Kristine’s been kicking me longer than Charlie and I have been together. She’s married to Kevin, who’s downstairs right now listening to Fleetwood Mac and cutting sheetrock. She’s a fourth degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do who’s so good she judges and trains Olympic hopefuls. She kicked me silly during my first degree black belt test. I’ll be forever grateful she didn’t knock me out. She raises sneaky kicks to an art form.

Kevin can barely watch her compete. Kristine started Tae Kwon Do after they were married several years, so her hidden aggression is hard for him to acknowledge. They’re both quiet, gentle, sweet people. Nobody could have guessed there was such hidden talent and aggression lurking inside Kristine.

She walks in, drops her stuff and sighs. That’s her signal to ask about her so she can talk about herself. She had a water polo game today at a school thirty miles away. The last time they played this team they lost by over ten points. The other team was big and aggressive. The General’s team seemed like they were more interested in following the rules, now that they know them, and trying to play fair.

“So yeah,” she says. “Not quite a rerun from last time.”

She seems very calm, I notice. Maybe I’m confusing calm with tired. She’s been on the bus a long time.

“Right away some skanky girl elbows me in the lip. I said, ‘Oh no you don’t! I have a date Friday night and now I have a bloody lip.’

“Somebody passed me the ball and I was so angry I didn’t pass it. I threw it as hard as I could toward the goal. I wasn’t even aiming but it went right in. I made four more goals in a row. No way am I going out with a fat lip, I thought. I was so angry. We won, ten to two.”

“I’m glad you learned a lesson from the ‘Dodgeball’ movie,” I said.

“Right. Then somebody stole my goggs. We’re going to G.I. Joe’s now and I’m driving. I need goggles right now."

“I’m in the middle of something," I say.  "You know the road is open to the public.  There's a lot of people you can hit between here and G.I. Joe's."

“Look. I’m turning 16 in ten days and I’m buying the Jeep off of you. You might as well start letting me drive.”

"It's a community caretaking issue."

"You don't think I know how to drive stick, but I do.  I'm totally a good driver.  I'm a good driver and I'm sexy, too."

“I’m driving,” she yells.

Charlie runs into the bathroom to look out the window. He’s tried many times to teach the General to drive manual transmission. He needs to try again, many more times.

“Be careful,” he yells, watching.

She’s already started the Jeep and honking even though I’m right behind her. She inherited not only my mouth but my impatience. Now I need to have patience for both of us.

“Do I put the brake on when I’m letting out the clutch?” she says. “Or do I put on the gas? Do I use my left foot for the brake and the clutch or just the clutch? Where’s first gear?”

I tap into any stillness I can find inside. I’ve found if you remember the good qualities about people when you deal with them, people are much easier to deal with. Her determination is a very good quality.

“You’re fine,” I say. “Just let out the clutch as you accelerate.”

She does and stalls. She starts the Jeep again. This time she lets out the clutch without giving it any gas. She stalls again.

“You have to accelerate a little bit,” I say.

“Oh.”

This time, she accelerates and jerks the Jeep around the cul-de-sac halfway before stalling again. She pushes in the clutch and starts sliding backwards, right toward Charlie’s patrol vehicle. I can hear Charlie laughing through the bathroom window upstairs.

Speedy, the fast-driving, fast-painting skater who used to listen to Country music, yells up to Charlie, “Are you laughing at yourself in there?”

“No, look outside.”

He opens the front door and starts laughing, too.

“Okay, I’m done,” she says. “I want to get to G.I. Joe’s before they close. Stick shift is so much easier in my friend’s Cobra.”

I’m not even going to ask why anyone would let her drive their Cobra.

A little help? [] 3:03:51 PM