Long Drive Home by Will Allison Read Free Book Online Page B

said.
    “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
    “Why didn’t you?”
    “I was freaked out. I didn’t want to believe it.”
    “Does Sara know?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Damn it, Glen.” She crossed her arms and stared down at the puddle she was standing in. “But he was driving like a maniac, right?”
    I nodded.
    “And if he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have crashed.”
    “Maybe not.”
    “Definitely not,” she said. “He would have stopped, or just slowed down. So you can’t really say it was your fault. You might have been involved, but that’s not the same. You were just minding your own business. He was the one breaking the law. He caused the accident.”
    Hearing her say so almost made it sound true.
    “But it’s good you didn’t tell the police,” she went on, not waiting for me to agree. “We could still get sued.”
    I said regardless of whose fault it was, they’d have a hard time proving anything.
    “So? They don’t have to.”
    She was right, of course. Her father had been a lawyer, and he’d encouraged us to sue the guy who hit us in Cleveland. “You wouldn’t have to prove the guy ran the light,” he said, “just that he probably did.” It came down to standards of evidence. In a criminal suit, you had to be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, whereas in a civil suit, all it took was a preponderance of evidence. He compared it to a football game—a criminal conviction would require getting the ball to the one-yard line; a civil conviction would only require getting it past the fifty. “And as far as a jury’s concerned,” he’d said, nodding at Liz’s taut belly, “you’re already there.”
    Liz didn’t feel like going out, so we canceled our plans with Lacy’s family and ordered Chinese instead.
    “No fair,” Sara said.
    “Sorry, honey,” Liz said.
    “Mom’s tired.”
    She didn’t have much to say at dinner, just sat there watching Sara eat her egg drop soup, probably wishing her dad were still around to offer some advice. Afterwards, I sent Sara up to brush her teeth and started to apologize again, but Liz cut me off.
    “Are you sure nobody saw what happened?”
    “They canvassed the street looking for witnesses.”
    “You should have told him there was a cat,” she said. “That would have been perfect: he swerved to miss a cat.”
    She went to bed early and slept with Sara again—just in case, she said. I arranged a row of empty soda cans next to the sofa to wake me if I sleepwalked, then lay there in the dark listening for Tawana’s car. I wondered if Liz really believed what she’d said about the accident being Juwan’s fault, or if that was just her way of circling the wagons. For that matter, had she really believed me ? Surely the thought that I might still be lying had crossed her mind. Maybe it was a case of her not wanting to know more. Maybe we’d already entered into an unspoken agreement where she wouldn’t ask and I wouldn’t tell. Of course, the problem with an unspoken agreement is that you can never be sure it really exists.
    In the morning, to make amends, I told Liz I’d go to the funeral. I still thought it was a bizarre idea. And perverse on Liz’s part. She could talk all she wanted about how the funeral might help Sara, but it didn’t ring true, didn’t sound like the person who’d cover Sara’s eyes just to keep her from seeing a dead bird on the sidewalk. I thought again that she must be doing it to punish me, whether she realized it or not, and here I was, keeping up my end of our unspoken agreement, willing to accept.
    “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe it’ll do her some good.”
    “I know you don’t want to go. I don’t blame you.”
    “I’ll be fine.”
    On the way to the cemetery, Sara started to get anxious. Would we see Juwan’s body? she asked. Was it okay if she cried? Was it okay if she didn’t? I was surprised, though, at how matter-of-fact she was about death. I figured she just