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Cory gave a derisive laugh. “That may be your dumbest idea yet. It’s no wonder you can’t save any money, the way you’re so eager to throw it away.” He sighed hard. “I guess this weekend we’re shopping for a new car.”
“No,” I said, keeping my voice firm. “You’ve given me enough. You are not buying me a car.”
“That minivan was a piece of shit. It was only a matter of time before it died.”
“You’re not listening to me,” I told him. “I don’t want to take any more from you.”
“For god’s sake, Meg,” he said, sounding exhausted. “Everything is always an argument with you. Just take the damn car.”
***
That weekend, we test drove four cars, finally landing on an eight-year-old Honda Accord being sold for $9,000 by a pregnant couple—Ted and Sheila—who needed to upgrade. I accompanied Cory to the bank to get the cashier’s check, and I studied it on the way back to Tom and Sheila’s, running my finger along the edges, mapping out my strategy.
“Excited?” he asked.
“It’s so much money,” I said. “I still think we could have figured out a way to share yours.”
“I’ve seen you drive. There’s no way I’m letting you behind the wheel of this car.”
I shrugged and looked out the window, slipping the check between the seat and the center console, with just the top edge peeking out.
When we arrived at Ted and Sheila’s, I wandered over to the Honda and admired its shiny black paint. The gray leather interior with a back seat that would never be used for sleeping.
Inside, Ted had everything ready. “Should take about twenty minutes,” he told us.
My eyes swept around the space, taking in the warm colors, the soft chairs flanking the bay window, and imagined myself living in a house like that someday.
“Ted tells me you’re a high school principal,” Sheila said to Cory. That was enough to pull him away from Ted and launch into his monologue about the energy of young minds.
I stepped closer to Ted, pretending to look at the photos on the wall above him while tracking his movements, my nerves tight.
The timing had to be flawless. Up until now, everything I’d done was open-ended, allowing Cory the space to act or not. Today, I couldn’t afford to give him that leeway. I needed to get Cory out of the room while Ted filled in the title, because I had to be sure it was my name that went onto it.
I watched as Ted pulled it from his stack of papers, and when he reached for his pen, I said, “Oh jeez, Cory, I left the cashier’s check in the car. Can you go get it?”
“I’m in the middle of a conversation,” he said, before turning back to Sheila.
My heart rate ratcheted up, knowing we were seconds away from Ted asking whose name should go on the title. Time seemed to slow, my eyes tracking Ted as he filled in the date and then back to Cory, before remembering Cory’s spare car key I’d taken all those months ago, still tucked in my purse. My hand slipped inside, and I felt around until I found it, my thumb pressing the panic button.
The car alarm began to blare, making us all jump. I quickly stepped toward the window and peered out. “I think I saw someone trying to get into your car,” I said to Cory.
In two steps, he was out the door to investigate.
“Maybe it was just a cat,” I said to Ted, a sheepish expression on my face.
Ted resumed filling in the form. “Whose name should I put here?”
I took a step closer and said, “Meg Williams.” I spelled out my last name for him and watched him ink it in.
He pulled his laptop forward and was copying the information from the title into the DMV website when Cory came back inside. “I didn’t see anyone,” he said.
“Thank goodness.” Then I said, “What about the check?”
He shot me an annoyed look, but this time he went. And by the time he returned, the forms had been submitted.
“The check was practically under the front seat,” he said to me. “What were you trying to do, hide it?”
I gave him a dubious shrug.
