Page 23 of Waiting for Gilbert

“I won’t bleed to?—”

“Lands to the living, Gilbert!”

“Lands to the what?”

“Why didn’t you go to bed like you were supposed to?Hmmm?Oh, that’s right, becauseyoudon’t have a bed. So instead, you’re up on a ladder in the middle of the night? Next to a window? This is insane. Insane! And no, it isn’t at all the same as me climbing the countertops, so don’t even bring it up. I had to do that because your cottage is filthy. But you living in that house right now is ridiculous. I can’t believe you did that. You can’t sleep there.” She blows out three successive breaths as if she’s about to go underwater and holds the last one.

Clutch. Brake. Ignition.

And we’re off again. We still jump forward, but she manages to keep the gas down. We loop around the cottage through the few inches of snow in the yard and careen down the driveway. She slows at the turn for the highway, but since she doesn’t stop entirely, we’re okay.

“Cordelia, you’re doing great.” I speak as I might to an injured animal. Smooth and calm. “We need to shift again. It’ll be like when we first started. Take your foot off the gas, and punch the clutch with your left foot.” She does, and I shove the gear into second. “Balance the gas as you release the clutch.”

We lurch forward, and I involuntarily wince. “This is fine. Let’s keep it here.”

“At… eighteen miles an hour?”

“Yes.”

She sits ramrod straight, expression grim.

“You doing okay?”

“You called me Cordelia again. Earlier. My name is CJ.”

I don’t buy it. She called herself Cordelia not two minutes ago. CJ doesn’t fit her at all. “Does it bother you that much? Nate always referred to you as Cordelia or Cordy, so that’s what I have in my head.”

“He’s never mentioned you.”

“Ouch.” I don’t miss that she avoided the question.

She clicks her tongue. “Sorry. That was rude?—”

“I’m messin’ with you. You’re an interesting person, and it’s obvious they’re proud of you. It would be weird for them to talk about me. We’re not super close or anything. We both attend the men’s Tuesday Bible study. We see each other at church and my aunt’s parties.”

The engine whines a little too high. “Slow down unless you’re ready to try shifting again. We’ll be into town in a minute.”

“I’m afraid I’ll break your truck.”

“He can handle it.”

“Clutch. Shift. Gas?”

“Ready… go!”

She shakes her head.

So we stay at fifteen miles per hour. The gravel road packed with snow transitions to blacktop. The headlights bounce from a pile of snow on the shoulder. There are no stars through the overcast sky that speaks of new snow on its way.

“I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Turn right on seventh. Go ahead and slow down.” I glance at her tense face. “You’ll need to downshift. Think you can manage it?”

“No! I don’t even know what that stick thingy does.”

“Gear shift.” I laugh under my breath. “Stick thingy works.”

“I haven’t touched it.”

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