The Pace

by Shelena Shorts

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Proud of what?”

  “Proud you overcame your fear of heights.”

  I guess it had been that obvious. On our way out, he still had his arm around me as if I was going to fall over, and I have to admit I wasn't complaining about that part. Once we got in the car, I wanted to take the focus off me and my nausea, so I started asking him questions.

  “Why do you have carnival games in your basement anyway?”

  “I get bored easily. I like to do fun things to pass the time.” He looked at me, and I noticed for the first time in the dark car that his eyes had a glassy look to them. I could almost see my reflection. It was like a subtle shine to a lake in the evening. It was mesmerizing. He looked away quickly. “Since I live alone, I need a lot of things to keep me busy.”

  “How many games do you have?” I asked, still slightly distracted by the beauty of his eyes.

  “I have a lot of games down there, but those are the only two carnival games I have.” He kept his eyes on the road.

  That was interesting. “So, you just happen to have the two games I played tonight in your basement?” He was quiet. “That sounds like a coincidence,” I added.

  “It’s funny how the world works. Isn’t it?” he asked, rhetorically.

  “I guess so.” We drove for a few minutes listening to the soft music play, and then I added hopefully, “You’re going to let me see them, right?” He glanced back over to me and smiled slightly.

  “You can see them whenever you want.”

  I wanted to ask him so many more things, but I didn’t want to babble. Talking too much had already gotten me in the Ferris wheel predicament. I thought it would be a good idea to enjoy the ride home and only speak if he did first. I was amazed—fifteen minutes went by and not a word. But, it wasn’t the kind of silence that was awkward. It was a natural silence. It was comfortable. The kind filled with pleasant thoughts.

  As we pulled up to my house, I thanked him and opened my door. He opened his at the same time. “You don’t have to get out.”

  “Someone has to help you carry your bears.” He came around to help me pull them from the back seat. He took one of the big ones, and I grabbed the little bear in one hand and wrapped my arm around the other big one.

  We stepped up to my front door, and I thanked him again.

  “I really appreciate it,” I said. He smiled with a slow blink and stared into my eyes.

  I was completely smitten. And as if his presence, alone, wasn’t enough to give me butterflies, he leaned down and touched his lips to my cheek in a way that lingered long enough for me to notice that it was not like a kiss from a friend or relative. As he gently pulled back, he took the tiny bear from my hand and said, “I want to keep this one.” I smiled, thinking it was a reasonable request. After all, he had paid a small fortune for it.

  Chapter 4

  DRIVEN

  My mother was waiting up, and she cornered me as soon I was walked through the door, which was fine with me because I had a few words for her. She didn’t let me get two words out before she told me how terrible she felt for making Wes feel so uncomfortable. She said she had no idea that he would have lost both parents, and she hoped she’d have the chance to make it up to him.

  “Good luck with that,” I told her.

  “Come on, Sophie. How was I supposed to know?”

  “You aren’t supposed to know that, but you don’t ask people where they get their money from. That’s rude.”

  “You’re right. I was just trying to make sense of the whole thing. I didn’t mean….” She tapered off as she examined my two large bears. “It looks like you had a good time.” It sounded like a question, so I said, “Yes. I did.”

  “Good. I’m glad. I really am.”

  “Why are you so glad now?” I asked, suspiciously, as I freed my hands to take off my jacket.

  “Well, he seems really nice, and I feel sorry for him a little, and I think he means well. Not to mention he is some serious eye candy.”

  “Mother!” I spat, unable to contain a smile. I scooped up my animals and headed upstairs.

  “Well, he is,” she added. “And I’ve never seen such perfect teeth!”

  “I’m ignoring you,” I sang.

  I wasn’t ready to have a boy talk with my mother. In fact, I was going to avoid it at all costs, but I was happy that she seemed open to the idea of me hanging out with him some more. I certainly wanted to.

  That night, my face hurt from smiling so much. It was ridiculous how giddy I was. I felt so beside myself. I think I even sat on my bed once and turned to see if I was sitting next to myself. I couldn’t believe the emotions running through me. I wanted to see him again, and he’d only been gone five minutes. I tried very hard to bring myself back down to earth.

  Trying to go about my days like nothing was unusual after meeting Wes was very difficult. I tried hard not to be glued by the phone waiting for his call. I went out for a lot of drives to relax myself. The weather was still decent enough for me to take the top off my Jeep, and I loved the fresh air. Some days I’d go to the mall to look around and some days I’d go sit out at the overlook for a little while, just anything to make the time go by faster before I talked to him again.

  He called me more frequently than I expected, but I found myself wanting more. One day he called, and I must have sounded down because he came right out and asked, “Is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  I didn’t want him to think I was clingy, so I tried to play it cool. “Yes, everything’s good.”

  “It doesn’t sound that way to me. What’s up?”

  Okay fine, I had nothing to lose. “I was hoping to see you again,” I admitted.

  “I’ll see you Thursday, and then I’m bringing you to my house this weekend.” On Thursday, we would cross paths, after my lunch on campus, but that was hardly what I had in mind.

