They drove away under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon, him at the wheel, her seated shotgun, an unwieldy paperback collection of the Swan of Avon cradled in the crook of her arm. Two of fortune's fools about to pay their dues. As J. started the car, he spotted from the corner of his eye James Dean, Stetsoned and vested in black and white, sitting on a bench outside the diner. "Take it easy driving," he mumbled around the Chesterfield dangling from his lips, "the life you might save might be mine."
They copped coned ice cream from a stand in Woodbridge and returned home. Vanilla rivulets dribbled down their fingers in the spring air as they circled the square in Blue's Flying Dutchman and spoke of their futures as sureties. She saw herself a foreign correspondent, career selected and ratified a dozen years prior watching Christiane Amanpour on the ground in the Middle East reporting what no one yet knew would have to be retroactively ordinaled as the First U.S. Gulf War. He planned to get out of that town. God laughed. As you wish.
CAR crashes are common as clouds—just ask an actuary. A dull slap of buckling metal, whistle of steam singing from a flute of punctured radiator hose, drip of oil tapping out of cracked crankcase. Objects in motion, friction, objects at rest.
CONNECTICUT Uniform Police Accident Report
Weather Condition: No Adverse Condition
Road Surface Condition: Dry
Light Condition: Dark—Lighted
Accident Occurred On: Main Roadway
No. of Vehicles Involved: 1
Vehicle Type: Automobile
Collision Type: Fixed Object
Object(s) Struck: Curbing, Bench, Utility Pole
Involved Person(s): 2 (Occ. Vehicle)
Injury Classification: Not Injured
Seating Position: Front Seat Left
Injury Classification: Possible Injury (Claim of Non-evident Injury)
Seating Position: Front Seat Right
Vehicle Maneuver Prefix: Vehicle Avoiding
Vehicle Maneuver Suffix: Animal in Road
THE EMT palpated Blue's arm.
"I never meant to cause you trouble," J. said.
Blue winced. J. winced.
"Does that hurt?" the EMT asked.
Blue nodded.
"I'll meet you there," J. said as they loaded Blue into the ambulance.
"Don't."
"Why?"
"I'm going to have to call my mom."
"She'll put me in the hospital when she finds me anyways. I might as well save her the trouble."
"I'll be fine. Don't worry."
"Do I look worried?"
"Yes."
"It's not polite to tell people how they look."
"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Melville would have chalked it up to the invisible police officer of the Fates, part of the grand program of Providence drawn up long ago, a brief interlude in the bill between more extensive performances:
'Israeli Army Raids Largest City in West Bank
'Fender Bender in Town Square
'CREATOR OF BARBIE DIES AT 85'"
J. shook his head. "Quoting Melville at a time like this."
"Name me a better time, I dare you."
CIVIL night, sober suited, all in black, stood guard over J. as he dangled his legs off the bridge, skimming the lake's still surface. A water-logged Rawlings bobbed by under his bootsoles. Behind his eyelids, the accident played over and over and over, Möbius spliced. Had part of him, some Little Bastard, wanted to wreck the car, poised at the first excuse—like a small skittering something leaping across the street—to crumple Tallboy's tribute against the nearest immovable object? And Blue, her wrist—J. rubbed his own—collateral damage? He turned himself on that rack and chain-smoked a whole pack before his uncle finally found him, not clamorous for pardon, but grateful for punishment. Instead, he sat down next to J., hands clasped in supplication, shrouded in silence, denying J. even that small easement.
He looked calmer than J. could ever remember, an intense copper calm, the peaceable slant of his expression often spotted on the faces of cynics welcoming the cauterizing arrival of a worst possible outcome.
How long did they sit there before his uncle finally spoke? Time out o' mind. "What do you want to do?" he asked J., quietly, kindly.
Pick a card. Si me voy va a haber peligro. Any card. Si me quedo sera el doble. No, J. was his father's son. Cut the applause and dim the light. One more trick. How to disappear completely: a duffel bag, a bus ticket, a runagate. Crown his head with laurel, return him to the city.
Chapter Seven: Know What Detours Are
Start from the beginning
