A Village in Minnesota (Grey Cloud Island, 1962, a story by Chick Evens)
The four teenagers drove outside the city limits (of St. Paul), drinking in the car; they seemed to have come from nowhere to nowhere. And all of a sudden there was a crash, and Chick Evens standing looking down at the car, her car, a 1952 Desoto, and three bodies in the car, the car smashed, totalized (it was in a stone-black stillness, like if he were up in a tree, looking down), all still, his brain numb, curious.
Then he appeared in real time, his brain now tired and angry. He was a guy who loses his temper. Sometimes breaking things; in this case, he kicked the car and kicked it hard, breaking the headlight with his kick, crazy as hell.
He touched Ralph Eldridge on the shoulder, he was still alive, and then he pulled him out of the front seat of the Desoto, the two girls in the back seat, unconscious.
This was the first time in his life that he had come this close to death (fifteen years old, drunk and without a license). He had the lives of three friends in his hands. He had only to walk, not look back, and they would be dead.
How vividly I remember tonight when I turned that corner at Gray Cloud Island and slammed on the brakes and the car ended up in the frozen Mississippi River.
It was a freezing December night. In Minnesota, December, January, and February are usually the longest months. Everyone who lives in Minnesota all they do is sneeze and cough, and their chest and nostrils are stuffed up, until summer, sneezing all day, coughing all night.
I always used strong beer, even at fifteen, to take the chill off my body, after and before eating; as she had tonight. But there was a snag.
He had gotten Ralph out of the car, “What happened?” she asked herself, and began to laugh.
“What is so funny?” Evens remarked—the demolished car.
“You only have one shoe on and you don’t have a sock on your right foot.”
That was strange, wasn’t it?, he thought…
As I looked around (an empty wine bottle lay by the car’s front tire, half-empty beer bottles under the seats, the car on solid ice), and leaning forward I made one of my strange but truthful observations. ) seemed to have realized it. at me unexpectedly, “I want you to notice something Ralph?” I said.
“What?” she asked her. I started: “The two girls haven’t woken up yet, I can hear them breathing, so they’re fine, maybe I should get the hell out of here before the police come?”
“Doesn’t that sound quite right?” Ralph told me.
“Well, let’s put it this way,” I said, “it’s a favor to the municipality of this little village, I’m sure if they have to spend their time dealing with tired and dissatisfied people, on my own, it will only add to their stress of boring lives. It all cost tax money too, put us in jail and feed us, you know.”
Ralph smiled at me, “That’s put very nicely!” he commented.
“Ralph, you’re unspeakably boring, and this is no boring business: we’d both better sober up and get out of here quick.”
Then we woke the two girls up and helped them out of the back seat of the car, steadied them a bit and stopped a car, while the ice cracked in the river and the car began to sink, and we, Ralph and I walked to the his sister’s house.
Here we were in a car with two flashy girls, to be honest more plain than flashy, and we had taken them for a ride, now we left them while they took a ride back to town (I took the license plates off the car), and We quickly made up some bull and bull stories in case the police investigated the accident. But I didn’t read anything about it in the papers the following week, and that led me to live a gray and somewhat sad life waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen. As a result, I decided to go to the police and let them know that I was the one who had that horrible accident where everyone was fine; He had no intention of mentioning anyone else’s name, or in the story. And when I went to the St. Paul police station and started to explain my story, the police officer said, “What are you talking about?” (While he was checking his records for an accident report).
Police station
(St. Paul, Minnesota)
Police Officer: I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Chick Evens, there is no such matter that has been reported or brought to our attention (a sad, no-nonsense look on his face).
Chick Evens: (Thinking: if I stayed and tried to convince him of my guilt, he would just talk like that, as I just described aimlessly, for this quarter of an hour, and then we would have parted ways for the afternoon anyway, the same way .) Thank you officer, have a nice day. (Thought: I don’t feel dumb about this, just tired.)
5-14-2009 (SA)