Snotty-Kid
By
RD Larson

© 2005 RD Larson
340 words



Knock at the door. I put down my crossword puzzle to listen. Knock again. I got up slowly.

I look through the window. Looks like State Trooper. Hat and all, standing in the rain.

"Mr. Stanton? Hello? Mr. Stanton?" He calls to me. I unbolt the door and open it.

"Yes, I'm Stanton."

"I'm sorry to inform you of an accident on I-40. Accident with two vehicles it concerns your wife," said the fresh-faced kid. ?"our wife is deceased. In the accident."

"What?" I thought I had heard him say my wife was in an accident. I didn?t quite hear him. "Who? My wife? Stella?"

"Yes, Sir. There's been an accident. I'm very sorry for your loss. May I come in? Sir? Sir? Oh, shit."

I had let go of the door and stepped back on to a spongy floor, then the sponge changed to Jell-0 as I fell. I hit the carpet and the hall table. I couldn't think how to get up or answer the Trooper. He came in the door in a big rush -- stood over me and talked into his shoulder. "Emergency Personnel to 767 Freestone Place, possible heart attack."

I laughed; my heart would not attack me. I laughed out loud but no sound came out.

"Mr. Stanton? Hold on, we're going to get you to the hospital," he told me. It sounded like a speech he'd given in English class one year. I remembered him now. He was one of the students that made my last year of teaching so miserable. Now he's a cop? I laughed again, my belly shaking backwards toward the water floor. The little snot. I'd have thought he'd been in prison by now. He came here. Why? Why was he here? I tried to remember.

I felt so tired just then that I closed my eyes. Stella will talk to him. Snotty-kid. I'm feeling sleepy; then as another stray thought filled my mind I just drifted off.