Adult Assembly Required, page 27
Nina looked around for the waitress. “Nah, I’m clutching at straws, like you. I’m simply older and more resigned to it.”
“To what?”
“To life.”
“You’re resigned to life?”
“Better than resigning from it. Things always basically work out, so I’m plodding along, trying not to spin my wheels pointlessly. Someone once told me that anxiety lives in the unknown future, depression lives in the unforgettable past, and peace lives in acceptance of the present moment.”
There was a long silence.
“I have no response to that,” said Laura, feeling more perplexed than ever.
“I didn’t, either,” said Nina. “Shall we get ice cream?”
THIRTY-SIX
When Nina dropped Laura back at home, it was still pretty light outside. She left her thrift store haul in her room and checked her email. Nothing from the work agency yet, which was a relief because she wasn’t entirely sure how she would handle a job, and a pain because eventually she was going to need more than the money she had saved. Sighing, she wandered into the garden. Polly wasn’t home yet, and there was no one on the patio. Then she heard the thwack thwack of a basketball, and went to see who was shooting hoops.
It was Bob, and as she came around the corner, he turned and smiled at her. Since their uncomfortable conversation, Laura had been telling herself it didn’t matter, that she barely knew him anyway, and she had way too much on her plate to even think of a relationship. But when he smiled at her, all of those sensible thoughts faded away to be replaced by the very real desire to kiss him again, and take it from there as far as it would go. And then shallowly wondering if he liked her braids.
“Hey there,” he said, wiping his forearm across his forehead. “I’m practicing.” He laughed and bounced the ball. “Trying to make it at least mildly challenging for you.”
Laura smiled, relieved that the air between them appeared to have cleared. What she didn’t know was that Bob had spent much of the previous day cursing himself for being so verbally clumsy. He’d replayed their conversation to his sister Roxy, and once she’d stopped making horrified noises and straight-up laughing, she’d advised him to stick to sports, gardening, and other safe subjects.
“You’re a lovely guy, Bob,” she’d said, “but that poor girl walked away convinced you’re not interested in her, and seeing as you are interested in her, your best bet is to keep it to yourself for the time being.” Her voice softened. “Let your actions speak louder than words. Take your time.”
Now, as Bob threw Laura the ball and she immediately lofted it into the net, he decided to take his sister’s advice. He lacked the confidence to just tackle it head-on: Hey, you know how I clumsily made it sound like I didn’t even mean to kiss you in the first place, and would definitely not want to do it again, well, that was a mistake, and although this explanation is already going on a really long time, I want you to know that I would definitely want to kiss you again, you know, if you ever wanted to do that, too, not that I’m assuming that you would, obviously, because that would be, probably, not great, although if you did want that, then that would be great, of course. He shuddered just thinking of how many different ways he could screw up a speech like that. He could barely even think it straight.
Fortunately, Laura needed to get something off her chest.
“Uh, Bob?”
He caught the ball, threw it, missed, and said, “Yup?”
“Polly told me what happened after I left the other night. I mean, at dinner.”
He looked at her briefly, and threw and missed again. “Dammit.” He stopped, and bounced the ball, looking at his feet. “You know,” he began, “it isn’t anyone’s business . . .”
“I wanted to thank you for standing up for me,” she said. “You didn’t have to.”
Another quick look, then back to his feet. “Your boyfriend . . .”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
He smiled. “Yes, ex-boyfriend. Anyway, he didn’t deserve to be thrown out, probably, but he was pissing me off.”
Laura smiled, stepped closer, and stole the ball. “He didn’t use to be such a pill, but being on the tenure track is going to his head.”
Bob frowned. “Not entirely sure what that means, but whatever, he was being a dick and I lost my temper a bit.”
“Well”—Laura turned on one heel and arced a beautiful shot off the wall and into the net, the ball dropping through without touching a string—“I used to think I never needed anyone’s help, but I’m starting to realize I was wrong.” She caught the ball and stepped closer to Bob, reaching up a little and kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, snatching the ball and leaping surprisingly high, dropping a fairly creditable dunk.
“Wow,” said Laura. “You have been practicing.”
Bob nodded, although he suspected the surprising kiss was what really put wings on his heels.
“So,” he said, “did you already eat? I was thinking of ordering a pizza.”
Laura laughed. “That’s what I had, with Nina.”
“At Village Pizza?”
Laura nodded. “Yeah, if that’s the one on Larchmont. It was excellent.”
Bob threw her the ball. “I’m going to go get some actually, it’s better fresh. I assume you don’t want any more?”
She laughed. “No.”
“Ice cream?” He was grinning at her. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of driving, but maybe a pineapple upside-down cake sundae might tempt you out . . .”
For a second he thought he’d messed up again, because her face grew still. But then she shrugged.
“You know what? I’ve discovered pretending something isn’t hard doesn’t actually make it easier. I’m having a tough time being in a car right now, yes, but I’m not going to give up driving forever, am I?”
Bob shrugged. “Uh . . . doubtful? This being the twenty-first century.”
