Rasim missed the exit because Aida was explaining why she didn't want to sit beside his aunt. He said she always distracted him when he needed to follow signs. Aida closed her mouth and looked out of the window. They were traveling to a family celebration, their third that month. After twenty years of marriage, they knew how the argument would end: he would apologize through a joke, she would accept, and nothing would change until the next invitation.
They stopped at a rest area where the machine wouldn't dispense coffee. Rasim inserted money, pressed the button, and waited. Aida said he could stop pressing the same thing if it didn't work. They looked at each other because the sentence sounded too appropriate. Rasim laughed first but didn't use it to end the argument. He sat on a bench and asked why this celebration was so difficult for her.
Aida said she felt like his family secretary. She remembered birthdays, bought presents, and invented excuses when he didn't want to attend. Rasim had believed this came easily to her, almost like a favorite hobby. Hearing how wrong he was felt more uncomfortable than arguing over an exit. He admitted no longer noticing her work once it became routine. For the first time, Aida spoke without fearing she sounded petty.
They called their hosts together. They apologized and said they wouldn't make it, without inventing a car breakdown. Then they ate the sandwiches Aida had packed and discussed where they wanted to go themselves. Rasim mentioned a lake where they never stopped because they were always in a hurry. Aida said she had brought only dress shoes. He took her old sneakers from the trunk, where she had left them after a spring walk.
There was nothing especially romantic at the lake. The wind carried the smell of mud, two families argued loudly about a barbecue, and the bench was damp. Rasim spread out his jacket and sat very close. Aida leaned against him cautiously at first, as though testing a place where she hadn't sat for years. They discussed their early marriage, but also the following Saturday, which he promised to organize without asking where their picnic cups were kept.
They returned home with an undelivered present and muddy shoes. The missed exit didn't cure their marriage. The next month, they argued over schedules again, but this time Rasim called his aunt himself, and Aida didn't correct his excuse. They put a photograph of the lake on the refrigerator, blurred because of the wind. When someone asked where it had been taken, they said they had once been late for somebody else's celebration.