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Driver is a very quiet young man. Even more so than Lars - whose whole thing is being The Quiet Guy. But at least when Karin calls Lars’ name, he answers. This new boy, Driver, is quiet as a stone and even moves without a sound. His hurting limp barely creeks against the floor boards as he trails behind Lars to the breakfast table.
“Lars, sweetheart, did you invite your friend over?” Karin doesn’t bother to look over her shoulder when she hears the backdoor whine as it’s pushed open. She’s flipping pancakes on the griddle and can only make out Lars’ loping gate as he enters the kitchen behind her.
“He’s right there, honey,” Gus laughs lightly from where he’s feeding Elinor her mashed bananas.
“Oh,” Karin gasps in surprise, turning around to look at the men making their way into the room. Sure enough, Driver is there, body hunched and inclined toward Lars with a protective arm crossed over his middle. In the week he’s been here, he hasn’t stepped foot in the main house, opting to hideout in the garage; sleeping on a futon Gus helped Lars move in there. “Good morning, Driver. It’s so nice of you to join us.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, pulling out a chair with the hand he isn’t bracing across himself and lowering into it very slowly. His eyes rove over the room, pausing for a mournful drink of the sight of Elinor. There’s something there, but Karin barely knows the fellow. And who can tell how long he’ll be around to figure out his story.
“I hope you like pancakes,” Karin goes on, turning back to her stove. She’s learned to be more comfortable with silence in the years she’s gotten closer to Lars. But this brand of silence is disconcerting. It seems afraid.
“Yes,” Driver finally says to the back of her head. His voice is higher than she thought it’d be and very gentle. Not at all as fearsome as his exterior seems. She forces herself not to whip around in excitement; Lars has confided in her that her over-excitement sometimes comes off as belittling. “Thank you.”
“Of course, sweetie.” She is careful to keep her voice neutral even as she smiles broadly down at her griddle. It would be a shame to scare Driver back into his shell when Lars has only just somehow managed to coax it open a bit.
~
Karin is mesmerized by the silent communication between Lars and Driver. Only knowing each other a few weeks now, they seem to communicate almost wholly telepathically while in front of others. Lars throws but a glance toward Driver and he moves to catch up.
“Driver is coming to church with us,” Lars says in his quietly proud way as he stacks both of their plates together to take them to the sink. “He wants to.”
“Is that right?” Gus’ voice feigns distant interest as he wipes the excess banana from Elinor’s front. Karin takes a big bite of pancake to hide her smile - don’t belittle.
“Yes,” Driver affirms, adjusting himself minutely in his chair, accepting Karin’s probably overenthusiastic eye contact with slow, careful blinks. “If that's okay, that is.”
“Of course!” Karin exclaims around a gulp of milk. Driver focuses on her, face set in a pleasant tiny smile but also carefully shuttered. “We’d love you to come with us. The car will be a little full with Ellie’s car seat, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”
“I’m driving us,” Lars asserts as he comes to stand right behind Driver’s chair. His hand hovers in the air between them, as if he may reach out to rest it on Driver’s shoulder, but he brings it back down to his side just as quickly.
“If you’re sure,” Karin concedes easily.
“I’m sure.” Lars smiles his signature tight lipped little smile. “I like to drive.”
Karin doesn’t miss the twitch at the corner of Driver’s mouth.
~
The parishioners of First Lutheran stare as if Driver is the second coming of a certain sex doll. Each of their gazes intently trace him, up and down. Some with gaping mouths as he walks from Lars’ jalopy to the chapel entrance. His chin is jutted forward and his shoulders are pulled back in false bravado. Karin can see the way the facade wavers around the edges, buckling under the weight of all the attention. In the way he fists the hem of his shirt so tightly. The way he stays close against Lars’ flank.
It’s so strange. Karin never thought that Lars would ever be someone else’s security. Then again, Lars is always surprising her these days.
“Very nice to meet you, Driver.” Reverend Bock’s friendly yet inquisitive tone has even more churchgoers rubbernecking around to get a good look at the allusive stabbing victim. The vehicular sleeping beauty. Driver recoils ever so slightly at the Reverend’s premature familiarity. As if he’s being exposed.
It really feels like Bianca all over again, as the townspeople rove their eyes over the entire unit as they file into the chapel to find their seats. Karin adjusts Elinor in her baby wrap and tries not to fidget under the scrutiny. She looks down the row and realizes that Driver’s tightlipped mask is slipping into something shrewd and hyper-vigilant. Like he’s waiting for a bomb to go off or something.
Lars shares his hymnal with Driver as the service begins, running his finger over the page to exhibit the tempo to the other man. Driver doesn’t attempt to sing along though. He faces forward, seeming to gaze at the tabernacle. But on closer inspection, Karin can see his eyes darting all over the room.
Lars doesn't mind, however. Only pressing his arm to Driver’s and turning the hymnal page to the next song.
~
It’s rare that Mrs. Gruner has fresh flower arrangements. Karin watches from the front seat of Gus’ Subaru as Mrs. Gruner trails after the boys, slushing through ice melt puddles, with a bunch of real daffodils and daisies as he’s seemingly racing Lars back to their car. Karin hopes her rolling down the window to hear is inconspicuous.
“Lars, honey,” she calls after them just as Lars is unlocking the driver’s door with his key. “You didn’t introduce me to your friend!”
Driver watches as Lars stops what he’s doing and rounds the vehicle to stand next to him. Lars schools his face into his politest smile and inclines his head to Mrs. Gruner, indicating for Driver to turn and face her.
“Driver, this is my friend Mrs. Gruner.” His voice is soft and Karin would dare to stay fond. “Mrs. Gruner, this is Driver.”
“What an interesting name.” Mrs. Gruner waits for a beat after saying this, seeming to expect Driver to react in some way. Perhaps to offer his hand for a shake, but like Lars, Driver isn’t one to initiate touch. “Well, I wanted to give you something to welcome you to town.”
Driver blinks at her. He doesn’t look as closed off as he did when the first got her, only unsure of what exactly the older woman’s intentions are. He looks even more unsure when she thrusts the bouquet out at him.
“I hope you’re not allergic,” Mrs. Gruner chippers, continuing to hold the bundle out between them.
Driver looks to Lars minutely before reaching forward and taking the flowers. Karin swears she sees him duck down to smell them. But maybe it was a twitch.
“Thank you.” Driver’s voice is nearly taken by the wind. “These are very nice.”
“No problem, sweetheart.” Mrs. Gruner looks pleased as Driver gazes down into the petals. “I hope to see you around more often. As long as you’re feeling well, of course.”
She doesn’t linger, leaving the two to shift from foot to foot as they contemplate her gift. Lars looks pleased, giving an approving nod before circling back to his door and folding himself into the car. Driver follows suit, slow and careful so as not to crush the flowers.
~
Gus talks her out of nagging the boys into coming over for lunch, but Karin does watch as they pull into the driveway a good half an hour after them.
Lars is carrying a sack from the Burger Plus on Main Street while Driver still holds his bouquet in the hand that’s not carrying a soda cup. Driver is saying something that makes Lars’ shoulders rise and fall rapidly - Karin can practically hear the gushes of his nose-laugh in her mind.
Lars unlocks the garage door and stands to the side to let Driver step into what has very quickly become their home. Before stepping in, however, Driver plucks a full bodied daffodil from his bouquet and tucks it into the fingers Lars’ has clutching their takeout.