The Drive

Starting the SUV, Marty shifted it into gear and slowly navigated his way out of the parking lot.

Turning slightly in her seat, glasses still perched atop her head, “Nick?” Calista asked, “short for Nicholas right?”

“Yep,” he replied, leaning back in his seat and letting out a long sigh.

“You hungry sport? Did you stop anywhere? Fancy something to eat?” Marty asked, turning his head, but keeping his eyes on the road as he hit the turn signal indicator and changed lanes.

“Nah, I’m good. I just want a chance to wash up,” he answered.

Marty nodded, glancing to Calista, “Pizza later?” he asked, half smile on his face.

“Sounds good,” she replied, nodding her head.

They drove on in silence for several minutes before Marty pulled onto the freeway.

“I know this isn’t easy for you son and it’s going to take a while to adapt to life out here on the west coast, but we know I really have to say we are sure glad to have you,” his father said affectionately, breaking the silence.

“Uh huh,” Nick grunted, eyes watching the seemingly endless sea of traffic crawling along beside them through the side window.

“Once we get home, we’ve got a room set up for you with the basics. I have to be out of town this weekend, but maybe you and Calista, Asha too if she wants can hit the mall and get you what you need to set it up however you like, the only thing we ask though, is that you keep it tidy,” his dad said.

Nick shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said, tone the teenage paradoxical mixture of exasperation and disinterest at the same time.

“Come on, we’re not asking for much here,” Marty said, a chuckle in his voice.

“You have just the one daughter Calista?” Nick asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, just one, Asha is her name,” replied his father’s intended. “I’m sure you’ll like her.”

“Asha?” he inquired. Odd name.

“Yes, Asha.”

“Short for like Ashley or Ashton? Or?’ he asked.

Calista chuckled, “Nope just Asha,” she clarified.

Nick shook his head, “And she’s seventeen like me?” he asked.

“Actually she’s just turned eighteen a couple of weeks back,” she answered.

Again he found it hard to reconcile the girl’s age given Calista’s appearance. The woman barely looked like she could be thirty.

Pulling out the iPod classic from the left hand jacket pocket, Nick unraveled the cord to two black ear buds encircling the device and put them in his ears. No sooner had he turned the device on than it promptly died again, battery depleted.

“How was the trip?” his dad asked.

“Nice, like taking a slow agonizing journey through America’s colon only to be crapped out here,” he quipped, pulling out the earbud headphones from his ears and wrapping the cord back around his iPod before slipping the unit back into his pocket.

“Oh I don’t think it could have been all that bad?” Marty said, lilt in his voice.

“You should give a try some time, we could compare notes on why America’s heartland could use angioplasty,” Nick answered back.

“I think if you give yourself half a chance, you might find that it’s okay out here. You know?” Marty countered.

“I’ll make sure to jot those insightful words of wisdom down in my affirmation journal once I get it unpacked,” he replied, voice thick with sarcasm.

“You like pizza Nick?” Calista asked, changing the subject.

“Sure, I guess. It’s okay,” he responded, arching an eyebrow. ”Who doesn’t?”

“True enough. You like anchovies on your pizza?” she asked.

“What, like fish? No. Who puts fish on a pizza anyway, it’s almost sacrilegious?” he scoffed.

Marty laughed softly. “I know. Right? Calista loves it, but not me,” he said, joining the conversation.

“You boys don’t know what you’re missing. What about sushi? Do you like sushi?” she inquired, again twisting in her seat to look in his direction.

“On my pizza? Um, no,” he answered, shaking his head.

“No, not on pizza, just in general. You know, as a meal unto itself. Is it something you enjoy?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“You don’t know? Have you ever had it before?” she asked.

“I don’t know, maybe, I don’t think so,” he said, answer noncommittal.

“There is a nice little place down near the water, tremendous sushi,” she advised. “We’ll all have to go down there and share a meal some time.”

Nick shook his head again, “Sounds great,” he replied, voice lacking conviction. An hour of this? Christ.

“Your dad says you’re really into sports,” Calista mentioned. “What do you play?”

“I don’t know, little bit of everything I guess, hockey, baseball, football,” he stated.

“Oh come on, don’t be so modest. I heard there were some university scouts in the audience at your last hockey game,” Marty provided, pride seeping through into his tone.

“Yeah, I guess,” he replied, shrugging. “I think they were they were there mostly to watch Kirk, our goaltender.”

“Still, playing in front of a collegiate scout is nothing to sneeze at sport,” Marty said.

“I think that’s awesome,” Calista offered.

“I’m already beat from that spectacular bus ride, and this whole getting to know you stuff, while riveting and probably one of the high points in my whole trip so far, is really dragging me down. I’m going to try and grab a few winks,” Nick said, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the rest atop the seat.

Marty shook his head. He knew trying to get through Nick’s defensive wall was going to take time and effort, he just wished the boy would at least make an effort to be open minded. “We’re almost there, another ten fifteen minutes or so,” he said.

“I can hardly contain my enthusiasm,” he mumbled half under his breath.

“Sorry, what was that?” Marty asked, swiveling his head.

“Great, I said great,” Nick replied with a wan manufactured smile.

A wry grin on his face, Marty turned back and exchanged a glance with Calista. He was so grateful to have her in his life. From the outset, she had been nothing but supportive. Knowing well in advance Nick was going to be a handful before they had made the petition for custodial intervention, they had walked into this with their eyes wide open and they both knew they were in for a spirited next couple of weeks. Nick wasn’t a bad kid, he wasn’t. The years leading up to the separation and ultimately the divorce had been a hard trying time, especially so for the boy, leaving deep wounds carved into his fragile young psyche. Lacking adaptive coping strategies, Nick became aloof, bottling up emotions that eventually manifested as behavioral outbursts.

Pulling up into the driveway of fairly large new looking two story home and parking the vehicle, “This is it,” Marty announced, pivoting in his seat and grinning at Nick.