Heavyweight - #43 Maura

Episode Date: December 16, 2021

When Maura was 17, her favorite cousin died in a car crash. Maura’s been too afraid to drive ever since. But now, a decade later, she wants to face her fear. Credits This episode of Heavyweight was hosted and produced by Kalila Holt, Mohini Madgavkar, Stevie Lane, and Jonathan Goldstein. Special thanks to Emily Condon, Augie Goldstein, Alex Blumberg, Bethel Habte, Anna Foley, Lynn Levy, Paul Bowman, Zac Schmidt, and Jackie Cohen. The show is mixed by Bobby Lord.  Music by Christine Fellows, John K Samson, Sean Jacobi, Bobby Lord, Blue Dot Sessions, Hew Time, and Bauble. Our theme song is by The Weakerthans courtesy of Epitaph Records. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hello? Jackie Cohen. In the last 15 hours, you have texted me more than you've texted me in the last six months. What's going on? Okay, so I got a whole bunch of headshots taken, and I need to choose one. I'm lucky for you. I'm doing nothing right now. You're in front of your smartphone right now?

My smartphone, my man. Yes, I'm in front of my smartphone. Okay, here's the first one. Kind of a bearded bohemian look. Here we go. Just sent it to your cell. Oh, my smartphone. Okay, here's the first one. Kind of a bearded bohemian look. Here we go. Just sent it to your cell. Oh my god. It makes it look like a bum. Alright, okay. How about this one beside a plant? No.

Denim shirt and denim vest? Oh god, no. In a Kangol cap? No. In a law library? No. Sitting in a beanbag chair? No. Eating a powdered donut? Of course not. Okay, all I've got left is this one of me and a turtleneck and a pair of overalls. Yeah, I like overalls.

From Gimlet Media, I'm Jonathan Goldstein, and this is Heavyweight. Today's episode, Mara. Right after the break. FanDuel Casino's exclusive live dealer studio has your chance at the number one feeling, winning, which beats even the the number one feeling, winning. Which beats even the 27th best feeling, saying I do. Who wants this last parachute? I do.

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See kraken.com slash legal slash ca dash pru dash disclaimer for info on Kraken's undertaking to register in Canada. Here are some things to know about Mara. She has a clock in her bathroom, so even when she's in the shower, she can make sure she's running on time. When she meets up with friends, she brings along sparkling water so everyone stays hydrated.

And, on her high school rowing team, she was the coxswain, the one who steers the boat and keeps everyone on course. In other words, Mara gets the job done. Which is why the one job she can't get done bothers her so much that it pops up in her dreams. You know how people have anxiety dreams and it's like,

you're naked or you're in a test room and you've not studied. I don't know what yours is, Jonathan. I've had that stuff happen in real life. Wait, you're talking about dreaming? Oh, interesting. I've had that stuff happen in real life. Wait, you're talking about dreaming? Oh, interesting. Okay. So I have a reoccurring dream about driving, that I'm behind the wheel of a car,

and then all of a sudden there's just like this creeping anxiety where I realize that I can't drive. Mara does not have a driver's license. Her fear of driving began 11 years ago because of what happened to one of her cousins, one of her many, many cousins. I have about 40 first cousins. Do you know all the names of your 40 cousins?

Of course I do. Could you recite all 40 names? Oh, my God. Dominica, Michael, and Catherine. Shana, Ben, and Mary. As Mara lists, I try to remember the names of my cousins, of which there are two. There's Marty, and a man named, I want to say Benjamin. The twins, Chris and Kevin, and Tina.

In my family, cousins are a coincidence. A murder of randos with the same grandparents. But in Mara's family, a cousin is a friend. And of all Mara's 40 cousins, there was one who was her best friend. Shannon. Shannon. Mara was two years younger than Shannon and grew up in Shannon's hand-me-downs. They celebrated Christmas and birthdays together, spent whole summer days at the pool.

Shannon was her cool big sister. Someone that you always kind of wanted to have in your corner. You know, she was the person that I got most excited to have playdates with or sleepovers with. As they grew older, Mara and Shannon would go on long walks together, talking about their families and gossiping about boys. In the fall of 2008, Shannon went away to college. And that summer, Mara was looking forward to seeing her again at an upcoming family party.

