“You know we’re only poking fun, right?” Audrey says, trying to placate me.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know I’m a shit driver on the 5 and 405. It’s the merging…”
Both girls snicker.
“Go shower so we can get our shopping on,” Isla commands.
“Yeah, fine,” I say dejectedly. I can’t merge for shit out here. Four or five, sometimes six lanes, of bumper-to-bumper cars, a lot of them cutting one another off. I started sweating when I took my driver’s test the first time. Yes, I failed. The second time, instead of sweating, I started shaking. Third time was the charm, though. I got my California license. I had the same instructor/test lady every time. I wonder if she let me pass the third time just so she didn’t have to deal with my anxiety anymore.
Either way, I passed, but it’ll take an act of God for me to get back on those highways. Hell to the no, thank you. And just as I want to forget all about those highways, I’m going to forget all about Isla’s suggestion to look through SBA’s yearbook.
I’m better off not knowing.
