Never Too Late

She tried to wiggle free, but he held her waist. “I can’t,” she said weakly. “I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never get ready this way,” he said. He opened the door and that new-car smell of polish and leather wafted out. “Take your time, but get in. Let’s just do it. It’ll be fine.”

“It’s been so long.”

“I know. I don’t think you should make it any longer.”

“Really…” she attempted, pleadingly.

“Just around the block then,” he said. “But it’s time. You need a car and you have to drive.”

Reluctantly, she slid in. Her dad had tried something like this a few weeks ago, but he’d let her off easy. Maggie had talked about it, her driving again, but talk she could handle. She swore to Maggie she wasn’t phobic about it—she just wanted to pick out a nice car when her insurance settlement from the accident came in, and that would be that. But the truth was that Clare didn’t need to wait to buy a car. She had plenty of money—both savings from her life with Roger along with the stipends he sent, not to mention her future salary from the teaching position. She could qualify for a car loan, no problem.

She sat behind the wheel while Sam got in the other side. She placed her hands on the steering wheel, massaging the leather cover. He waited a moment, then when she didn’t move he reached across her and fastened her seat belt. “How’s it feel?”

“It’s very nice,” she said. “I’d like to just sit here for a while.”

He gave that about ten seconds, then he turned the key and started the engine. “Very uncomplicated car, Clare. Just put it in reverse, back out and take her around the block. You can do it. Simple.”

“I can do that,” she said. And in her head she said, I can do it, I can do it, I can do it. I’d just rather not.

One thing she knew for sure—this was going to have to happen sometime, and for whatever reason she was glad it was happening with Sam and not George or Maggie or even, God forbid, Roger. So she put the car in reverse and with her foot on the brake, adjusted the rearview mirror. She went slowly down the drive, changed gears and headed down the street. She signaled at the corner, made a right turn, signaled at the next corner for another right, and repeated the process a third time. She licked her lips, swallowed several times and gripped the wheel hard, so that it wouldn’t fly away.

“How’s that feel?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Are you supposed to sweat this much?”

“Well, I do. But I think it has something to do with the payments.” He chuckled.