Perry looked down at the fields and scattered houses far below, the low-built city sprawling in the distance, minuscule cars beetling along straight roads. One of them might be her father, heading to the airport to meet her. Perry shrank at the prospect: her life once again in the hands of someone whose appalling driving was now compounded by age and deteriorating vision. Her father had never questioned nor would allow anyone else to question his privileged position behind the wheel. Sort of a droit de seigneur, thought Perry; not, in this case, the right to deflower one’s female peasants but the right to kill one’s passengers, particularly one’s family.
     Hal had always driven like a joy-riding teenager, overtaking on blind stretches of road, tailgating anyone driving at the speed limit, braking at red lights at the last possible second, roaring out of an intersection with the accelerator to the floor. He took satisfaction in scaring other people on the road, including pedestrians—Perry, a middle-aged daughter imprisoned in the back seat on a scenic drive with her parents, had clenched in horror as he bore down on a group of children crossing a country road, barely slowing as they scattered in fright. Her mother gave a strangled scream and Hal chuckled as though gratified.
     Perry and her three siblings lived in different parts of the country, none closer to Hal than a thousand miles. Since their mother’s death they had undertaken periodic visits to monitor how he was managing in his solitary and aging existence. They made sure that one of them, at least, would be there to celebrate his birthday with him at his favorite restaurant.
     “Remind me why I do this, Spider.” She’d called her younger brother to strategize about the visit. “Why do I go visit someone who’s going to annihilate me one day?”
     “Your extreme sense of duty, kid. Like mine. He’s our dad. And he’s lonely. And you’re fond of each other, you know you are.”
     “True,” said Perry. “Amazing, isn’t it? When you think of it.” They were both silent for a moment. “But still. I actually like my life and I’d prefer not to die at his hands.” She stroked Gulliver, purring in her lap.
     “I know what you mean,” said Spider. “Last time I was there he almost hit a cyclist, did I tell you? Dad swore it was her fault, of course.”
     Perry had heard the story several times. The reports of catastrophes narrowly averted had become routine after the siblings’ visits, horror stories exchanged, repeated, sympathized with.
     “Spider—we have to do something. He’s going to be 89. If he kills someone, god forbid, it’ll be our fault if we haven’t done everything we can to get him off the road.”
     “But, Perry,” he said. Perry recognized the tone. “It means so much to the old bastard to be independent. We can’t stop him driving. Don’t worry. You’ll be in the car for a total of what, a couple of hours altogether. Statistically, the odds are in your favor.”
     
Spider was three years younger than Perry but they’d always been each other’s ally and defender, closer to each other than to their older sisters. As adults Perry and her sisters were cordial but the dynamic remained the same: Celia and Lynne, intimate with each other, equals in their considerable worldly achievements; and Perry, who remained the younger sister no matter how old they all grew. Perry, with no PhD, no husband, no children, only a small rented house outside a New England village and an occupation that her family found amusing. At forty-seven she had found peacefulness and joy and wanted no more than she had. It was only in conversation with her high-flying siblings or her father that she saw herself as deficient.
     Lynne called to remind her of the yearly obligation. “You have Dad’s birthday in mind?” she said. “Celia and I went last year, if you remember.”
     “I’ve bought a ticket,” responded Perry. “Can’t wait for some of that Huntsman’s special gravy.”
     Lynne laughed. They all loathed The Huntsman’s Table, a pretentious and expensive restaurant with dull food. “Well, once every few years I guess we can put up with it. How’s the business going?”
     “Great, actually,” said Perry, pleased to be asked. “I got so busy I had to hire somebody to help, this terrific woman Mimi…” but Lynne had moved on to a new topic.
     “Perry, let us know how Dad is doing in the house, will you? I’m not sure he can handle it and he certainly doesn’t need all that space.”
     “I will,” said Perry. “What I’m most worried about is his driving. I really think it’s time we did something, Lynne.” Since her conversation with Spider she’d had a thought. “Look, I’m willing to stick my neck out and speak up—tell him that I think it’s time for him to give up the car. But I’d want to let him know that we all feel the same way. If he thinks it’s just me he’ll dismiss it.”
