“Yeah, so drive,” laughed Nick, pointing to the stoplight, which had just turned green.
“Whoops.” Slamming her foot to the ground, Claire sent the car shooting forward, tires squealing over the sound of her laughter. “My bad,” she said airily, flipping through the radio stations. “Hey, isn’t this the Mitsubishi song?”
Nick laughed. “Yeah... it’s by Dirty Vegas.”
“Yeah, whatever. It’s the Mitsubishi song. You’re supposed to dance!”
“Huh?”
“Like in that commercial – you gotta get all down and funky in the passenger side! Go!” She glanced over expectantly at him, struggling to keep a straight face, and he only blinked.
“Wasn’t that commercial like two years ago?”
“Well yeah, so? What, are you trying to tell me it’s not cool to rock out in the front seat of car anymore?”
His deadpan expression broke, and he burst out laughing. “You’re insane,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Yeah? Takes one to know one,” she shot back, yanking the car into the small parking lot of the pizza place, Leonardi’s.
After the therapy session that afternoon, they had decided to head back to Nick’s house so that he could rest for awhile before they went out to “celebrate”. Of course, it had taken a lot of convincing just to get Nick to agree to going out at all. He hadn’t been anywhere except the hospital in the month that he had been home. It was just too hard to get around, and he was afraid of being spotted and recognized in public. He wasn’t ready for publicity yet. But Claire had talked him into a “quiet night out,” as she called it.
“Aw, come on, we have to do something,” she’d insisted. “Come on, we can just go out for pizza or something. Whatever you want.”
He would have rather just ordered a pizza from home if that’s what she wanted, but she’d convinced him that he needed to get out, and in the end, he’d agreed. They had settled on Leonardi’s, which was quickly becoming “their place.” Nick liked the casual atmosphere of the tiny pizza parlor and assured himself that he and Claire would be able to hide out in the corner booth there and not be bothered. Still, he’d cautiously grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap on his way out of the house, paranoid about being noticed.
“How do you expect people not to notice you when you show up in a silver Jag?” Claire asked now, snickering as she watched him adjust his sunglasses in the mirror on the back of the sun visor.
“Shut up.” Nick smiled nervously at his reflection and sucked in a breath. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
Together, they opened their car doors, and Nick cautiously eased himself out of the passenger side. While he gained his balance, Claire hauled his crutches out of the backseat and brought them around to him. Though he was still wearing his prosthesis, he and Claire had both decided it would be for the best if he used the crutches as well, just for the fact that he was not entirely steady without them yet, and the physical therapy earlier in the day had worn him out.
Once inside the restaurant, Nick kept his eyes down and tried to make himself invisible while Claire requested the cozy wrap-around booth in the back corner. The restaurant was fairly full, mostly with young teenagers in big groups, but they were all immersed in their own conversations and too busy talking and eating to pay any attention to him. He and Claire made it to their booth unnoticed, and as he positioned himself so that he was facing the wall, Nick hoped it would stay that way.
“So,” said Claire, glancing briefly at the laminated menu on the table in front of her. “Large sausage and pepperoni, extra cheese?”
“Sounds good,” replied Nick with a smile.
He was relieved when an older woman came to take their order, instead of a teenaged waitress, and even more relieved when they managed to eat their pizza without being noticed or bothered.
“Where should we go next?” Claire asked when they had finished.
“Next? Uh...”
“We could go to a movie or something,” she offered. “Maybe see what’s playing at the Empress?”
“The Empress? Man, is that that really old theater?”
“Yeah! It plays all the good old movies... the classics,” she added with a dreamy little sigh.
“I haven’t been there since I was a kid,” he said. “Didn’t realize it was still open, actually.”
“Ahh, you rich folk. My friends and I saw movies there all the time in high school cause it was so cheap, and we were so poor. But of course, you wouldn’t know how that is.” She grinned teasingly, and he rolled his eyes. “But seriously, do you want to? The place is usually about deserted – I’m not quite sure how it stays in business, actually – so it’s not like you’d have to worry too much about being recognized.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I guess so.”
She smiled. “Trust me, you’ll love it. And what day is it, Friday? They usually show the good old black and white horror movies on Friday nights, or at least they used to... Friday Fright Night or something, they call it.”
“Excellent,” he chuckled.
Claire glanced at the small clock mounted high on one of the dingy walls of the pizza place. “It’s about seven-thirty; we should probably get going and see if there’s an eight o’clock showing.”
“Okay.”
Retrieving her wallet out of her purse, Claire glanced at their bill and started pulling out cash.
“Hey, you don’t have to pay,” Nick said, quickly digging his own wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and sliding out his credit card.
“Oh no, I got this. My treat,” she smiled. “You can pay the tip. Do you have cash?”
“Claire,” he said. “Let me pay.”
“No way. We’re celebrating for you here, and you let me drive your car. I owe ya.” With a wink, she slid out of the booth and marched up to the cash register before he could stop her. Sighing, he pulled a few wadded bills out of his wallet and tucked them under the corner of his plate, leaving a rather hefty tip for the waitress. Promising himself that he would pay at the movies, he scooted himself out of the booth and hobbled over to the counter where Claire was paying.