It was July 3rd. It was a Friday afternoon, and it was my brother's graduation party. Mara's family was hosting, so the day of the party, Mara helped her mom prepare for guests, tidying the laundry room to make it into a bar area. So I was sweeping the laundry room, and I remember the phone ringing, and my mom picking up, and it was my grandfather. and my mom picking up, and it was my grandfather. And I remember my mom saying Shannon's name. And you know the sound that people get when they're stressed and their voice just gets tight? It was like, Shannon?

And then she came into the room and she said, Shannon's been in an accident. She's dead. With the place still kind of decorated like a graduation party with streamers and confetti, you know, my family just started rolling in. The party turned into an informal vigil, with the family consoling each other in small, hushed groups. It was here that Mara overheard an aunt sharing the graphic details of Shannon's death. These were images that would stick with her for years to come. Mara's aunt explained that while driving back from the Jersey Shore for the graduation party,

Shannon, her license barely a few weeks old, accidentally swerved off the highway and drove through a guardrail and into a tree. The car spun around and hit another tree. It was the second tree that crushed her. You know, when news like that hits you, it doesn't really hit you. You know, I cried a little bit, but it was like this kind of sprint and then like normalcy. It only began to sink in a few weeks later while Mara was traveling for a race. She was staying in a hotel room with her rowing team. It was her birthday.

And I remember like at midnight going to the bathroom and running the shower and just like sobbing. I think for the first time, like realizing that this older cousin who I admired so much, like I was going to get older than her. She was always going to be the same age. Crying in the hotel bathroom, Mara turned 17 years old. Turning 17 in New Jersey meant it was time to get her driver's license, and Mara had already begun the process. She'd gotten her permit, she'd been practicing her driving, but with Shannon's death, Mara couldn't bring herself to actually take the final test.

My parents were pushing me to schedule the test, and I was kind of like, oh, I don't know, you know, excuse, excuse, I'm busy, I'm traveling for a crew. This image of the accident would come to mind at even just the thought of getting behind the wheel. But her parents kept insisting. The way Mara explains it, their approach was, throw the kid into the deep end and they'll learn how to swim. They wanted Mara to stop dwelling and push through.

So one day after church, Mara's father demanded she take the wheel. My dad was basically like, you're driving home. And I was like, I don't want to. But he made me. And we were, I don't know, a mile and a half from my parents. And I can remember just being utterly terrified and feeling like my stomach was just dropping through my body and my dad being in the front seat and like raising his voice and making gasps and like pulling in and thinking to myself, I never want to do that again.

And that was literally the last time I ever was behind the wheel of a car. Eleven years later, and still, Mara's parents see her inability to get her license in practical terms. Adults just need to drive. They've never been able to see it the way Mara does. So at no point were you able to say, the reason why I don't want to drive is just it connects too much to Shannon? Oh, I have in various ways over the years.

It's just never been heard. Mara says any conversation with her parents about driving devolves into a fight. Her parents push her to move past her fear. Mara says she can't. But they never really talk about what's behind the fear. Instead, they talk in circles, and everyone leaves resentful. This happened most recently, last Thanksgiving.

Because of the pandemic, Mara didn't want to take the train from D.C. to Jersey. Her mother didn't want to make the long drive to pick her up. Things grew heated. Mara remembers her mom eventually saying, well, you're the one who decided not to get your license. It felt like the same argument they've been having since she was 17. And so now you're 28 years old and you don't have your license. I'm 28 years old and I don't have my license.

Saying it out loud makes me want to cry. Mara is desperate to change the conversation with her parents, and the solution, she thinks, is to get her license. That way, they can stop fighting about the license and finally talk about why it's been so hard for her, about what's behind her fear. The only problem, Mara's still terrified of driving. So, she's come to me for help getting on the road

and eventually passing the driver's test. I believe I failed the written part a couple times. And I wasn't a good driver, and I'm still not a great driver, and I don't really like driving. Okay. When I play Grand Theft Auto, I can barely steal a single auto. But I remind Mara that, even so, they still gave me a license. I don't have any special skill, any great hand-eye coordination, and yet, I'm street legal.

