“ ‘Fullest potential,’ ” he mimicked her. “As in, God forbid my kid should grow up to be some kind of blue-collar bumpkin.”
Zoë felt a hot wave of embarrassment rush up her neck. “I didn’t say that.”
Mack gave her a thin smile. “You implied it.”
“I don’t think you’re a bumpkin.”
He shook his head. “But you think you can sum me up in about two sentences, right?”
Now Zoë felt her chagrin giving way to irritation. “And I’m sure you think the same about me. Come on, what am I, book-smart city lady who doesn’t even know how to drive? Or am I missing some crucial nuance?”
“Yeah,” said Mack, gazing at her steadily, “you are.”
“And what is that?”
“I think you know.”
Zoë smacked her hands down on her lap. “Oh, wait, I get it. Now I’m supposed to remember that you were overcome with slow-burning desire for my person?”
Mack gave her a knowing look. “Aha. So that’s it. You’re lacking in self-confidence.”
“I’m perfectly confident.”
“Not in this area. You made jokes when I called you beautiful.”
“Spare me the five-cent analysis, Mack. I may not be beautiful, but I am confident. I am an attractive woman and I am extremely comfortable with my sexuality.”
Mack leaned forward, putting his face about an inch from hers. “Yeah? So how come you backed off so damn quick?”
She mimicked his posture, fist under her chin. “I didn’t back off. You did.”
“I wasn’t backing off, Zoë.” His breath warmed her face. Nice breath. But his neck smelled faintly of some aftershave, a light, masculine, spicy smell that she disapproved of on principle. Real men didn’t wear perfume. None of the men she’d ever dated had worn aftershave.
“Oh, please, that’s bullshit and you know it.” On the other hand, Mack actually smelled good, slightly woodsy. She inhaled. Maybe it wasn’t aftershave. Maybe it was just soap and him.
“Fine, then. I’m not going to argue the point. But I’m not backing off now.” His lips were inches from hers. Jeez, she hoped her breath was as sweet as his.
“Didn’t you just call me a snob? Seems to me you don’t know what the hell you want.” She had her glasses on, and she was afraid they’d get in the way if he kissed her. Not that she wanted him to kiss her in public. But if he did, she didn’t want her glasses to be crammed up against his face.
He dipped his head closer, the tip of his nose brushing the top of her ear. “I know I want you.”
She pushed him away, very conscious of the feel of his firm chest underneath his T-shirt. “I don’t like playing games, Mack.”
“I’m not playing.” He glanced at all the parents gathered around them. “If my choice is now or never, I’ll choose now.” His eyes focused on her mouth, and Zoë felt her stomach twist with excitement and anxiety. How long since she’d flirted with someone who’d quickened her pulse? It had taken her history professor fifteen minutes in bed to get her to the state Mack induced just by sitting too close.
“Don’t be stupid.” She didn’t want to be making any more of a spectacle of herself than she already had. But just in case he did lean forward and kiss her, should she take her glasses off?
“I double dare you.”
“What are we, thirteen?”
“Why,” he said mockingly, “was that the last time you did something a little reckless, Zoë?”
“Fine.” Zoë whipped off her glasses, but before she could even touch her mouth to his, a loudspeaker gave a roar of feedback, and then a woman’s voice said, “Welcome, everybody, to the Mackinley School Autumn Horse Show.” There was a roar of applause, and Mack gave Zoë’s waist a light pinch.
“Think you got out of it, don’t you,” he murmured, making Zoë feel a little less foolish as she replaced her glasses.
“Shh, it’s starting.” Very much aware of Mack watching her, she kept her own eyes trained on the arena below, where three dun and chestnut horses now trotted around, ridden by upper-graders in white button-down shirts and black velvet helmets. But she was very much aware of the man beside her, who was no longer sullen or aggrieved.
It took a full hour before Maya’s group emerged, and by then, the wind had really picked up, and a few fat drops of rain had fallen. “I don’t know about this,” Zoë said. “Don’t you think they should call things off?”
