Chapter 18 - Taking the WheelNearly a year after my unexpected return, Noah asked David and me to meet him in the parking lot behind our apartment building on a Saturday morning.
When we walked outside, a small, used blue sedan was idling near the curb. A woman in her sixties with kind eyes was sitting in the driver's seat.
“You bought a car?” I asked, panicking slightly.
“No. Mason lent it to me,” Noah said, zipping up his jacket.
David frowned. “Why?”
“I have a driving lesson.”
My chest seized. Noah had not sat behind the steering wheel of a car since the nightmares had returned. He could barely tolerate being a passenger if it was raining.
“With whom?” I asked.
“With Ms. Alvarez from my support group. She teaches defensive driving for trauma survivors.” Noah held his hand out, and Ms. Alvarez passed him the keys through the window. “I want both of you to stay right here.”
“We could just follow a few cars behind,” I offered immediately, my fixer instinct flaring up.
“Elaine,” David said quietly, placing a hand on my arm.
Noah looked at me with a mixture of absolute terror and fierce determination. “I need to do this without looking in the rearview mirror and seeing your panicked face, Mom.”
I nodded slowly, forcing my feet to stay planted on the asphalt.
Noah got into the driver's seat. The blue sedan pulled out of the parking lot. For forty-two agonizing minutes, David and I stood in the cold. I imagined every horrific scenario. I wanted to check my phone, track his location, call the police. Instead, I gripped David’s hand until my fingers went numb.
When the blue sedan finally returned, Noah parked terribly, straddling two spaces. He climbed out, his face pale, his shirt damp with sweat.
“How was it?” David asked gently.
May you like
“Terrible,” Noah breathed. “I drove over the river bridge. I thought I was going to have a heart attack in the middle of it. I wanted to pull over and throw up.” He looked at us, a fierce pride cutting through his fear. “But I kept going.”
I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder. He wasn't cured. But he was driving forward.
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