Lawn Boy by Jonathan Evison

Author:Jonathan Evison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2018-02-28T05:00:00+00:00

Try Not to Be Black

Nate’s been short of breath the past couple days, and a little lethargic. So Wednesday, I made a three o’clock doctor’s appointment for him. Did I mention Nate doesn’t like doctor appointments? He was like a goddamn silver-backed gorilla in the back of the Tercel, pounding the seatbacks, stomping his feet, pawing at the side window. Thank God, Freddy was along for the ride.

Things were proceeding pretty smoothly until the cop pulled in behind me at Whale Dancer, flashing his red-and-blues.

“Fucking great,” I said, pulling to the shoulder.

I kept my hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, like I read somewhere you’re supposed to, so that the cop can see them at all times. That way, maybe he wouldn’t beat the shit out of me or shoot me in the face. One thing became quickly apparent as we waited on the shoulder: the situation did not agree with Nate. Maybe it was the combination of the flashing lights and being stuck in the backseat, but as the cop began walking toward the Tercel, Nate began pounding furiously at the back of my seat.

“Easy now, big dog,” said Freddy.

The officer was a hatchet-faced dude with no discernible forehead. Not that I’m big into Star Wars, but the guy looked a little like Jar Jar Binks. He tapped on the window, peering first and foremost at Freddy’s black personage with apparent suspicion. Only then, with something akin to alarm, did he seem to register the spectacle of my seething three-hundred-pound brother in the rear seat, pounding his fists against the side window.

I indicated that the driver’s window would not roll down, and when the officer didn’t seem to comprehend, I shouted as much, but he couldn’t hear me with Nate going berserk. When I opened the door to explain, he unholstered his pistol in a flash and yelled at me to stay the hell put and get my hands up where he could see them. He circled around the front of the car to Freddy’s side, pistol trained alternately on me, Freddy, and Nate. Mostly on Freddy.

“Roll down your window!” he barked at Freddy.

“It don’t roll down!”

“Step out of the vehicle!”

“Door don’t open!”

“Put your hands on the dash, where I can see them!”

Freddy complied as the cop circled back around to my side of the car, pistol trained, left eye twitching.

“Step out of the vehicle,” he said.

Slowly, I stepped out.

“The rest of you, out.”

Freddy tried to crawl out behind me, but his knee hit the stick, and the Tercel began rolling slowly backward toward the squad car with Freddy and Nate still in it.

“Oh shit,” I said.

Freddy was hanging halfway out of the car when the flustered cop, trying to get a handle on the escalating situation, inexplicably took aim at a rear tire of the Tercel, and pulled the trigger with a pop, missing the tire completely and kicking up some gravel just as Freddy managed to reach between his legs and apply the emergency brake.

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