We’re going to the DMV.
“Good morning,” I say, and place a plate in front of him right away. I have no idea how long we might be at the DMV, and I want to get a jump on it. I’m very glad that Alex is dressed. “I’m just going to go upstairs and straighten up, then we can go,” I tell him.
“Great.”
“Alex, it’s not that bad, it’s just a written test.”
“I don’t do so good on those,” he says, pouring syrup over his pancakes.
“You’ll do fine.”
“You gotta drive, my foot...” he begins.
“I know, just eat up, I’ll be right back,” I say, walking out of the kitchen. I really can’t listen to him mope about a test. You have the answers practically in front of you, you study for it right there. Besides, I’m slightly stressed about the afternoon and the meeting with the attorney. I have no idea how that’s going to go, where it’s going to go, or if I even want to pursue anything.
Physical activity is the answer to me. I strip the bed and make it, I pick up the bathroom and wipe it down, including the inside of the shower. I check the meds and a few of the other items on the sink counter that might need replenishing, and make notes on my pad of the things that do. I check the closet for stray laundry and find none. That’s been a pleasant occurrence for several days, the lack of balled up pieces of clothing on the floor, furniture, or hidden in the recesses of the closet. Alex has located the laundry bin and is using it.
By the time I return to the kitchen to start a load of laundry Alex is done with his breakfast and is having a cigarette. He looks a bit more chipper now. A full stomach can work wonders with him. I throw a load of clothes into each machine, clean up the breakfast debris, and I’m ready to go.
“I don’t want to do this,” he says, just under his breath.
“Yes, you do, because you’re going to want to drive when your foot is better, and you will eventually get so bored with lolling around here you’ll go mad,” I tell him, opening the car door for him. He’s insisting on the Mercedes today. The price tag on this car could purchase a small house in a modest neighborhood. It’s a thing of beauty, but it makes me nervous to take it out. The glossy surface of the car reflects well, and I catch Alex sticking his tongue out at me. “You are such a child,” I tell him, and close the door on his retort.
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
It’s quiet at the DMV. We check in and get the instructions to take our tests. We are not alone, there are several other people there as well, although this must be an early hour for many people, and it IS a working day, so it’s not overly busy.
The rules for driving in California aren’t that unique compared to anywhere else. Parking, signaling, speed limits, all the usual things. I read through the book twice, and then ask for my test. It takes me all of twenty minutes to complete and pass it, and then it’s on for my photo and to get a temporary license until they can send the other in the mail.
Alex is struggling. He’s read the book, I saw it with my own eyes. Now he’s hunched over the test, arm around it, feet crossed under the little desks they have for people to sit at. He looks so, so young like that, with his baseball cap on. He could be a teenager in any classroom. His pencil is making marks; he begins to chew on his thumb. Not the nail, right on the edge of his thumb. It looks painful, in fact, his thumb looks red and irritated where he’s doing it.
If it wasn’t prohibited, I’d go over and see how he’s doing. Instead, I pick up a magazine and leaf through it. And I wait. And I wait. And then he’s tapping me on the shoulder.
“I gotta do it again,” he whispers. And it’s evident, in his face, his posture, that he’s mortified. I almost wish that I’d flunked it myself, because I don’t like to see anyone this unhappy over, well, trivia. We could have commiserated.
“Sit down a minute, let’s see.” I take the corrected test. He didn’t bomb it, he just missed by a few questions. “This isn’t so bad,” I tell him.
“I feel like a fuckin’ idiot.”
“Look, you only missed three, you just need to get three more right and you pass. So just remember these three,” I say, and I circle them with his pencil, which is slick with his sweat from his hand. “They’re all ‘A’ answers, okay?”
“You sure? I think I just lucked out with some of the other ones.”
“I’m sure.” I turn my head and he’s in my face, up close, and he looks worried. “Alex, it’s no big deal, we’ll just stay until you pass. Calm down.”
“I suck at this shit.”
“Calm down,” I repeat. “This is not a life or death thing. Take a deep breath and just go over there and DO it. You can. I flunked my driving test the first time I took it and I had to go back and do it over. The DRIVING test, not the written. You can do this.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” That seems to make him feel a little bit better. He gets up and limps over to the desks again.
