The Driving Instructor
The start of a story that will eventually lead to more tabs
Byron is the only person in the world who enjoys the DMV. He is a 63-year-old driving instructor who looks like he’s pushing 70. He wears a red polo and cut off jeans, beat up new balance sneakers, and ankle length socks. He has a mustache and patchy gray hair. He’s thin, except for in his stomach. He tans easily and has had some cancerous moles removed. Probably from lack of sunscreen growing up. He spent summers at the public pool with his mom and older brother. He wasn’t the best swimmer. So he often laid around the pool reading sports magazines or hanging by the snack stand. He liked to see what everybody ordered. His order: cheese fries, a cherry coke, and any sour candy they had.
He didn’t hold weight in his stomach, then. He was active, but never as good as the athletes he read about in those magazines. He was more interested in the stats of players. If he were to read stats about himself it would be average across the board. But Byron was never envious. He enjoyed watching underdogs win and seeing his brother dive fearlessly into the water. He liked observing Mrs. McGlinchy order her kids everything on the menu- because she had money. He also liked seeing her sneak in her daily Snickers Bar before returning to her family. No, he didn’t mind that he could only afford the snack bar once a week. He didn’t mind living a middle class life.
He felt that his childhood was fair. His mom worked part time at the Acme and his dad painted houses. A mom, dad, and brother- in a decent neighborhood in the burbs. Then at 10, a sister to add to the bunch. That he felt was unfair. It threw off the balance. His mom turned down a promotion to be manager. His dad talked of starting his own painting business. His brother got super into girls. He knows that last part was more about his brother’s age. But it seemed to coincide with his sister’s arrival. And his brother found bringing Rosie around got girls’ attention.
She was alright. She was cute but she was loud. At a time where he was trying to figure his manhood out, she became his roommate. His house felt smaller. His dad threw himself into the painting business which succeeded at first. His mom even quit Acme to help out with the books. But eventually it went down the drain. And his mom seemed like she had wine more often and his dad kept on a happy face, but sighed quite a lot.
Luckily, with his brother off to college, he had his own room by then. Best of all- he also had his driving permit. It felt like a gateway to freedom. His dad would take him driving and even though he was convinced it was to get out of the house himself, he loved that time together. Byron was an above-average driver. Not really anywhere you can get with that- he wasn’t about to be a race car driver- but he knew he would ace his license test. Which he did. And whenever he could use his family’s car, he rarely had to print out Mapquest directions to get around. He just knew where to go as soon as he was behind the wheel. He always offered to be the DD when his friends were too drunk- he’d drive them home, then drive himself home. The best part is they usually didn’t ask for their car back for a couple of days. Especially Mike McGlinchy.
While he was on the road his sister grew up. It seemed like every time he returned to the house she was a little bit smarter and taller. His parents suggested he drive her to her activities. But she didn’t seem interested. That’s what bothered him about her- even from the age of 5 she acted too good for the family. She was good at stuff, which he thought was cool at first. Until she got on her high horse. Telling Mom and Dad about all the cool stuff her friends had, that she knew they couldn’t afford. When his brother was home from his average college she talked about wanting to go to an ivy league one day. Everyone cooed at her but he noticed his brother wince a bit.
Byron had few regrets in life, but it seemed his brother started filling up with them. College changed him. He got into medical stuff but didn’t have the grades to go further with it. That’s why Byron kept his interests simple. Cars, watching sports, collecting quarters, and any type of silence where he could find it. Another reason he wasn’t a fan of Rosie coming around- lack of silence. And eventually she was the reason he became interested in something not so simple.
There came a day where he had to take Rosie to her activities. It was the summer before he was going to take classes at community college. He wouldn’t have minded going away but this was when his parents were at their worst financially. Plus he could use his money to get his own car. The week he had to drive Rosie to every activity possible- (why is her schedule more full than his, and what’s this costing his parents?) actually wasn’t too bad. She was in a stage of asking questions about life, how things work, what does it mean when the song says “beast of burden”. He liked having the answers, and her nodding her head like she was understanding what he explained.
He also liked seeing how organized these activities were for such young kids- the ins and outs of a simple class. The drop off line- which he found funny, especially when moms got in a tizzy about the wait. He himself never minded the wait. There was something soothing about the routine of it all. And the way the teachers were able to organize such chaotic kids. When they couldn’t control them, when there was a hold up- he found it entertaining. It was like watching the people around the snack bar at the pool. Maybe he would have kids one day.
On his way to Rosie’s final activity of the week, he thought of the simple goal of having a family. But it’s what he wanted next that made him regret “bonding” with his sister. He wanted to be in the dance class she got to participate in. And it wasn’t the organization, or the kid who pouted in the corner that fascinated him. It was the actual act of dancing. One of his favorite things about driving was the music that accompanied it. He also got lost when he drove. It seemed the advanced kids had the same lost look on their faces. At first, he didn't think “I want to dance.” Instead, he thought “I wish I was born Rosie.”
But he never wanted to be her, or a part of the family she had turned his into. He thought the way she was growing up was worse than when he was a kid. He definitely didn’t want to have to fit into that leotard she was wearing. Or go to baseball practice, acting class, piano lessons, and a soccer game. He wanted to be her on Friday- dance class day. He wanted to be on the other side of the glass. Moving. Learning the steps. Following the beat. The harmony of it all. Byron never wanted anything really. But suddenly he wanted to fucking dance.