Dad picks me up from LAX in a blood-red Ferrari. There\u2019s hardly any trunk and it takes a long time to get my shit in the car. Everyone\u2019s looking at us; Dad\u2019s wearing gold-rimmed Louis Vuitton sunglasses.<\/p>\n
On the highway, Dad dribbles fingers on the steering wheel, goes, \u201cPretty rad, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s cool,\u201d I say. Dad\u2019s always driven\u2014and I never really thought about this\u2014a station wagon because he\u2019s got one kid with his old girlfriend and one with his new girlfriend. I\u2019ve always shared rooms with my \u201cbrothers\u201d while staying here summers. His old apartment sucked, but his new girlfriend has a house, at least.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s Mike driving now?\u201d Dad says. Mike\u2019s my stepdad.<\/p>\n
\u201cA Maserati,\u201d I say. I almost lie and say a Hyundai, which is my mom\u2019s car.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s grin twitches, but he nods. \u201cCool, cool. So,\u201d and he lowers his sunglasses, \u201cyou want to drive this son-bitch?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t have a license.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad jerks the car over, cutting off a truck, which lays on its horn, and he says, \u201cShe hasn\u2019t taken you yet?\u201d meaning my mom.<\/p>\n
I shake my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat figures,\u201d he says. \u201cI know a place.\u201d<\/p>\n
He drives to this empty parking lot. \u201cHave you driven a stick?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shake my head. I have. With Mike.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo Mike hasn\u2019t taught you?\u201d he says, grinning.<\/p>\n
I shake my head. Mike\u2019s been teaching me for months.<\/p>\n
\u201cWord. I\u2019ll show you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s a personal trainer, a big guy, so it takes him a minute to crawl out of the driver\u2019s seat. \u201cLow to the ground, though,\u201d he mutters.<\/p>\n
I want to ask him how much the car costs, if it\u2019s his new girlfriend\u2019s\u2014she\u2019s some kind of business lawyer\u2014but of course I don\u2019t.<\/p>\n
Well, maybe she bought it for him. My mom\u2019s been cutting back my allowance. She says it\u2019s time I get a job. But if I do and it hurts my grades, she\u2019ll sell my car and I can ride the school bus.<\/p>\n
When I roll in to drive, he Bluetooth\u2019s AC\/DC or Metallica\u2014some 90s stuff\u2014on the soundsystem, crazy loud. We have to shout over it while he tells me how to switch gears; I pretend like I don\u2019t know how while he pretends not to notice me pretending.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis baby has twice the horsepower of a Maserati\u2014what kind of Maserati is it?\u201d Dad screams over the ear-splitting metal. \u201cMike has?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not sure,\u201d I lie. It\u2019s a GranTurismo, way more comfortable than this Ferrari, which is killing my ass.<\/p>\n
Last month, on the way back from the drive-in movie, I accidentally called Mike \u201cDad.\u201d When we got home, my mom gave me this big, sloppy hug. Now Mike keeps asking me to throw baseballs, keeps buying me equipment I already have, taking me out for ice cream.<\/p>\n
I mean, he\u2019s a nice guy.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re doing awesome,\u201d Dad says as I circle the parking lot. He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, then leans back and grins, folds his hands behind his head, which inflates his biceps. \u201cHell yeah, bro. We\u2019re doin\u2019 awesome.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Halfway through my stays in California, my mom always calls, and during these calls, Dad paces outside in the hallway, too big and bulky to be sneaky about snooping. My mom puts Mike on the phone to check in, which is unprecedented. There\u2019s lots of \u201cuh huh-ing\u201d and \u201cSo\u2014what\u2019s up?\u201d and silences. I keep expecting him to ask me who my favorite superhero is, his go to until around the time I started driving. Finally, I tell him about Dad\u2019s Ferrari. After a pause, I hear Mike typing. He begins robotically listing Ferrari facts\u2014like historical ones. Finally, I guess he\u2019s exhausted the Ferrari Wikipedia page and he says, \u201cWell, alright\u2014miss you, dude!\u201d and I say,\u00a0 \u201cMiss you, too,\u201d hang up, and feel guilty for some reason. I discover Dad looking caught out and nervous in the hall. He tells me that they\u2019ve recalled new GranTurismos for faulty airbags.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The day before I\u2019m supposed to fly home, Mike and my mom pull up in Dad\u2019s driveway.<\/p>\n
According to my mom, my parents despise each other. Dad rarely mentions her. They divorced when I was little and never talk on the phone, only communicate via long, angry text messages.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve seen them; they go on for pages.<\/p>\n
On rare occasions Dad and Mike are in the same room or parking lot or whatever they\u2019ll exchange like, maybe, five words.<\/p>\n
Mike leaps out of his Maserati and walks a theatrical circle around the Ferrari, fingers hooked in belt loops, whistling appreciatively and stuff. Dad and I have come out on the porch.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe thought we\u2019d check out Disneyland!\u201d my mom says, but she\u2019s got this numb, lost look.<\/p>\n
Dad charges down onto the lawn. \u201cWhat the hell, Kate? He\u2019s mine another day. You didn\u2019t even call.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mike, who\u2019s not a small guy, just skinny and older\u2014a middle school chemistry teacher who looks like a middle school chemistry teacher and was my middle school chemistry teacher\u2014flinches back, then says, \u201cSo, this is the famous car! I bet she flies!\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad glides past my mom and Mike and stands admiring the Maserati. \u201cThat\u2019s a GranTurismo, huh? What year?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At the end of the drag strip, I stand watching Dad and Mike climb into their respective sports cars.<\/p>\n
\u201cLove you, son,\u201d Dad says and shoots me a wink.<\/p>\n
\u201cAh\u2026 love ya, dude,\u201d says Mike. He gives me a thumbs up. \u201cWish me luck.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLove you guys,\u201d I say, and watch them roar off.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When I roll in to drive, Dad Bluetooth\u2019s AC\/DC or Metallica\u2014some 90s stuff\u2014 on the soundsystem, crazy loud. We have to shout over it while he tells me how to switch gears; I pretend like I don\u2019t know how while he pretends not to notice me pretending.\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":21953,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3530],"tags":[154,863,263],"class_list":["post-21398","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-flash-fiction","tag-cars","tag-flash-fiction","tag-humor","writer-travis-flatt"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21398","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21398"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21398\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21954,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21398\/revisions\/21954"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/21953"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21398"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21398"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21398"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}