     “Oh no,” said Lynne. “No, don’t do that, Perry. He’ll feel like we’re ganging up on him. It’ll just make him furious. It won’t work.”
     Perry felt a thwarted anger rising into her throat, bitter and familiar. She swallowed it back and made her voice light. “Well, keep your fingers crossed that he doesn’t kill me, then.”
     “You’ll be OK,” said Lynne, reassuring her as Spider had, with the same faintly patronizing tone. What made them think she’d be OK?

Her father was waiting for her at the airport, peering at the arriving passengers until Perry stood right in front of him. He had lost mass and height since the last time she’d seen him, his tall frame more stooped and his skin slack. He brightened when he recognized her. “Well, here you are at last!” He hugged her and for a moment, in spite of everything, she was a girl again in her father’s strong arms.
     “Just this?” he asked, nodding at her wheeled carry-on bag. He took the handle from her and led the way slowly to the car park.
     Perry cranked up her nerve. “Hal,” she said as he hoisted the bag into the trunk with a grunt. “Can I drive? I’d really like to.” She’d rehearsed this request, imagining his various possible responses. Surly: “Forget it.” Or uncomprehending and offended: “Why the hell would you want to drive?” Or chivalrous: “No, no, I’ll drive, it’s not every day you visit your old man.” Or improbably easy-going: “Sure, honey, if you’d like to.”
     But he said nothing at all, simply opened the passenger door and waited for her to climb in. Shit, she said to herself, a great start. Here we go. Just get me there in one piece, she begged the un-deity that she turned to at such moments.

Apart from a few tense lane-changes the drive home was uneventful. Perry’s relief at arriving safely gave way to the familiar sinking of spirits on entering the house. It was messier than it had been the last time she was there, dried-out mugs perched on piles of magazines and newspapers, the refrigerator harboring evidence of old meals. The coffee maker was sticky to the touch. Perry was not herself an immaculate housekeeper but she addressed herself to the disorder as soon as Hal was out of sight, for her own sake if not his. As a child her Saturday morning job had been to dust the carved staircase and the mahogany dining room furniture. Spider had to empty all the wastebaskets. The girls—as they were always called, as though Perry wasn’t a girl too—were in charge of the vacuum cleaner, hefting it importantly up the stairs and using it as an excuse to invade and inspect her room and Spider’s, pronouncing judgment on their untidiness.
     Hal had not prepared any of the unused bedrooms for her visit, leaving her to choose one and make up a bed. She chose Celia’s old room, preferring not to sleep in her own with the ghost of her child self. She found sheets and settled herself in, then curled up on Celia’s blue beanbag chair with her cell phone.
     “You’ve reached Mimi at Pet People. We’re there when you can’t be,” said Mimi’s recorded voice. “We’ll call you right back. Miaow!”  Perry smiled. It was still a novelty to hear Mimi’s voice announcing the business. “I’ve arrived,” Perry said. “So far so good. Maybe I’ll get home alive after all. Good luck with the Kahns’ kitty today. Let me know how she’s doing.” She paused. The rote “I love you” never came easily to her. “Bye, Mimi.”

When Perry came down in the morning she saw, for a split second, an ancient and genderless person at the table holding up the newspaper with wrinkled arms. Then it turned into her father.
     “Hello there, lazybones,” Hal greeted her. “Finally decided to get up?”
     “Morning, Hal,” She made herself some tea.
     “I’ve been waiting, so as soon as you’ve finished that, we’ll get going.”
     Perry flinched at his peremptory tone.
     “Going where?”
     “You’re coming with me to the grocery store, remember, then we’re going by the garden center to pick up some plants I ordered. I’m going to try some ornamental grasses out the back. You can help me plant them.”
     “I was wondering--do you still have Susan coming to clean?” she asked.
