Driving Lessons: A Novel by Zoe Fishman

up and returned to his side of the table, I took a sip, wincing at the unfortunate accuracy of my prediction regarding its taste.
    “Just the other day you were encouraging me to quit Bauble Head if it was making me so unhappy, and now you’re talking about principles? What about the principle of letting my best friend suffer through the most physically and emotionally debilitating experience of her life all by herself? I think that principle trumps any bad blood over at Bauble Head, Josh.”
    “Okay, I’m just going to go ahead and say something that may make you think I’m an asshole.”
    “Fine. By all means, go ahead.”
    “I think that there may be a little bit more to this than you’re acknowledging.”
    “How so?”
    “I think that yes, you of course want to be there for Mona, but you also want to get the hell out of Farmwood.”
    “So you’re saying that I’m using Mona’s cancer as an excuse to get out of here?”
    “Basically, yes. Which is not to say that she wouldn’t be grateful for your help once you were there—I definitely think it would bolster her spirits tremendously—but I am saying that your decision to return to New York to nurse her was made at lightning speed.” He took another sip. “The kind of speed that implies distinct dissatisfaction with your own life here. With me.”
    “Josh, are you really making Mona’s cancer about you?” I hissed.
    “No, actually, I’m saying that, indirectly at least, you’re making it about yourself.”
    “You are talking nonsense.” I unrolled my burgundy cloth napkin roughly, and its enclosed silverware clattered loudly on the table. “That’s not what this is about. I am happy here. Sort of.” I paused as the waitress deposited a mountain of French fries that rose up impressively between us.
    I continued. “I’ve been trying my best to make Farmwood work for me. I’m conquering my driving fear, I got a job. I even had coffee with Iris, for chrissake. And I had an idea about the next phase of my career the other day.”
    “You did? That’s terrific! What was it?”
    “It’s just a small granule of an idea. Tiny, really.”
    “A granule is something. Tell me.”
    “I was talking to Ray about how to better promote his business, and it occurred to me that, stripped bare, I really do like marketing, or the idea of it anyway. Brainstorming for him made me happy. I felt like me for the first time in a long time.”
    “Sar, that’s great. You know, you could start up your own consulting business here.”
    “Yeah, maybe. Like I said, I’ve only just begun to consider it.”
    “Okay, you don’t want to make a big deal about it yet. Got it. And I know you’re trying here. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t. It’s just, I know you. I know you’re unhappy. I can hear it in the way you sigh when it’s time to get up in the morning and I can see it in the way you pour yourself an extra gulp of wine when you think I’m not looking.”
    “I poured myself plenty of extra gulps in New York, thank you very much.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “I do miss it, it’s true. But I know in my heart that I don’t really miss the true New York. I miss my idealized version of it.”
    “And what’s happening with the baby thing?”
    “What baby thing?” Heat rose to my face.
    “Our baby,” he said softly. “I thought that we were all-systems-go here.”
    “We are,” I replied, avoiding his gaze.
    “Are we? Are you? Because every time I mention it, you change the subject or get shifty, like you’re doing right now.”
    “I’m not shifty!”
    “Look at me, then. Are we still on the same page?” His puppy-dog eyes broke my heart.
    “Of course we are,” I lied. “Why are you bringing that up now?”
    “Because everything else is on the table, I guess. I’ve been scared to ask you about all of this. You’ve got your invisible force field thing going on.”
    “I do?”
    “Yeah.”
    I scooted over and patted the empty