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Better with Age(continued) After dinner we cleaned up the dishes. I turned off the music. I went to the closet to grab my blanket and pillow for the couch, but she gently grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the door and into our bedroom. I shut the door behind me. The light of the half moon shown through the window and made my wife glow as if she were made of porcelain. We both changed into our pajamas, only breaking our hands apart when we had to. Then we lay down, side by side, her hand in mine. I could feel the stirring within me, but it wasn't the same thing I'd felt a week ago. This was subtler, more important, though I couldn't begin to explain how I knew that. We just lay there for the longest time, holding hands and staring at the ceiling. After a while, Janette curled up next to me, and I slid my arm beneath her neck and held her. Just before I fell asleep, I thought that lying there next to her was about the nicest thing in the whole world. Friday came much faster than Monday had, and all the guys from the
garage and from manufacturing crowded into the office to say goodbye
to Nancy. They all wore overalls and wiped their greasy hands on their
legs and chests as Nicole passed around little paper plates with cake
on them. Every once in a while one of them would shoot me a congratulatory
glance, as if I'd traded a Cadillac for a Corvette straight up. But their ogling didn't upset me as much as I thought it would. My
mind wasn't on Nicole or her short skirt. Instead, I was thinking about
the gift I was going to give Nancy, which Janette had suggested to me
the night before. I never would've thought of it myself, but once Janette
had mentioned it, I knew I had to do it. Henry, one of the engineering supervisors, walked over to me. "Good
cake, Harry," he said. "Pretty soon we'll all be back in here
for your sixtieth, right?" I nodded. "It came along faster than I thought it would."
We stood side by side while we talked, as men tend to do, and watched
Nancy. She smiled and laughed with some of the younger engineers, looking
vibrant. "Harry," Nicole said as she approached, "you didn't
get any cake." She held out a plate for me, but I declined. "Hold onto it for me," I said. "I'll be back in a few
minutes. Don't let Nancy know I'm gone." "Where are you going?" Nicole said. "You'll see." I slipped out the back door and wound around the building to the side
lot where we kept the Chevelle. The sun gleamed down on its windshield,
blinding me until a cloud passed overhead. Nancy had confessed to me
when it first came in that she'd also had one when she was thirty, and
that seeing it made her feel young again. Looking at it now, I couldn't
help but think that it didn't really get better with age. It rusted
and it fell into disrepair, and the only way I could drive it at all
was because of the major overhaul we did on the engine. I slid in behind the wheel, rolled down both windows, and started it
up. It rumbled and shuddered, vibrating through me, making me shiver
like it had when I was twenty-five, like Nicole's pictures had years
ago, days ago. I drove around to the front of the shop and put the car
in park, and then I just sat there, frozen, my hands locked around the
steering wheel, unable to let go of the leather that had been sewn on
nearly forty years ago. The thing that swirled in my head was the thought
that I had been wrong, that working away the years in hopes of driving
off alone in an old car only appealed to someone who'd already lived
the best days of his life and was searching for a road back to them. Finally, I forced my fingers to straighten out, first the right hand,
then the left, until only my palms touched the steering wheel. Then
I pulled back and jammed them down on the center of the wheel. The horn
honked. A few seconds later Nancy came out, followed by everyone else. I leaned toward the open passenger window and said, "I wish I
had a big bow." Nancy covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes darting from my face
to the car, back and forth. The guys behind her clapped and patted her
on the back, telling her that she deserved it, among other things. I
got out and walked over to her, and she hugged me. "Now get outta here," I said. "And enjoy your retirement." "I will now," she said, and I silently thanked Janette for
her suggestion. Nancy got in, took the wheel into her hands, and revved the engine.
She looked happier than I'd ever seen her. Then she waved and rumbled
out of the lot. We all watched as she drove away, and I realized that
I was excited, not because of Nancy's reaction to her gift, but because
I knew that I'd tell Janette just how happy she was. I was excited to
get home, excited to tell my wife of thirty-nine years and ten months
exactly how thrilled Nancy had been. I would walk in the door and say,
"Janette, honey, you were right about that car."
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