Fiction

Drivers Education

C.J. Charbonneau

Cousin Andy’s birthday is two days before mine in March. He’s two years older than me but three years ahead of me in school. Mom held me back in Kindergarten because I wasn’t ready for a whole day away from her. Andy picked on me for being so far behind him. I told my cousin how the kids in seventh grade didn’t mind me being in their class. Some of them even liked hanging around with an older kid. Andy replied by either making fun of me for being fatter or having more zits than him.

I had one leg up on Andy this year. My birthday was on Saturday. His was a school day. This minor advantage didn’t make my presents any better or his any worse. It’s just that he woke up early on his birthday and I slept till ten o’clock on mine. I doubt Andy put much thought into it, particularly on Thursday afternoon when he drove by the house and honked in his father’s Buick. Andy pulled into our driveway the next time around the block to show me, Mom, and Dad his Vermont Operator’s License. Mom made us grab our coats when she heard him honk. By the time Andy swung his father’s Skylark next to my father’s rustier Skylark, we were standing on the lawn, pounding our toes against the frozen sand.

“Guess it went right,” my Dad said to Andy as he glided the automatic shift back into park. He turned the car off before removing his seat belt. He rolled up the window and killed his Newport before unlocking the door. Andy couldn’t turn off driver’s education till he looked up at his uncle and shook hands his hand. Mom added a hug across his shoulders.

“Yep, here it is,” Andy said, taking the license out of his right front pocket. He must not have had time to throw it in his wallet before showing it off to the cousins.

“Gonna do all yer mom’s groceries now?” my mother asked him. Her asthmatic laugh at her own joke embarrassed the hell out of me. Andy kept looking away from her too. I noticed him cringing each time my mother sucked wind instead of shooting it.

“Nah, I’m just joshing,” she said, taking one of her arms off his shoulders.

“A lot more dates’ll be knockin’ at yer door. I know that for a fact,” my Dad said, “it’s a lot better picking up a girl in this than with that two wheeler,” my parents laughed together, Mom with her asthma attack and Dad with a chuckle to himself he learned from Matlock.

“Yep, that’s right. You’ll be seeing me with lots of girls now,” Andy said.

“It’s sure better than a bike when it’s cold,” Mom said as she came out with another laugh.

“When yer not with the girls, maybe Robbie can get a ride down to school or to bowling.”

“That sounds good, Uncle Mike. We’ll go bowling this weekend and McDonald’s. He’s got league on Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah, league’s Tuesday. Y’know he shot a 233?” my Dad said, acting like I’d never bowled that well before. “It was two weeks ago, right?” I nodded toward him without looking over at Andy.

“That’s pretty damn good, Rob. You gonna win the 16-under tourney this year?” Andy paused and looked at my mother. She’d recovered enough from her coughing to stand up without her nephew’s help. “I hear that Donny’s little brother is pretty good.”

“I beat Chad all the time, what’re you talking about?” I said, looking over at my father. Mom’s smile turned into a squint when Andy suggested Chad, this kid who called me “Robbie Ames” instead of James because of my sneakers, could outbowl me.

“Chad’s a little terd, I’ll tell you that. There’s no way he’d beat Rob, not never. And that’s that.”

“Aunt Jean,” Andy said. He paused to fiddle with his license, the lamination lighting up his fingers on each twirl. “I know Rob’s better than Chad, but I heard from Donny that Chad is good.”

“Donny’s a piece of work too. He slashes tires. I know he did all that slashing at the plaza.”

“Nah. I heard it was chiggers. A bunch of new ones trying to be badass.”

“Maybe,” Mom said as she watched the license glide through Andy’s fingers. “Maybe you should fill that organ donor thing out on the back of that. Remember when Aunt Helen needed an eye? Remember when your little cousin needed a kidney? I’m going in for a pen.” Andy, Dad, and me kept quiet while she went inside. Dad shook Andy’s hand again, since this was one of those welcome to manhood moments. Dad and Andy were still shaking hands when Mom walked over to us waving that pen.

“Here. You write what they want on the back,” Mom said as she handed Andy the pen.

“If I’m ever on any of those machines,” my Dad said, having found the opportunity to rattle off one of his favorite speeches. “You listen to me. If I’m sick and I’m on any machine, you pull the plugs. I’m not gonna be a burden on my wife or my kids. Don’t be keeping me around just cause you love me. Nowadays, the Doctors costs too much for that.”

“I’ll pull them,” Andy said, figuring we’d all laugh along with him. “If they don’t let me, I’ll get my Dad to.”

“It’s not yer Dad’s place,” Mom said. She pointed a press-on nail toward Andy. He took a step backwards to avoid getting scratched on the nose. “He’s not blood,” she said, dropping her finger. “Mom is. Not your Dad. Keep that mouth shut till you know what you’re talking about.”

“Jeezum, what’re you on the boy’s case for?” Dad grabbed Mom’s wrist while he was talking to her. She didn’t try to pull away. “We were just having a good time and you turn it into a big scene. Andy don’t need this. Rob don’t neither. This is a big day for Andy. Rob’s got his birthday coming and you’re ruining it.”

“Aunt Jean, Uncle Mike. I got to go home,” Andy said, interrupting my Dad. If I’d interrupted him like this, I would have been belted. A year ago, he would have belted Andy too, but he was a man now.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Dad said. He let go of Mom’s wrist.

“Congratulations Andy. Happy Birthday. You open our card yet?” Mom asked.

“Not yet, I’ll call you tonight when I do. Mom and Dad are getting my birthday ready right now. I used the payphone there to call them, but I have not been home yet.”

“Get home and see them. Your Dad’s gonna be proud. Tammy’ll be too,” Dad said.

“Oh I know. I think they’re gonna give me this car cause Dad keeps saying he needs a new one.”

“Robbie was saying the other day how much we need a new one,” Dad said. Mom didn’t laugh.

“I think we should get a fast car, a Porsche or something.”

“I don’t think so Rob. I’m not getting some car from overseas you can’t get parts for. With you driving soon, I don’t want you getting hurt in a crash cause I bought a chinkmobile.”

“Andy, we better let you get home. Happy Birthday,” Mom said.

“I finished the organ card when we were talking, so here’s that pen.”

Andy put his license into his wallet, got in without buckling his seatbelt and pulled out. He called that night to thank my parents for the twenty dollars they put in his card. The next morning, Andy picked me up for school. The Skylark had been his birthday present. Andy took me to school every morning that spring. He started taking my Dad and me to Tuesday night bowling. The three of us went together on the Saturday I won the tournament.

C.J. Charbonneau is a writer from Burlington, Vermont. Currently, he resides in Fort McMurray, Alberta.