     “She comes, but I don’t think she sees very well. She must be almost as old as me. Probably should fire the old gal.” He smiled ruefully. Perry knew he’d never fire Susan. She’d been cleaning their house once a week for thirty-five years. It’s remarkable she can do it at all, thought Perry. I guess that’s what you do, just keep going as long as you can, as long as they let you.
     “Well, I’m ready,” she said, rinsing her cup and once again mustering her courage. “I’d like to drive. It would be fun. You can navigate if I forget the route.”
     “There’s no need for you to drive. I’m perfectly able.”
     This time he heard her, at least. He didn’t like it. Her heart pumped a little harder. She made herself try once more. “Hal, please let me, I don’t get to drive a car like yours at home.” Her father always had large American cars, boring and comfortable.
     It didn’t work. “What are you in these days, a 1990 Nissan? Like all the other greenies up there. Or do you just ride a bicycle? Go get your jacket, we’re late.”
     Hal, irritated, drove too fast in the short stretches between traffic lights, braking at the last moment. Perry kept quiet. In the careful strategy she’d worked out with Mimi she was going to give face-saving indirectness a chance to work. Only if it failed would she resort to speaking bluntly about danger, and eyesight, and age.
     A car in front of them braked suddenly. Hal was much too close. At the impact Perry lurched forward, her seat belt clamping her chest and midriff painfully. “Dammit!” she screamed. “I told you!” Instantly she understood that if she was able to yell like this it was not a serious accident. Hal was shouting curses. He pulled to the side of the road behind the other driver. A young woman ran to Hal’s window, looking shaken.
     “Are you all right, sir? That dog ran right out in front of me.”
     Perry looked where the woman was pointing. A medium-sized mutt careened toward the sidewalk. Perry jumped out of the car and followed him, reaching into her bag to find the leash she always carried. “Hey, fella, what’s your hurry?” The dog stopped at her voice. He was shivering with fear. He allowed her to grab his collar and hook the leash on. “Where’s your people?” she murmured, gently feeling his body for injuries. He seemed to be unhurt, just shocked. “What do you think you’re doing, running around town causing accidents?” Her voice was soothing in spite of the scolding words.
     She brought him back to Hal’s car. He and the woman were exchanging insurance information, Hal now conciliatory and charming. He looked at the dog, started to object, and changed his mind when he saw Perry’s face.
     “I want to go back to the house,” she said. He nodded. She sat in the back seat cradling the dog, crooning to him. Hal drove slowly.

The damage was relatively minor: a dented bumper, a cracked headlight lens. Hal called his insurance company and a car repair shop, then left again to do his other errands. Perry called the number on the dog’s collar. The owner, horrified and grateful, promised to come and pick him up.
     Mimi answered when she called this time. Her voice suffused Perry with comfort, as though she’d surrounded Perry with her soft arms.
     “It’s as bad as I thought,” she said. Tears threatened her voice. “He actually hit someone this morning because she had to brake and he was far too close. Thank god they were both going slow. I don’t know if it’s his vision or his bull-headed aggression or both. And there was a dog…” The dog, noisily lapping water in front of her, looked up. She reached down and petted his head.
     Mimi listened, her silence itself a reassurance. “Come home,” she said. “You don’t have to put yourself through this. Change your ticket. You could be here by eight o’clock tonight.”
     Perry thought longingly of her own home, Mimi beside her on the couch, two dogs and three cats entwined nearby, the dark Vermont hills outside the window. “There’s the damn birthday tomorrow. I just have to hang on for that. But there’s no way I’m going to let him drive me there.”
     “Stick to your guns, girl. Tell him I ordered you to drive. Does he know about me yet?”
     “No,” said Perry. “Not yet. You’re my secret. You keep me alive in this benighted place.” She looked around the kitchen, seeing it in a kind of double vision: a cluttered, ordinary kitchen, unimaginatively modernized from its original 1900s design. A high ceiling and tall cabinets, a formica counter with toaster oven and microwave, a polyurethaned table, an aging dishwasher. Overlaid onto these prosaic features was a patina of misery, decades old. A child’s abject experience of repeated humiliation in this room, her face hotly scarlet at unjust accusations, being kicked and punched to the floor, hearing her little brother screaming in pain too and knowing she could not save him. Seeing the livid bruises on Celia’s arm, the furious tears in Lynne’s eyes.
