I looked at my wife and said, "She's going to have to sit in the front. There's more room."My wife nodded and I placed Helen in the front passenger seat. Then I walked around to the driver's side to find my wife sitting behind the steering wheel."What are you doing?" I asked."Driving." I'll drive." Yeah, right. Without your glasses? C'mon, get in the back. We have to get home and take care of Helen's knee."Stunned, I stared into the back of the car. The girls were making room for me by shifting in the tight quarters. Two girls were stacked behind my wife and two in the middle, Tara on top. I stared at the small space they left me."Steve, don't dawdle," my wife said. "Get in. We have to go."I shuffled around the back of the car to the right back door. When I climbed inside, four pairs of teenage eyes were staring at me. To fit, I pushed up against the girls in the middle and then closed the door. Then I placed my hands in my lap and stared forward.My wife turned on the car and drove. Samantha could see her breath as soon as she stepped outside. With a sigh she tucked herself further into her coat, trying to avoid the light snowfall as she fumbled with her keys. She had been given them as soon as she was promoted to Denny's general manager, (a position that paid adequately but had absolutely shit hours), but in the month that followed she had only figured out what two of them were for. She had no idea what the other ten did, besides make her life more difficult.Thankfully, she found the right one before her fingers went numb. Sam felt it latch, which meant almost nothing at all because she was never completely sure the lock did anything—the door felt flimsy every time she tried it—but they hadn’t been robbed yet so she usually let it slide. It wasn’t that kind of neighborhood anyway. The streets were too clean.She pocketed the keys and started trudging toward her car. The street lights lit the snow around her like hundreds of little falling stars, and Sam watched.
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