Bring Everybody: Stories

Chapter 2 - A Certain Samaritan

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Massachusetts Press / Page 10 / Printer Proof / Bring Everybody / Yates 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 [10], (10) Lines: 100 to 124 ——— 4.036pt PgVar ——— Long Page PgEnds: TEX [10], (10) A Certain Samaritan Billy Stengel’s daughters are asleep in their car seats, Jill sitting beside him up front, explaining how to rearrange the living room, get the sofa away from the window so that something more dramatic can be done with that spot. Billy listens but hears mainly the music in his head happily pumping as she repositions his favorite chair and the coffee table. He’s caffeinated and content, just driving out of the mountains. Hardly any traffic and a moon ascending. Jill says, “Funny how getting out of the house makes it easier to see what has to be done and puts you in the mood for doing it.” She is saying just this when he picks up taillights with his high beams and can soon tell it’s a station wagon, an older one with a Jesus Saves sticker, and well over to the side with its hood up. He starts to slow. “Not so sure you should,” Jill says. “Mean that, honey.” He gears down going past it. A man and a woman both wave, the woman raising her arms and crossing them like a football referee. They look middle-aged and both of them husky. Billy pulls to the side, stops and starts to back up. “Honey,” Jill says. “Just folks,” he says. In the side mirror he sees the man and woman walking toward him, the glow of his taillights on their legs. He rolls down his window. “Don’t get out,” Jill says. “Keep it in gear.” “It’s all right,” he says, and his head music is backing those words with a reggae beat. – 10 – BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Massachusetts Press / Page 11 / Printer Proof / Bring Everybody / Yates A Certain Samaritan – 11 – 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 [11], (11) Lines: 124 to 148 ——— 0.0pt PgVar ——— Long Page PgEnds: TEX [11], (11) “Thanks for stopping,” the woman says, bending to his window. “Everything just went out all of a sudden. The lights too, and we don’t have flares.” Billy can see her pretty well in the backwash from his headlamps. Her blouse is a print of big flowers and hangs out over well-creased slacks. She’s around forty with a turnip-shaped face. The man doesn’t say anything but stands to the side and looks fed up. He looks mad and exasperated and tired all at once, the way only a big man can. “Don’t have flares either,” Billy says, then adds “bummer,” a word he feels too old for but seems to use when the reggae music is running through him. He doesn’t really want to get out, although he had wanted to stop because he had been feeling good about everything , a feeling spilling over into compassion. Jill is massaging his knee. He can smell the resin from the pines above the cut bank, it has been that hot. “Just coming down after taking our son to Lonesome Lake,” the woman says, “and it suddenly died. Everything just quit.” “And not much shoulder,” the man says. He is looking at his station wagon. “I picked up your taillights from quite a ways,” Billy says. “I don’t think you have to worry.” The man is looking back at his station wagon. “Enough of a straightaway, you think?” he asks, still looking back. “Enough of a straightaway, you think?” She passes it on from her husband. Her face wants so much reassurance, and Billy has that to offer. “Maybe we could call somebody for you? Triple A? Would that help?” “We tried that. The cell don’t work in these mountains.” “I suppose,” he says. “We could try ours down below.” She turns away to the big man in the dark. “What do you think? The Highway Patrol?” “Or Tommy. Isn’t Tommy working tonight?” he asks. “I think so,” she says. She returns to Billy’s open window to rest [3.133...