“Maybe it’ll stop,” said Mack, as the sky darkened and the treetops swayed. The girls on the horses were trotting in patterns, their slim bodies rising effortlessly out of the saddles as they posted, the heels of their black ankle boots down, their backs supple and straight. After a few more minutes, these girls left, and another group came in, mostly younger boys dressed in tricolor silk tunics, their riding helmets covered in tinfoil. Some of the horses were also wearing silk blankets, and it was clear that this was a class of beginners. Their horses walked the patterns, one of the knights’ mounts led by a girl rider from the earlier demonstration.
“Look,” Mack said, pointing at one of the boys, “isn’t that Maya?”
Zoë squinted, and sure enough, it was her daughter, her face half-hidden underneath a foil-covered helmet. It seemed to Zoë that her daughter looked more graceful and right on the horse than any of the other kids. Suddenly, she remembered her father telling her about the old laws in many parts of the Middle East that prohibited Jews from riding horses or camels in the old days. Would he be proud or simply dumbfounded to see his own flesh and blood mastering this alien sport?
Mack leaned over. “She looks great. Did you bring a camera?”
“Oh, Christ,” Zoë said, rummaging in her bag. “Of course, I did.”
And then it began to rain, and there was a sort of mass grumble from the parents in the audience.
“Crap,” said Mack, and for a moment Zoë thought he was talking about the weather. Then she followed the line of his vision and saw something that made her throat close up: one of the horses, a small gray, was panicking, its hindquarters bunched as it backed away from some imagined menace, its ears pinned to its head as it suddenly reared up on its hind legs. She didn’t see the gray’s rider fall off, so it took her a moment to realize what had happened. Oh, God, Zoë thought, the horse is going to trample that child. Mack was already in motion, leaping over the bleachers, but he couldn’t possibly get down there in time, and then another rider slid down to the ground and grabbed hold of the gray horse’s reins. Her eyes on the drama unfolding below, Zoë charged after Mack, bruising her shin on a bench but not slowing down until she reached the riding arena.
Through the sheets of rain, she could see the other horses reacting to the gray’s anxiety, stamping their feet and sidling nervously away as their young riders struggled to stay in their saddles. An older woman in jeans and a riding jacket had appeared and taken hold of the gray, and other adults were in the arena, soothing both the novice riders and their mounts. Mack was already crouched on the dirt ground, examining the fallen child.
For a long, terrible moment, Zoë stood in the driving rain, immobilized by the fear that the injured student was Maya, or how badly hurt she might be. Then Mack removed the child’s helmet and Zoë put her hand to her chest.
And that was when she realized where her own child was: standing beside the gray horse, holding its reins and patting it on the neck.
“Maya, my God, get away from that animal.”
“Oh, he’s fine now, Mom.” Maya stroked the horse’s nose, looking like a medieval page in her silk tunic. “Did you see me grab him right when he was freaking out? Mrs. Fletcher, the riding instructor, was about to take him but I said I had him under control. What made you lose it, Cloud?”
“I told you to let go of him. What if he starts panicking again? He could kick you.”
“I can’t just let go of him,” said Maya with a note of exaggerated patience, as if explaining something basic to a young child. “I’ve got to bring
him into his stall.”
“Don’t you go anywhere with him, Maya!”
“I can take him back,” said an older woman with a leathery face and frizzy gray hair. “Your daughter has a way with horses,” she added, smiling at Zoë. “He calmed down right away when she took hold of him.”
“That’s fine for the horse,” said Zoë, “but what about my daughter? There could have been two children hurt today.”
“This was a very unusual occurrence,” said the woman. “Usually, these horses are calm, even in the midst of a storm. But they are living creatures, so there’s always some degree of unpredictability.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.”
The woman gave Zoë a level look. “To my mind, the small risks involved with riding are well worth the gains. The girls and boys who train with me learn to be empathic to someone else’s emotions without losing sight of their own objectives, and they learn to be brave without being impulsive. You did very, very well today, Maya.” And then the woman walked off, leading the now-placid gray.
