Slim Chance

by Jackie Rose

  “Is that what this is?” I asked as disinterestedly as I could. “Where are we going?”

  “I thought you might like to see how she handles on the highway. If there’s no traffic, I’ll open ’er up—you won’t believe the ride!”

  “Don’t you find it pointless having a car in the city?”

  “Naw—this baby makes it all worth it. But you’ve got to be willing to make sacrifices. I don’t even wanna tell you how much I pay for parking every month…$450! Can you believe that! What a racket. Well, nobody can say I’m not a devoted daddy!”

  “That’s sick.” What a vile creature. Morgan was really going to get it. Preston wasn’t even remotely cute—there was more hair on his knuckles than on his head, and I could only assume he’d gotten dressed in the dark. Not only that, but he drove like an asshole. “Uh, could you slow down, please? You cut that guy off,” I said, looking back. “I think he might have hit the wall.”

  “That shitbox? It shouldn’t even be allowed on the road. So, where you wanna go for dinner?”

  “Didn’t you make reservations somewhere?”

  “Nah. I just figured we’d see where the night takes us….” He stared at my legs.

  “Hey—eyes on the road,” I said.

  “Well, I’ll be honest with you, Eve. I thought if you were a real dog, we’d just grab a quick drink at some hotel bar. But Billy was right—you’re not bad. So dinner it is! You got any ideas?”

  “Um, maybe we could just get that drink. I guess Morgan forgot to tell you, but I’ve already got plans for later.”

  “Oh. Okay,” he said as we slowed for traffic on the exit ramp, but he was distracted by some sort of roadblock up ahead.

  “I think it’s just one of those spot-checks,” I said. “They’re doing them a lot on the weekends now. You know, to check for drunk drivers.”

  He checked the rearview mirror nervously, as if he were contemplating backing up the ramp. A car pulled up behind us and he slammed his palms against the steering wheel in frustration.

  “You’re not wasted, are you?” I asked. That would be rich.

  “No. But hold on.” He threw the gear shift into Second and squealed around the car in front of us.

  “What are you doing?” I screamed.

  “I’m blowing it!” he shouted as he made for a spot between two parked police cars. Fortunately, there wasn’t even close to enough room for us to pass through, and the cop standing there slapped his light stick down on the windshield. Preston lowered the window.

  “What’s the problem here, officer?” he snapped.

  “Turn off the engine. You in some kind of hurry, buddy?” The cop asked. “You can’t wait your turn?”

  “Ha! You see, my girlfriend here isn’t feeling well. I’m bringing her to the hospital.”

  I smiled and waved.

  “She looks fine to me. License and registration.”

  Preston made a face and handed them over. The cop walked slowly back to his cruiser.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?” I shouted. “Are you brain damaged?”

  “Calm down, calm down. When he gets back, just tell him you’re really sick. We’ll say…what’ll we say…help me out here if you have any ideas… Got it! We’ll say you’re pregnant and that you think you’re losing the baby! Yeah! Just bend over and moan or something…they’ll have to let us through right away.”

  Before I could tell him that I would be doing no such thing, the cop came back and said, “Mr. Betancourt, it seems your driver’s permit was suspended three months ago for $1400 in unpaid speeding fines and failure to appear. Please step out of the vehicle, sir.”

  “There must be some kind of mistake. I paid those tickets!”

  “Sir, please step out now. We’re impounding your vehicle.” Preston turned white as a sheet. I guess he didn’t see the poetry in it. “Unless…” the cop continued, “she has a valid license,” he said, motioning towards me with his pen.

  “No! No! She can’t drive my car!” Poor guy. He was in a real snit. “She doesn’t drive standard!”

  “Yes I do, officer. And I have a valid license.”

  “Either she drives,” the cop said, “or we impound the vehicle. What’ll it be?” Preston reluctantly stepped out and came around to the passenger’s side. I slipped behind the wheel and turned the key.

