Free Chilly Scenes of Winter by Ann Beattie

straight, and he’s sure they’ll stop him for questioning. When he drives, if he sees a policeman parked off the road somewhere in back of him, he keeps looking in his rearview minor. Sometimes he even checks the mirror if he passes a steep hill or a curve in the road off which they might be hiding. Once when he was eighteen years old he was pulled over by a policeman for speeding. He stopped so suddenly when he saw the blue light that the police car almost rammed him. The policeman was very jittery when he got out. “Pull over slowly when you see that light,” the policeman said. Charles tried to say “Yes, sir,” but he couldn’t speak. He gave the policeman his license and registration. His hand was shaking wildly. The policeman looked at his hand for a second before he took the two pieces of paper. Then he shined his flashlight in the back seat of the car, and on the passenger’s side. Charles watched the beam, transfixed. The policeman stood there, flashlight shining. Then he said, “Wait here,” and disappeared. He came back with a ticket. Another policeman came with him and shined a light across the back seat again. They both walked away. Charles stuffed the ticket in his pocket without looking at it, turned the key and got ready to pull out. He pulled out right in front of the police car, cutting them off. The blue light went on again, but when Charles pulled over, they only pulled up alongside him. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” the policeman hollered. He didn’t wait for an answer. He tore off, blue light still on. Charles sat there, his leg jerking too wildly to drive. “Satisfaction” came on the radio. It was the first time he’d heard the song. It didn’t help to calm him. Nothing did. When the song was over, his leg was still shaking, and he felt too light-headed to drive. He thought about dragging himself from the car somehow and crawling to the pay phone that was right in front of him to call Sam for help. Then he started talking out loud to himself, and that helped: “Okay, okay, it’s just a ticket. They’re not coming back. Take it easy.” In a few more minutes he was able to drive. He had been on his way to an anniversary party for his parents at their best friends’ house. When he got there he went to the bathroom, and without realizing what he was doing ran the water and took a shower. He didn’t realize how strange that was until the host asked, “Were you showering, Charles?” when he came out of the bathroom with his hair soaking wet.
    Charles pulls up in front of a Chinese restaurant, The Blue Pagoda. There is hardly anybody inside. Two booths and two tables have been taken. The ashtrays on all the tables are blue. There is a small paper umbrella stuck in the top of the salt shaker. The waiter quickly removes it when he puts down the menus. When he returns he has blue napkins and chopsticks. They order: pork-fried rice, moo-shu pork, spareribs. “No egg drop?” the waiter says. “Egg drop,” Charles says. “No egg drop?” the waiter says. “Wonton?” “That will be fine,” Charles says. Faintly, Charles can hear Donovan singing “Mad John.” It’s so faint that it might be Muzak, not Donovan at all. And Charles might be imagining that the words are being sung. A couple with a child comes in and sits at the booth in back of them. “This is a German restaurant,” the father says to the little girl. “It’s Chinese!” the little girl says. “If they don’t have sauerbrauten, you’ll just have to suffer,” the father says. “Sit up straight,” the mother says.
    “Wonton?” the waiter says, putting the bowls in front of them.
    “That’s right,” Charles says.
    “Just made fresh?” the waiter says.
    “Fine,” Charles says. The waiter only knows how to speak in the interrogative.
    “You eat Chinese food with Doctor Mark?” Charles asks.
    “I don’t think we’ve ever gone to a Chinese restaurant.”
    “I thought that was what people