wild animal incomprehensibly strapped down.
The snow melted into my black tights and my short, patched denim skirt, shocking me out of my stupor with its icy chill. Snow trickled into my mid-calf dress boots. I pushed myself to my feet, feeling uncharacteristically strong and even fierce.
Eddy had managed to pull himself from the seatbelt without unbuckling it. He followed me across the passenger seat and out the open door, still making inarticulate sounds of rage.
“Eddy, stop!” I bellowed, surprising myself. Eddy was surprised too, and actually stopped, blinking and frowning at me. I decided to press this advantage. “Get back in the car and just go!” I said firmly. “Now!”
For a moment I thought he was actually going to do it. He even turned his upper body as if his head, at least, wanted to do as I demanded. But whatever was running Eddy now was not his thinking brain. He turned back to me and his hand flew at me so fast I didn’t even know he was going to hit me until I felt the blow.
I am a nice Midwestern girl, and never ever in my life had I been struck like this. Oh sure, I’d had kiddie fights, and my mother had once lost her temper with my bratty teenage self and whacked me on the cheek, but that slap felt like a feather next to this one. My head rocked back and I tasted blood in my mouth. My face seemed to go numb. Again, I was on my butt in the snow, only this time, an enraged man was screaming insults at me.
I couldn’t understand most of what he said—maybe I was too stunned by the blow to the head he’d delivered, or maybe he wasn’t understandable. I heard him call me a bitch, a whore, and assorted other nasty names. But he was also crying, and shaking his fists, and saying things that sounded like a terrified child.
The car, which had been patiently spinning its wheels in the snow, had reached pavement now, and made that high rurrring sound of tires struggling for traction on asphalt. Eddy turned to the car, actually cocking his head to the side like a playful puppy. He fell silent, and I realized this might be my only chance to get away from him.
I rolled and lurched to my feet, heading for the bluff that sheered away from the picnic area. It was protected by a railing to keep innocent kids from falling over the edge. This is the flat part of Minnesota, mostly, but even here we have our hills, and erosion and time and who knows what had made a sharp drop of at least twenty feet, followed by a more gradual drop. I thought, I guess, that I could somehow make it down the drop in the snow, and Eddy would give up and leave.
I ran to the railing and put one foot on it, looking at the drop and wondering if this was a good or suicidal plan when I heard another vehicle. I stopped, one wet leg on the railing, and turned.
Eddy was looking at the new vehicle too. He hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing next to his car, and I wondered if he even noticed I had gone.
The other vehicle was actually a truck, I saw now. It rolled in slowly but surely, its snow tires crunching on the snow. I almost cried with relief as Tucker Anderson, who had sat next to me in my high school Chemistry class, leaned out the opening window. “You folks stuck?” Then he grinned as he recognized me, and probably Eddy as well. “Hi Madde. What—” He didn’t get any further as Eddy turned and ran at me.
I let out a small scream, and Tucker, who apparently had realized something was wrong, threw the truck in park and leapt out. He ran towards where Eddy was nearing me. I had turned and was about to jump when Eddy’s arms came around me and we both—Eddy and I—sailed over the edge of the railing and fell.
I think I believed I was going to die as I fell, but very quickly we landed, Eddy on the bottom, and the breath whooshed out of me. I saw stars as I struggled to move away from him. I heard cursing, and snow came tumbling down as Tucker half slid, half fell down the embankment after us. I managed to