“Right.” Laura sounded determined. “So yes, I will come with you, and yes, I will have some ice cream.” She hesitated. “Although I did also have some of that with Nina, too.” She took a deep breath. “But I need to keep up my strength.”
Bob burst out laughing. “Wow, you sound like you’re going to war.”
Laura was reminded of Polly’s description of Bob rolling up his sleeves, like a knight of old England.
“It feels a bit like that, but you’ve already seen me freak out twice, so it’s not like you could think less of me.”
Bob had started walking back into the house, but at this he turned. “Why would I think less of you for freaking out? Everyone’s scared of something.” He looked around for somewhere to put the basketball, and his hair fell over his face.
Laura shook her head, wishing she were close enough to push it away. “Not in my house. In my house no one admitted to being scared of anything.”
“Well, if I can sort of quote one of my friends, pretending something isn’t scary doesn’t make it any less so.” He turned back to the house, and Laura followed him. “I don’t like rats very much, and I come across a lot of them at work. They nest in ivy, you know, and other plants like that, and every time one of them bolts out, I squeal like a four-year-old girl.” He laughed ruefully. “Literally, I sound like one of my little nieces, except that they probably wouldn’t run away like a flamingo, trying to keep their feet off the ground.” He did a quick impersonation of himself, high-stepping, squealing, and running, making Laura laugh. He grinned at her. “By the way, I like your braids. Very cute.”
“Thanks,” she said, blushing. As they approached his truck, though, she felt herself slowing.
He turned and looked at her. “I can bring you some . . .” he said, but she shook her head.
“Listen,” she said. “The panic comes and goes. I drove with Lili the other day and it was kind of OK. I can do this.”
“I know,” he said, opening the truck door.
“Or at least,” she said, opening hers, “I can try.”
They got in and Bob started the truck. He turned to her and smiled. “Patrick Ewing or Carmelo Anthony?”
Laura stared at him. “Why are you even asking that question? Sure, Carmelo Anthony was great, no question, but Patrick Ewing was a god.”
“OK, but neither of them approach LeBron, let’s be clear.”
It turned out that arguing about basketball was almost as effective an antianxiety treatment as alcohol and donuts, and the debate carried them all the way through the drive, the pizza, and the ice cream.
* * *
• • •
As they sat on a bench outside the ice cream place a little while later, Bob turned to Laura and said, “Have you actually driven since the accident?”
“You mean behind the wheel?” She shook her head. “I used to like driving, even though as a Manhattanite I didn’t do it very often. It’s a bummer. I mean, the whole thing is far more than a bummer, but I dream of driving sometimes, not nightmares.”
They ate their ice cream in silence for a while, then she took a deep breath and said, “I’d like to try it sometime, but the traffic . . . there are so many other people I could hurt, or who could hurt me.” She looked at Bob and her eyes were bright and clear. “People sometimes comment on my limp, you know, but they have no idea what a triumph it actually is. The doctors thought I was never going to walk again, and I was really scared.”
He popped the last of his waffle cone in his mouth and nodded. “I would have been, too, honestly, who wouldn’t be?” He wiped his hands on his jeans and stood up. “Do you trust me?”
She looked up at him and frowned. “Uh . . . yes, strangely.”
“Come on then,” he said, holding out his hand. “I have an idea.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
I’ve never driven a truck before,” Laura said as she stood irresolutely in the dark. Then she added, “And I’ve never been to Dodger Stadium, either.”
The parking lot at Dodger Stadium can hold sixteen thousand cars, but that evening it was largely empty. It turned out Bob knew several members of the grounds team there, and a friend of his had met them at a side gate and let them drive in.
“You guys still here?” Bob had asked, and the guy had nodded.
“When they’re not at home, we have to make the most of it, repairing the turf,” he replied, and looked at his watch. “We’ll be closing up at eleven. You’re good for now.” He’d shot Laura a friendly look and Bob a quick glance. “Have fun.”
Bob nodded, then turned to Laura. “He thinks we’re up to no good.”
Laura giggled nervously, half wishing it were true.
They’d driven across the enormous parking lot and found a well-lit section away from the gates. Bob had spent the time explaining the difference between Bermuda grass, which is what they grew on the field here, and bluegrass, which they use in East Coast ball fields. As always Laura found the sound of him talking calming, the familiar sense of being on firm ground. If Bob didn’t want to complicate things by having a romantic relationship, then she would content herself with friendship, because there was something about his presence that made her feel safe. She was used to providing her own security while at the same time pretending she didn’t need it.
Then Bob had parked and gotten out of the truck, leaving the driver’s door open for Laura.
Now she stood next to the open door and worried.
“You’ll be fine,” said Bob, sliding into the passenger seat. “This is as easy to drive as any car, it’s just higher off the ground.” He leaned down and peered at Laura through the open door. “How about we start with you simply sitting behind the wheel? We won’t even turn on the engine.”
Laura nodded, and breathed slowly as she settled behind the wheel. She put her hands on it. Breathed some more.