I don’t understand this. He’s not stupid. Odd, moody, temperamental, rude, childish, and perhaps a bit child like, but he is not stupid. And it’s only a driver’s test, it’s not something to get wound up about. I keep reading an article on the hazards of being beautiful, according to Cosmo, and peeking over it at what he’s doing between indulging paragraphs of vapid text. Same slumped over posture. Now his eyes are darting up from his test, looking from side to side. And it’s now that I notice that I’m not the only one watching him. There’s a young girl with a person who seems to be her mother, and she’s staring at Alex, whispering to the woman she’s with, and basically being a distraction.
A fan.
I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Alex hunches over farther, and I assume that he is very aware of the fact that he’s been noticed. His one hand comes up and blocks the view of the girl. If there was ever a time to be ungracious, this is it. And I’m filled with the urge to both smack the girl who’s old enough to know how to behave, and to hustle Alex out of here, because her behavior isn’t of any help to him whatsoever.
He sighs and gets up, goes to the front desk and smacks his test down on it. The person behind the desk takes it and scores it and suddenly I’m looking at a different person. Alex turns to me with a grin creasing his face, possibly the biggest smile I’ve seen from him to date, and gives me a thumbs up. I toss the magazine aside and join him at the desk.
“Great, you did it.” I look back at the testing area and the girl has abandoned her seat, is making a bee line toward us. “Picture time.” And I nudge Alex, wanting to get him out of the line of fire before it’s too late. He looks at me, sees the girl approaching, and turns to meet her full on.
There is a lot of squealing and shuddering and squirming, I can’t make out a thing the girl is saying. Alex takes it in stride. He’s wearing a smile I don’t recognize, a bit forced, but he’s charming and calming. He autographs her test, voiding it, although neither of them seems to care. Then he excuses himself and goes to the blue screen area to get his picture taken, myself in his wake.
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask him in the parking lot.
“Often enough,” he says, looking over his temporary license.
“Do you mind it?”
“Not too much.” He looks up from what he’s reading and gives me another smile. “I’ll mind it more when it stops happ’nin’.” He checks his watch, but I’ve already checked mine. “You wanna go get a coffee or somethin’? It’s hours before we have to see Grace.”
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s this bar I...”
“What about In and Out Burger?” I counter.
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
It’s not just a bar. It takes a little convincing on my part, but I get Shi to drive over to The Cat and The Fiddle. It’s a hangout. A place where a lot of musicians go, mostly at night, but, like, it’s out of the way and quiet and you don’t get the shit bugged outta ya. No one cares who you are, and no one comes up to you and does un-cool things like that chick at the DMV. Don’t get me wrong, I mean it when I say that I’ll be worried when they stop askin’ for autographs, but could they maybe hold back until AFTER I’ve taken my test, or eaten a meal, or gone to the bathroom? The stupid ass fucked up my concentration the first time and I screwed up.
Well, it doesn’t matter ‘cause that’s over with and I won’t have to do it again. Ever. Not if I can help it. And I want to go someplace, but I just can’t go ANYPLACE and most of the places I hang out in are closed, and by the time we get over there it’ll be, like, lunch.
So I finally convince Shi, and she drives over to Sunset. I know she’s not happy about it, but too bad. I’m not gonna drink anything other than a coke, or some water. I’m just gonna have lunch.
The place is about empty, and we sit outside on the patio, near a fountain. That way we can smoke and not bug anyone, and I don’t have to look at the bar, with the rows of shiny bottles behind it. We have a coupla hours to kill. The menu’s come and we order some drinks.
“This is nice,” Shi says. I’ve been watchin’ her check the place out. I think she means it.
“Yeah. No one bugs the livin’ shit outta ya here, either,” I say.
“Always a plus.”
She’s funny. Dry, and sarcastic. That always makes me laugh. I look at the menu but I already know what I’m havin’, a big, fat cheeseburger. And some of those chicken things, the tiny little drumstick parts with barbecue sauce. Shi orders a cup of soup. Just a cup of soup.
“Have a goddamn salad at least,” I tell her. Dead serious, she looks at the waiter.
“I’ll have the goddamn salad,” she says.
I about spew my drink.
She has some curried chicken.
She can be pretty damned funny.
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
© 2003 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2003 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
