The Queen of Sleepy Eye Read Online Free PDF Page A

transmission going to cost us, mister?”
    â€œWell now, that’s hard to say. There’s the time and the phone calls to find the parts. This car ain’t exactly fresh off the assembly line. Then, depending on where I find a good transmission, the shipping is another expense.”
    â€œCould you make a guess?”
    Mom and I groaned at his estimate.
    â€œDon’t worry now,” Tommy said, obviously distressed by female emotion. “That’s the very highest the bill could be. I’ve never had a transmission cost that much. I wanted to prepare you if worse came to worse, and the final cost was up there somewhere.”
    Mom ran her hand over the fender. “This car has special sentimental value only I can truly appreciate.” Oh boy, here came the queen story. I looked around the garage for the restroom sign. Mom said, “I rode on the hood of this car as the queen of Sleepy Eye. I was only sixteen.”
    â€œDo you have a restroom?” I asked.
    Without looking at me, Tommy pointed to a key with a hubcap fob hanging on the garage wall. He motioned with his head and said, “Around the side. Can’t miss it.”
    â€œOne of the judges told me later that he thought I was eighteen,” Mom went on.
    â€œYou don’t look much over that now.”
    â€œYou’re so sweet.”
    I stepped out of the garage and stopped, overwhelmed by the imposing presence of a mountain. Wounds on its side, like a lion’s swipe, gouged through its shrubby hide to expose rocky flesh. I longed for the comfort of a reclining prairie. I looked right. More mountains scraped the horizon. To the left, plateaus like broad stairs led to the base of a rocky peak with crevices still packed with snow. I dared not look behind me. My heart pounded against my ribs.
    Trucks rattled by. A mother pushed a stroller toward the double doors of the grocery store, and a train’s whistle blew long and insistent. I sank to the curb to behold the mountain and the bluebird sky. I felt small. Weak. Humbled. Defeated. I’d allowed Mom toweasel her way into my college life. California was huge, I had reasoned. We could both live there without seeing one another for months, maybe years. Now I was stuck in some hapless hamlet with my tormentor. As I wallowed in the bilge of self-pity, questioning my cognitive abilities seemed appropriate. What if my teachers hadn’t taught me what the kids in California already knew? Perhaps my new peers had pushed themselves to take trigonometry and physics while I’d settled for geometry and chemistry. Maybe I was too stupid for college. Maybe I would have to beg for my job back at Tom’s Bait and Bite Shoppe.
    I’d rather die.
    When I returned from the restroom, Tommy was loading the last of the boxes from our car into his truck. Mom supervised with one hand on her narrow waist and her chin tucked to watch Tommy over her sunglasses. She was smiling. When she saw me, she clapped her hands together. “Isn’t this great? Tommy closed down the station to drive us to the motel.”
    â€œShouldn’t he be looking for a transmission?”
    â€œMaría … Amelia … Casimiro … Monteiro. You ungrateful—”
    â€œYou promised we’d go straight to California.”
    â€œWhat? Do you think I broke the transmission on purpose?” She cradled my face in her hands. I hardened my glare. She pulled me into an embrace. “ Fofa, honey, this is a minor detour. We’ll be back on the road in no time. You worry too much. I promise you won’t be late for the first day of classes.”
    No more Dramamine for me. I needed to stay alert. And no more hiding on the floor of the car. Thousands of people traveled mountain roads daily. The vast majority of them arrived at their destinations without plummeting over the side.
    â€œTommy,” Mom said, “I hope the Pontiac can stay inside. The sun will damage the