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“Yes, you can,” Eli encourages me. “Foot on the brake, turn the key in the ignition, shift the truck into Drive, then gently tap the gas.”
Nausea bubbles up my throat. The windows are down, but the day was hot enough that any exposed skin left by my shorts and tank top sticks to the plastic seating. I flex my fingers and inhale the scent of cigarette smoke and pleather.
I can do this. I can freaking drive a truck. No. No I can’t. “There are a ton of people around here. Maybe we should wait until everyone’s gone.”
“We’re not NASCAR driving. You’re going to gently tap the gas and if you think we’re moving too fast, you’re going to press the brake.”
The front porch is full of gawkers. Olivia watches us from her Adirondack chair. Cyrus holds her hand as he stands next to her. Razor sits on the porch swing and rocks it in a slow motion. Chevy and Oz each rest a shoulder against opposing beams near the stairs and Violet and her brother, Stone, are planted on the bottom step.
“I want you back in the house by eight tonight,” says Eli. “After that, no one under eighteen can be around the clubhouse.”
I have to focus very hard so I don’t roll my eyes. “I can’t watch Oz patch in?”
Eli gives me this dark expression that tells me the answer is no. Rules are rules I guess, and it’s not my club. It’s a boys’ club. With that thought I’m drawn to Violet. The moment she walked up to the front porch she announced that she was only here to visit me.
This club has hurt her somehow and while we’ve chatted on the phone about clothes and some guys she’s been dating this summer, we never discuss anything important.
Olivia glances in Violet’s direction and Chevy looks like someone shot him in the chest multiple times. Sadness settles in my gut. When I arrived, I was almost as bad as she is now and for that, “I’m sorry.”
I seem to be saying that a lot. Eli peers over at me as if I told him I was pregnant. “What?”
For those years you asked me a million questions and I gave you half-truths. For that—I’m sorry. “I’m sorry I’m being a spaz. It’s just...” I wipe my sweaty palms on my jean shorts. “The first time I drove, I pressed on the gas too hard and then freaked out and accidently pressed on the gas more thinking it was the brake and it obviously wasn’t the brake and well...I wrecked Dad’s car. No one was hurt or anything, but the car was...”
I use my hands to measure a foot then squish it to an inch. “Smooshed.”
“No one was hurt?” he repeats.
“Not even a bruise.”
Eli scratches his jaw, but I spot a smile. “The reason you haven’t learned to drive is...”
“Did you miss where I said I smooshed his car? Like an accordion. Dad’s a fantastic guy, but come on. I wrecked his car, which proves I am a freaking menace behind the wheel.”
“It’s okay to be afraid,” he says. “But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try it again.”
“I’m not afraid,” I counter, but I am. I always seem to be afraid and my stomach dips. Everyone here in Snowflake is continually brave. Olivia, Oz, Eli...all of them.
“When your mom told me she was pregnant with you, I was afraid.”
The truck rocks with how fast my body moves in his direction. Eli’s never spoken so openly about our past before. “What?”
Eli stares out the front windshield. “Besides what’s happening with Mom, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so scared in my life as when Meg told me she was pregnant. We were young and still in school and I didn’t feel old enough to take care of myself, much less a baby.”
My mouth dries out and a million questions form in my mind, but I don’t know how to ask any of them. I crave for him to tell me more, but at the same time, I’m terrified of what I might learn.
“The point is, I was scared and so was your mom, but she figured out how to work past the fear. When I look at you, I see Meg. Your mom—she was fearless.”
I’ve heard a lot of people say a lot of negative things about my mother in the past few weeks, but I don’t see hatred in Eli’s eyes. I spot the same pain that always seems to live within him, but I also spot admiration and possibly love. For me, for Mom, maybe for both of us...but regardless, there is love.
Maybe there’s room to love him—that is if he really does have room in his life to love me.
Eli reaches over
and the air rushes out of my lungs when he turns the keys. The engine rumbles to life and he straightens back in his seat. “This truck is a piece of shit. There’s not much more you can do to it and my life insurance policy is paid up, so we’re good.”
“Eli...” I protest.
“Put your foot on the brake, shift into Drive, then gently tap the gas. I also suggest holding on to the steering wheel.”
