place to park.
"You want to walk on the Boardwalk, or would you rather go to Sunset Avenue beach?" On one hand, if we went to the boardwalk, there would be things to do. On the other, I'd be all alone with him on the beach.
"The beach sounds nice; I'm not in the mood for crowds." I'm pretty sure he was thinking about that nasty Howard Johnson's.
I found parking and we started walking. I wanted to hold his hand but put both of mine in my pea coat pockets. He seemed so disconnected; I thought I might be able to anchor him or something. As we approached the water, I could hear the surf and smell the fresh air. Make all the jokes about New Jersey that you want, it was a beautiful night.
Chase made his way to the shoreline. It was easier to walk on the wet, compacted sand. As we moved away from the street and its lights, it became darker. I had been trying to find sand dollars, but I gave it up and instead concentrated on keeping up with Chase, who was trotting at the water's edge.
Finally, I stopped and let him go. I found a dry place to sit where I could watch him pace back and forth. There wasn't much of a moon. It gave me the feeling of ownership. The water, the sand, that dune, those rocks. Mine, all mine. That guy with the breeze in his blond hair and the snug fitting jeans. Not mine. Not even close.
After about ten minutes, he waved and made his way over to me. "Sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you." He extended a hand to help me to my feet.
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I smiled at him and we slowly walked back in the other direction. "So, how come you don't have a boyfriend?"
I gasped. It seemed to have come out of left field. "Excuse me?" I was not addled enough to believe that he was hitting on me.
"You're pretty, you're smart." He gave me a look. I have no idea how to interpret it. Was it possible that he was interested in me? That way?
"I'm not exactly in an environment that lends itself to dating." Seemed kind of obvious to me.
"True. I guess you're not going to meet anyone at work. But your friend, she seems to know lots of people." He smiled at me, encouraging me to talk about it. I so did not want to have this conversation with him. It was too comfortable.
"Jenna is wise beyond her years when it comes to boys. No question. She's setting me up with some music prodigy this weekend." I turned my palms up. I mean, really, what's that going to be? "So what about you? Why aren't you married? Aren't you nearly thirty?"
He sighed, "Married? I can't even find a girlfriend."
"Not for nothing, but if you can't find a girlfriend; there's no hope for any of us, anywhere." Don't you hate when you say what you're thinking?
He laughed. "What do you mean by that?" He turned those eyes on me again. I'm sorry, but he shouldn't be allowed to do that. I only have enough strength to deny myself physical gratification for so long. I stopped walking.
"What do you think? Robert, you are probably one of the prettiest, nicest guys I know." I couldn't say any more than that. I just knew I'd say something humiliating.
He reached for my hand and before he could catch it a small spark of static electricity snapped between us. I least I think it was static electricity.
"I'm not thirty." He said simply.
"Okay." I agreed.
"I mean, yes, I'm older than you are, but…no, I guess it doesn't make a difference." Now he was the one not saying things.
"Yeah, bad timing huh?" We had stopped on the beach. No matter where you looked, all you could see was more beach. The road seemed far off in the distance.
"Maybe not." He moved in closer and took the lapels of my coat in his hands. Thank God it was dark because I flushed a lovely shade of crimson. Then he stopped and stepped back.
For about the millionth time in my life, I cursed the fact that I wasn't an adult. When I am officially an adult I am going do everything that I'm not allowed to do now, starting with kissing beautiful men. It's so frustrating being me.
"I really am immature." I admitted.
"I keep forgetting. You don't think like it, you don't act like it and you don't look like it," he said, pushing a piece of hair off of my face. I think I'm going to just faint right now. Wouldn't that be romantic?
"I keep forgetting too, that's the problem. I'm in an adult world so much of the time." I wanted to reach up and move a piece of hair off of his face; make him feel faint.
"So what do we do?" I could tell he wanted to do something.
"About what?" I was confused.
"I like hanging out with you, but right now it's not really…"
"I like hanging out with you too. Your contract's good for another couple of years, right?"
"Yes. What are you getting at?"
"Well, I've got to cram a bunch of experience in the next two years. I've got a prom to attend and immature boys to kiss. We could make a date for two years from now." He had the funniest look on his face, "if we're still single I mean."
"You think that you're going get all the experience you need in the next two years?" We had reached the car. He instinctively reached for his keys, but of course, I had them.
"Probably not, but I'm sure you can fill in any gaps. Besides, we can still be friends until then. I can tell you about my dates. You can tell me about yours." I couldn't stand it anymore. I hugged him tight. I pressed my face into his chest, just to get a whiff of him. It was completely cheesy, I know.
I felt his arms go around me and we stood that way for what seemed like an instant and an eternity. "What are we going to tell your folks?"
I giggled into his hideous checked shirt. "I have a wicked plan, but I bet you don't have the balls for it."
He laughed at my laugh. "What?"
"We should flirt madly with each other. Oh, and be touchy-feely too." I explained.
"Don't we do that already?" He pulled my hair playfully. I think he was playing with my curls. They're pretty springy.
"We don't do it in front of Mom. She'll kill you. We do it in front of Dad. We'll drive him nuts!" I giggled some more. Not so much because the plan was so funny; but because I just had to giggle. Giddy, I think it's called. I popped open the locks, "let's get a burger. I'm starving."
Maybe I didn't have to wait until I was twenty-two after all.
Author's Note: I would like to thank Honda Corporation of America for making a damn fine automobile. I would like to thank my Archaeology teacher in college for grabbing my lapels like that. It's a move that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I would like to thank the state of California for having gorgeous coast lines where one can walk on cold autumn evenings and have conversations with guys one has lustful feelings for. I especially recommend the beaches in Capitola, Santa Cruz and Castroville.