  “I know, but still. I’m just being silly.” I felt my lip poke out, and I was glad he couldn’t see me. Saturday was only a few days away, but somehow I was miserable with the thought of not seeing him until then. I felt an ache in the pit of my stomach. I missed him more than I wanted to admit to myself, or to him.

  When we hung up, I decided to get some homework done. I was already a few days ahead, but I wanted to stay busy. I had to do a paper on how water pollution affects the environment, so I did some research for that. A few hours and ten websites later, my brain was full of information on pathogens, sewage, viruses, protozoa, and eutrophication. By the afternoon, I was ready for a break. I didn’t have to go to work, so I decided to take a drive to the overlook to keep my head focused.

  On my way out of the house, I instantly perked up at the warm breeze that was still in the air. I started to smile at the thought of the afternoon drive when my heart skipped a beat at the sight of a little black car sitting right in front of my house. After taking a quick breath to calm my nerves, I let out an involuntary grin and walked over to the passenger side door. His window slid down.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, surprised.

  “You said you wanted to see me.”

  “But you have class today.”

  “I know British literature quite well. I think I’ll be okay if I miss a class.” He was leaning over with a smile. “Get in.”

  I couldn’t get in the car fast enough. “Where are we going?”

  “Where were you going?” he countered.

  “The overlook.”

  “What for?” he asked.

  “Just for a drive.”

  “Okay, we’ll drive then,” he said, putting the car in gear.

  “How do you do that?” I asked, looking at his shifter. He followed my eyes.

  “This?”

  “Yeah, you drive this car so smoothly. I tried once, and I almost broke my mom’s neck.”

  He laughed. “You just haven’t had the right teacher.”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it.
” I happened to notice I was in sweatpants and a T-shirt while he was, once again, dressed nicely. I would have to start paying attention to what I was wearing before I left the house. I wasn’t used to worrying about seeing anyone in particular out in public before. “Where are we going?” I asked, diverting the attention from my attire.

  “Just for a little drive, not too far from here.”

  I was fine with the drive part, but I was hoping I would have a little time to spend with him. I had some questions that I’d been saving to ask him in person, and now seemed like a good enough time.

  “Do you mind if I ask some questions?”

  “No, not at all,” he said, with his eyes still on the road. “Go ahead.”

  I shifted in my seat a little. “Well, I was wondering about your parents.”

  “Yes?”

  “How did you lose them?” I hoped I hadn’t worded it too poorly.

  “That’s a good way of putting it,” he said. “Well, my father died flying a small plane many years ago, and my mother died from the flu when I was seventeen.”

  “How old was she?” I asked, thinking it was strange.

  “She was only forty-two.” He looked over and must have seen signs of thinking going on in my head because he clarified. “She was in another country when she got sick. They didn’t have the treatment we have here.”

  “And your uncle?”

  “Cancer.”

  “My grandmother died from cancer, too,” I added. He looked over at me with sympathetic eyes and said he was sorry. For the first time, I knew how he felt when he said it was okay every time I apologized to him for his loss. It wasn’t his fault that my grandmother died, and there really wasn’t anything for him to apologize for. It was just a part of life. I guess people feel the need to say they’re sorry when they hear about it. It was just a natural compassion, I supposed.

  “Do you have any more family in the area?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “No one?”

  “No.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I just sat quietly. We drove for a few more minutes until he broke the silence.

  “So, you live with your mother. Where is your father?”

  I’ve never liked answering that question before, but I didn’t seem to mind then.

  “He went back to Brazil when I was young.”

  “Do you still talk to him?”

  “No. Not really. My mom says he tried to keep in touch, but as I got older, he just stopped communicating.”

  “What brought you to California then?” he asked.

  “My grandmother got sick. She died earlier this year.”

  At least I was lucky enough to have a family member still living, but he had no one. I stared out the window, wondering how I would feel to be all alone, and it made me sad. I was sure I wouldn’t be as composed as he was. I was glad when he interrupted my thoughts.

  “Here we are,” he said, pulling into the parking lot of what looked like a field house.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a race car track,” he said, pulling up to a side gate. He got out and manually pulled the gate open on each side. Then, he casually got back in the car and smoothly pulled in.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, looking around. It didn’t look closed, but I didn’t see any people either.

  “You said you wanted to drive.”

  “You’re going to drive on here?” I pointed to the track.

  “No, you are,” he informed me, getting out of the car and walking around to my side. “Well?” he said, holding my door open, waiting for me to get out.

  “What?”

  “You’re going to drive, on the track.”

  “Drive what?”

  “Drive this,” he clarified, motioning to his car. He was crazy. I shook my head.

  “No. I don’t think so. I can’t drive your car. I don’t even know how.”

  He leaned in the car and grabbed me by my arms. “Come on, up you go,” he said, pulling me out.

  “Would you stop it!” I said, swatting him away. “I’m not going to drive this thing. You just got it fixed. Are you nuts?”

  He laughed, shutting the door behind me. “No, I want you to drive it. I want to show you how. Besides, everyone should know how to drive a manual shift.”

  “But I’ll mess it up. I can’t.”