     And then afterwards, always the consoling, confusing affection, the forgiving hug, the balm of his soothing words. Sometimes the sweetness came first, when he would arrive home good-tempered and playful with little gifts in his pockets for each of them, until the moment that something enraged him. They tried constantly to guess what would please or displease him but they never got it right.
     “Honey,” said Mimi, her voice gentle and firm, “you take care of yourself. He’s not safe for you.”
     “Mimi…” she began, but didn’t know how to continue. Mimi was her magnetic north, her safe haven, the healing of betrayal. She’d somehow known it the minute Mimi’s small, lushly rounded form had appeared at her door to interview for the job ten months before, a refugee from a toxic marriage in search of a new start. Mimi knew better than most what it took to remove yourself from danger.
     “I’ll be here whenever you come,” Mimi said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Perry sat with the dog’s head resting on her lap after Mimi hung up. Hal was still out in the car, endangering his fellow-citizens. She didn’t want to tell Hal about Mimi, risking his incomprehension or derision or disgust at the idea of a female lover. She wasn’t sure which: Hal’s reactions were unpredictable. But she knew it would not be simple happiness for her, nor a desire to meet his daughter’s beloved. No. He’d managed a meager affection for the man she’d been married to for four years in her thirties, though mocking him behind his back for his slender physique and lack of ambition. They’d eventually established a semblance of a man-to-man friendship, the basis of which was a teasing dismissal of Perry’s sensibilities: her concern for abused animals and children, her defense of feminism and gays and racial minorities. Keith, who shared or at least did not object to Perry’s views when they were alone, readily laughed at Hal’s jibes, preening in his father-in-law’s approbation.
     “Why didn’t you stand up for me?” challenged Perry in despair after Hal’s jocular lunchtime discourse about how he used to knock his kids around a bit and how it didn’t do them any harm, on the contrary, look at how well they all turned out, except perhaps Perry, but she’ll improve one day, ha ha. “You think it’s wrong to hit children. Why don’t you come out and say so? You know what he did to us.”
     They were walking in the park after Perry had telegraphed an urgent need to get out of the house. Keith put his arm lightly around her shoulders. “He’s a decent guy, Perry,” he said. “I know he was strict but he did love you all. Sometimes I think you and the others are a bit hard on him.”
     Perry stopped dead, tongue-tied with frustration and fury. Her own husband, the one person in the world who owed her complete loyalty, sympathizing with the man who had inflicted his rage on her and her brother and sisters, staining their souls, imprinting their physical beings so that the faintest echo of violence made them shrink and suffer.
     A cold realization settled around her. “You don’t believe me,” she said slowly. “You obviously do not believe what I’ve told you, or you couldn’t say that.”
     Keith shrugged, non-committal.

Their mother had wept at her husband’s rampages but not tried to restrain him. The children saw how he alternately bullied and doted on her, so that she was as confused as they were. They did not expect her to protect them. They tried, fruitlessly, to protect each other, despairing at their failure.
     Perry remembered a lake cabin, an overcast afternoon, a sandy driveway where her father was punishing 10-year-old Spider for sitting in the parked car and pretending to drive. Inside, Perry crouched by the wall, nerves stretched to breaking point, hearing Spider’s cries, hearing her mother’s suppressed mews of distress. A final impotent grief drove her from the house and into the lake fully clothed, wanting only to extinguish the pain of being unable to stop him.
     No one noticed her leave, or come back soaked and chilled hours later. In a rare time of closeness in their twenties she had told the story to Celia and Lynne, speaking hesitantly in the dark in the bedroom they were sharing during a family gathering. In the blank silence after her revelation she had regretted her openness. But then they told their own secrets: Lynne at sixteen had stood poised at the side of the highway longing for the oblivion that would come when a truck mowed her down. Celia had taken pills and waited for her mind to sink into blackness, vomiting when the blood started to roar in her ears.
