Coe Review

telling her hush now, it will be okay, just hush now, her blinker blinking,
blinking, blinking, until she reaches over to turn it off.
And then the clouds pour in and block her view, and then the sound of
crunching metal from behind and the ensuing force slams her into the steering
wheel and back against the seat, a crash that seems somehow connected
to her, but too slow, it's all too slow, as if watching it happen to her, a movie
version. Afterwards she steps out onto the broken glass.
Lady! The driver of the other car is already out onto the street, staggering
towards her. Why the fuck were you parked halfway into the road?
Me? she says. You're blaming me?
He is obviously drunk and has a huge cut on his forehead, the blood
pouring down his nose and over his mouth and chin as porch lights from the
surrounding homes begin to come on. Yes, you, why the fuck! It's then, while
glancing over her shoulder, that he sees the dummy hanging by the gutter.
He says, Somebody better help that man. He's gonna fall!
It's fine, she says. He's not going to fall.
But the man doesn't understand, or doesn't hear her, and runs toward
the house, for the ladder, yelling, Just wait! I'm coming! Don't fall, man!
Don't fall!
But then he himself falls, trips on a snowdrift and lands badly in the concrete
of the cleared driveway. He gets up very slowly on his hands and knees,
blood pouring from the cut on his head. At this, strangely, a hybrid bulldog
of some sort comes out of the shadows on a chain and attacks the man's leg.
He beats at the dog and shrieks for help while hitting the dog hard enough
in the head and neck two or three times until the dog whimpers and retreats
into the shadows. After another moment, he stands and limps toward the
house where he looks up at the man hanging from the gutter and then back
at Darla standing by her wrecked car on the side of the road. Everything's
okay, he yells at her. It's all okay. Nothing to worry about.
S. Asher Sund 91