Earthly Possessions - Anne Tyler [17]
I don’t know what time it was when we stopped. Around ten, maybe. We had been traveling through that deep, country dark that makes you feel too thin. The road was so raspy and patched, with so many curves, crossroads, stop signs—I kept nodding off to sleep, but every bump jarred my mind up to the surface again and I never really forgot where I was. So when we stopped I was awake in an instant, on guard. “What’s wrong?” I said.
“Durn motor quit.”
He flicked on the inside light, which made my eyes squinch up. “I knew from the start something like this was bound to happen,” he told me.
“Maybe it’s out of gas.”
He peered at the gas meter. He tapped it.
“Is that what it is?”
I could tell it was; he wouldn’t look at me. He got out of the car and said, “You steer, I’m going to push her to the side of the road.”
“But I don’t drive,” I told him.
“What’s that got to do with it? Just steer, is all I ask. Move over and steer.”
He slammed the door shut. I moved over. A second later I felt his weight against the back of the car, inching it forward, and I steered as best I could though it was hard to see much with the inside light on. I guided it a few feet down the road, wondering what I would do if the engine roared up and took off. Freedom! I would leave him far behind, head for the nearest highway. Except that I really couldn’t drive at all and had just the vaguest notion where the brake pedal was. So I steered to the right, finally, onto a strip of dirt so narrow that some kind of scratchy bushes tore at the side of the car. I heard Jake give a yell. The car stopped. When he came around and opened the door he said, “Now there was no call whatsoever to run her on into the woods.”
“Well, I told you I couldn’t drive.”
He sighed. He reached in to turn off the lights; then he said, “Okay, come on.”
“What are we doing now?”
“Going to head for that service station we passed a ways back.”
“Maybe I could just sit here and wait for you,” I said.
“Ha.”
I climbed out of the car. My legs felt stiff, and it seemed my shoes had hardened into some shape that didn’t fit me. “Is it far?” I asked.
“Not too.”
We started walking—smack down the middle of the road, for there was no car in either direction. He had hold of my arm again in the same sore place as before. His hand felt small and wiry. “Listen,” I said, “can’t you let me walk on my own? Where would I run to, anyway?”
He didn’t answer. Nor did he let go of me.
The air had a damp smell, as if it might rain, and seemed warmer than what I was used to. At least, I wasn’t shivering any more. From the little I could see, I guessed we were traveling through farm country. Once we passed a barn, and then a shed with the sleepy clucking of hens inside it. “Where on earth are we?” I asked.
“How would I know? Virginia, somewheres.”
“My feet hurt.”
“It don’t make sense that you can’t drive a car,” he said, as if that were to blame for all our troubles. “That’s about the dumbest thing I ever heard of.”
“What’s dumb about it?” I asked him. “Some people drive, some people don’t. It just so happens I’m one of them that don’t.”
“Only a whiffle-head would not know how to drive,” said Jake. “That’s how I look at it.” He wiped his face on his sleeve. We walked on. We rounded a curve that I had some hopes for, but on the other side there was only more darkness.
“I thought you said it wasn’t far,” I said.
“It ain’t.”
“I feel like my feet are dropping off.”
“Just hold the phone, we’ll get there by and by.”
“My toes ache clear to my kneecaps.”
“Will you quit that? Geeze, you’d think that guy could’ve filled his gas tank once in a while.”
“Maybe he didn’t know how long you’d be stealing it for,” I said.
He said, “Watch yourself, lady.”
I decided to watch myself.
Around the next curve was the filling station, such as it was: one dimly lit sign, two pumps, and a lopsided shack. As soon as we saw it, Jake let go of my arm. “Now, pay attention,” he said. “You’re going to ask the guy for a can of gas. You got that?”
“Well, how come I always