     They lay in their parallel camp beds, tears staining pillows, hands reaching out to clasp in the dark.
     “We should confront him,” said Lynne fiercely. “Why should he get away with it? What he did was criminal.”
     Perry was thinking of Spider, their beloved baby brother, but couldn’t bear to give voice to the question.
     By morning their words had sunk back into silence, effaced by the hearty bustle of Thanksgiving breakfast.
     And here we are, she thought, waiting in the kitchen with the dog. He’s still threatening our lives and we’re still silenced. We still cannot save ourselves or each other. The thought shamed her profoundly.

The next day was Hal’s birthday. All day, through the birthday calls from his children and grandchildren, the pleased opening of cards from his few remaining friends, the ritual of unwrapping the just-wrapped gifts she’d brought, Perry anticipated the dinner at The Huntsman’s Table and the twelve mile drive to get there. This time she would insist. This time she would prevail. Perry was glad now that the accident had happened, since it so inarguably strengthened her position. Lunchtime, she thought, that’s when I’ll raise it, so it’ll be settled in plenty of time before we leave.
     “Happy birthday again, Hal,” she said gaily, serving a quiche that she’d made, adorned by a single lit candle in the middle. Tonight at the restaurant there’d be a proper birthday cake. “Blow it out and make a wish. Excellent practice for later.” She sat down opposite him, where Isabel used to sit.
     He laughed and blew.  “I’m glad you’re here, dear. I appreciate it. You’re all so good to me.”
     She nodded, smiling. “Tonight I’m going to drive, Hal, OK? That way you can relax and be the birthday boy, have as much wine as you want.” He’d invited two of his old cronies to join them, widowers like him. She knew they liked to drink together.
     But he shook his head. “No need, Perry. I’ll be fine. By the time we’ve had dessert I’ll be sober as a nun.”
     Perry’s smile stiffened. She felt devastatingly alone. “Hal. I need to say this. I’m sorry. I don’t feel safe driving with you. I don’t think you see well enough any more.” Her body shrank and tensed, waiting for his anger.
     Which came. His face grew red. “The hell with it, Perry,” he said harshly. “You have no right to criticize my driving. What happened yesterday wasn’t my fault, it was that woman’s fault, it was the dog’s fault, but it wasn’t mine. I’ve been driving since before you were born. I know what I’m doing.”
     Perry’s heart thundered. She willed herself not to back down. Her anger swept in at last. “And all these years you’ve driven like a madman! Isabel was terrified every time she got in the car with you, you must have known that.” Perry felt reckless, unmoored. The nerves in her hands and feet seemed to have shut down. Words poured from her. “It’s only luck that you haven’t already hurt or killed someone. And now you can hardly see where you’re going!  You shouldn’t be on the road.” With difficulty she stopped herself from adding “and Spider and the girls think so too” though it was true.
     Hal stood up, his eyes blazing. Perry stood up too. She could hardly breathe. “Don’t you bring your mother into it,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare. You know nothing about it.”
     They stood staring at each other across the table.
     “If you won’t let me drive tonight,” Perry heard herself saying, “I’m not coming with you. I’m leaving. I’m going home.”
     Home! The word anchored her back to earth. Home, a thousand miles away, the other side of a moat that he could not cross once she’d pulled up the drawbridge.
     “You go home,” he sneered. “Go on, run away. Back to your flea-ridden four-legged friends.”
     Perry’s vision abruptly changed. She saw the wizened old man clinging to the table, fearful at the diminution of his faculties, resolutely turning his back on the ghosts of the past.
     “Hal,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I wish you well. But I can’t be here.” She gathered her unused plate and cutlery off the table, put them away, and went upstairs. In her room she sat on the bed, trembling.
     Her phone rang. “Just checking in,” said Spider. He’d called earlier to wish his father happy birthday but had not spoken to Perry. “How’s it going?”
