Dave Materna

Station’s Wagon


After three weeks of hell it was over. Larry’s lover threw him out of the really nice house trailer with just the clothes on his back and one inflated air mattress. The mattress was the cat’s favorite place and the air slowly oozed out through the claw pricks as Larry headed to the pull-off spot down by the river. At least he was wearing his nice cut-offs. The pull-off spot was the only place he’d really ever gone these last few weeks aside from the trailer, where they mostly watched the Game Show Network and fought. Although one time they went and bought beer and cigarettes.

Two miles on a dirt road on foot with no shoes and an air mattress under your arm was one long row to hoe but Larry managed to stumble through. The tears from the break-up stung his thighs when he sat and rested every so often. Larry was a little heavy and underdressed, and the night had a nip of autumn in it so Larry got up and trudged on, barefoot on the gravel road to the river.

The night was so black that Larry missed the little turn-off and wandered on for a hundred yards before he realized he’d missed it. When he found it back again, he tried to feel his way to the fire pit. That’s when he bumped into a 1978 Buick Lafont station wagon. Larry dropped the air mattress. Truth be told, he’d been thinking as he was walking and he was thinking about taking that air mattress down the river, leaks and all, just to see how far he could get away. He wiped his nose with his hand and quit sniffling and lit his lighter. Yep, a Lafont. But a station wagon! No one ever left their cars down here. And there was a load of empty beer bottles strewn about. There were always empties everywhere at the pull-off. Larry kicked a few from beneath the tires of the car.

He looked at the river. It was swift and cold tonight. He looked at his deflating mattress and the cold river as right then the car’s radio burst on. Larry got into the Buick quite excited and laughed at the feel of keys in the ignition. This was his chance, as the engine vroomed and he got ready to peel out. But the car’s headlights shown on the tree right in front and a rope, tied from the tree to the car.

That’s how they lock their car? Tie it up like a horse? Larry got out and went to the front to look at the rope. It was knotted with a very expensive-looking knot and very taut against the car’s weight. So Larry lit his lighter and burned through the rope and when it did the Buick station wagon let loose and slid abruptly into the river.

Larry could only watch as his vengeance-escape-car floated and bobbed in the current just a few feet away and began to sink. Two faces pressed against the wagon’s back window, open mouthed—not screaming really, more like surprised at being so suddenly awake and sober all in one fell swoop, as the car was swept out of sight.