The Drive

The Drive

 

She was doing her best Vanna White, smiling at me as she stood there.  Prancing and preening while constantly looking at me -- and anyone else viewing her action, Barbie was in high heaven.

 

"I love it!!  Can't you see me driving this to and from the clinic?"

 

I just silently nodded my approval. I did not need to say a single word.

 

Barbara needed a new car.  Her previous car -- the "boat" of a car she had been driving -- was actually her father's car for many years; and when he could not drive any more, she took the keys and proclaimed "If you want to go someplace, I'll take you. If you I see you out there, Dad, even sitting BEHIND the wheel of this car, NO good meals from me!!"

 

"Aw, I'll just go to the diner and get my food there..." he told her.

 

"No, you won't. Because I'll call Claire and tell her not to feed you...and that goes double for the 'Donalds also!!  Dad, you're too old to drive this thing anymore..."

 

Barbara held her end of the deal, carting her father around from place to place, sometimes taking off from work to get him to the doctor; or to the big store over in Maywalk, to the McDonalds in town or to or from some other thing or another.  She never did catch him trying to drive himself -- and when her father finally succumbed to the cancers racking his body all of those years, she continued to drive the large Buick until this day.

 

The dealership, knowing Barbara and her family for decades, gave her a generous trade-in value toward the much smaller Subaru vehicle. She had the rest, saved up for years along with a portion of her daddy's railroad and military pensions he received upon his death.

 

"Where do you want to go, Micheal?" she cooed after all of the paperwork was signed, the money handled over, and the keys provided. The car was being washed and we waiting in the lobby area until the car was driven in front of the dealership.

 

Someone wanted to take a photo. Barbara objected.

 

"Wait a minute!" she stated. She went to the girl's room and came back out, hair neatly arranged, sunglasses arranged over the top of her head like a crown, and she struck a pose in front of the white car.

 

"Now" she said, and waited for the photographer to take two more photos. The dealership places photos of their customers who purchased a car on a board in their waiting area.

 

"Let's just take a drive around here..." I said. "People in town would want to see your new car.  I know that your knitting circle will want to see it..."

 

Barbara started the car and then looked at me funny.

 

"Okay. I said something wrong." I looked at her.

 

"No," she said, "I'm just plum excited -- and tired.  Can we just go home instead?  All of this excitement has gotten to me..."

 

"Are you okay, Barbie?"  The change was as if someone flipped a switch.

 

"Nothing that a little rest won't cure..." she stated, pressing the gearbox into drive; and looking around, pulled away from the dealership, onto the highway leading toward town, and did not say another word until she pulled into the driveway.

 

I asked again if she was okay.

 

"I'm fine, darling... I just need to get in here and take a nap." 

 

She went almost immediately into the bedroom, took off her shoes and lay on the bed.  After looking in her, kissing her on the cheek and then finding that crocheted blanket she made for me a while back, I covered her with the blanket, leaving her face and hair free from its confines.  I then retreated to the office to continue to tell the story of Manny Brue.

 

It was not until the phone rang -- telemarketer -- that I realized that Barbie has been sleeping for six hours.  Surely she was hungry -- I was -- so I removed myself from the desk and chair and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. I started to make some tomato soup for myself when I noticed that I was not the only one there.

 

"That's not how it's done, Micheal", she interrupted me. She then walked over, standing behind me with her arms outstretched, grabbing the can with one hand and the pan with the other.

 

"I do the cooking. You go back and do the writing."

 

"You know it's almost bed time, right?" I asked, giving up the food preparation instrument and the food item.

 

"Grilled cheese and ham. If you want to be helpful -- that's one of those Boy Scout rules right -- go over and get the loaf of wheat, Velveeta, and the small ham from the refrig please."

 

I did what I was requested.

 

"Now, go back and write. I'll make the food."

 

I kissed her and she returned the kiss. "Go! Work! Git!"

 

I knew she was feeling better.

 

Thirty minutes, two bowls of soup and two grilled cheese and ham sandwiches later, Bobbie had changed clothes, wearing a summer dress and sandals.  She walked over to the desk and announced, "How about that drive now?"

 

"You realize that it's almost ten o'clock, right?"

 

"The moon's out there. I thought we would take a little drive past the ridge."  Turner's Ridge was one of Barbara's favorite places to drive by.  It was on the way to the clinic where she works beside the regional hospital.

 

"Okay. Let me get a jacket and my coffee."

 

She held her hand up. "Jacket yes. Coffee, no. We'll get new coffee mugs for you -- that's the only way you'll drink coffee -- or anything else -- in my car!"

 

Before I could offer a rebuttal, she added, "and no objections. I want to keep my car as coffee-stain-free as possible!!"

 

I smiled because I knew that the new rule would be broken in a few weeks.

