They drove through a whipping March wind to the parking lot in front of Macy’s in the Cross County Shopping Center. His father got out, went around to Connell’s side, and waved him to slide over.His father sat calmly as Connell practiced accelerating, braking, turning, parking in a spot, and backing up. Once Connell worked up the nerve to venture from the lot onto the streets, though, his father looked terrified. As they approached the first intersection, he hit an imaginary brake. “Slow down!” he shouted.“But it’s green!” Connell shouted back, though he applied the brake anyway.At the next light, Connell signaled, slowed, and turned left.“Watch the building!” his father said, his leg pumping the floor.He accelerated, and his father jumped back; he touched the brake, and his father gasped; he passed a car, and his father clutched the handle in the ceiling.• • •The next time they went out, his father screamed at him practically from the moment they pulled out of the garage until the moment they pulled back in.
