Shawn struggled to open the door next to him. He heard the pop of the power locks and looked to his father.
Lloyd’s voice was paternal, calm. “If you open that door, son, all the water will rush in and we’ll sink like a stone. Why don’t we just sit here and float for a while? It’s nice, isn’t it? The way the car rocks on the water.”
Shawn looked at his sister. He couldn’t tell if she was enjoying the adventure or not. A moment later, the look of puzzlement on her face turned to fear. Water began to slosh at her feet. Kimberly began to scream.
“We have to get out, Dad,” said Shawn. “We have to get out before we sink.”
“We have plenty of time.”
It was as if Lloyd couldn’t hear his daughter wailing. He held his hands at ten o’clock and two o’clock and half smiled to no one in particular. He was in a different place now — Shawn could see that. Still, he tried to reason with his father. The car tipped forward from the weight of the engine. Shawn’s tennis shoes were completely under water now. “Roll down the windows, Dad, so we can all get out.”
“What if I don’t want us to get out, son? What if I happen to think this might be better than giving you over to your bitch of a mother for the rest of your lives?”
Shawn stared at his father.
Kimberly had unfastened her seatbelt. She was trying to climb into the front seat with her brother.
Shawn turned. “Stay back there, Kimmy. I’ll get us out. Dad, roll down the window so we can all get out.” Shawn looked down at his feet. The water was rushing in faster now. His calves were nearly submerged. The car was tipping even more dramatically forward.
“All right. Don’t panic, boy. I’ll get us out through the windows. I never liked this Jap car anyway. Arkabutla can have her.” Lloyd pushed the power windows button but nothing happened. “The water’s probably shorted out the window mechanism. Recline your seat, son. I’m gonna kick out your window.” Lloyd unfastened his seatbelt and then positioned himself to kick the glass out of the passenger side front window. After several concerted blows, the glass remained intact. It didn’t shatter. It didn’t even crack. “I know the windshields are made not to break,” he panted, “but I thought it was different with the side windows. Jesus Christ.”
“What are we going to do, Dad?”
“Jesus Christ,” Lloyd said again, and gave the window another profitless kick.
The water had reached the level of the seats now. Kimberly was hysterical. Shawn was frightened as well. But Shawn was also angry. If his dad wasn’t already about to die, Shawn thought that he might kill him. He would put a bullet right through his father’s head.
Shawn looked at his father. Then he looked at the window next to his father. Ignoring his father’s previous order, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out the gun. Without saying a word, he dug his hand into his father’s shirt pocket and pulled out a bullet. He loaded the gun, disengaged the safety, and fired at the driver’s side window. The gunshot was deafening. Kimberly screamed louder as the window shattered and water began to splash in.
“Kimmy, you first.” He pulled his sister with all of his might up into the front seat and passed her to Lloyd, who pushed her through the fully breached window. “Climb up on top of the car and hang on,” said Shawn.
Next was Shawn’s turn. He crawled jumbly-limbed over his father, making sure to knee him in the groin as he passed. Shawn hung onto his sister on the top of the slippery, bobbing car, not knowing if his father would follow the two of them out or not. And not really caring.
Just as the lake water began to flood through the paneless window, Lloyd emerged from the car. He treaded water next to the car, gasping and half-choking. A fisherman in a rowboat coming in late had watched the car go into the water but had been too far removed to attempt an early rescue on his own. Now he paddled up to the drowning Accord and helped Kimberly and her brother into his boat.
Kimberly cried softly. She didn’t look at Lloyd as he lifted himself, heavy with sodden clothing, into the boat from the black water.
Shawn didn’t look at him either.
As the fisherman rowed toward the shore Shawn watched the car, still dimly lit inside, sink slowly beneath the surface of the lake and disappear.
Lloyd spent the next several years trying his best to redeem himself in the eyes of his children. Shawn vowed not to have anything to do with him. Kimberly followed her big brother’s example. There was, however, one thing that Shawn did for Lloyd, and it was an important thing: he told the sheriff that going into Arkabutla Lake had been an accident. This lie spared his father from spending the rest of his life in prison.
Eventually Lloyd gave up trying to win his children’s forgiveness. He moved to another state and was not heard from again.
When, years later, Shawn Toland joined the Mississippi chapter of the NRA, he told a group of fellow gun owners that a gun had protected his sister and him when set upon by a madman. He didn’t mention any details, including the most important detail of alclass="underline" that the madman was a man whom he had once loved with a full filial heart, as every good son is taught to do.
It wasn’t any of their business.
1992 GRIEVING IN MINNESOTA
“It just isn’t right,” said Bonnie. Vicki nodded. The sisters, both in their late thirties, were at their favorite coffeehouse in St. Paul. An acoustic guitar could be heard over the drone of caffeine-fueled customer chatter. The air was infused with the smell of roasting coffee. This was Dunn Brothers’ biggest boast: they roasted their own coffee every day right on the premises.
“In fact, it’s actually kind of creepy,” Bonnie went on. “Having to listen to Dad’s voice every time I call home and Mom’s not there.”
Vicki crunched a biscotto. “Another Vietnamese family moved onto my street. Now we have three.”
“I’m talking about Mom.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Tell her to record a new greeting for her answering machine. Dad’s been dead for six months.”
Vicki wet her finger with her tongue and poked at the crumbs of biscotti on her plate. She licked them off her finger.
“Go ahead. Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Whatever it is you seem dying to say.”
“All right, then. I’ll say it. I happen to like hearing Dad’s voice on Mom’s answering machine.”
“Really?”
Vicki shrugged.
“Alice and I aren’t home right now. Well, I don’t know where she is, but I’m currently up in Heaven with Jesus. That’s the vibe it’s giving out — you know that, right?”
“Bonnie, do you want me to talk to her? Is that why you’re bringing this up?”
“Yes, I want you to talk to her. She listens to you. And make her start giving away some of those clothes to the Goodwill or somebody. It’s like he’s off on a business trip and she’s just waiting for him to get back.”
“If that’s how she wants to handle this, I think it’s her right.”
Bonnie stared at her sister. “Pretending he’s still alive doesn’t help things. Do you remember how hard it was just getting Mom to talk to the man about the life insurance? It was $50,000 and she was dragging her feet.”
Vicki looked out the window. She watched the pedestrians walking up and down bustling Grand Avenue. “My whole neighborhood is starting to smell like fried egg rolls.”
“You don’t want to talk to her.”
“Not really.”
“All right, then.”