 

I found a jacket and walked out behind the older mate and into her new car.

 

"Find that station out of Charlottesville, please..." she requested as she took possession of her new automobile and pointed it up the highway to one of her favorite places. I looked at and then adjusted the digital dial to find the station she requested. We listened to the college station which played jazz music in the evenings, peppered with announcements about campus activities.

 

Arriving on the lookout area on Turner's Ridge, Barbie parked the car.  After fidgeting around, she then found the switch which turns off the lights but kept the radio on. She then looked at my grinning face.

 

"And what are you grinning about, dear man?" she said, placing a hand on my left arm.

 

"You. You really love this new car of yours, don't you..." I responded. I then reached over with my face and met hers as we kissed.  She broke the kiss off a few seconds later and said "Get out...let's sit on top of the hood"

 

I complied, getting out of the car and waited for the owner of the vehicle to get out and move toward the front of the car.

 

"You know," she said, "I haven't been on the hood of a car since well before my high school days." I joined her on the hood of her new car.

 

"Well, it's been quite a long time since I've been on the hood of a car also..."

 

We both reclined against the front windshield as we looked across the ridge, the mist covered mountains it seemed to protect, and down the valley.  Lights flickered off and on in several places as cars moved, lights were turned off and the crickets and other night animals started making their noises, joining the sounds of professional jazz musicians coming from the radio. The two of us laid there looking at the land and on occasion each other.

 

"Like my new car?"

 

"I do. You? No, you don't need to answer that. I can tell in your face."

 

"I've never had my own car, Micheal. I am really happy about this.  The payments are good, the insurance is the same as Dad's car, and I love the interior."

 

There was a pause and then Barbara asked "Would you do me a favor?"

 

"Anything."

 

"When and if I die -- not that I'm thinking that far ahead mind you -- but when that happens, can you please sell this car?  It's not that I don't want you to drive it, but I really don't want anyone to drive it unless it's an emergency. Then I have to think about it."

 

I giggled and then said with a straight face, "It's done. But to protect yourself in case I die before you, you'd better have that in writing..."

 

Barbie looked at me, nodded, "yes, I'd better. Can't trust those Boy Scouts any more..."

 

"WAIT A MINUTE..." we both laughed.

 

There was another pause while we looked out into the ridge line. Barbie broke the silence.

 

"So, I go back to Roanoke in two weeks. They're going to flush the portacath and take some fluid out."

 

"Concerned about that, Buttercup?" I asked.

 

"Only concern I have is that they don't screw it up like they did eleven years ago...I could have done a better job in flushing the thing..." Barbara snapped.

 

She then remembered who she was talking to and added, "I'm sorry sweetheart...it's just that I get so frustrated at some of the people at that hospital. They say that they provide "caring bodies for caring bodies" but most of the people I've been around in the past can't wait to get out of there...It's all smoke and mirrors to me..."

 

She leaned her head against my shoulder and then looked at me suddenly.

 

"Maybe they'll give me some iron pills or something. I've been really tired lately."

 

"So I've noticed. I got up and was about to fix something for myself and let you sleep..."

 

"The kitchen," Barbara stated, "is MY work area. Yours is in that den or nook or whatever you want to call it..."

 

"I know... but you didn't take on a man who can't do for himself, you know..."

 

"Don't care. You don't have anything to prove to me. I know you can burn things. I take out the garbage and see some of the results. Stick to your writings and speech makings...what did you tell one of those characters -- "stick to what you can do and stop trying to poke into someone else's do..."  Did I get it right?"

 

"Are you memorizing my books, honey?" I asked, moving a bit slightly to get closer to her.

 

"No. Just the good parts," she replied in her Southern country voice of hers.

 

There were another pause and then Barbara once again broke the natural symphony surrounding us.

 

"My sister will be there. At the hospital.  You've never met Imogene."

 

I shook my head no.

 

"She's coming to see after me... thinks that I'm some old sick woman..."

 

"Long way from that, love..."I kissed Barbie's head.

 

There was a long pause, in which the two of us just continued to hold each other while looking out on the southwestern Virginia landscape.

 

"You know, if this is what being married is all about, Micheal...I love this. I'm glad I came to your book signing."

 

"I agree. I'm glad you stood in line -- twice -- and offered me your dinner table. Heart. And bed." I kissed her on her head again.

 

"I'm getting tired again," Barbara spoke, moving away from me and landing feet first on the ground. "Let's get some coffee and then go home..."

 

Once I got back in the car, I watched as Barbara strapped herself into the seat, started her new car up and turned the radio up.

 

When we returned home, she once again went straight to the bedroom and laid down on the bed, clothes and all still on. I moved onto the bed and held her tight as she drifted off to sleep. I did so as well.