Right? I'm just basically like, yeah, any asshole can do it. And I'm that asshole. And I'm confident that Mara can be that asshole too. So this is what I want to hear you say. You ready? I'm ready. I'm 28 years old. I'm 28 years old. And I'm going to get my driver's license.

And I'm going to get my driver's license. How does that feel? It feels good. I feel like I'm going to get my driver's license. How does that feel? It feels good. I feel like I'm going to cry again. Ah! After the break, I coxin Mara to the finish line. Check this out. Portside, raise your arms.

Stroke, stroke. I mean, drive, drive. Tune that radio. Pump that AC, Winklevoss, get your head out of the clouds. Why can't you be like your twin brother? FanDuel Casino's exclusive live dealer studio has your chance at the number one feeling, winning,

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Gambling problem? Call 1-866-531-2600 or visit connectsontario.ca. Please play responsibly. With her road test a few months away, Mara will need someone to practice her driving with. It's still the height of the pandemic, so I can't fly to D.C.

I'll need to offer my tutelage over video. This means recruiting a local proxy, some D.C.-based patsy to fill the passenger seat while holding me aloft on their phone. Mara suggests I speak with her friend Joe. Joe describes Mara as the kind of person who's always there to help, stepping up before you even ask. So she's happy to help Mara learn to drive.

But there's just one problem. I hate podcasts. I don't think I could connect with them. Well, she's inside of one now. Although she's known Mara for years, Jo says Mara only recently told her she doesn't know how to drive. Mara's shame about not having a license is something she's kept hidden, even from her closest friends.

I was very surprised by it. Her and I and our friends have gone on, you know, tons of trips together, and it had never crossed my mind that she couldn't drive the car at any point. Is it sort of like when you find out that a friend is Canadian? Like you just thought she was people. What about this lot? Lesson one, the basics. Is it open?

For her first driving lesson, Jo brings Mara to an empty stadium parking lot. My virtual self, or best self, rides along in a phone holder fastened above the glove compartment, not unlike one of those dashboard hula dancers. Get yourself comfortable so that you can reach the gas as well as the brake.

I've always feared I lack dignity, but taking on the aspect of a talking car air freshener is a new low. Okay, here you go. Hello, girl. I got it. Mara's hands are visibly shaking. This is her very first time behind the wheel of a car since her father had her drive home from church 11 years ago.

Foot reaches the various pedals down there. Release the parking brake. This is the brake? Mm-hmm. And that other one's the gas. Did you have them confused? Yes. With the pedals all sorted, Mara takes hold of Joe's hand.

And let's take a deep breath. Okay. Let's drive. Oh shit, I'm in reverse. Mara starts slow, taking a lap around the empty parking lot. At first, she coasts, too scared to even accelerate. But then... She's using the gas.

I am just using the gas. She accelerated. Okay. We're at a cool 10 miles per hour. But in spite of her anxiety, Mara takes the drive in quickly. Look at that blinker. It's after I hit that 15 miles per hour,

I was like, I'm capable of anything. When she has a feel for the car, she even decides to tackle parallel parking with some abandoned cones. And between that cone is going to be where you have to parallel park. Okay. You can call it Jackie Cone. Jackie Cone. But unlike Jackie Cone, this cone doesn't laugh at you or bang down the phone when you call. It stands tall in tribute to safety. And also unlike Jackie Cohen,

it's orange with a white stripe. Though Jackie does have that orange sweater vest she wears with a white turtleneck. Makes her look like a creamsicle. But although Jackie Cohen is icy, she's no treat. But she does look like a treat. I'm going to turn off the car and put my emergency brake on.

With the lesson over, we sit in the parking lot. Joe, how do you feel? How do you feel Mara's done? Mastered level one. That's amazing. You've done it all at this point. Except actually, like, driven on a road. Right, the on a road. Lesson two, the road. These quiet neighborhoods are a welcome respite from the normal D.C. bustle.

