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Chapter Twenty-Eight
Point of View: Brian

Baylee was in the pool, splashing at me while I sat on the side with my legs in the water. He reached his toes down as far as he could. "Am I touching?" he asked, straining.

"Can you feel the bottom?" I asked.

He squinted, sticking out his tongue and straining really hard with his toes. "I think?"

He was in the 5' end, suspended up by his arm floaties. No way was he touching. "Then you're touching," I said, "Wow! You've got Go-Go-Gadget legs!" I waved him toward the 3' section, "Hey come back down this end, okay?" Baylee paddled over towards the shallow end and I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like I didn't have to stare directly at him unwaveringly. Which was good, because Nick chose that moment to throw a tantrum.

Nick came flying out the back door of the house, slamming the door behind him, and swearing, "That fucking bitch! Fucking bitch!" he kicked a potted plant.

Leighanne lowered her sunglasses and sat up a little ways in the lawn chair where she was tanning. She glanced at Baylee, then looked at me as if to ask if I were really going to let Baylee's ears be tainted this way, and I nodded her to the pool to watch our son while I played damage control.

Once Leighanne was settled I went over to where Nick was pacing and balling his fists, mumbling to himself. "Uh.. hey," I said, "What's up?"

He looked at me, his jaw clenched. "I have to actually drive the 100 hours with that driving school lady," he said, all irritated sounding. Personally, the only word that went through my head was 'duh'. Somehow I had a feeling that wasn't the word Nick was after, though, so I just blinked at him in silence as he paced. "Can you believe that?" he demanded.

"I... uh..."

Nick's eyes met mine. "You gotta be kidding me. A HUNDRED hours? Seriously? They give babies licenses for like ten! I already know how to drive! This is a fucking joke."

"Nick, you wrapped an Escalade around a tree," I said, "I don't think they want you just hopping behind the wheel to try it again." I paused, "And frankly I don't, either. I mean you almost died. I'd rather you stick around. Rogaine and Viagra, remember?"

"No Viagra, we discussed this already," he said darkly.

"So... when do you start?"

Nick sighed, "Tomorrow." He shook his head, "God this lady's like such a bitch, too. You should see her. She's all pissed off and... just mean."

"So she's got a hair across her ass," I shrugged, "You only have to put up with her while you're in the car. It's no big deal."

"No big deal, huh?" Nick opened the back door and disappeared a moment into the house. He came back out carrying a red folder and shoved it into my hands.

"What's this?" I asked, opening it.

Nick scoffed the words out, "Classroom material. Tests and drunk driving articles and a DVD. Probably some stupid shit with like bodies smeared on pavement and crap."

I flipped through the papers in disbelief until I caught sight of a familiar name. Pulling out the article, I felt my face grow hot. "Um, Nick? Did you look through this stuff?"

"No. She's full of shit if she thinks I'm doing classroom material designed for fucking sixteen year olds."

I held out the article to him.

Nick's face made an interesting evolution from the level of anger he was already at to pale to a sickly shade of green to a livid reddish-purple-maroon color. "What the fucking hell!??" he cried, seeing the article about his accident. "What the hell!??"

"...Is this a good time to remind you that all publicity is good publicity?" I asked tentatively.

"She's using me for classroom material?" he cried.

I sighed, "Well, it was a really bad accident."

Nick groaned and smacked his forehead with one hand, balling the copy of the article up with the other. "What a fucking douche," he hissed.

"You could ask her for royalties," I laughed.

Nick's eyes were closed, "It's not funny, Brian."

I sobered quickly. "I know," I answered in a genuine voice, "I know it's not."

"It's embarrassing," Nick whispered.

I sighed and patted his shoulder. "You gotta learn from the past, that's all, buddy. Just learn from the past."

Nick shook his head and leaned against the glass of the back door. "Fucking A, I can't believe I gotta drive for 100 hours with a bitch that uses me as classroom material," he muttered.

I stared at the finger prints his hands were leaving all over the glass. Glass that I'd just cleaned like two hours before hand with Windex and paper towels. I pulled his hands off the glass. "You're going to be a better driver in the end, and that's a good thing. Now, stop leaving hand prints all over the nice clean doors and go get the Windex so we can fix that."

Nick looked at me out of the corner of his eye, his forehead still against the glass. "Really? Seriously? Hand prints are bugging you right now?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

I knew that smirk.

"C'mon, Nick," I said, "Seriously."

He stuck out his tongue and dragged it across the glass, grinning evilly at me. "How's that for a streak-free shine?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief, but his face quickly fell. "Oh God," he stuck out his tongue, scowling, "Oh God, that tastes like chemicals." He choked.

"Serves you right, you little shit," I muttered.