  The cop handed Preston two tickets. “Driving without a valid permit, that’s $350, and driving without a seat belt, $50. You’re lucky I don’t put down attempting to blow a roadblock, too—that’s a criminal offense. I could arrest you for that.”

  It had been a while since I drove stick. A few years ago, when Bruce was driving his dad’s old Caddy, he gave me lessons in the parking lot of the high school around the corner from our place. At the time, I didn’t see the importance of it, especially since I was never really any good. But now, I was delighted to be able to help.

  “Here goes!” I said, grinding the gearshift into what I thought was First. I eased off the clutch and onto the gas. The car lurched backward. Cops scattered out of the way.

  “That’s reverse!” he yelled, clutching at his chest.

  I laughed. “Whoops!” Slowly, we inched forward, gathering speed. I popped it into Second. The engine purred agreeably. “This is fun! Let’s take ’er out on the highway!” Preston stared at me in abject horror.

  As soon as we were safely out of view, he made me get out so he could drive.

  “Take me home immediately,” I demanded.

  “What about our drink?”

  “I’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

  “I had a blast!” I told Morgan and Billy when they walked in the door an hour later.

  They looked at each other in surprise.

  “Really? I didn’t think you’d actually have fun,” she admitted.

  “Well that shows how much you know,” I said. “I got to drive a Porsche!”

  “He let you drive his car?” Billy gasped.

  I nodded.

  “That doesn’t make sense….” he mumbled to himself.

  “Why not?” I asked him. I wanted them both to admit they’d set me up with a complete psycho.

  “Why are you home so early?” Morgan asked, her suspicion growing.

  “I was having too much fun—I thought we’d save some for our next date.”

  “What happened, Evie…”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. He tried to blow a police roadblock and almost got us shot and killed.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes and slapped Billy on the arm. “You said he wasn’t a loser,” she yelled at him.

  “Wait. I never said that. All I said was that he’s a fun guy. And he is. Happy hour with Preston is a blast. Once, he got the waitress at MacDougall’s to give us free pitchers all night because he convinced her we were beer critics from the Times…” Billy laughed to himself and shook his head..

  “I thought you knew him, Morgan!” I shouted.

  She tried not to laugh, too. “I’m so sorry, Evie. Technically, I never met him. But I screened him on the phone for you, and he sounded fine. Was he at least cute?”

  “Nope. Not even close.”

  She slapped Billy again. “What?” he said. “How am I supposed to know if a guy’s cute or not. He seems okay to me.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. This merely confirms what I’ve suspected for weeks—that Bruce was the only man for me and that I’m destined to die miserable and alone, having blown my one true shot at happiness. Good night to the both of you,” I said curtly and went off to my room.

  Since neediness is one of the surest ways to lose a man’s interest (Allure, March: “Are You Scaring Him Away?”), I waited until after my third session with Dr. Shloff to call Bruce and apologize about the incident in the park. This way, I reasoned, he’d be dazzled by my newfound insightfulness and unable to resist me. Or at least resist hanging up on me.

  We had a pretty good conversation—very open and honest, although we
avoided the subject of Daphne for the most part. Not only did I not want to know, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He seemed glad that I was still going to Dr. Shloff, and he agreed with me that I’d had a bit of a breakthrough about the whole wedding dress thing.

  “It doesn’t make me feel very good to think you might not have wanted to marry me, but at least you’re making progress,” he said.

  “The beauty of the theory is that it’s not all my fault—the having doubts part, I mean, not that, uh, other stuff. I was motivated by subconscious fears and issues!”

  “Maybe I was pushing you into all of it,” he said. “You weren’t ready.”

  “Bruce, you can’t blame yourself.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “But maybe I should have waited until we’d talked openly about getting engaged instead of steamrolling ahead. I just wanted it to be romantic, you know?”

  “It was,” I assured him.

  “Until you puked.”

  “Until I puked,” I said, then giggled as adorably as I could.

