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It was a beautiful day, sunlight streaming through the blinds; Einstein was napping peacefully in a warm spot on the floor; and he had been waiting to get into his own bathroom for coming up on twenty-five minutes.
He rattled the handle again. “Marty, are you finished in there?” he said. “It has been twenty-five minutes.”
“I’ll be out in a sec,” Marty said, muffled, through the bathroom door. There was the sound, for the third time since he’d begun listening, of the sink turning on.
“You said that five minutes ago,” said Emmett. “Do you know how many seconds that is?” Marty didn’t answer. “Three hundred. Now will you please finish whatever it is you’re doing in there?”
“In a sec,” said Marty. The sink turned off once again. “I’m getting ready, okay?”
Sighing, Emmett leaned heavily against the door. “Marty,” he said mournfully. “You’re not still doing your hair, are you?”
There was a prolonged pause, during which he detected a clink of plastic against sink. “No.”
“You are, aren’t you?” said Emmett. “Your hair looks just fine. Will you please come out so I can use the bathroom?”
“Give me two seconds, okay?” said Marty. “I gotta make sure I look my best for this.”
Leaning his forehead against the door Emmett breathed out, slowly, through his nose. Living alone had worked very well for him, he reflected. He’d thrived on his own company. He had blossomed as a person, during the many, blissful years of his life during which he’d had free access to all the facilities.
“When did you turn into a teenage boy?” he wondered aloud.
“Uh, right around the time you shot me up with the serum?” Marty said.
“You know what I mean.” He heard footsteps and hastily straightened up. The door opened and Marty half stepped out, making a poor attempt at hiding the comb behind his back. “Ah, finally.” Emmett looked him over. “Your hair looks very nice.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Marty wandered away.
Emmett rolled his eyes. “Honestly,” he muttered, and slamming the door behind himself went eagerly to his own toilet.
*
“Alright, then,” he said as they pulled into their parking space. “You’ve got all your paperwork?”
Marty held it up. “Check, Doc.”
“And you remember what to say when you get to the front of the line?”
“Didn’t need you to explain it, Doc.” Marty was already reaching for the door handle. “Are we going or what?”
He was, as ever, raring to go. He always had somewhere to be these days. The mall. The arcade, with his growing circle of new friends. School, unbelievably. He was moving through the world faster than Emmett could keep up.
“We’re going,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’re going.”
At Marty’s behest – and against his own wishes – he waited outside, leaning against a shady patch of wall, toying with the car keys and trying to quell his twinge of anxiety. Everything was fine, he told himself. This was a normal amount of time for a person to spend waiting at a DMV. The line had looked pretty long. Marty hadn’t attempted to sniff anyone in a very long time. Everything was fine.
The doors swished and Marty popped up at his elbow. “Hey, there.”
“You get it?” said Emmett.
Beaming, Marty held it up. “Check, Doc.”
“May I –” Holding out his hand, Emmett took the freshly-laminated card. California Driver License, he read. Then, unbelievably, his dog’s name. He blinked down at it. “Huh.”
“Huh?” said Marty.
“No, it just, ah.” Emmett handed the driver’s license back. “Occasionally the – uniqueness of the situation hits me again and I, well.”
Marty huffed a laugh. “First dog to get a driver’s license, huh?” He fetched out his wallet to put it away. “I should get a medal or something.”
“I don’t think they give out medals for that – even when it’s public knowledge.” Emmett took the car keys out of his pocket and looked down at them, a thought crossing his mind.
He offered the keys to Marty. “You want to drive us home?”
Marty’s face lit up.
*
In the passenger seat, he sat shuffling through paperwork in a state of mild anxiety. It had all passed muster – he knew that – he’d triple-checked it only that morning – but it was eternally hard to shake the sensation that someday someone was going to notice that something didn’t add up.
“So do I get my own car?” said Marty.
“Sure – if you get a job and save up to pay for it,” Emmett told him.
“Ah, you’re no fun.” Marty tapped his hands on the wheel. “You know, this guy at school, Stevie –”
“Whatever you’re going to say, it’s not gonna work.” He squinted at Marty’s social security number. In truth, his inspection was providing a welcome distraction from the thought that he was, currently, in a car being driven by his dog. It wasn’t a new experience but it was an unsettling one – and an irrationally upsetting thought that Marty was now free to drive the car whenever and wherever he wanted.
“His mom and dad got him a car for his seventeenth birthday,” said Marty. Emmett shot him a look. “I’m just saying.”
“Marty, we live in a disused garage next to a Burger King,” said Emmett. “I know your grasp of basic economic theory is a little shaky, but –” He broke off, scanning the road outside the car. “Where are we going?”
Marty glanced at him. “Uh, home?”
“This isn’t the way home,” said Emmett. “Where are you taking me?”
“Nowhere,” Marty protested. “We’re taking the long way around –”
“Marty.” He shoved the paperwork down beside his seat. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Marty opened his mouth, and closed it again. “Look, okay,” he said. “I just thought since I’m driving, we could maybe, y’know. Go to the In-N-Out drive through down by the mall.”
Emmett breathed out, slowly, through his nose. “We are not going to In-N-Out,” he said. “We have food at home.”
“Aw, c’mon,” Marty whined. “I’ve never been to a drive through before.”
“Patently untrue,” said Emmett. “We go to Burger King all the time –”
“Yeah, but I’ve never driven through one.” Marty grinned at him. “That’s a, it’s a big driving milestone, right?”
“It is not.” Emmett snapped his fingers at the windshield. “Eyes on the road, please – yes, that’s better. Alright, turn around at this next intersection, we’re going home.”
They slowed to a halt at the lights. Marty sighed, shoulders slumping. “You are such a square,” he said. “C’mon, this is a big day for me. I wanna do something fun.” Emmett ignored him, taking up the paperwork once again. “And we never go to In-N-Out.”
“Yes, because it’s all the way across town.” Emmett glanced up – and spotted Marty’s gaze wandering, very conspicuously, to follow a pair of girls walking down the street in little shorts. “Eyes on the road – on the road!”
Marty’s head snapped back around. “What, we’re not moving.”
“You need to be watching the lights.” Emmett nodded at them. “What was so interesting that you couldn’t watch the lights?”
“Nothing.” Emmett gave him a firm look and his hands slid fully off the steering wheel, slouching back in his seat. “Girls,” he confessed meekly.
“I thought as much,” said Emmett. “The light’s changing.”
“Whoops,” said Marty. He put the car in gear.
They made the turn – a turn which was, conspicuously, not in the direction of home. Emmett cleared his throat. “Marty, I can’t help but notice we’re still going the wrong way.”
“Nope,” said Marty. “We’re going to In-N-Out.”
“We are not –”
“Uh, I got my own money and I’m driving the car,” said Marty, both of which were, unfortunately, excellent points. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Emmett stared out the windshield at the road, considering his predicament. “For Pete’s sake.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Marty jabbed a finger at him, conscientiously not taking his eyes off the road. “I can do whatever I want forever – and it’s your fault, old man.”
“I live every day with the crushing weight of my regrets.” Emmett put the papers away securely in the glove compartment. “Alright. In-N-Out it is."