CHAPTER FOUR
"What do you mean, driver's exam?" Al demanded, looking down at the bored-looking woman behind the counter.
"I don't know how else to say it," she said, fiddling with her pencil. "It's a test to see how well you can drive, before we give you a Florida license."
"But I have a driver's license," Al said, slapping down the piece of identification she had just given back.
"That's a provisional California license."
"So what?"
"And it's expired."
"I realize that," Al said curtly. "That's why I'm here to apply for a Florida license."
"In order to be issued a Florida license you must present a valid license from another State in the Union, or else you must meet the criteria for issue of a license under Florida law," she recited. She dug into her top drawer and pulled out a stick of gum, which she folded into her mouth.
Al closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Look, it isn't like it's been expired very long—"
"It's expired."
"Yeah. Yesterday. Look, I'm an astronaut in the Apollo program. Yesterday I was running flight simulations from five in the morning until eleven at night. I couldn't get my license changed over then because you people haven't got an office within walking distance of the hangar."
"You could have sent someone to do it for you," she said, still not really looking at him.
"Oh, really?"
She shrugged. "No," she admitted. "But you could definitely have planned ahead and taken care of this before."
Al scratched his eyebrow with his ring fingernail. "Look, honey, I'm sorry I let it expire. I've had a lot on my plate lately. You seem like an intelligent, reasonable, beautiful person. Isn't there some way we can get around this?"
"Get around what?"
"Get me a Florida driver's license."
"Yes," she said. Al grinned. He knew it. There was always a way around sticky bureaucratic obstacles, and nine times out of ten that road was paved with flattery. The woman curled her lip and smirked. "You can take the test, and if the driver examiner finds that you meet the standards I'll issue you a Florida license."
He was starting to lose his patience. There was too little space in this tiny, crowded office, and it was hot in here. Al fumbled with the button on his collar. "For crying out loud," he said; "I haven't got time for this."
"Oh, right," she said. Sarcasm leeched the professionalism from her diction and vocabulary. "Your rocket's waiting."
Al blinked. "You don't believe I'm an astronaut," he said as realization struck.
"I wasn't born yesterday, mister." That was certainly true, Al thought unkindly. "I've seen one or two astronauts in my time, and you don't look like no astronaut." She snapped her gum.
"Really? What does an astronaut look like?" Al asked.
"Not like an extra from bad gangster movie."
Al cocked one eyebrow at her. "You know, if I was really a Mafia hitman…"
"You wouldn't be here tryin' to transfer an expired license and generally making a pain in the ass of yourself," she said.
"Is this the way you always talk to people?" Al queried sweetly.
"Only the ones who come in here making a pain in th—"
"You have any Greek ancestors?" asked Al. "Because I think maybe you've got some Harpy in your blood."
She gave him a blank look. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Maybe he could outsmart her. Or astound her with a show of authority. Maybe if he just got a little mad… That would make him feel better, anyway. Al dug out his wallet.
"Look," he said, placing one card after another in front of her. "NASA photo identification. United States Navy photo identification. Military pilot's license. Florida private pilot's license. You think they'll let me fly a plane and I can't drive a car? Just issue the license and let me get out of here!"
"The law's the law," the woman said; "and I ain't stickin' my neck out for you."
"Just let me talk to your supervisor," Al intoned, curling his lip at her through a saccharine smile.
She got indolently to her feet. "O-kay," she said; "but he's gonna tell you the same thing."
Al knew that was true. They weren't going to bend the law for him or for anyone else, NASA or not. It was just a pain in the neck. He had completely forgotten licences needed annual renewal. Any problems the Naval administrators had had in bringing him back from the dead and reassembling his little leather folio of identification they'd kept to themselves. It hadn't occurred to anyone to remind him about maintaining it.
"Forget it," he said, defeated. "What's involved in this test?"
To give her credit, she maintained her disinterested demeanor as she resumed her seat and took a legal-sized sheet of paper out of a drawer. "First you do the written test," she said. "You're lucky: we're doing eye exams today too, so you can get it out of the way. Then if you pass both of those you make an appointment for the driving part."
Fantastic. Al took the paper and reached across the desk to pluck a pen from a coffee mug at the woman's elbow. He gave her a thin smile, and found an empty chair near the window. He glanced at the other victims. Several nervous-looking teenagers dotted the room. There was an old woman nearby, polishing her glasses. A young couple who were probably here for plates were petting each other's hands near the Harpy's desk, murmuring contentedly. Newlyweds. Al remembered the car he and Beth had bought after the accident that had totaled the black Corvette. A little red Ford, something easier for Beth to maneuver through heavy traffic. He smiled fondly at the memory. She was one hell of a nurse and one hell of a woman, but she wasn't much of a hand behind the wheel of a powerful machine, especially not in a moment of crisis. She'd been so scared he would be angry…
A sharp pain spidared through his chest. He had been angry. He'd been furious. So what if it wasn't her fault? Who cared if the pickup had run the light? She could have swerved out of the way or something! If he had been driving it wouldn't have happened! He had raged and railed until her tears of panic and contrition had changed to those of rage and she had started screaming back. It had been their first big fight. Then suddenly they were crying in each other's arms, both overcome with guilt and fright and relief. She could have been killed. She might have died. He might have lost her.