  Things were going so well that I even told him about my ill-fated date (including the fact that Morgan had forced me into it, just for good measure). He laughed at all the right places, and asked if I planned on going out with Preston again. I knew he was joking, but still—it definitely denoted interest on some level. We didn’t make plans to see each other or anything, but he did say I could stop by and pick up my mail anytime.

  I’d barely hung up the phone when it rang again. I figured it was Bruce, impulsively calling back to ask me out, but it was Mom.

  “I have to keep the line free, Bruce is calling me back.”

  “Why? Is there something I don’t know?” She’d probably be happier over a reconciliation than I would be.

  “We’re finally starting to be on good terms again and I don’t want to miss his call,” I said. “Seriously, I have to go.”

  “That’s good, Evelyn. That’s very good. Do you really think there’s a chance he’ll take you back, after what you did?”

  “Mom, I’m hanging up,” I said, and almost did.

  “Wait! I have to tell you something. Are you sitting down?”

  Please, don’t let her and Albert be getting married. I couldn’t take another surprise engagement. I was far too fragile for this right now.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I’m not sure exactly how you’re going to feel about this, but your grandfather died.”

  “Oh.”

  “Apparently, he’d been in the hospital for quite some time. Even Lucia didn’t know. He had lung cancer,” she sighed. “My father never smoked a day in his life.”

  I’d never even met my grandfather, so I didn’t feel too weird about it, but for Mom, it was a different story. I knew she’d always secretly hoped he’d forgive her one day. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “When it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go. I should know that better than anyone. Death is going to take every one of us, Evelyn, even you, so there’s no sense in getting all worked up about it now. The man lived a long life.” Mom could be very pragmatic when it came to things like this. Still, there was no need to remind me that I’d be worm food one day. “To die alone, though,” she continued thoughtfully, “…well, I suppose that was his own choice.”

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  “Thank you, Evelyn, but you stay there. Albert is here, and I’m really fine. I promise. And Lucia’s on her way. But the funeral’s the day after tomorrow. There won’t be any visitation or a mass or anything like that—his priest will say a few words at the cemetery and that’s about it. If you want to come…”

  “Of course.”

  22

  The only people who came to Ray Valerio’s funeral were me, Bruce, Claire, Mom, Albert, Auntie Lucy and some old woman who’d apparently fed his cats while he was in the hospital. If he had any friends, they didn’t bother to show. Or maybe they had no idea that he’d even died. There was nobody to call and tell them.

  When I phoned Bruce to tell him what had happened, he immediately insisted on coming, out of respect for Mom. Secretly, I hoped that he was looking for an excuse to see me, but since he still spoke to both Mom and Claire on a regular basis—probably more often than I did—it was most likely a combination of both. It was nice of him, and I was glad to have him there. I’d told Morgan not to bother coming, although she’d also offered. It wasn’t that big a deal. I never knew the man, after all.

  The worst part of it all for me was that I didn’t have a thing to wear. The only item I still had that fit me was that stretchy ocelot dress from the engagement party, which I hadn’t thrown out because it looked even better after I’d lost more weight. Unfortunately, it was almost surely inappropriate for a funeral. I ended up buying a cheap summer dress for $29.99 at K-Mart that doesn’t bear description. To add a much-needed touch of class, I also wore the diamond tennis bracelet Bruce gave me for Christmas.

  The only other funeral I’d ever been to was Claire’s sister, who died about ten years ago. This one was much quicker. The priest struggled painfully to find a few nice things to say, Lucy cried when they lowered the casket into the earth, and then we all went to Mom’s to eat. Except, thank God, for Albert, who had to go back to work.

  “Bruce, how’s your mother doing?” Mom asked as she filled his plate with lasagna and salad. It wasn’t weird at all, having Bruce around. It felt familiar and comfortable, except that he was still having a hard time looking me in the eye.

  “She’s fine. Still a little upset about all those nonrefundable deposits, I think. But she’s doing okay.”

  Claire laughed.

  “Maybe Evelyn should offer to help pay for those,” Mom said matter-of-factly.

