Chapter 23
Elsie decided she wanted to learn to drive at sixteen.
Dario said no.
Immediately.
No thought.
No pause.
No pretending.
“No.”
Elsie stared.
Anna stopped cutting vegetables.
The kitchen became quiet.
“Why?”
Dario almost gave the obvious answer.
Because you are sixteen.
That would have been convenient.
Also dishonest.
“Cars.”
Elsie looked at him.
“That’s not reason.”
“It is today.”
She understood.
The crash.
Elena.
The brake system.
Elsie’s leg.
Everything.
“I have to drive someday.”
“No.”
Anna looked at him.
Dario corrected.
“Not necessarily.”
Worse.
Elsie crossed her arms.
“Dr. Morris says I can.”
That was new information.
“You asked her?”
“Yes.”
“Without me?”
“I’m sixteen.”
Apparently age remained an aggressive legal argument.
Elsie’s left leg still required support during long activity.
Automatic cars used the right leg for standard pedal operation.
Her neurologic function did not prevent driving.
Dr. Morris recommended an occupational driving assessment anyway.
Dario hated that she had already considered it.
He called her.
She said:
“Medically, I see no reason for an automatic no.”
“Emotionally?”
“I am an orthopedist.”
Unhelpful.
Anna waited until the call ended.
Then:
“You rebuilt an entire fleet safety system because the old one treated known risk badly.”
Dario looked at her.
“Do not turn my governance reforms against me.”
“I absolutely will.”
Elsie smiled.
Traitors.
Dario ordered an independent vehicle inspection for the driving-school car.
Anna stopped him.
“Does the school already maintain inspected vehicles?”
“Yes.”
“Any reason theirs is unsafe?”
“No.”
“Then what are you checking?”
The question sounded familiar.
Michael Reed.
Again.
Dario hated recurring lessons.
They agreed on a certified adaptive-driving instructor.
Not because Elsie necessarily required adaptation.
Because the instructor understood mobility limitations and fatigue.
First lesson:
Empty parking lot.
Dario attended.
Elsie objected.
He stayed outside the car.
Compromise.
The instructor drove first.
Then Elsie.
She moved slowly.
Too slowly, in Dario’s opinion.
Excellent.
Then she braked.
Smooth.
Nothing happened.
Dario’s body still reacted.
Rain.
Lake Shore Drive.
A warning light.
Elena saying she did not trust the repair.
He knew the current car had passed inspection.
That did not make memory logical.
Elsie completed the lap.
Stopped.
Rolled down the window.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“You’re making face.”
“I have one face.”
“No.”
Apparently hereditary observation.
Six months later Elsie passed her road test.
Dario bought no car.
Important.
She used a shared household vehicle with maintenance records she could access herself.
That was her request.
“If warning comes on?”
“Stop driving.”
“Call fleet?”
“No.”
Dario looked at her.
“Call roadside service and tell me after.”
He smiled slightly.
Better.
The first time Elsie drove alone, Dario stood at the window until the car disappeared.
Anna watched him.
“You tracking it?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
The car had emergency location capability.
Dario had access only under defined safety conditions.
Another rule written because love was not enough.
Elsie returned forty minutes later with coffee.
Dario exhaled.
She noticed.
“Thought I die?”
“No.”
Too fast.
She stared.
He corrected.
“I thought about the possibility.”
Elsie handed him coffee.
“Good therapy?”
May you like
“No.”
But close.
