A Village in Minnesota (Grey Cloud Island, 1962, a Chick Evens story)
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 suddenly there was a crash, and Chick Evens standing looking down at the car, his car, a 1952, Desoto, and three bodies in the car, the car shattered, totaled (he was in a stone-black stillness, like if he were up in a tree, looking down), all motionless, his brain was 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, smashing the headlight with his kick, mad as hell.
He tapped Ralph Eldridge on the shoulder, he was still alive, and then 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 so close to death (fifteen years, drunk and without a license). He had the lives of three friends in his hands. He just had to walk, not look back, and they would be dead.
How vividly I remember tonight when I turned that corner on Gray Cloud Island and slammed on the brakes and the car ended up in the frozen Mississippi River.
It was a cold December night. In Minnesota, December, January, and February are typically the longest months. Everybody who lives in Minnesota all they do is sneeze and cough, and their chest and nostrils are congested, until the summer, sneezing all day, coughing all night.
I always used strong beer, even when I was fifteen, to take the chill out of my body, after and before eating; as she had tonight. But there was a catch.
He had pulled Ralph out of the car, “What happened?” she asked her, and started laughing.
“What is so funny?” Evens commented-the car demolished.
“You only have one shoe on and no sock on your right foot.”
That was strange, wasn’t it, he thought…
As I looked around (an empty wine bottle lay by the front tire of the car, 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 caught on. 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 just get the hell out of here before the police come?”
“That doesn’t sound quite right?” Ralph told me.
“Well, let’s put it this way,” I said, “it’s a favor to the municipality of this small village, I’m sure if they have to spend their time dealing with tired and dissatisfied people, on my own, it will only increase their stress.” boring lives. It all cost tax money too, putting us in jail and feeding us, you know.”
Ralph smiled at me, “That is expressed very sympathetically!” he commented.
“Ralph, you are indescribably boring, and this is not a boring business: better for both of us to get sober and get out of here fast.”
Then we woke the two girls up and helped them out of the backseat of the car, stabilized them a bit and they stopped a car, as the ice cracked on the river and the car began to sink, and we, Ralph and I walked to the her sister’s house.
Here we were in a car with two flashy girls, more plain than flashy to be honest, and had taken them for a ride, now dropped them off while they took a ride back to town (I took the plates off the car), and We quickly made up a few bull-and-bull stories in case the police investigated the accident. But I did not read anything about it in the newspapers the following week, and that led me to live a gray and somewhat sad life waiting for something that was not going to happen. As a result, I decided to go to the police and let them know that I was the one who had 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 reviewing his records for an accident report).
Police station
(St. Paul, Minn.)
Police Officer: I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Chick Evens, there is no such matter that has been reported or brought to our attention (a sad, meaningless look on his face).
Chick Evens: (Thinking: If I stayed and tried to convince him of my guilt, I would just talk like this, as I just described aimlessly, for this quarter of an hour, and then we would have parted ways in the afternoon anyway, the same way .) Thank you officer, have a nice day. (Thought: I don’t feel silly about this, just tired.)
5-14-2009 (HS)