“I’m fine,” she said, looking at him. “I’m fine.”
“Great,” he said. “Do you want to swap back now?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yes. There’s no rush, right?” He blushed. “We can come back every night if you like.” He paused. “Unless they’re playing at home, in which case the lot will be full.” He perked up. “But we can go to SoFi instead, the Rams stadium.” He laughed. “We can move from venue to venue as the seasons come and go.”
Laura reached out and turned on the engine, feeling vibration through a steering wheel for the first time in over two years. Sense memory is powerful stuff, and as she put the truck in drive and moved forward, she was pleased to feel . . . normal.
“Or,” said Bob, surprised, “you could drive right away.”
Slowly, in a long curve, Laura crossed the parking lot and circled back to where she’d started. She parked, put her head down on the wheel, and wept. She was shaking, she felt light-headed, she wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but she’d done it.
Bob sat there quietly, waiting.
Finally, Laura raised her head and looked at him.
“When the accident happened it was dark, like now, but there was snow on the sides of the highway. Not a lot. But some. I’d been snowboarding with friends . . . they stayed up at the mountain. I wanted to get back, I don’t remember why. I was following a truck and rocking out to something on the radio, not going fast, not being distracted, but the truck hit its brakes and something went wrong.” She looked at Bob, her eyes still glittering with tears. “I tried to avoid hitting it, but the back end was swinging around weirdly, and as I tried to pass, it swung back and basically I drove into it at the same time as it was accelerating toward me.” She breathed some more. “You know how they say time sometimes stands still?”
He nodded, his eyes holding hers, his hand somehow holding hers, his heart keeping time with hers.
Laura’s eyes were filled with tears, but they didn’t fall. “Well, I remember the next few minutes as though they were hours. I’m super focused, right, on trying to steer around it, but it’s coming toward me and I realize I’m going to hit it. There’s no other option, I have no choice. I hit the brakes, but it doesn’t really matter and we hit.” Her voice died away as she remembered coming to, mercifully briefly, seeing the Christmas decoration spangle of the broken glass all over her, not seeing blood and thinking maybe she was OK. She’d drifted in and out of what felt like a dream but was so, so much worse than any nightmare. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t see but learned later her eyes were so badly damaged by the airbags they’d swollen shut. Her body had been facing almost backward, wedged against the seat belt next to the door, her legs still the other way, trapped and twisted under the dashboard. Everything was wrong, the wrong textures, the wrong smells, the wrong sounds: faintly, the sound of sirens, the sound of brakes, the sound of voices. She smelled something like fireworks and tasted something like salt, and then suddenly her mind cleared and she was back in the truck, the lights of Dodger Stadium illuminating Bob’s cheekbones and the wide eyes of his sympathy.
Laura took a deep breath.
“You can drive now. I think that’s enough for one night.”
Silently he nodded, and opened his door to come around and take the wheel again.
* * *
• • •
When they got home it was late, and Bob could see Laura was wiped out. He held her door open and walked slowly alongside her as they went into the house. She stepped into her bedroom and turned to him and smiled. She opened her mouth to invite him in, a decision she had reached on the drive home, but before she could say anything, he spoke.
“I’m sorry I pushed you,” he said. “It’s really none of my business. We’re friends, I should have let you be.”
“No,” said Laura, biting back what she’d been about to say. “It was good, I’m glad you did. It kind of broke the ice.” She sighed. “You know, Nina told me I should get a therapist and get my shit together, and she’s right. I want to stay here, I like it, and if I don’t move forward, I’ll have to move home.” She smiled slightly. “If you know what I mean.”
He nodded. “I do.”
Was it too late to kiss him again and see where it went?
It was. “Well, I’m across the hall if you need me.” He turned away and went into his room, the faintest “good night” floating across the space between them.
“Good night,” replied Laura faintly. She wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her.
Fall
THIRTY-EIGHT
Sometimes you recognize an important moment, other times it passes unnoticed. The night at Dodger Stadium fell somewhere in the middle; Laura was aware of how important a step driving had been, but completely failed to notice how her feelings for Bob had changed. In her defense, she had a lot going on, but as the proverb says, there are none so blind as those who will not see. Certainly, Laura was one of only two members of the Maggie Morse household who didn’t notice how close she and Bob were getting, and the other one was Oliver. Cats are notorious narcissists, bless their self-centered little socks.
Laura still found Bob deeply attractive, and would happily have admitted it, had anyone needed clarification, but he had also become someone she liked spending time with and looked forward to seeing. A friend, in fact. Several times she was tempted to ask him about that kiss . . . but she valued his friendship more and more and couldn’t bring herself to risk it.
As summer wound to a close and September got underway, the Nina-Polly Plan for Laura’s Enrichment (Polly suggested the name and only later revealed it was so she could refer to the whole endeavor by the acronym NiPPLE) moved into its second phase, which was new activities (indeed, Polly had suggested writing an Adventurous New Activities List, but Nina was onto her by that point).
