"Alright, now jus' slowly press down on the pedal-" The car lurched forward, Malcolm hitting the back of his head on the seat. "That's fine, you're doin' alright." Stevi kept both feet off the pedals, too scared to continue. Her hands pulled back from the wheel, refusing to touch the metal machine. "It's okay, Stevi, not everyone can drive a car their first lesson."
Deciding it would be good to help Stevi gain a bit of independence, Malcolm offered to teach her how to drive. The band shared a station wagon parked out front, the floor covered in muddy footprints and a couple stray guitar picks under the seats. Stevi's crutches were in the back, rolling and crashing as the car jerked back and forth. She shook her head at Malcolm's insistence she try again.
"Ya' wanna stop for now?" he asked. "We can give it another go later." Stevi nodded. "Alright, I'll help you get out."
**********
"How'd the lesson go?" Mark asked, eating dinner at the table. Phil was putting his plate in the sink and Angus had retreated to his room, playing guitar.
"Eh, could have been worse," Malcolm smiled. Stevi smiled back, flushing a light pink. "Will take a bit of work but we'll get there."
"Have ya' seen Bon out there? Either one of ya'?" Phil asked, drying his hands on a dish towel. "He went out with some friends last night an' he hasn't been back yet."
"Didn't see him," Malcolm said. "Or maybe we hit him." He laughed but Stevi didn't think it as funny. "Which friends?"
"The shady ones that ignored us when we met 'em," Phil said. "Angus got in a scrap with one."
"Oh," Malcolm said, remembering the incident and not in as good of a mood anymore. "Well. Aw, he'll be fine." Malcolm pulled out a chair for Stevi and she sat down, removing her crutches and leaning them against the table. There was no shortage of boiled food and plenty of boxed meals spread on the table. Malcolm passed her a plate and she eagerly took whatever looked appealing.
"Hope that's better than the hospital food," Mark said, chewing. "Especially since I cooked it." Stevi flashed him a grateful smile. Malcolm cracked open two bottles of soda and slid one across the table to Stevi who caught it perfectly.
"Bon's missin' out," Malcolm said, dishing up food for himself. "Won't be anythin' left of Mark's gourmet cookin'."
**********
Their retreating forms left Stevi with a sense of dread. A woman slammed the door closed and they were gone. Too short to reach the windows, Stevi had no choice but to follow the tense woman, leaving the others to their own.
Stevi shot up in bed with a start. Heart racing, a sheet of sweat on her back, and a crick in her neck. Looking around Malcolm's shadowy bedroom, she sighed, willing her body to relax.
It had only been a dream.
Pushing the sheets aside she grabbed her crutches and fixed herself up, heading for the bathroom to freshen up. She passed Malcolm sleeping on the couch, face smushed against a wrinkled pillow case and his arm draped over the side. Smiling, she went to the bathroom, door ajar, lights on. Maybe somebody was already inside. Waiting a minute, she knocked. No answer. Bracing herself, she pushed the door open, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes wide.
There was Bon, back from seeing his friends, only he wasn't himself. He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, gaze downcast. Stevi knocked on the door, louder, hoping to catch his attention. Bon wouldn't respond with words, only with infrequent snores. Knocking and pounding, Stevi could feel hot tears stream down her cheeks. A hand touched her shoulder. She stumbled, Malcolm catching her. His eyes were tired and groggy, his voice hoarse. "Whassa matter, Stevi?" he mumbled, waking up when he saw her crying. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" She struggled away from his grasp, backing into the door. It swung all the way open and Malcolm got a look. "Fuck-shit!"
