Red Light/Green Light

“Ok,” Bethany said, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling her seatbelt. “What’s the first thing you do when you drive?”

Sam sat in the driver’s seat and started at her blankly. “Pick the music?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”

“Kidding. Adjust the mirrors.”

“No.”

“Turn on the car?”

“Sam. Be serious.”

“I am! I don’t know what you’re wanting. Adjust the seat?” He looked slightly panicked.

“Seatbelt, Sam. You always put your seatbelt on. Safety first.” She sighed the long-suffering sigh of the older sibling dealing with an annoying younger sibling.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, right.” He pulled his seatbelt on in a big show and elaborately fastened it. “Happy?”

“Immensely,” she deadpanned. “Now what?”

“Now…music?” he asked tentatively.

She gave him a look.

“Now mirrors,” he corrected. He adjusted all three of his mirrors, then looked at her expectantly. “Now I turn on the car?”

“Now you turn on the car.”

He put the key in the ignition and turned it, the engine revving to life. He grinned, pleased with himself. “Music?”

“No, you need to focus on the road.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can focus on the road while listening to some sweet tunes.”

“Not with me you can’t.”

“You’re supposed to be more fun than Mom and Dad,” he grumbled. “Are you at least going to let me drive on the road? Or are we going to be driving around in the parking lot again today?”

They both looked out at the empty parking lot where the car was parked. They’d been practicing driving for the last two days in the parking lot and he was eager to drive on the street for the first time, but Bethany wasn’t sure he was ready. He was sure, but she wasn’t quite willing to take her life into her hands just yet.

“Maybe,” she hedged. “Let’s try driving around the parking lot some more. Make sure you really have the hang of it.”

“Bethany,” Same said, giving her a look. “I have the hang of it. Believe me.”

She gave him a look right back. “So, prove it to me. Pull out of the spot and drive to the stop sign like we worked on.”

“Sure,” he was eager to get going.

He put the car in reverse and backed up, much faster than he should have, jerking the car to a stop and making Bethany’s head snap forward. She winced when he hit the gas hard and started forward with a screech of tires.

“How am I doing?” he asked eagerly.

“I’m gonna need a neck brace at the end of all this,” she muttered, rubbing her neck.

“What?” he asked, glancing over quickly, then back to the lane between the parking spots.

“You’re doing great. But maybe be a little gentler on the pedals.”

“Oh. Right.” He pulled up to the stop sign and gently pressed on the break, taking at least half of the lane to get to a full stop. “How was that?”

Bethany rubbed her temples. “Ok. Maybe not quite that gentle. Maybe split the difference?”

“I can do that.”

“Now, let’s see how close you got to the white line. The front bumper should be level with it.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. Sam copied her and the two climbed out of the car. Which started rolling. “Sam!” she exclaimed. “Didn’t you put it in park?”

“What? No! You didn’t tell me to,” he shouted, panicked. He jumped back in and slammed his foot on the brake, putting the car in park.

Bethany put a hand over her eyes. “I didn’t think I had to. If you’re the driver and you’re getting out of the car, you put it in park. That’s like…common sense.”

“Well, I’m new at this, ok? I didn’t realize that.”

She dropped her hand and stared at him. “Oh my god. You’re going to die in a car wreck, aren’t you?”

“Not if you teach me to drive,” he pointed out.

She sighed and begrudgingly climbed back into the car. “All right. Let’s keep practicing.”

“Great. What next?”

They spent the next couple of hours driving around the parking lot until Sam wasn’t jerking around as much and was driving much more smoothly. Bethany wished she’d brought a bottle of ibuprofen and made a mental note to pre-emptively take some painkillers the next time. If she survived to a next time. Finally, she was done. Her neck was killing her, and she wanted to go home and get an ice pack.

“Let’s go home,” she instructed, motioning to a parking spot. “Pull in so we can switch.”

“Oh, come on, let me drive,” Sam pleaded. “We can take the long way so I can be slow. Please?”

She hesitated, but then looked at his pleading face. He really was improving, and eventually he would need to practice on actual streets. She groaned. “Fine. But be careful.”

“Yes. Music?”

“No.”

“Fine.” He carefully headed towards the exit of the parking lot and, using his turn signal, turned onto the street, looking both ways half a dozen times before easing onto the street with a right turn. He hugged the curb so tightly the tires bumped it repeatedly.

“Maybe don’t stay so close,” Bethany suggested calmly.

“Oh, right.” His voice sounded strained, and when she glanced over, his knuckles were white.

“You’re doing fine. Traffic light ahead.”

“I see it.”

She watched the light. It was red, but Sam wasn’t slowing down. She glanced over at him, but he was maintaining speed. “Sam?”

“What.”

“Traffic light.”

“I see it, Bethany.”

“Are you going to do something about it?” she glanced back at it. It was still red. There weren’t any cars coming, but still.

“I’m doing something. I’m driving.” He was driving. Driving right through a red light without bothering to slow down.