This is Mara's cousin Mike, who's taking her driving on an actual street. Mike and Mara grew up together. When Mike was overseas and homesick, Mara was the only family member who came to visit him. But in spite of their closeness, it turns out that, like Joe, Mike never knew about Mara's lack of a license. Now that he does, though, he's offering his full support.

Is that good? That's perfect. Mike is a staff sergeant in the Army and has the kind of can-do attitude that must come in handy when motivating a cadet off a plane with the gentle poke of a bayonet. Driving is possible. Driving is for everyone. Mara is at ease driving through the streets of D.C. as Mike offers helpful tips. Turn signals are a crutch. You don't need them. Shut up. Blinkers are not for you, though. You don't need them. Shut up. Blinkers are not for you, though.

They're for other people. First of all, it's nobody's business where I'm going. Oh, my God. That might be the most American thing I've ever heard said. Like... You had to operate in a parking garage yet? I haven't. Mara and Mike make a bathroom stop at a grocery store,

which affords Mara a chance to practice parking in a parking garage and Mike a chance to practice sharing his heart. I think parking was one of the hardest things for me, probably. It's hard for me to admit. After all, masculinity is just a cage. So why not break out of it? Wow. How incredible.

Thank you for sharing, Michael. Yeah. What is that noise? Mike's keen military ear senses danger in the underground parking garage. That was terrifying. That's terrifying. Are you getting that? It is terrifying. You know, maybe we should just get out of here.

Pee in the corner, run. Creeping around parking garages, laughing with a partner in crime. After years of fear and avoidance, Mara is finally catching up on what she missed as a teenager first learning to drive. From where I sit, in a cup holder, it's nice to hear her having fun. Mara's handling everything so well that I'm tempted to suggest we skip the rest of our lessons and just go to the movies. Theaters have cup holders too, after all. And I hear Boss Baby 2 is getting good reviews.

But there's still one lesson Mara needs. Which brings us to... three, the highway. Mara's road test is only a few weeks away, and she still hasn't driven on the highway. So while visiting Austin, Texas, Mara calls upon her friend Nora to take her driving on a real Texas interstate. Mara's always been there for Nora.

When Nora's grandmother died, Mara stayed up all night with her so she wouldn't be alone. Nora's glad to help. My hands are sweating. Mine are too. My hands are also sweating, I have to say, just like watching. Nora is holding the phone up so I can see the highway from Mara's perspective. Semis whiz by, making Nora's Mini Cooper seem even tinier.

We're on I-35, Austin's only major freeway. It's chaotic. All right, and you've got the green arrow, so... Shit, man. Yo, there's people coming up behind you, but you'll get in the far left to get on, Shit, man. There's people coming up behind you, but you'll get in the far left to get on. So you have to get over fairly quickly here to get onto the highway. All right, we're getting on.

Mara merges onto the highway, tentatively, a little too slow for the flow of traffic. Shit, man, I don't know if I'm ready for this. A little too slow for the flow of traffic. I'm feeling really overwhelmed right now. Okay, look. All right, all right, all right. Let's pause and come over. Mara, turn, turn, turn. Okay, let's go right. Can you get to the right lane? No, I don't know. No?

Okay, if you're getting to the right... Can you go one more? There's no one behind you. You're good. We can go all the way over. Once off the highway, Mara finds a parking lot and comes to a stop. All told, her first ever highway drive was less than two minutes long. Can you hold my hand?

Of course. Yeah, I'm going to put you down, you down jonathan yeah yeah yeah just yeah yes take a break i don't know why i'm crying it's i mean i know why i'm crying no even regardless of the other stuff that was my first time getting in the highway since she died. You know, and just knowing and feeling the speed in which in a moment something could happen. It felt out of control, even though I know I was in control. I'm glad it was with you Okay Okay. I want to try it again.

Okay. Yeah, there we go. That's the stuff. In spite of her anxiety, Mara gets back on the highway. Okay, go straight and go kind of left, and we'll stay in this lane the whole time until we get out, okay? Okay. Pause, pause. Okay, now go. Go, go, go. This time, Mara stays on the highway for a few exits before getting off. When I ask her why she felt so strongly about getting back on, she says she didn't want to let the fear build into something bigger,

the way it has for years. Mara wants to get the job done. Mara? Yes. How are you feeling? I'm feeling pretty anxious right now. It's finally the day of Mara's road test. She's brought along a support group to help distract from her stress. Her friend Jenna, her cousin Dominica, and of course, cousin Mike. I'm extremely hungover. Hearing this, Mara springs into action. Not unlike a thoughtful, nurturing version of the Kool-Aid man.