Zoë grabbed her daughter and held her in a tight embrace.
“Did you hear her, Mom? She said I did very, very well!”
“Yes,” said Zoë, reluctantly letting Maya pull back. “You were great, but after today, I don’t want you riding any more horses.”
“Mo-om,” said Maya, as if Zoë had said something silly. “Everyone rides here. I can’t be the only one not allowed to do it.”
“But Maya, honey, I thought they said the horses here were safe. I don’t want you taking any unnecessary chances.”
“But I won’t. And you saw yourself how good I am with them. And on the very first lesson, everyone thought I’d be scared because I was a city girl, but I was less scared than anyone.”
“Honey, we’ll talk about this later.”
“I’m good with horses, Mom. It’s something I’m good at.”
“Later, Maya.”
As the rain slowed to a drizzle, Zoë watched as Allegra’s father said something to Mack, a relieved smile on his face. A woman Zoë recognized as Mrs. Benning, the head of the lower school, had also arrived on the scene, and she and Renata were both listening to Mack talking to his patient as a third parent handed him a first-aid kit.
It was a little strange to see how everyone suddenly deferred to Mack, and Zoë felt a burst of pride in him, which was ridiculous. It’s not as if he were her partner or boyfriend. And worse still, less than an hour ago she had been thinking that his accomplishments were nice, but somehow less valuable than intellectual achievements.
Mack searched the crowd and then met her gaze, and Zoë nodded at him, feeling again that absurd sense of satisfaction that he had singled her out. This is what was missing from my last relationship, she realized. She had respected Jeremy but had not admired him. His strengths had been too similar to her own, his failings equally familiar. Watching Mack splinting Allegra’s arm, Zoë felt the sense of wonder that comes from watching someone accomplish with ease what you could not. It struck her that admiration, for all its Austenian overtones, was actually a crucial element of desire. Combined with lust, it worked a subtle alchemy, turning attraction into something more complicated.
But Zoë’s daughter was in the grip of a different drama. After determining that her injured friend was going to be all right, Maya spent the next twenty minutes pleading to be allowed to ride horses.
“You can’t do this to me, Mommy! I’ll be the only kid who can’t ride horses!”
“We can go now,” said Mack. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“That’s all right,” said Zoë. They fell into step side by side, while Maya shuffled her shoes along the gravel path. “You were great, by the way.”
“I didn’t do anything but apply a splint,” Mack demurred. “The nurse could have done that just fine. But Maya here, now that was some fine riding for a beginner, kid.”
This was a perfect opening for Maya, who instantly wailed, “But now she says I’m not allowed to ride! Talk to her, Mack. Tell her she’s going too far. She’ll listen to you.”
“Honey, it’s not my place,” Mack began.
“I know you think I’m overreacting,” Zoë said, “but today was a real wake-up call. I don’t know much about riding, and now I see that it’s a lot riskier than I had realized.”
“But you just said that you don’t know about riding, Mom! It is safe. I mean, not totally safe, but like bike-riding safe. Everyone rides here, Mom. You might as well live in the city and say you can’t ever ride the subways. Or you can’t go into a tall building because terrorists might fly a plane into it.”
“Maya,” Zoë said, “it’s not the same.”
“Yes it is! It’s exactly the same! You tell me how it’s not the same.”
“Because riding horses is risky, a fact I didn’t completely take in until I saw a well-schooled horse rear up and toss a child.”
“But she wasn’t even hurt badly, and it was the wind and the rain. I wouldn’t ride in bad weather. I’d be extra careful.”
Zoë started to speak, then stopped, suddenly overwhelmed. She had never given into her daughter’s wheedling before, had always explained her views and stuck to her position. As a result, Maya seldom nagged at her to change a “no” to a “yes.” But today seemed to be a day for self-doubt. Zoë had given up her apartment and her life in the city to send her child to this school, and now she wasn’t sure that she agreed with everything the school was doing. No books in the classroom. Horseback riding every day, with all its attendant dangers. Zoë turned to Mack. “What do I say to her?”
