Party of Four

Baby Steps - Cole

Moving into a bigger house meant more space. Unfortunately for my parents, moving into the guest house meant they had less space. Granted, they didn’t seem to mind. They still had a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen. There was even a small porch. However, they no longer had a garage. Which meant my dad didn’t have a place for his pool table except for in our garage. Not that any of us minded, I certainly didn’t.

The drive way was more than big enough for all four cars, and even if it wasn’t, the garage was plenty big enough for the pool table and at least two of the cars all at the same time. It was an adjustment for my dad though to not be able to just get up and go play pool wherever he felt like it.

I chalked my stick while my dad racked the balls. It was my break, and I was trying to stay focused on the game. I’d had something on my mind though ever since we’d finished moving, and it was starting to eat away at me.

I knew I needed to say something. He wasn’t a mind reader. So my options were to just go ahead and get it out, or play progressively worse with each turn until he called me out.

“I…I’ve been thinking,” I finally pushed the words out quickly as I leaned down to line up my shot.

“You haven’t hurt yourself doing that, have you?” he asked, a teasing grin pulling the corners of his mouth while I scowled.

“No.” The balls scattered. “It’s only a couple of months until Poppy’s born.” A ball fell into a corner pocket. I was stripes. I lined up my next shot. “I think I need to find a way to get behind the wheel again.”

“Really?” An eyebrow lifted as my dad stared at me, trying to contain his surprise.

I nodded.

“You haven’t driven in over a decade.”

“I know,” I missed my next shot as memories of my accident resurfaced. I stood straight, adjusting my glasses before running a hand through my beard. Sure, the accident wasn’t my fault, but something about hanging upside down over a ravine for three hours, screaming until my throat was raw, made it kind of impossible to drive again. I’d had to take medication for anxiety just to be able to get in a car again. Even then, it took years before I could go anywhere without shaking the whole time.

My dad hooked himself behind the cluster then stood straight to chalk his cue. “Are you sure you’re ready?” His voice was soft and gentle. Not condescending. Just giving me space to work through my thoughts.

“No,” I admitted. It had been about eleven years. If I hadn’t driven before now, why would I ever be ready? “I need to though. For Nica and the baby…if there’s ever an emergency, I need to be prepared to handle it. I can’t always depend on someone else to be around to get me where I need to be.”

He was silent while I lined up my shot. The ball rolled to a stop just inches from the hole.

“If you’re sure,” he finally spoke, “we’ll ease you back into it. Go for a drive around the neighborhood, or down to the store. Keep it simple and short. Whenever you want to.”

He banked a solid off the rail. “I don’t want anyone to know. Not until I’m comfortable again. I don’t want everyone worrying about me or anything…” Or being disappointed in me if I couldn’t do it…

He nodded, understanding. “It’ll be our secret until you’re ready.”

~*~

I didn’t always work the same shifts as Nica and Riley, but we usually worked the same days. So the next day, they were still in bed while I was leaving with dad. Mom had already left for work two hours before us.

“You’ve got this,” my dad encouraged as we got into his blue Chevy.

I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes as I sat down. Luckily, both Nica and Riley’s bedrooms looked out over the side and back yards. So even if one of them woke up in the next few minutes, they wouldn’t see me in the driver’s seat unless they walked into the kitchen before we successfully pulled out. If we successfully pulled out.

I put my seat belt on, feeling my heart hammering into my ribs hard enough that I thought I might bruise. The engine wasn’t even started yet.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” my dad reassured me while I clutched the keys hard enough for the metal to bite into my palm.

I just had to make it to the front entrance. Once we were at the gate, we could switch places. I swallowed and slid the key into the ignition, shuddering as the engine roar to life.

My throat was dry as I pressed the break and shifted into reverse. My grip on the wheel was tight enough that my knuckles were already turning white. When I glanced in the rear view mirror, I half expected to see my ex there. I blinked a few times, fighting the tears that were forming.

“Hey, it’s okay,” my dad spoke softly. “Just focus on me, okay. I’m with you. You’re not there anymore. That’s not going to happen again.”

I tried to suck in a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

“If you’re not ready, it’s okay. We can try again tomorrow.”

I felt frozen. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t lift my foot off the break, but I couldn’t take my hand off the wheel to put the car in park again either.

“What if…we just drive to the stop sign today? You didn’t have to make it to the gate. You don’t have to drive through the neighborhood. Just get the car in motion. Baby steps.”

Right. Baby steps. Just get the car moving.

I nodded and checked the rear view again. I turned in my seat, double checking all the blind spots, making sure no cars were coming.

Carefully, I eased my foot off the break. The car started rolling back out of the drive. My gaze constantly flickered between the mirror and my sides, making sure it stayed clear. There was a slight shift as the car rolled off the faux cobblestone of our driveway and onto the asphalt of the road.

My dad never stopped talking to me the whole time. He was a grounding presence, keeping me focused on right now so that I didn’t slip back to that place I had been in once before.

Once the car was fully in the road, I braked again. Tears were brimming my eyes and I blinked a few times as I shifted into drive.

Another deep breath and my foot was easing off the break.

The car slowly rolled down the street to the stop sign. Past the three houses before ours. I wasn’t sure if I ever actually touched the gas, or if we were on a slight decline that carried the car to our destination.

I stopped the car at the sign, and put it in park. I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I slumped forward, my forearms resting against the top of the wheel.

My dad rubbed my back, praising me. “You can do this,” he encouraged. “It might take some time, but you’ll get there.”

Once I was able, I straightened and took my seat belt off. I needed out of the car. I needed air. I needed a cigarette, but that one would have to wait until I got to work since we were stopped in the middle of the street.

I wiped at my face as I got out and moved around to the passenger side. It didn’t feel like much of an accomplishment, but all things considered, I was still proud of myself. Even if that pride was outweighed by my anxiety.

Dad was proud too. He didn’t stop telling me he was the whole way to Stella’s. Baby steps. We’d started small. Really small. Eventually I would get to where I needed to be.