In memory of Nicole Lewanski

Being John Malkovich
. His absolute favorite was a
toss-up between 
Scarface
and 
Over the Top
, the latter being a B-grade movie about
an arm-wrestling tournament, starring Sylvester Stallone. We saw it one night at
his place, a one-bedroom flat above his uncle’s workshop. It wasn’t a movie I
would have picked off the shelf at Blockbuster, but I did find myself enjoying it a
lot.
One Saturday, we had just finished our routine hike and were heading back to
Gabe’s car when we were simultaneously struck with a wild craving for
quesadillas.
“Want to go to Fiesta?” he asked. Fiesta was a Mexican place in town.
“Great idea.”
“Do you want to drive?”
“Sure.” He handed me the keys.
We arrived at Fiesta, and I was delighted to see there was a parking space on
the street, right out front.
“It’s way too tight, Audrey.”
“I’m going to give it a try.”
“Okay, but it 
is
really narrow, and this is parallel parking we’re talking about. I
don’t think I could get in it, and you know my parking skills are out of this
world.”
I laughed. “Bet you ten bucks I can park it.”
“I’d feel bad, taking your money.”
I signaled and began to reverse into the spot, biting my lip in concentration. A
few moments later, to Gabe’s surprise, I had perfectly parked his car. He got out,
a look of astonishment on his face. I was next to him a few moments later,
surveying my handiwork.
“What did I tell you?” I couldn’t help but gloat.
“Looks like you’re ready for that test.”
L
ESS
THAN
A
week later, Gabe dropped me off at the registry for my driver’s test. I
was a bundle of nerves, so he gave me a quick pep talk before wishing me luck
and setting off on foot to his uncle’s shop.
The test itself was a lot easier than I expected. My driving instructor, Bob—a
wearied middle-aged man with a handlebar moustache—barely spoke as we
drove around the main streets of Delta, along the test track that I had already

---

done a thousand times with Gabe. Every once in a while, he wrote something
down on his clipboard.
When Bob told me I had passed, I couldn’t help but hug him, and he made a
half-hearted attempt at reciprocating. When they took my photo, the lady behind
the counter had to tell me to stop grinning like a maniac.
As soon as I left the registry, I drove straight to Rosie’s, honking the horn
loudly out front. She came through the doors as I stepped out of Gabe’s car.
“Congratulations, honey!” Rosie cried, arms open. We hugged on the
pavement.
“Thanks,” I beamed at her.
“Have you told Gabe the good news yet?”
“I’m going to surprise him when he gets off work later. We’re having dinner at
my place tonight.”
“Come inside. I made you some lemon tarts.”
“Okay, I’ll just park Gabe’s car round the back.”
T
HE
DINER
WAS
empty when I made my way in. I sat at the counter while Rosie
busied herself, plating the lemon tarts and pouring freshly brewed coffee into a
mug. She set them down in front of me with a smile.
“Thanks, Rosie.” I could hardly keep the grin off my face.
“If I had known, I would have baked you a cake.”
I took a sip of my coffee. “You know you don’t have to do that.”
She smiled. “So you’re having dinner with Gabe tonight?”
I nodded. “I’ve been watching those cooking shows that come on late at night,
and a few days ago, I made my first dish.”
“What was it?”
“Spaghetti with meatballs,” I said, proudly.
“Sounds delish.”
“It’s not that difficult, if you get step-by-step instructions. It tasted pretty
good.”
“And that’s what you’re cooking up tonight?”
“Uh-huh. I’m going to pick up some handmade egg pasta from the deli and a
tub of Ben & Jerry’s, and I think I’ll splurge on a really good bottle of Pinot.”
“Sounds like you have a fun night planned.”
“It’s the least I can do for Gabe—he’s been so great. I mean, if I had never met
him, I don’t think I would have done this. He’s been such a good friend.”

---

“Friend?” Rosie raised her eyebrows.
“Yes, Rosie,” I said wryly. “We’re just friends.”
“You don’t have any feelings for him?”
I frowned. “Not those kind of feelings. I’m not ready to dive into anything
new. Not just yet.”
“Well, I can say, hand on heart, Gabe has feelings for you. I’ve seen the two of
you together. The kid can hardly take his eyes off you.”
I knew Rosie wasn’t making it up. I sensed that Gabe had feelings for me, and
I didn’t want to lead him on. Nor did I want to stop seeing him.
“I don’t know about that, Rosie.”
“You’re such a bad liar, Audrey.”
I 
PICKED
G
ABE
up from his uncle’s later that afternoon. It was my first day as a
mobile person, and I was loving every minute of it. I had no idea how restrictive
my life had been prior to this independent, self-sufficient me.
Gabe was in blue overalls bent over the open hood of an electric-blue Chevy
when I walked in. He looked up, caught my eye, and smiled. For the first time, I
did feel something, a small flutter in my chest.
He gave me an expectant look. “So?”
“I got it!
He grinned. “Another one for the toolbox.”
I smiled. “I guess so.”
A
FTER
G
ABE
FINISHED
up, I drove us back to my place, and he helped me out in
the kitchen with the spaghetti and meatballs. The sauce was bubbling away in the
pan when we decided to start on the Pinot. He was telling me a funny story
about a customer who came in that day and was trying to barter his way out of
paying the bill. Soon he had me in stitches.
“Look at you,” said Gabe.
“What about me?”
“When I first met you, you were like this fragile china doll. I just wanted to
pick you up and put you in bubble wrap.”
I laughed. “You did?”
He nodded. “You just seemed kind of lost, unsure about yourself. Now it’s like
you’re a different person.”
“How so?” I leaned my hip against the kitchen bench and took another sip of

---

Pinot.
“You’re just . . . so alive now. You seem so strong and capable, like you’re
ready to take on the world. You’re like the living version of a