|
WF Supporter!
Join Date: Jul 2003
Location: Vancouver - Canada
Posts: 8,904
|
novel excerpt II
Off and Away
Traveling up the Alcan in winter depended on the weather conditions. The gravel road had a coating of packed snow which could be pleasant, if the driver was experienced. The graders kept it plowed, as it was the only truck route north. There’d be patches of black ice to take you off into the ditch. Breakdowns could mean hours of waiting for another traveler to come along. Gas stations were miles apart and keeping the tank topped up was wise. Less than fifty miles into our journey, the fan belt snapped. Engines can overheat, even in forty below temperatures. The car began emitting puffs of steam and we came to a halt. While Ken cursed I began to rummage through my suitcase. I had a pair of stockings from the New Year’s dance rolled up in a ball in my luggage. Once found, we fashioned a temporary belt and cinched it up tightly. The repair job got us to the next garage.
Every filling station along the Alcan included a café. The owners would live in a place off the back of the diner. In emergencies, service was twenty four hours a day. While the car was being repaired, I went for coffee. The people who operated these truck stops usually came from somewhere else. Behind the counter, there was a young woman dressed in a baggy sweater, jeans and heavy boots. She shuffled up to me. The cuffs of her grey sweater hung loosely over her wrists. “What can I get y’all?” she drawled in a soft voice. I was entranced. While I drank my coffee, she told me she was from Alabama. They’d come north, five years ago because they ‘wanted to get away from it all’. This place certainly fit the bill, I thought. She told me about her folks and her home in wistful tones. There was a dreamy quality about her voice and her movements. She told me she’d never even seen snow before they moved here. One of her kids was hanging onto her leg while shyly watching me. When she moved to fetch a refill, the child would trail along behind her. Her little girl had soft chestnut hair which curled in tendrils around her face. I thought about Audrey Rose and smiled. The woman was so occupied telling me about her home, she didn’t ask any questions of me. I was relieved. As I drained the dregs of my second cup of coffee, I wondered what was taking so long with the repairs. We had a lot of miles to cover before dark and the snow was beginning to fall.
The café door opened and a burly man came in. The woman immediately stopped talking. The child melted away through the plastic curtains into the private residence of the diner. The air cracked with tension as he strode over to her. She looked down at the floor meekly and busied herself by cleaning an immaculate counter. While he looked like a lot of northern men, his accent was southern. There was nothing charming about the tone when he began to speak to me. He told me he’d been informed that I was to settle up the bill. He addressed me in a manner which was dominant and dismissive concurrently. The amount of the repair bill was a lot higher than I expected but I put it down to the location. While I fished through my purse for money, I thought about the relationship between the two. Something was wrong. When I handed him the money, he went behind the counter to the till. He had to pass her to reach it and as he did, he pushed her. It was done with such force she fell sideways. As she grabbed the counter for support he said she should know enough to move. There’d been plenty of room to move by. As if on cue, the little girl began to wail in the back room. Another child, joined in. “Shut up!” he yelled. The smell of liquor wafted across the diner as he bellowed. The woman hurried into the back to quiet their children. When he handed me the change, his lip curled in malevolence and he looked at me. I returned his gaze silently as I slipped the change back in my purse. As I turned to leave the café, he sauntered into the living quarters. With my hand on the doorknob, I listened. It was silent, so I left.
When I reached the car, I discovered why it had taken so long. Ken was drunk and behind the wheel. Oh great! I thought and walked around to the passenger side. There was a couple of inches of new snow blanketing the highway and it was still falling. The compound was slippery underfoot and I knew the road would be too. Before starting out, I suggested I drive and was told he was fine. Not knowing better, I argued. This infuriated him, he started the car, stomped the gas peddle and, fishtailing, we slid back onto the road. To prove how capable he was, he increased the speed to demonstrate his driving expertise. At the first curve, we hit the snow bank, were propelled across both lanes, into the opposite bank, and came to a stop facing the oncoming lane. The motor died, when he tried to start it again, he flooded the engine. He pounded the wheel, while I sat quietly. When he turned the key again, I suggested waiting would be better and he slapped me. Being intoxicated didn’t dampen his strength. My cheek stung from the force of his blow but I kept silent while he continued turning the key and cursing. He got out of the car, slipped, hitting his head on the door with a thunk. Good one! Knock yourself out, you bastard! I hope you freeze!
While sitting in the car, watching the snow fall, I considered locking the door and taking off. I checked the ignition and the key was still there. I pushed down the knob on my side and repeated the process on the driver’s door and waited, seething. KiKi began squalling and I put some dry cat food in a dish for her. Ken came to, tried to open the door and began to pound on it while I listened to the crunching of cat food. When I checked my face in the rearview mirror, there was a red welt blossoming. My anger hadn’t subsided when I slid behind the wheel, started the car, slowly inched forward back to the correct lane as Ken pummeled the car screaming obscenities. He slipped and fell again as I steadily increased the speed. The car kept its course as I pulled away from the spot and headed north. When I checked the rearview mirror, Ken had regained his footing and was standing in the middle of the road. After I’d traveled a few miles the ramifications of my actions began to sink in. How would I explain driving a car which wasn’t mine? KiKi finished her meal, crawled into my open bag, made herself comfortable and fell asleep while I dreamt up stories to tell anyone who asked. None seemed plausible. The road was deserted with no oncoming traffic. I remembered my interlude in the snow and thought about freezing to death.
With no bidding, the memory of the red headed doll came filtering back into my thoughts. Once again, someone’s life was being held in the balance of my judgment scales. I thought about the red headed doll as I considered the significance of my decision, five miles back. Then I weighed it against the injustice of the slap on the cheek I’d received. Sighing, I pulled the car over, did a three point turn and headed back to retrieve Ken. He was walking back to the diner when I found him. I opened the passenger door and he climbed in. Without a word, I turned the car around and we continued our journey.
|
