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When class ends, and Christine finally acknowledges my presence after two weeks of silence, it’s after most of the students have filtered out of the room. She lingers near her seat for a few minutes, pretending to tap awayon her laptop while the last group of people meanders toward the door.
“Christine.” I dip my head in her direction. “Can I help you with something?”
She purses her lips, putting her laptop away in earnest now. “I was wondering if you could take me back to Manhattan after classes are over today.”
My heart palpitates with need.Breathe, I tell myself.Don’t sound too eager.“Sure. What for?”
“My car is ready to be picked up,” she announces excitedly. “The shop called yesterday to let me know the final part had come in and was being installed.”
Her car may be ready, but I’m not. It was only a few weeks ago that I was sitting with her in the hospital after a car accident that never should have happened. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to drive?” I ask, my face creasing with concern. “If you need to go somewhere, I can always take you.”
Christine rolls her eyes in a single dismissive movement. “So if I want to go to McDonald’s at 1:00 am, I should call you and wait a half hour for you to drive to Rosedale and pick me up?” Her voice carries a hint of exasperation; her words layered with sarcasm.
Fair point. However, the alternative is that she gets in her car, drives to McDonald’s herself, and winds up in another accident. I’m willing to get up in the middle of the night to do her a small favor if it means she won’t wind up dead. I remember how I felt when the police called me that night; I never want to feel that way again.
“You can always call me Christine. I’m available to you day or night.” For once, I don’t mean that sexually. I mean it in every conceivable way she might need me, whether it’s a late-night food run or someone to pick her up from the library in the dead of winter because it’s too cold for her to walk home.
The muscles around her eyes twitch as she folds her arms at her chest. “Yes, you’ve made it clear howavailableyou are to me,” Christine deadpans. “I’d prefer unfettered access to a car, though.”
“I can be your personal chauffeur,” I offer.
“Nic,” she sighs.
“Chris.”
Her hands fall to her side in frustration, slapping against her thighs in a loud gesture of annoyance. “I know why you’re concerned, but you don’t have to be. What happened in July was a freak accident.”
She doesn’t have to tell me about freak accidents. I was the one that got the call on July 4th. Between one neighbor setting off firecrackers and another throwing a party, I missed my phone ringing in another room three times. When I finally answered, the police officer said he’d been trying to get ahold of me for the last ten minutes. Then he told me what happened, and my heart felt like it imploded from fear.
“Freak accident or not, I’m concerned about your safety.” Christine was heading home on an empty stretch of road on Independence Day when someone came out of nowhere and plowed into the passenger side of her car. What if Kaye had been with her? Or, God forbid, the person hit the driver’s side instead?
Panic seizes my chest with its long, sinuous claws, wrapping them around my heart and squeezing. I have to stop thinking about the what ifs before I drive myself crazy.
“The more I think about it, the safer I think it’ll be if you just let me drive you around,” I decide.
Christine gets up and walks across the room, carving out a space for herself on the edge of my desk. She sits atop unread papers and printouts I haven’t gotten around to looking at yet. “I get why you’d think that, but I can’t rely on you forever,” she says gently.
Lie #1. She could rely on me for the rest of our lives if she’d let herself. I would never hurt her; I would never let anyone else hurt her.
“I need my freedom, Nic. Part of that freedom involves getting my car back and being able to go wherever I want whenever I want.”
Lie #2. She can still have her freedom while also being my passenger princess. I’m not kidding. If she says the word, I’ll be on-call 24/7 for her chauffeuring needs.
“Besides, if I get a job, I’m going to need reliable transportation.”
Lie #3. She doesn’t need a job, and even if she got one, I’m reliable, and I can provide transportation. I don’t see the problem.
“You don’t need a job,” I remind her. “There’s a trust set up in your name. If you need money for classes or textbooks, I’m sure the trustee would sign off on it.”
She replies in a monotone voice, “You’re the trustee, Niccolo.”
I give her a knowing wink. “And I’d sign off on it!”
Christine does not find my charming offer amusing. “Please,” she begs, inserting more emotion into her tone, “or else I’ll have to ask Kaye to take me to Manhattan, and she’s got her own crap going on.”
I’m tempted to stall and ask what’s going on in her best friend’s life, but I decide to save the question for the drive. “If I take you, if,” I emphasize, “you have to promise me you’ll never get into another accident again.”
“Niccolo,” she whines, “I can’t promise that, and you know it.”