He had lost her.
No. Al straightened and tried to balance the paper on his knee. No. He was going to forget. He was going to move on. Florida driver's license.
The test was easy—too easy, because it wasn't quite sufficient to preoccupy him. Road regulations and street signs. He did have to wrack his brains over some of them, though. His memory wasn't what it had been.
The eye exam went without a hitch. Al prided himself on his perfect vision. Then it was time to book a drive, which meant back to the desk.
"Let's see…" The receptionist consulted her booking ledger. "I can fit you in at ten-thirty next Thursday."
"Next Thursday?"
She shrugged. "Best I can do. It's our busy season."
"December is your busy season?" Al asked skeptically.
"This is Florida. There isn't exactly a bad time for a drive, except maybe when there's a hurricane passing." She snapped her gum again. "So next Thursday, then, Mr. Claravechie?"
"You're not even trying," Al observed dryly.
"You wanna see the schedule?" she challenged.
"I meant with my name. A four-year-old sounding out the letters could do better than that."
She rolled her eyes. "Try to imagine how little I care," she said.
"Oh, yeah, that's going to be hard," Al said sarcastically. "Now, listen, I can't wait until next Thursday. That's more than a week without a license, which considering my luck is more than enough time to get pulled over by a bad-tempered cop."
"So don't drive."
"Easy for you to say," Al muttered.
"Excuse me…" A tall, striking blonde woman slipped past Al and reached across the receptionist's desk to pick up a folder. "I'm heading home, Josie," she said, her voice tinged with weariness. "Let Jeff know I'm gone?"
"Sure," the receptionist said, smiling at the other woman. Then she looked at Al, her expression firm and bored again. "Thursday at ten-thirty, then?"
"I'm going to have to see if I can free up the time," Al said acerbically. "How long does this usually take?"
"Half an hour. Show up at least fifteen minutes early."
Al snorted and turned to go. The blonde was staring at him. He was too perturbed to take note of the fact that she was absolutely stunning. He scowled at her and started for the door.
An unexpected name stopped him dead in his tracks. "Al the Pick?" the woman said softly.
Startled, Al turned around. "Do I know you?" he asked.
A smile spread across the woman's face, dazzling despite the little gap between the two front teeth. "It is you, isn't it?" she said.
She was someone from the orphanage; she had to be if she knew that nickname, but for the life of him Al couldn't place her. She looked too young to be anyone from that chapter of his past, younger than Elsa Orsós, for sure. But she obviously recognized him.
"It's me, but who are you?" Al asked.
She laughed, suddenly self-conscious. "Oh, I wouldn't expect you to remember me," she said. "But I remember you. How have you been? What are you doing now?"
"I'm with the space program," Al replied. "Now, who are you?"
"I was so young when you left, you probably don't remember me," she said, and Al realized with bemused gratification that she was blushing. She did look familiar, the more he thought about it, but it wasn't easy to try to remember somebody you hadn't seen for twenty-five years, especially since she mustn't have been more than four or five back then. "The space program? Are you working on Skylab?"
Al shook his head. "Apollo. Nothing less than the moon for me."
"Doing engineering, or—"
"Hoping to get up there, actually." She made a little gasp of amazement that prompted a pang of self-consciousness. "Not bad for a kid from the old neighborhood," Al demurred.
"I'd say not! But I always knew you were destined for greatness." Her blue eyes were glittering nostalgically.
"Oh, yeah, I'll bet," Al scoffed.
"No, really. You know, they were still telling stories about you when I got out?"
"No kidding. When was that?"
"Spring of '62."
Al whistled softly. "You're older than you look," he said. "I never would have guessed."
She flushed as if it had been a long time since she'd heard any such compliment. "That's nice of you to say," she murmured.
"It's the truth. Listen, you want to get a cup of coffee or something?" Reality kicked in and Al shot a sidelong scowl at the receptionist. "Of course, you'll have to drive, since I haven't got a license right now."
"You haven't got a license?"
Al pulled the offending card out of his wallet and showed it to her. "Let the old one expire and I'm new to the state," he said. "They can't fit me in for a test until next week."
"Is a test all you need?" the woman asked. Al nodded. She smiled. "Well, I can take you out right now," she said. "I'm one of the driving examiners."
"But you're on your way home," Al pointed out.
She shrugged. "Do you want to wait until next week?" she asked. "Please let me do it. I was in love with you, you know."
Al chuckled in disbelief.
"No, really, I was," she said. "When I was in the first grade I thought you were dreamier than Father Michaels."
They both laughed now, thinking of the young, energetic Irish priest. Al tried to do the mental arithmetic. "When you were in the first grade. Let's see, I would have been…"
"Sixteen," she admitted, blushing. "It was the year you won the Golden Gloves championship."