“Ready to go?” she asked, dropping her billfold into her purse with a little smirk.
“Yup,” he said shortly, his irritation growing as she went ahead to get the door for him, holding it open as he shambled out. As he stepped outside, he was engulfed by an overwhelming sense of frustration even denser than the humidity that hugged the warm spring night. He was the guy – he was supposed to hold the door for her, he was supposed to pay. These things seemed only minor, and Claire wasn’t really the type of girl who would let him pay for her and hold doors all the time anyway, but still, it made him feel inferior. Pathetic, even.
“I want to drive,” he announced impulsively, as they approached the silver Jag, which managed to stand out even in the twilight. Claire stopped abruptly and glanced over at him.
“Oh,” she said curtly. “Um... okay.” Handing him his keys, she asked cautiously, “Um, can you drive?”
“Have been for the past eight years, wanna see my license?” he fired back in hostility.
She gave him a patronizing look. “Nick,” she said, “that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Well, why the fuck couldn’t I drive? In case you haven’t noticed, they hacked off my left leg, not my right, and I don’t need my left foot to drive an automatic!”
Claire arched an eyebrow and held up her hands in defense. “Good point,” she said simply. “You drive.”
Huffing, Nick took off in a hurry, anxious to get behind the wheel. Only “taking off in a hurry” on crutches wasn’t really such a good idea because as soon as he did, he caught the toe of that damn prosthesis on the pavement and would have wiped out completely had it not been for Claire, who practically dove to grab him and keep him from falling. Using all of her strength, she managed to steady him while the crutches clattered to the ground at his sides.
“You all right?” she asked breathlessly, her arms still around him.
“I’m fine,” he muttered in complete humiliation, shoving her hands away. He heard her sigh as she bent to get his crutches. “I can get them!” he spat quickly, trying to figure out the best way to bend down. Claire, who had already picked up one of the crutches, gazed up at him coolly. As she met his eyes, the corners of her mouth turned up smugly, and she let the crutch fall.
“Fine,” she said and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest.
Avoiding her watchful gaze, Nick struggled to bend over, fighting to keep his balance as he reached for the fallen crutches. The last thing he wanted to do was topple over in front of her; he knew she would never laugh at him, but he would be mortified just the same, his last few ounces of pride vaporized. Luckily, he managed to get the crutches and rise without falling. Without a word, he continued on to the car, more slowly this time, and Claire followed along silently behind.
It felt good to get behind the wheel again, and as Nick jammed his key into the ignition and heard the soft rumble of the car’s engine, some of his aggravation melted. He had the power now; he was in control. Revving the engine a few times as if to prove his point, he put the car into reverse and ricocheted out of his parking space, flattening Claire against her seat.
“Could you please slow down?” she snapped as he swerved onto the highway and took off, using his good foot to push the pedal to the floor.
“What? You were goin’ pretty fast yourself earlier, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t driving like a maniac!” she hissed. “Damn it, Nick, slow down!”
He felt an odd sense of glee at the shrillness in her voice when he whipped the Jaguar around a pokey minivan and then a big Ford pickup truck. The highway was an obstacle course, and it was his goal to weave through the other cars as quickly as he could.
“Nick!” she yelled, as an angry driver laid on his horn. “What’s the matter with you? I didn’t beat leukemia so that you could kill me in a fucking car wreck!”
At her words, his foot let up on the accelerator, and the car began to slow. Without a word, he turned into the nearest parking lot and parked at the darkened edge of it, far away from the other cars. Turning off the ignition, he slumped in his seat, his head falling back against the headrest, his arms hanging limply on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled after a moment of silence.
“Are you? Do you want to tell me what caused that little episode?” Claire asked, her voice not exactly overflowing with forgiveness.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. It’s not hard to figure out. You’re frustrated. You’re angry. And you have every reason to be. I know how you feel, Nick... I mean, when I was cooped up in isolation for a month, you think I didn’t wanna just hop in my car and drive as fast as I could?”
Yes, he thought, I’m sure you did. Out of all the people he was close to, he knew she was the only one who could even partially understand what he was going through. But he didn’t tell her that; he didn’t say a word. He kept silent, staring broodingly out the windshield as she went on.
“I’ve been on that side, Nick, I know how it is to be restricted, to feel so sick and weak that you can’t do anything, or to feel pretty damn good but not be allowed to do anything. It sucks. But now I’ve been on the other side, watching you go through this, and that sucks too. It scares me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He paused, then added, “I wouldn’t have let us wreck, you know.” He turned his head to meet her eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Claire.” I care about you too much, he added internally.
“Then you wouldn’t do anything to hurt yourself either,” she replied, her eyes boring into his. “Because that would hurt me.”
He took a moment to process this and then cocked his head. “Like what...?” he said slowly. “What did you think, I was gonna drive myself off a bridge or something?”
She shrugged. “You tell me. Would you ever do something like that?”
“No!” he cried. “God, I’m not suicidal! I was just... frustrated. Like you said.”
She smiled sympathetically. “Good,” she said. “Now, are you still up for a movie? We have time.”
“Sure,” he answered softly.
“Great,” she said, snatching the keys out of the ignition before he could even react. “Then get out cause I’m driving.”
***