“Sam!” she screamed as he drove through the light, her feet braced again the floor, her hand gripping the seatbelt.

“God, what?” he glared at her for a moment, before returning his eyes to the road.

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open a little.

At the next block was another traffic light, this time a green light. That Sam promptly, gently, stopped at. “There,” he said smugly. “Happy?” he turned to look at her, then his face changed when he saw her expression. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? You just blew through a red light like it was nothing and now we’re sitting at a green light? Are you playing a stupid prank on me? What is happening right now?”

Sam stared at her, then looked up at the light. “That’s a green light?”

“Oh, my god. Are you colorblind?” she exploded. “Can you see colors at all?”

“I don’t know, am I?” he shouted back. “Are colors real? What is a color?”

“How should I know. I don’t see through your eyes. What are you seeing right now?”

“I’m seeing…what I always see. What are you seeing?” he looked panicked. He looked around. “Are those even trees? Am I even Sam? Is up even up?” He started to hyperventilate.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Bethany shook her head. “It can’t be that bad. Look, red is always on the right. Green is always on the left. Alphabetical order.”

Sam nodded, his breathing. “I mean, I see color. I actually am red/green colorblind. We learned that last year. I thought you knew that.”

Bethany hit his shoulder. “You actually knew that, and you still freaked out?”

“I mean, yeah, a little. I thought I knew the traffic lights, but apparently, I got them mixed up. Red is on the top or bottom of the vertical ones?”

Bethany thought for a second. “I’ll have to look it up. I can’t remember.”

“Mostly, Dad says he pays attention to other drivers, and if no one is around, he proceeds with caution.”

“Wait, Dad is red/green colorblind?” Bethany turned to look at him, stunned, as he carefully started forward, the light once again green. “How many other family secrets have I been left out of?”

“Oh, lots. Mom has six toes. On each foot.”

“What?!” Bethany stared at him, then frowned. “Wait, she does not. I’ve seen her barefoot.”

Sam grinned. “I had you going there for a second.”

“You are such a punk.”

“Ah, but you love me.”

“Traffic light ahead,” she commented.

“I see it,” he said in a sing-song voice. It was red. He wasn’t slowing down. She looked at him, once again bracing her feet.

“Sam,” she said again, a note of warning in her voice.

“Oh, my god, it’s red isn’t it,” he shouted as they ran the light. They both screamed the whole way through.

Every light they drove through, whether red or green (he really couldn’t remember which color was which), he shouted the whole time he went through the intersection. A battle cry of sorts.

“Why are you doing that?” she asked as they climbed out of the car in their driveway, stretching her back with her hands pressed firmly into her hips.

“I figure, if I’m shouting, people will hear me coming and maybe I’ll be safer.”

She stared at him. “That’s…not how that works. At all.”

“It’s like an alarm,” he explained further.

She shook her head. “Sam. No.”

He shrugged. “It worked tonight.”

“Because we took back streets that no one else was driving,” she pointed out. “It wouldn’t work in a busy time of day or a major city. You’ll just get plowed into.”

“Eh, you never know.” He opened the kitchen door and led the way inside, beelining to the fridge to find something to eat.

“You should move somewhere with excellent public transportation and just never drive ever again,” she advised. “Then you don’t have to worry about traffic lights.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” he joked. “Plus, I’d have to worry about them anywhere I am, because I’d be a pedestrian. Being red/green colorblind is a lifelong thing to deal with. You have no idea.”

“I guess so.” She opened the freezer over his head and pulled out a pint of ice cream, then reached around him to grab a spoon from the drawer by the fridge. “How are you hungry for an actual meal? We ate dinner two hours ago.” She watched with amazement as he pulled out the leftovers from dinner and began reheating them.

“I’m a growing boy. Plus, all those near-death experiences worked up my appetite.”

“I’m the one who nearly died a bunch of times. I should be ravenous.”

“How was driving?”

They looked up as their dad walked in.

“Why didn’t you warn me about his colorblindness?” Bethany demanded, spooning up a bite of ice cream. “He nearly killed us all the way home.”

“You took him on the road?” their dad asked, horrified. “You should have waited on that and let me do it and shown him how to do it. I’m colorblind, you know.”

“Well, I know that now,” she groused, putting the ice cream in her mouth. “I didn’t before.”

“How did you not know that?” Sam asked curiously. “I knew.”

“Well, you’re just special,” she muttered, sticking her tongue out at him.

“I mean, yeah. I’m colorblind. Not a ton of people are.”

“What’s special about Mom?”

“I mean, she’s Mom?” Sam said, sitting at the kitchen table with his plate of food. “Isn’t that enough? And you get to be related to me.” He grinned at her, his cheeks stuffed with food.

“Gross.”

“Well, if Sam is road ready, then I’ll take over driving lessons,” their dad said. “It’s for the best. The colorblind leading the colorblind.”

“My advice is to take some ibuprofen before you get in, and possibly get a neck brace before you get out.” Bethany stood up and patted her dad on the back. “Good luck. And go with God.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I need it.”