  “Mom! Please.” It was humiliating enough that the entire family plus Albert knew about my little indiscretion. I didn’t need to be publicly reminded of it every time we sat down to dinner, too.

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Bruce offered. “Evie’s got enough financial responsibilities for the time being.”

  “You’re too good to her, Bruce,” Mom said.

  I grinned weakly at him.

  “Isn’t this a time when we should be talking about Dad?” Lucy asked. She hadn’t said much since we got back from the cemetery.

  Mom rolled her eyes. “Fine, Lucia. Is there anything you’d like to say?”

  “He had his good points, you know. Don’t tell me you don’t remember. He was an okay father back in the day. Strict as hell, but fair. And he absolutely adored Mom. Did you know that when she was sick, he brought her fresh flowers every day? Every day for six months, just to brighten her room.” Mom glared at her skeptically. “I’m not saying he was right, Lilly, how he treated you, but he wasn’t all bad, either. Evie deserves to know that.”

  “I was his only grandkid, and he never wanted to meet me,” I told her.

  “Oh, I bet he did. Probably more than anything. But that would have meant him admitting he was wrong, and that was a little more than he could handle,” she said. “He was so stubborn. It was ridiculous. And look what he missed out on! We could all learn a little something from him in that respect.” At least now I knew where I got it from.

  “Yes, yes, Lucia, that’s fine,” Mom said impatiently.

  Lucy ignored her. “You know, Evie, I never really noticed, but you have his eyes. You definitely have his eyes.”

  I did? There was nothing particularly special about my eyes. Boring brown, although I’d flirted with green contacts for a while (Glamour, October: “Grabbing What Mother Nature Never Gave You”).

  “She also inherited his financial irresponsibility,” Mom said. “Which brings me to something I wanted to discuss with you, Evie, and now’s as good a time as any. Bruce, you’re a part of the family…well, you were anyway,” she corrected herself, and shot me a dark look. “…so I’m sure nobody will mind if
you hear this, too.”

  Lucy nodded in agreement.

  “It seems that your grandfather has willed his house to you.”

  “What?”

  “Hey, Evie, that’s great!” Bruce said.

  “But what does that mean?” I asked.

  “That means it’s yours,” Lucy said.

  Surely there was a catch. Why would he give it to me? He hated me. “Why didn’t you get it, Lucy? Because you live in London?”

  “No, because I guess he wanted you to have it. He loved that house very much. Your mom and I grew up there.”

  “I know it’s in Carroll Gardens somewhere, but I’ve never actually seen it,” I told them.

  “It’s an old brownstone,” Mom said. “Probably needs renovations.”

  “At least it’s in a good neighborhood. I bet it’s not that far from our place,” I said.

  “You mean my place,” Bruce added.

  “Sorry, Bruce. Your place.”

  “A house is a very big responsibility, Evie,” Mom cautioned shrilly. “It’s not something to be taken lightly.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “I’m sure you have absolutely no idea,” she said.

  “Leave her alone, Lilly. Don’t spoil it,” Lucy said, and smiled at me. “I’ve known for a few years that Dad was planning to do this, you know. And boy am I glad I never told Roderick. When we were here in January, he paid all the back taxes on the place. It was either that or put Dad into a home, which would have been a lot more expensive.”

  “What a loving gesture,” I said.

  Lucy laughed loudly. “Dad told him to consider the tax bill my dowry. Man, was he pissed when I told him the house was going to Evie.”

  Mom snorted in delight.

  “I thought Roderick didn’t come because he was too embarrassed to see us,” I said. “After that whole thing with Diana.”

  Lucy shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m sure that’s part of it. Don’t worry, though, he’s not mad at you, Evie. He’ll get over this…he always does. Poor, dear Roderick,” she sighed.

  “Oh, he does it to himself,” Mom snapped.

  “He’s constantly humiliated over one thing or another. You know, I’m beginning to wonder if I should be, too, by association. Ahhh, I suppose he’s just my cross to bear,” Lucy giggled. What she saw in him was anyone’s guess.