I brought sparkling water. Oh, yes, I love you so much. Yes, thank you. Um, different flavors, like... Do you want to back it in? I'm going to go, uh, it's 15, 20 of, so I'm going to go check in. Okay, great. We'll be here.

Yeah. While her friends wait in the car, Mara heads off to the test, where she will adjust mirrors and check blind spots. She will signal right, and she will signal left, making it everybody's business where she's going. When she approaches stop signs, she will slow down 150 feet before the corner. She'll even deal with a lane-hopping drunkard on an e-bike that feels like an obstacle out of a video game. And 53 minutes later, she will emerge.

Hi! Oh my God, look, you're a whole new woman. Thank you, my adrenaline's still going, I still have cotton mouth. Oh, my God. Mara is 28 years old. And finally, she has her driver's license. Amazing. Mara, what's going on? You have a, like, cotton mouth?

That's it? That's all you got? Are you shaking? For years, Mara felt so much shame about not driving that she hid it from the people she loved. But now, they're all here celebrating with her. She says she'd never have been able to do any of this without having asked for their help.

Let me see. Wow, you are so beautiful. What? Like, no one ever gets such a good name. Thank you. In the weeks after getting her license, Mara tells everyone. She calls her sister. She texts her friends. But there are still two people she can't bring herself to tell. Her parents. The driver's license was meant to clear the way for a conversation about Shannon's death.

But as hard as getting her license was, the idea of talking with her parents seems even harder. She's worried that she'll try to bring up her big feelings, and her parents will make their here-we-go-again faces and their let's-put-all-of-this-behind-us sounds. Then her dad will grow quiet, and her mom will start to cry. Everyone will get upset, and once again, Mara will feel unheard. And so she procrastinates for three months. But then one evening around midnight,

she sends her parents, Andy and Sue, an email. In it, she says she finally got her license and wants to tell them all about it. So we need to hear more detail. How did this all come about? I don't know. Where do you want me to start? Well, firstly, initially, I mean, how did you feel when you received Mara's email?

I was crying. Really? Very excited. Yeah, I'm crying now. I'm admitting it. Just so happy for her. It was a huge obstacle for her, just emotionally. It's a, not to be too dramatic, but a demon, if you will.

Yeah, I'm sure she probably told you the story of the week of her test, driving test with her cousin's funeral. Who died in a car crash. Right. Mara had told me that raising the topic of Shannon would be a struggle. I wasn't expecting Sue and Andy to be the ones to bring it up first.

And neither was Mara. At the mention of Shannon, she freezes up. I'm, like, very surprised that you have always made that association. Because of the way that Mina driving has been frequently brought up in our family, it's been talked about as this very intentional choice and feeling, like, in some ways some ways like not entitled to grieve we haven't talked about shannon in years like truly

i'm sorry that you felt like we were avoiding the conversation yeah i think during the experience uh the following years my my recollection was that it's something that we try to acknowledge verbally, but without creating a crutch, if you will. Andy and Sue feared too much sympathy might provide Mara with an excuse to give up on driving altogether. But Mara didn't want a license to drive

so much as she wanted license to feel whatever she was feeling. This wasn't just a mental block. This wasn't something I was overthinking, but this was trauma. Yeah, we knew it. That's what I was saying. We knew that. We didn't maybe do a great job of communicating it, but we knew it. We knew it all along. We knew it right from that day. You know, we heard you.

And this is the roughest thing about being a parent. There's no playbook. I mean, we're at a complete loss. There's no playbook. I mean, we're at a complete loss. No parent wants to watch their kid suffer. In the aftermath of Shannon's death, they'd wanted to say something important and wise, something that might put an end to Mara's grief. But what can one really say?