  He put his hands on both of my shoulders and leaned in. His eyes were that deep brown I loved, but I couldn’t see my reflection this time. “No, you won’t,” he said, pausing. “Please, I’m missing class for this. The least you can do is make this worth my while.” He tilted his head downward and looked at me through his long, dark eyelashes. I let out a big sigh and stared at him for a few minutes. He didn’t look like he was going to change his mind.

  “Fine.”

  He smiled immediately.

  I dragged myself around the car and slid into the driver’s side. I sat there, afraid to touch anything, and he was smiling the whole time.

  “Are you sure we can drive on this?” I asked, hoping for an out to my predicament.

  “I’m positive.”

  “How do you know?”

  He leaned back into his seat, completely relaxed. “Because it’s mine, courtesy of Weston C. Wilson II.”

  “I thought you said your dad was a pilot?”

  “He was,” he assured me. “My family had a lot of hobbies.”

  So that was great. He had a race car track in his family. It was sure to be an absolute embarrassment. I would’ve rather been doing my government homework. Well, maybe I was exaggerating a little, but I was horrified.

  “You’re going to need a neck brace you know?” I added.

  “I’ll be fine, you’ll see.” He was getting a kick out of this.

  “How much is this car worth anyway? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  “Stop worrying,” he said. “The car will be fine, and so will you. I promise.”

  He instructed me to push the clutch all the way in and hold it while I started the car. My leg felt like Jell-O. It was shaking. “Now, push in the clutch with your left foot and keep your other foot on the brake.” That was easy. I could do that. “Now keep your feet exactly where they are and move this up like that.” I watched him put the gearshift in first gear and then put it back in neutral. “Now you try it.”

  “You want me to move?”

  “Yes, but not yet,” he smiled. “Just put it in gear and wait.” I followed his instructions reluctantly.

  “Now just stay like that and close your eyes.”

  “What?” I said, looking at him.

  “Just do it,” he said, encouraging me. I did.

  “Now listen very carefully.” His voice was soothing. “I want you to feel the car. You are going to slowly let out the clutch a little, and as soon as you feel the car start to move, push the clutch all the way back in. Now, try that.” I just sat there. “Go on. Try it.” I gripped the wheel and started to ease off the clutch, and as soon as I felt the car start to move, I shoved it back in. It was hard on the poor clutch but easy on our necks.

  “Good,” he said. “Now do it again.” He had me do it a few times. “Do you feel where the clutch is catching?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s where the gears will catch. Now, I want you to think about that spot where the clutch catches and the gas pedal. They are like a seesaw. The car will move when the seesaw is in balance. What you need to do is slowly ease off the clutch, so it is where you felt it catch before. This time you want to hold the clutch still, right before it makes the car move. Then, you need to give it some gas slowly. Once the seesaw is balanced, the car will start to move and you can slowly give it more gas and let the clutch all the way out. We will drive for a few feet and when I tell you to brake, I want you to take your foot off the gas and push the clutch all the way back in and stop the car. The clutch has to be all the way in every time the car stops. Got it?”
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br />   “I can’t do this,” I said, opening my eyes.

  “Yes, you can. We are just going to go a few feet. I want you to practice the seesaw. That’s all. Just try it.”

  I ran down everything he said in my mind again and started to release the clutch. I gave it some gas and let out the clutch. Both of our heads flew back into the headrests and bounced violently off. The car stalled.

  “Oh my God. I’m sorry,” I said. “I told you.” He was laughing.

  “No, it’s okay. I should’ve warned you. You don’t need to give it as much gas as you do your Jeep. This car is very sensitive to speed. Just a tiny bit of gas will go a long way. Just give it a tiny bit.” He held up his thumb and index finger pinched together.

  I started the car and tried it again. I let out the clutch a little, felt the car start to move, and gave it just a tiny bit of gas. “Now let off the clutch the rest of the way.” We went about ten feet. “Okay, now stop the car.” I braked a little too fast, but our heads only moved forward a few inches. “Good,” he said. “Not too bad. Now try it again, get us going a little, and then stop, again. Get used to the seesaw.”

  He had me practice starting and stopping a bunch of times, but I eventually got it down pretty smoothly. I only stalled once, not counting the first time. I did much better than I expected. I turned to him and said, “Okay, your turn.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not done,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to try moving through the gears.”

  “Why are you insistent upon me ruining this car?”

  “You are not going to ruin it. Trust me. Now, instead of stopping the car this time, all you are going to do is let off the gas and instead of braking, you’re just going to push in the clutch and change gears. Then, you slowly let out the clutch and give it some more gas.” He took my hand and motioned through the gears with me to show me where to move them, and then he set me free. I replayed everything he said in my head and then gave it a try.

  “Good. Now try second gear . . . Good, now try third.” Third gear was a little shaky, but I managed. We were driving. “Now just keep her steady,” he instructed. We drove around the track, one whole time, at thirty miles per hour. I didn’t want to go any faster. I had to admit, driving the car was sort of fun. I felt powerful in a way. And, had I not been worried about wrecking it, I might have enjoyed myself, but I figured I should quit while I was still ahead.