Page 39 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

I drag his tail gate down and wrestle my bike into the back, feeling even more self-conscious because I know he’s watching me in the rear view mirror. Finally, I get it in. I’m sweating by the time I’m buckled in the seat.

“Sorry, I would have helped you with the bike, but the knee can’t take it quite yet,” he says throwing the truck into drive and pulling across the street.

“What? No! Don’t apologize. I wasn’t expecting you to get out and be all prince charming, you know. It’s not like you owe me anything. I’m just really happy that I won’t be late for work. I hope to get a job there one day and I really don’t want them thinking I’m unreliable.” I pinch my lips together, realizing I’m babbling like an idiot because I’m nervous.

“Where to?” he asks, ignoring my verbal vomit. “The clinic, right?”

I nod my head.

“Just as well,” he mutters.

We pull into the parking lot and I’m surprised to see him getting out, pulling his crutches into position.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, confused.

He sends me a look that says, ‘What’s it to you? And you no longer have the right to ask me that, but you’re asking me that.’

“Never mind. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Thanks for the ride,” I turn and stride into the building feeling tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I know I don’t have any right to be upset at how he reacted. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To be able to focus on getting into college and sticking to the plan without the interference and distractions of people like Evan?

I change in a hurry, toss my hair up into a messy bun, and start my hours. I know Evan is somewhere in the facility for an hour, but I don’t see him, which has me thinking he called Joanna and had her move him to a different person.

When I clock out a little bit after 5:30, my bike is locked in the bike rack. I’m reminded of Evan’s generosity again. He didn’t have to offer me a ride or lock up my bike. He did it because even if he’s angry at me and a ladies man, deep down he’s actually a good guy. I have no doubt that someday he willmake someone a great boyfriend. I’m just not convinced that time is now, or that the person he will be a great boyfriend for is me.

At home, mom is in the middle of making dinner. The rug rats are busy finishing up homework and the baby is babbling. I pick her up and cuddle her a few minutes before putting her down and greeting my mom who stands in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on Chicken Piccatta.

“How was school, honey?”

“Meh. It was school. I passed out the gala tickets to the committee members today so hopefully we get a lot of seniors to help with selling them.”

She nods and begins transferring food into serving dishes.

“That’s good. Your theme sounds exciting this year. Take this to the table, won’t you?” she asks, passing me a bowl of pasta. I take it to the table and then grab all the plates and silverware we need.

“Is dad going to be home on time?” I ask.

“That’s the plan. It’ll be nice for you to be home to eat with us. You are usually too busy with Evan these days. How is he?”

I shrug my shoulders as I get the baby set up in her high chair. Mom follows me to the table with a bowl of salad. “He’s recovering. I’m still doing trig tutoring with him after school, but PT transferred him to a different therapist. He’s back at school at least, so I guess that’s good.”

I hadn’t really told my mom or dad anything about what was going on with Evan and I. I don’t think they would have been as inclined to let me do the therapy sessions at his house and borrow his truck.

My dad’s truck pulls into the driveway and I call my siblings down to eat dinner.

“Hey, dad,” I say as he comes in. He hangs up his coat, turns, and smiles at me. Then he digs around in his pocket and tosses something in my direction. I attempt to catch it, but fumble spectacularly and it lands on the carpet. It’s a key.

“What’s this?” I ask, afraid to hope that it is what I think it might be.

“Oh, probably what you think it is,” he winks.

I jump for the sofa in front of the living room and pull open the curtain. Sitting behind my dad’s truck is a cute little red mazda. . I wave as Ken and Reznick, two of the guys my dad works with pull away in a truck. My eyes track back to the mazda. It’s definitely nothing fancy, but it’s got a working engine and four wheels, and it’s mine.

I squeal with excitement and then launch myself into my dad’s arms. We never discussed when I was going to get a car, or how. I figured I would need to save up for it and buy it myself.

“Thanks, dad!”

He squeezes me. “I don’t want you to grow up, but it looks like you’re doing it anyway, pumpkin. I guess it’s about time I recognize that fact,” he says into my hair. I can tell from how thick his voice is that this moment means more to him than I can comprehend.

After a few seconds he releases me and stands back. “It’s a stick shift, so you’re going to have to learn how to drive a stick.I would teach you, but I don’t have the time off work. And your mother doesn’t know how.”

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