"Hey, future drivers!" Paul and Hank's father approached them after cena that night, jingling the car keys in his hands. "Who wants to come along and do a little practising?"
Paul, who had been Leggere a Musica magazine on the couch, and Hank, who had been watching a movie with a lot of explosions on the TV nearby, both sat up. "I do!"
Soon, the three of them sat in the car in a mostly empty parking lot. "Who's going first?" their dad asked.
"Let Paul go first." This answer surprised Paul. Normally his brother was più than eager to be first at everything.
"You feeling okay, buddy?" Their father was only half-teasing as he looked back at Hank with some concern. "Okay, then. Up te come, Paul, into the driver's seat."
Paul's hands were tense as he took the wheel, his father in the passenger side and Hank still in the back. He felt his fingers moving almost without his being aware of it as his father showed him how to turn the key.
And then Paul was driving. The car glided inoltrare, avanti across the parking lot, sometimes too fast o too slow, his father occasionally pointing out something he had forgotten. Mostly, there was nothing but him and the car, and soon Paul fell into a rhythm, almost sensing what the car needed from him next.
Eventually, his father directed him into a parking spot, and while Paul came a little close to the lines on one side, and the car was just a little crooked, he managed to park the car. "Nice job, Paul," his father said.
"Yeah, te were great." Hank sounded a little distracted.
"Well, Hank?" their father prompted. "Ready to become the world's other best driver?"
His words were playful, but Paul couldn't help but notice Hank looked a little pale as they switched places.
As soon as Hank started driving, Paul could feel the difference. Hank spent almost a full two minuti adjusting the mirrors and sede, sedile before he even got going, even though Paul had been driving last and he and Hank were exactly the same height. Once he got going, he paused for a full secondo o three before every turn, before doing almost anything. His hands were tight on the wheel, his face tense with concentration. The car crept along in a fit of stops and starts.
"Uh, Hank," Paul ventured, "maybe te should try...."
Hank's eyes never left the windshield. "Don't bother me, Paul. I'm driving."
"You need to go a little faster than that, buddy," their father advised. "If te go that slow on the road, it's as bad as driving too fast."
Hanks's shoulders tensed. "I know what I'm doing, Dad."
Hank finished his turn da taking three minuti to finally ease the car into a parking space, where he pulled it in so cautiously it ended up sticking out too far into the roadway. Hank muttered to himself, tried to fix it, and ended up sticking halfway into the spazio behind him.
Paul didn't know what to say. He mostly wanted to say something helpful, but he doubted even that would be received well.
"Well," Paul and Hank's father detto at last, breaking the silence, "that was a good practise round, te two. I'm sure your driving instructor will help te with whatever else te need to learn."
He tactfully didn't direct this any più at Hank than at Paul.
All the way home, Hank detto nothing. But Paul noticed him sweating as he scrutinized every sposta their father made while driving the car.
Paul, who had been Leggere a Musica magazine on the couch, and Hank, who had been watching a movie with a lot of explosions on the TV nearby, both sat up. "I do!"
Soon, the three of them sat in the car in a mostly empty parking lot. "Who's going first?" their dad asked.
"Let Paul go first." This answer surprised Paul. Normally his brother was più than eager to be first at everything.
"You feeling okay, buddy?" Their father was only half-teasing as he looked back at Hank with some concern. "Okay, then. Up te come, Paul, into the driver's seat."
Paul's hands were tense as he took the wheel, his father in the passenger side and Hank still in the back. He felt his fingers moving almost without his being aware of it as his father showed him how to turn the key.
And then Paul was driving. The car glided inoltrare, avanti across the parking lot, sometimes too fast o too slow, his father occasionally pointing out something he had forgotten. Mostly, there was nothing but him and the car, and soon Paul fell into a rhythm, almost sensing what the car needed from him next.
Eventually, his father directed him into a parking spot, and while Paul came a little close to the lines on one side, and the car was just a little crooked, he managed to park the car. "Nice job, Paul," his father said.
"Yeah, te were great." Hank sounded a little distracted.
"Well, Hank?" their father prompted. "Ready to become the world's other best driver?"
His words were playful, but Paul couldn't help but notice Hank looked a little pale as they switched places.
As soon as Hank started driving, Paul could feel the difference. Hank spent almost a full two minuti adjusting the mirrors and sede, sedile before he even got going, even though Paul had been driving last and he and Hank were exactly the same height. Once he got going, he paused for a full secondo o three before every turn, before doing almost anything. His hands were tight on the wheel, his face tense with concentration. The car crept along in a fit of stops and starts.
"Uh, Hank," Paul ventured, "maybe te should try...."
Hank's eyes never left the windshield. "Don't bother me, Paul. I'm driving."
"You need to go a little faster than that, buddy," their father advised. "If te go that slow on the road, it's as bad as driving too fast."
Hanks's shoulders tensed. "I know what I'm doing, Dad."
Hank finished his turn da taking three minuti to finally ease the car into a parking space, where he pulled it in so cautiously it ended up sticking out too far into the roadway. Hank muttered to himself, tried to fix it, and ended up sticking halfway into the spazio behind him.
Paul didn't know what to say. He mostly wanted to say something helpful, but he doubted even that would be received well.
"Well," Paul and Hank's father detto at last, breaking the silence, "that was a good practise round, te two. I'm sure your driving instructor will help te with whatever else te need to learn."
He tactfully didn't direct this any più at Hank than at Paul.
All the way home, Hank detto nothing. But Paul noticed him sweating as he scrutinized every sposta their father made while driving the car.
A few hours later, Una and Everett were comfortably snuggled up together on the couch, sharing the last of Una's chocolates which lay in the open box between them, as the credits rolled on the movie.
"That was so good," murmured Una, her head resting on Everett's shoulder. "You know - I was looking inoltrare, avanti to your plans, whatever they were going to be, but I was really hoping we'd be able to watch this."
Everett gave a small laugh and shook his head. "I wish I'd known. I could have saved myself all this trouble."
Una grinned. "This year, our Valentine's giorno plans were on me," she said. "Next anno I expect it to be your turn."
Everett felt a warm rush at the thought of successivo year, that Una was so certain they would be celebrating Valentine's giorno together successivo year. But then... of course, Everett though. He wouldn't have considered anything different.
"I Amore you, Una," he said.
"I Amore te too, Everett," she said.
"That was so good," murmured Una, her head resting on Everett's shoulder. "You know - I was looking inoltrare, avanti to your plans, whatever they were going to be, but I was really hoping we'd be able to watch this."
Everett gave a small laugh and shook his head. "I wish I'd known. I could have saved myself all this trouble."
Una grinned. "This year, our Valentine's giorno plans were on me," she said. "Next anno I expect it to be your turn."
Everett felt a warm rush at the thought of successivo year, that Una was so certain they would be celebrating Valentine's giorno together successivo year. But then... of course, Everett though. He wouldn't have considered anything different.
"I Amore you, Una," he said.
"I Amore te too, Everett," she said.