     “Spider—I did it. I refused to drive with him. We’ve just had a showdown.” Her voice was shaking still. She told him about the accident and her ultimatum about the birthday dinner. “So. I’m leaving as soon as I can pack and get a cab. I can’t believe it.” She paused. “What will you do?”
     “What do you mean, what will I do?”
     “Will you support me?”
     She’d never asked him directly before.
     “Yes,” he said at last. “Good for you, Perry. I’m with you. I’ll back you up.”
     She leaned back on the pile of pillows on Celia’s bed and closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you. And, Spider…”
     “What?”
     “Will you call Celia and Lynne? I’ll be tied up on the phone trying to get out of here.”
     “I’ll call them,” he said. “I’ll ask them to speak up too. Wow. Maybe he’ll actually hear us, finally.”
     Perry felt a hysterical laugh rising in her. “Spider!” was all she could splutter. “Spidey!”
     He started to laugh too. “What, though? What’s so funny, you crazy person?”
     She didn’t really know why it was so funny. “Look at us, Spider, look at our gray hair, we’re middle-aged, the four of us! Lynne’s a grandma!” She struggled to control her voice so she could try to say what she meant. “It only took us forty years!” Her laughter was perilously close to sobs. She turned her face into the pillows to wipe her eyes and nose. In her ear Spider was howling too. “I have to hang up!” she gasped at last. “Let’s talk later.”

She half expected Hal to come to her door as she gathered her things and waited on hold for the airline to change her ticket—for a penalty of $150, cheap at the price, she considered—though she had no idea whether he’d appear in rage or appeasement. But he didn’t appear at all.
     Perry came downstairs an hour later when the cab was on its way. Hal was sitting where she’d left him. From the back he looked thin and defeated, hunched over the table. He didn’t turn around, perhaps not hearing her approach. She was stricken and put her hand on his shoulder.
     “Dad.” She hadn’t called him that for years, not since she’d privately demoted both him and Isabel as not worthy of their parental titles. They’d taken her use of their given names as just another of her eccentricities.
     Hal brushed away her hand. He turned to look at her. His gaze was withering. “You’re not like your sisters, are you? They’d never speak to me like that. They’ve made me proud, both of them. Your brother too. But you! What do I care what you think or do?”
     Perry bowed her head. Perhaps there would be a rebuilding between them some day. Or at least cosmetic repair. Or not. She had to leave, not knowing.

She didn’t call Mimi until the plane had landed in Burlington and she’d retrieved her car. It smelled of hay and apples. Dusk was falling and the first stars had appeared.
     “Hi!” said Mimi with pleased surprise. “I’m with Captain and Betsy for evening walkies.” Perry pictured them, a huge mild-mannered Doberman and his yappy little sidekick whose owners were in Florida for a week. Then Mimi exclaimed, “Wait a minute—Perry, aren’t you at the birthday dinner? Don’t tell me you’re calling from the restaurant—is it that bad? Oh god, I knew you shouldn’t have gone there alone.”
     “I’m here, Mimi,” Perry said. Placid fields and woods stretched out beside her. “I’m almost home. I left this afternoon. He was absolutely insisting on driving, in spite of the accident yesterday. So I let him have it. Part of it, anyway.”
     “Oh, honey.” They were silent. Perry drove along the darkening road, listening to Mimi’s breath as she walked with the dogs.
     “There’s some soup on the stove. Just ordinary. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
     “Soup is perfect-o. Tell those pooches I’ll see them soon.”
     “Captain! Betsy!” Mimi called, her voice further away. “Auntie Perry’s back and she’ll give you your breakfast tomorrow.” She spoke into the phone again. “They say you did the right thing. They say bravo.”
     “See, that’s why I hang out with animals,” said Perry, smiling. “They know what’s what.”
     She slowed down and turned onto the winding road that led to her home. It had recently been resurfaced and the new paving sang mysteriously beneath the wheels, a series of long notes sliding under and over each other in an unearthly tune, muted and plaintive like the songs of whales.