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Show 306 off the freeway now, the very moment before the awful accident happens three cars up the road; telling you to telephone the school to see what is wrong with your child who, you later find, is vomiting that very moment and calling for her mother; telling you to buy those snow chains for your car even though it is late spring and the forecast for that required trip through the mountain passes is for sunny skies. Telling you this expensive and important detail the day before two feet of snow is to fall unexpectedly. He is wondering if this is another one of those moments. I am begging him to just get up and call her. "We have to warn her," I am sobbing. He is sitting up, pushing the sheets and blankets into a furrowed mountain range between his side ofthe bed and mine and is searching for his slippers on the floor. "Hurry!" I am pleading. His feet are scuffling quietly down the hallway and I can hear the hesitation in his every step. I can hear him standing in front ofthe telephone, debating with himself, but maybe also working out his apology. He is wanting to believe me because I am his wife, but I also hear a hard brass logic in his pausing that seems curiously absent from my own mind. |