So in the face of an unsolvable problem, they focused on a solvable one, the driver's license. And talking about the license might have also been a distraction for Andy and Sue from their own grief. They'd love Shannon too. How do you guys remember that time, if I could ask? I remember it in great detail. We were having about 80 people coming to our house

for my son's high school graduation party. And Mara was busy sweeping through the laundry room. Even though Mara and her parents have never discussed that day, Sue raises all the same things Mara did. She remembers Mara sweeping, the phone call, walking into the laundry room to tell Mara what had happened. For Mara, hearing Sue describe that day the same way she always has makes Mara feel seen.

Sue also brings up things Mara wasn't there for, like the day after the funeral, when she drove Shannon's mom and brother to the tow yard to collect Shannon's personal effects from the crushed car. Sue remembers Shannon's purse on the floor of the back seat, her phone and flip-flops lying amid the shards of broken windshield. from the crushed car. Sue remembers Shannon's purse on the floor of the back seat, her phone in flip-flops lying amid the shards of broken windshield. Like Mara's night crying in the hotel room,

that was when, for Sue, it all sank in. Understanding what grief I was battling and we were all battling. Yeah, I mean, by the time we even digested it, that year went by. It was still stuck in our throats, and everybody dealt with it in their own way, just to try to protect themselves, try to protect their own heart. And then I left for college, and I haven't lived at home really since. You know, it's funny, Mara. I never really put it together until you're just talking now

that you're the only one of the siblings that was here full time in the aftermath of her death. Yeah. Mara was the youngest of three siblings. It was just her and her parents alone in the house, the air thick with the weight of all that was unspoken. Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out where you were going to go to college? I mean, all your

senior events? It was a rough year. It was a rough year. It's a small conversation, as far as conversations go. But after not talking about it for over a decade, it's something. Maura, think about this. Ten years ago, we would not be having the conversation like we're even having right now.

Yeah, and I just really appreciate you both having this conversation. There's so much room for improvement, and I think that's the... And we're open to that. Yeah, and we're open to that. The book isn't written. It's just a series of chapters. It's the beginning. Absolutely.

We're proud of you, Mara. Do you want to show them your driver's license? Mara holds up her license for her parents to see. Ooh, pretty picture. Thank you. Very nice.

And that's me in hologram form. Ooh, it's a little ghost-like. It's official! The license no longer needs to be weighted down with implication and meaning. It can finally be a piece of plastic with a nice picture on it that gets you from point A to point B. One fall Saturday, Mara borrows a friend's car.

She needs it to run some errands. It's the kind of afternoon people have all the time. But for Mara, it's an afternoon of firsts. First time driving around D.C. alone. First time hitting a pothole. First time driving through a.C. alone. First time hitting a pothole. Shit. First time driving through a drive-thru. What's your name for the order?

Mara, M-A-U-R-A. Where she orders a chicken sandwich and a strawberry milkshake. Thank you. She fits her milkshake into the cup holder and heads to her next stop. Man, this song's old. Mara started this trek because of her family, and she finished it because of her friends.

But today, she's enjoying the drive all by herself. Just dance Yeah. guitar solo Now that the furniture's returning to its goodwill home Now that the last month's rent is scheming with the damage deposit Take this moment to decide If we meant it, if we tried

or felt around for far too much from things that accidentally tied This episode of Heavyweight was produced by Kalila Holt, Mohini Midgauker, Stevie Lane, and me, Jonathan Goldstein. Special thanks to Emily Condon, Augie Goldstein, Alex Bloomberg, Bethel Hopte, Anna Foley, Lynn Levy, Paul Bowman, Zach Schmidt, and Jackie Cohen. Bobby Lord mixed the episode with original music by Christine Fellows, John K. Sampson, Sean Jacoby, and Bobby Lord. Additional music credits can be found on our website, gimletmedia.com slash heavyweight.

Our theme song is by the weaker thans courtesy of epitaph records. Follow us on Twitter at heavyweight. This is our last episode of the season, but we're already looking for stories for next year. So if you have a moment from your own past that you need some help with, email us at heavyweight at gimletmedia.com. Happy holidays to all. And we'll see you next fall. See, I made a little rhyme there.