Breathing Lessons (1989 Pulitzer Prize) - Anne Tyler [56]
"Honk," Maggie instructed him.
Ira said, "Oh, I'll just-" He would just get past the fellow, he was going to say. Some incompetent idiot; best to put such people far behind you. He pressed the accelerator and checked the rearview mirror, but at the same time Maggie reached over to jab his horn. The long, insistent blare startled him. He seized Maggie's hand and returned it firmly to her lap. Only then did he realize that the Chevy driver, no doubt equally startled, had slowed sharply just feet ahead. Maggie made a grab for the dashboard. Ira had no choice; he swerved right and plowed off the side of the road.
Dust rose around them like smoke. The Chevy picked up speed and rounded a curve and vanished.
"Jesus," Ira said.
Somehow their car had come to a stop, although he couldn't recall braking. In fact, the engine had died. Ira was still gripping the wheel, and the keys were still swinging from the ignition, softly jingling against each other.
"You just had to butt in, Maggie, didn't you," he said.
"Me? You're blaming this on me? What did I do?" "Oh, nothing. Only honked the horn when I was the one driving. Only scared that fellow so he lost what last few wits he had. Just once in your life, Maggie, I wish you would manage not to stick your nose in what doesn't concern you." "And if I didn't, who would?" she asked him. "And how can you say it doesn't concern me when here I sit in what's known far and wide as the death seat? And also, it wasn't my honking that caused the trouble; it was that crazy driver, slowing down for no apparent reason." Ira sighed. "Anyway," he said. "Are you all right?" "I could just strangle him!" she said.
He supposed that meant she was fine.
He restarted the engine. It coughed a couple of times and then took hold. He checked for traffic and pulled out onto the highway again. After the gravelly roadside, the pavement felt too frictionless, too easy. He noticed how his hands were shaking on the steering wheel.
"That man was a maniac," Maggie said.
"Good thing wejhad our seat belts fastened." "We ought to report him." "Oh, well. So long as no one was hurt." "Go faster, will you., Ira?" He glanced over at her.
"I want to get his license number," she said. Her tangled curls gave her the look of a wild woman.
Ira said, "Now, Maggie. When you think about it, it was really as much our doing as his." "How can you say that? When he was driving by fits and starts and wandering every which way; have you forgotten?" Where did she find the energy? he wondered. How come she had so much to expend? He was hot and his left shoulder ached where he'd slammed against his seat belt. He shifted position, relieving the pressure of the belt across his chest.
"You don't want him causing a serious accident, do you?" Maggie asked.
"Well, no." "Probably he's been drinking. Remember that public-service message on TV? We have a civic duty to report him. Speed up, Ira." He obeyed, mostly out of exhaustion.
They passed an electrician's van that had passed them earlier and then, as they crested a hill, they caught sight of the Chevy just ahead. It was whipping right along as if nothing had happened. Ira was surprised by a flash of anger. Damn fool driver. And who said it had to be a man? More likely a woman, strewing chaos everywhere without a thought. He pressed harder on the accelerator. Maggie said, "Good," and rolled down her window.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Go faster." "What did you open your window for?" "Hurry, Ira! We're losing him." "Be funny if we