Al shook his head, grinning in reminiscence. "What's your name?" he asked, squinting as if by doing so he could transform her back into the little girl who was hovering on the edge of memory.
"You probably don't remember me," she warned.
"Try me," he urged.
"Ana—"
"Fefner! Ana Fefner! God, I was so jealous of you when you first came in!" Al exclaimed.
"Jealous?" Ana frowned in puzzlement.
"Yeah. You were this beautiful little baby, golden curls and glittery blue eyes. I was so sure you were going to wind up with a real family." It was just one more childhood injustice when she hadn't.
"I did," Ana said, her eyes misting a little. "Eventually."
"Yeah?"
"I got married. Three kids."
"Good for you! Boys, girls?"
"One girl, two boys. They're good kids. I just need to call Isabella to let her know I'm going to be a little late." Ana turned back towards the desk, but the receptionist waved her off.
"I'll take care of it," she drawled, sneaking a freshly appraising look at Al as if she was seeing him in a slightly different light now.
"Thanks." Ana turned back, taking a triplicate form as she went.
"Babysitter?" Al asked.
"Neighbour. Since Tim left…" Her voice cracked and a hand flew to her eyes to wipe away unexpected tears. "I'm sorry…"
"No, I am. He's a fool." Al felt a pulse of righteous anger. What kind of nozzle would walk out on a woman like Ana, not to mention his kids?
"Don't say that," Ana admonished hastily. "It was my mistake. I thought we were meant to be together forever, and obviously he didn't feel quite the same way. You know how it is."
A painful lump was growing in his throat. "Yeah," he whispered. "I know how it is."
Ana ran a finger through her curly hair. "Well, we'd better get on the road," she said. "I've got to be back by five at the latest."
"I really appreciate this," Al told her, regaining control and living in the moment again.
Ana smiled, and he could tell she was doing the same thing. "Least I could do for the man of my six-year-old dreams!" she said.
MWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMAl drummed on the steering wheel, looking out at the parking lot. Ana sat beside him with the triplicate form balanced on the door of the glove compartment, writing with practiced efficiency. The second they had got into the car she'd been all business, giving directions and scrutinizing his every move. Now he awaited her verdict.
"You have a lot of bad habits," Ana said, sitting back and looking at him. "And you're a very aggressive driver." She looked at a note affixed to his eye exam results. "Josie called the DMV in California, and they told her you hadn't held a valid license there for seven and a half years before the provisional one they issued last winter."
"Yeah, well, I've been out of the country," Al said, annoyed at the receptionist who would go the extra mile to disparage him but not to assist him.
"Ooh! Where?" Ana asked, her tone pleasant and conversational.
Al shrugged. "Vietnam."
Her face fell. "For seven and a half years?"
"Yeah. Something wrong with that?"
"It's just… I'm sorry…"
"I'm career Navy," he said, more fiercely than he had intended to. "I wasn't drafted. It was my choice to go."
"I hadn't realized that tours of duty were so long," Ana murmured.
"Yeah, well, I got a special extension," Al said, too much of his desire not to discuss this filtering through into his voice. He forced a smile. "So I have bad habits," he said, lightening his tone. "This means?"
"I should fail you," Ana said matter-of-factly. "Any kid who drove like you do would be sent off with a bug in his ear about attention to detail. However, you're not driving dangerously, just… uniquely. What's a couple of demerit points between fellow cast-offs? Take this through and Josie'll issue you a temporary license until they can get the real thing printed."
"You're an angel, you know that?" Al said, taking the proffered triplicate. "Why don't you let me buy you supper to thank you?"
Ana chuckled. "Are you trying to buy off your examiner?" she asked. "Anyway, I can't. I've got to get home and feed the kids."
"I like kids," Al said. "I'll take you all out for supper."
Ana shook her head. "I can't," she said sadly. "It still hurts too much. I'm just not ready to… spend time with any man, not even an old friend."
"Can I get your number?" Al asked. "Just so we can get together and talk about old times?"
"No," she said gently. "I'm glad I ran into you, but…" She gestured helplessly.
"Yeah, okay. I understand. I'm glad I ran into you, too. You've really saved my life here, you know."
She laughed again, then leaned quickly over the gearshift and kissed him firmly on the lips. Al cupped his hand around the back of her head and reciprocated instinctively. When they parted she drew back looking like a girl who has just seen her idol in the flesh. "I always wanted to try that," she confided. "The bigger girls said it was great."
"Bigger girls are notorious liars," Al said with a wicked grin.
Ana winked. "Not this time." She slid out of the car before he could stop her, and disappeared.
Al sat back, left strangely desolate by her departure. He needed to find a wild girl tonight, he decided. A real minx. Too many ghosts coming out of the woodwork today.
Suddenly the car seemed to press in around him. Panting anxiously against the lack of oxygen, he got out as quickly as he could, and went inside to claim his license.