Driving Lessons: A Novel by Zoe Fishman Page B

Don’t let the brawn fool you. I’m a sensitive man. And like I said, I’ve been married for twelve years, so maybe I can offer some advice. Trust me, Vanessa and I have been through some shit.”
    “It’s not a marriage issue. It’s a friend issue.”
    “I got plenty of friends too. Make a left here, we’re goin’ on the main road.”
    “The other way? But we’ve never been that way.”
    “I think we’re gonna be okay, Sarah, just make a left. I know where we’re goin’.”
    “Right, okay. Left. Sorry.”
    “So, what’s up with your friend?”
    “My best friend. She won’t call me back.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Yes, that’s it. I’ve been here for nearly two months and haven’t heard from her, despite the fact that I’ve called her a hundred times. I’m hurt.”
    “Maybe she’s workin’ through somethin’. Doesn’t feel like talkin’ much at the moment. Make a right here into this park.” A few playground pods dotted a vast expanse of green.
    “What are we doing here?” I asked.
    “We’re gonna practice parking. Regular and parallel.”
    “Parallel? No way.”
    “Man, you are stubborn. I’m in charge, okay, Sarah? Even if you’re terrible at it, ain’t no one around for you to run over.”
    “Fine. Sorry.” I drove past the three cars parked at the front of the lot. “And it’s not like her to shut me out. We help each other work through things. We always have. What I think is that she’s over me. Out of sight, out of mind.”
    “How long y’all been friends? Go ahead and make a right into that spot right there.”
    I turned the wheel abruptly, and glided diagonally in. “Shit,” I grumbled. “And fourteen years, to answer your question.”
    “Back it up and straighten your wheels.” I put the car in reverse and took a deep breath before attempting it again. “That’s right. Take it slow and steady. We got an hour to get this right. Take your time.” After wrestling the wheel like it was a pair of Spanx just out of the dryer, I managed to slide between the lines. “Good work, my friend.”
    “Do you mind if we take a little break? Just turn the engine off for a minute?” I asked.
    “Sure, no problem,” said Ray. “You wanna step out of the car for a second, get some air?”
    “Yeah, that sounds good,” I answered gratefully. We got out and I leaned against the hood, slowly circling my head to stretch my neck. Its tendons burst into virtual flames as I did so. Ray came around and stood beside me.
    “Fourteen years, huh?” he asked. “That’s a long time. Lots of changes to go through together.”
    “Exactly. And now, poof. Nada. I don’t understand. For other friends—less important friends—to forget me, that’s perfectly understandable. But this . . . this is different.”
    “Just be patient. She’ll be back around.”
    “I guess. I just miss her so much. It’s hard, being here all alone. I may not have liked my life much in New York, but at least I had one.”
    “Well, you ain’t all alone. You got your husband.”
    “Yeah, I know. But that’s different than having a best friend. Or even a friend, for that matter.”
    “I’m your friend.”
    “You are?”
    “Sure. You think I shoot the shit like this with all of my clients? Nosir.”
    “Really?”
    “Really. You’re interesting, Sarah. A little self-involved, maybe, but interesting.”
    “Excuse you!” I laughed. “I’m self-involved?”
    “Don’t take it personally. Everyone without kids is, I’ve noticed. You ain’t got anyone to worry about but yourself, so you lose sleep over the fact that your friend hasn’t returned a phone call or two.”
    “That’s not fair, Ray. I think I would still sweat something like this even if I did have kids. What, you’re saying that kids turn everybody into Mother Teresa? Please.”
    “Naw, that’s not what I’m saying. Not exactly, anyway. You’ll see.” Would I? That was the whole point, wasn’t it? That I wasn’t done worrying