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brakes and turns right.
     
    *  *  *
     
    “ It was, ” Jonathon sighs. The UNAVAILABLE listing on his caller ID should have said just the opposite. He closes the newspaper carefully and runs one finger along its edge. His stomach flutters.
    “ Try to be civil, ” Tracy says.
    “ Right. Because that worked so well for us in the past. ” He shakes his head, hearing the honking of some other soul unlucky enough to cross paths with his soon-to-be ex-wife. “ Ever wonder how many accidents are caused by people talking on their phones while driving, Trace? ”
    “ Not even once. ”
    “ Three hundred and thirty thousand, ” he answers without hesitation. “ Every year. ”
    “ That ’ s great, Jon, ” she says. Her sarcastically soothing lilt is like a weary mother trying to spoon-feed complexity to a child. “ My day just wouldn ’ t have been the same without hearing that little pearl of knowledge. You were always so much fun at parties. ”
    She flips off a new obstruction, slamming the stick into second gear and swerving around. “ Well, answer me this. How many stubborn dickheads die during divorce proceedings because they refuse to sign the paperwork? ”
    Jonathon ’ s eyes flash. His jaw clenches so tight his teeth pop. He slams down the coffee cup and switches the phone to the other ear for a countering volley. “ That pro-feminine, hate anyone with a penis crap might work with your clients, ” he barks. “ But I don ’ t give a shit what you want anymore. I am not on your schedule, Tracy. So, don ’ t you dare tell me what I should or should not do. I said I ’ ll get to it, now back off. ”
    “ Like you got to spending more time at home?! ” she yells. Civility quickly recedes behind her like the cars zooming past. “ Or got around to seeing Chris play? Please, ” Tracy scoffs. She angrily checks her mirrors, wondering why she thought this phone call would be any different than all the others. “ You checked out a long time ago, Jon. I just made it official. ”
    “ Well, as much as I love these little trips down memory lane, I ’ d rather not start the week off wishing I was gay, ” Jonathon says. He glances down at the gold and silver Rolex on his wrist. Every second ticking by is like the lash of a whip. “ Look, I ’ ll finish up with my lawyer this morning if it means the end of these calls. ” He drops the phone to his side, muffling it against his leg. “ Jesus, woman! ”
    She smiles at the small victory before tempering her next words. “ I didn ’ t count on you when we were married, Jonathon. So you ’ ll have to forgive me for not squealing with delight now. ”
    Tracy ’ s Porsche quickly closes in on an old Cadillac sedan. The round silhouette of the driver is barely visible over the steering wheel. “ This is the fast lane! Get your big ass over! ”
    Jonathon pulls the phone away from his ear, shaking his head at the angry plastic. “ Always so sunny in the mornings. ” How did I ever fall in love with this woman?! He takes another bitter drink of his coffee. North Korean troops march proudly in unison through Pyongyang on his TV. A growing part of him wishes he were there instead.
    As the awkward silence lengthens, he decides to change the subject and bypass another bickering foray. “ Have you heard from Chris? ”
    “ Last night. His team got knocked out early, but he did alright. He said the scouts noticed. Isabel ’ s meeting him at the airport. ”
    “ Good, ” he says. Jonathon shifts impatiently on the leather couch, realizing he has absolutely nothing left to say to her. The crackling noise coming through the phone line stretches on uncomfortably in their stubborn duel. He looks at his watch again. 7:10. “ Look, I gotta go. It ’ s … ”
    “ I expect you to get this taken care of, Jonathon, ” Tracy interrupts. She always had to get the last word in. “ I ’ ve moved on, and this needs to be finalized. Now. I don ’ t like these calls