Driving Away

Paul sat in his car in a patch of darkness between streetlamps, across the street from the McMansion. When he saw Ethan emerge from the bushes lining the front yard, his grip on the steering wheel tightened reflexively. Ethan looked both ways cautiously, crossed the street towards him, and got in the car on the passenger’s side.

Ethan’s face was grim. He didn’t have to say a word. Paul’s shoulders sagged.

Ethan said, “I’m sorry, buddy.” Then: “You all right?”

It took a long moment for Paul to reply. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Ethan tried to make out Paul’s expression in the dark. “You okay to drive?”

“Yeah.” Paul started the car and drove off slowly, only turning the headlights on after he had driven past several houses. But they had not even gone three blocks when he pulled over, placed his head gently on the airbag casing, and started shaking. “No, I’m not. Maybe you should drive after all.”

"All right." Ethan got out and went around to the driver’s side. Paul sidled over blindly to the passenger’s seat, snagging his thigh on the gear shift and not even feeling it. Ethan got in and took over the wheel. Paul spent the 20-minute drive home hunched over and trembling.

Ethan parked in front of Paul’s apartment building and turned the engine off. He sat back tight-lipped, looking sideways at Paul.

“You warned me, didn’t you? Five years ago,” Paul said quietly, bitterly. “You said it was a mistake. You said I would never measure up to her.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “I’ll cop to the first. Never to the second. That’s kind of your formulation, not mine. What I said was I thought she was the kind of woman who would always be strongly drawn to authority figures.”

“Alpha males. Which is what her boss is. Which I’ll never be.”

Ethan snorted. “Alpha, beta, soup,” he said. “Fuck that. You’re a good man. That’s what counts, not that baboon social hierarchy shit.”

Paul shut his eyes tightly, rubbed his temples, and said, almost meditatively, “I was so pissed off at you.”

Ethan replied wryly, “I know. You barely spoke to me for two years.” He continued, in a measured tone, “What I think – what I always thought – was that she didn’t measure up to you. She was always…” – treading even more carefully now – “…She keeps looking for Daddy, you know? And you, my friend, will never be that. Except to the kids you’ll have someday.”

Paul shook his head. He muttered, in a tone dead with resignation, “Not worthy…”

Ethan shook his head in turn. “You were always so sure of that…”

They fell into a long silence.

Finally, Ethan sighed and said, “Paul, what do you want to do?”

The muscles along Paul’s jaw started working. He whispered harshly, “Knock her fucking teeth in.” Then he took a deep, halting breath. Then another. Then another. He scrubbed his eyes of tears with the heel of his hand, straightened up, and blinked his eyes open. “Which is why I probably shouldn’t be here when she comes home.” He turned to Ethan. “Would it be okay if I crashed at your place tonight? You think Sonny would mind?”

“Never. You can stay with us as long as you like.” Ethan turned on the ignition, glanced at his friend as he put the car into gear. “Like I said,” he said, smiling softly, “a good man.” He steered the car into the street.

(April 2012)