Waltz of Her Life

Linda leaned against the side panel, allowing her eyes to slit at half-mast.

"You're not going to fall asleep, are you? We still have to get to Greg's house.

I can't drive stick, remember?" Lauren said.

"If he lives far, we're going to have to stop off for coffee," Linda said. "He doesn't live far, does he?"

"No."

Eventually the van emerged from the labyrinthine parking lot and moments later Greg turned at the underpass entrance. Linda felt relieved to find Myrtle safe, sound, and dry. "That's your car?" Seth said, gazing at the window with exaggerated disgust.

"Yeah. Why?"

He shrugged. "Somehow, I just don't see you driving a green bug."

As Linda lifted herself toward the open gate of the van she puffed out her chest in a dramatic show of sassiness. "Don't make fun of my Myrtle. She'll run over you!"

When they both arrived alone in the car, Lauren excitedly poked Linda while she took off the emergency brake and started the engine. "He likes your ass, I can tell!"

Linda shrugged. "Then why is he making fun of my car?"

"Everybody makes fun of your car. But he likes you. I can tell!"

It helped greatly that Lauren bounced up and down in her seat as she plotted Linda and Seth's romantic future together, since it kept her awake and engaged. She had to drive pretty fast to keep up with Greg as he darted from lane to lane and made quick turns.

"I bet he comes out to your farm this summer to see you! He's got a motorcycle."

Linda sighed. "For the last time, we don't live on a farm! No matter what you Chicago-ites think, not everyone south of Calumet bales hay!"

"I bet he comes out before the fourth of July." For the rest of the way, they both concentrated on keeping sight of Greg and the van. Lauren said that she could not find her way to the house on her own. The van led them on winding roads that curved around hills and forests, causing Linda to wonder whether Greg and Jeannie were the ones who lived on a farm. A few turns later, they saw signs of suburban civilization such as a shopping mall and cookie cutter subdivisions nestled into the hills.

They arrived in a cul-de-sac laden neighborhood full of rectangular doll houses and the van stopped in the driveway of a half-brick, half-yellow house with three other cars parked in the driveway, along with a motorcycle. "This must be it," Lauren said.