Mack shrugged. They had reached the car, and he opened the back door for Maya. “I can’t tell you what’s an acceptable risk. But most of the kids around here do ride at some point in their lives. Way I see it, if you really love doing it, it’s worth doing.”
“You see, Mom?”
“Oh, God, please. Maya, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Neither do I, but I can’t live my life in a glass bubble. And remember what you always said about the monster under the bed? How he gets bigger when you give into the fear?”
“I was talking about irrational fears, honey. The monsters under the bed aren’t real. We’re talking about real danger, here.”
“There are real dangers everywhere, Mom. Are you saying we should never fly in a plane or drive a car?”
“She has a point,” said Mack, looking as if he were fighting back a grin.
“Stay out of this,” Zoë told him.
“That’s not fair,” said Maya. “You just asked his opinion. Just because you’re too scared to do something doesn’t mean I should be!”
“Everybody leave me alone!”
“But Mom…”
“Give her a minute, honey,” said Mack.
Zoë buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t figure this out.” She turned to Mack. “I hate it here,” she said. She’d intended for it to come out as a joke, but her voice cracked. “I am not built for this life.”
“Shh,” Mack said, and drew her into his arms.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, Maya,” said Zoë. “I just—When that horse reared, I got so scared it was you. And all of this still feels so strange.” Mack’s hands were on her back, patting her as if she were a child, and she was upset that her daughter was seeing her falling apart like this. “I don’t feel like I know anything out here in the country.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes, noticing that she’d dampened a patch on Mack’s jean jacket. Oh, God, she hadn’t snotted him, had she? Zoë tried to pull back, to show Maya that she wasn’t really that upset, but Mack tightened his arms around her fractionally. With a ragged sigh, Zoë relaxed, giving in to the wonderful feeling of being held.
“It’s going to be okay,” Mack said. “You’re just a little overwhelmed.”
“Mom, it’s okay, I won’t ride anymore, just don’t cry.”
Zoë
turned to her daughter, speaking over Mack’s shoulder. “I don’t want either of us to make a decision right now. I’m upset, like Mack said, and I’m a little overwhelmed with all the changes in our lives this past month. I need a little time to figure out the horseback riding, that’s all. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” She reached for her daughter and for a moment, all three of them embraced.
After agonizing over her choices for what seemed like a very long time, Zoë felt that the end of indecision came with surprising abruptness. This is who I used to be, she thought: someone who can make rapid changes in direction, someone who knows when to start following a new lead. The next day, she decided to speak to Maya’s riding instructor and reassure herself that her daughter was going to be as safe as possible during her lessons. And, acutely aware of the example she was setting, Zoë told Mack that she would take driving lessons with him.
“I was thinking about what you said about the monster under the bed,” she explained to Maya over dinner. “And how you have to keep fighting the fear so it doesn’t take over the whole room.”
“But that was you,” said Maya, smiling at her mother’s mistake. “You taught me that.”
“And then you taught it back to me.”
That night, and for the rest of the week, Maya slept the whole night in her own bed.
Twenty
Z oë put off calling her mother until the last minute, and then realized she was being ridiculous. What was the worst thing that could happen when she told her mother that she was coming into the city? Her mother would say it wasn’t a convenient time to see the grandchild she hadn’t visited in more than five months. Well, Zoë was used to that sort of rejection. She dialed the familiar number.
“Hello, Ema?”
“Hello, Zehava,” her mother said in funereal tones. Either she wanted Zoë to know this was an inconvenient time to talk, or somebody’s great-aunt had died. Zoë decided to forge ahead with the point of her call.
“I just wanted to let you know that Maya and I are going to be in town this weekend.”
“That’s nice, but it’s not a good time, honey.” More portentous flatness of tone. Clearly, Zoë was not going to be allowed to escape from asking what the matter was.
Flirting In Cars Page 19
