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Authors: Randy Susan Meyers
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still stuck there, the wallflower of cars, when his cell phone rang. Lissie? He glanced at the screen, where Maddy flashed.
For the briefest moment he considered not answering. But that was an uncrossable line. Marriage meant always answering. Marriage meant being tied by the possibility of missing a deadline.
“Maddy?”
“Ben, you have to come pick me up.”
“What happened? Where are you?”
“The cops pulled me over—”
“What for?”
“Having an unregistered car. They towed away the car and left me standing on a deserted stretch of Dot Ave.”
“Unregistered?” Ben drove forward three inches. “The renewal application came months ago. Are you fucking kidding me? How could you forget to do that?”
“What’s the difference? Just come—this isn’t a place I want to be a minute longer. Where are you?”
“On the Jamaicaway. On my way to a meeting. Late. Jesus, take a cab. You got yourself into this jam.”
“No cabs will pick me up here—you know that. There’s no way to walk anywhere. You’re barely ten minutes away.”
“Jesus, if you’d just taken care of the renewal when it came, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Ben, please. I need you. Just come and drop me off at work, okay? Then I’ll get my mother to help me get the car back.”
He pushed out an impatient sigh and counted to three. “Give me the exact intersection. I’ll be right there.”
• • •
Ben barely said hello when she got in the car. He’d already called Elizabeth to cancel everything. His hands clenched the wheel so hard he thought he might be able to snap the fucking plastic in half. He couldn’t even look at her.
“For God’s sake, how the hell could you forget to do something so simple and so important?” He spit the words out the side of his mouth as he headed back in the same direction from which he’d come. His Groundhog Day—driving back and forth on the Jamaicaway in some version of the road to hell.
“How many times are you going to say the same thing?” Maddy stared straight ahead as she spoke.
“Until you get it through your head that you need to keep up with basic life tasks like this. I can’t remind you of everything. Don’t you have any type of organizational system?”
She didn’t answer. Her chin jutted out. He imagined her chanting don’t engage in her head. Just like she taught her clients.
Fuck her.
They stayed silent until he pulled past Blue Hill Avenue.
“Can we use at least this time to talk about last night and about Emma?” Maddy asked.
He glanced at her. “Seriously?”
“Is there a reason not to? We’re alone and together. Pretty rare, right?”
“I’m in a crappy mood. Right now that’s the last thing I want to talk about.”
“We lost that privilege the day we became parents.”
“What privilege?”
“The right to be in too crappy a mood to talk about our kids’ problems,” Maddy said. “That luxury is gone.”
Ben shook his head. “I think having a teenager means you’ll lose your mind if you analyze every single interaction. Face it, much as you wish for it, I am never going to turn into an angel of patience.”
“I’d be glad if we could simply be people who use kindness and understanding as our first choices—angelic wasn’t on my wish list.”
“We? You mean me, not you. I’m the one who needs adjusting, right?”
He sensed her actions. Biting her lip. Digging her nails into her skirt.
“We need awareness of what we’re doing. Both of us.” He could hear her coating every word with caution. “You were too harsh last night.”
“Harsh is called for when our daughter sneaks out of the house. Should I have given her a five-minute time-out? She’s not a little kid anymore.”
“You were practically dragging her by the scruff. You can’t do that. She’s fourteen. Fifteen before we know it. You can’t treat her like you did, Ben,” Maddy said. “Emma’s at a critical stage.”
“Can you stop criticizing
For the briefest moment he considered not answering. But that was an uncrossable line. Marriage meant always answering. Marriage meant being tied by the possibility of missing a deadline.
“Maddy?”
“Ben, you have to come pick me up.”
“What happened? Where are you?”
“The cops pulled me over—”
“What for?”
“Having an unregistered car. They towed away the car and left me standing on a deserted stretch of Dot Ave.”
“Unregistered?” Ben drove forward three inches. “The renewal application came months ago. Are you fucking kidding me? How could you forget to do that?”
“What’s the difference? Just come—this isn’t a place I want to be a minute longer. Where are you?”
“On the Jamaicaway. On my way to a meeting. Late. Jesus, take a cab. You got yourself into this jam.”
“No cabs will pick me up here—you know that. There’s no way to walk anywhere. You’re barely ten minutes away.”
“Jesus, if you’d just taken care of the renewal when it came, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Ben, please. I need you. Just come and drop me off at work, okay? Then I’ll get my mother to help me get the car back.”
He pushed out an impatient sigh and counted to three. “Give me the exact intersection. I’ll be right there.”
• • •
Ben barely said hello when she got in the car. He’d already called Elizabeth to cancel everything. His hands clenched the wheel so hard he thought he might be able to snap the fucking plastic in half. He couldn’t even look at her.
“For God’s sake, how the hell could you forget to do something so simple and so important?” He spit the words out the side of his mouth as he headed back in the same direction from which he’d come. His Groundhog Day—driving back and forth on the Jamaicaway in some version of the road to hell.
“How many times are you going to say the same thing?” Maddy stared straight ahead as she spoke.
“Until you get it through your head that you need to keep up with basic life tasks like this. I can’t remind you of everything. Don’t you have any type of organizational system?”
She didn’t answer. Her chin jutted out. He imagined her chanting don’t engage in her head. Just like she taught her clients.
Fuck her.
They stayed silent until he pulled past Blue Hill Avenue.
“Can we use at least this time to talk about last night and about Emma?” Maddy asked.
He glanced at her. “Seriously?”
“Is there a reason not to? We’re alone and together. Pretty rare, right?”
“I’m in a crappy mood. Right now that’s the last thing I want to talk about.”
“We lost that privilege the day we became parents.”
“What privilege?”
“The right to be in too crappy a mood to talk about our kids’ problems,” Maddy said. “That luxury is gone.”
Ben shook his head. “I think having a teenager means you’ll lose your mind if you analyze every single interaction. Face it, much as you wish for it, I am never going to turn into an angel of patience.”
“I’d be glad if we could simply be people who use kindness and understanding as our first choices—angelic wasn’t on my wish list.”
“We? You mean me, not you. I’m the one who needs adjusting, right?”
He sensed her actions. Biting her lip. Digging her nails into her skirt.
“We need awareness of what we’re doing. Both of us.” He could hear her coating every word with caution. “You were too harsh last night.”
“Harsh is called for when our daughter sneaks out of the house. Should I have given her a five-minute time-out? She’s not a little kid anymore.”
“You were practically dragging her by the scruff. You can’t do that. She’s fourteen. Fifteen before we know it. You can’t treat her like you did, Ben,” Maddy said. “Emma’s at a critical stage.”
“Can you stop criticizing
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