"Christensen, Jan - Why I Quit Jogging" - читать интересную книгу автора (Christensen Jan)

The air drained from my lungs, and I felt as if I were drowning. The dizziness returned. I fought it off as I watched my wife's face. Several emotions at once seemed to be flitting across it. She looked surprised, and hurt, and scared. And I realized I was feeling those exact same emotions. Plus anger.

Actually, I was mad as hell.

* * * * *

Two plainclothes policemen stepped into my room, asked Jill to leave, and took my statement. It was kind of fun telling them the whole story because their faces never changed expression. They sat there like two Sphinxes, one writing, the other asking questions. It got so I became more and more outrageous with the delivery of the facts, just to get a rise out of them.

But they had the last laugh. They told me Victoria Burlson was alive. She claimed she killed her husband in self defense, panicked, put him in the trunk, hit me, panicked again, put me in the trunk, saw I was alive, panicked, and thought I would try to kill her, so she fought me and lost. Somehow, I just couldn't picture tall, cool-looking Victoria Burlson ever panicking. But what do I know? She had to be one tough broad to survive the conk on her head and a rear-end collision. But hey--I'd survived all that, too. For a moment I basked, admiring us both.

I was elated. I hadn't killed anyone, and I wouldn't even have to spend one night in jail on suspicion of anything.

The next two months were strange. After three days in the hospital, they let me go home. Jill knew that I knew about her and Burlson, but we never talked about it. Really, I was kind of dependent on her until I got used to the cast, especially since my neck was still quite painful if moved the wrong way. Sometimes I wondered if she'd gone to his funeral, if Victoria knew it was Jill her husband had been seeing.

Victoria was charged with murder, but was out on bail. It was all a sensation in the news, of course, and for several weeks Jill and I didn't have time to catch our breath what with interviews, doctor appointments, and therapy for my neck.

We didn't talk much. Only about necessary things such as what time a doctor's appointment was, or what to have for supper. She helped me bathe and dress. Mostly we sat around watching television.

One night we were just finishing dinner when the doorbell rang. Jill went to answer it with me slowly clopping behind her on my crutches.

Victoria stood on our doorstep. Her red hair was flowing down her back, and her green eyes blazed.

"I just want to know what he ever saw in you," she said.

Jill stepped backward, stumbling. It was then that I saw the knife in Victoria's hand, flashing in the fading daylight. I swallowed hard and backed up with Jill as Victoria advanced toward us.

I grabbed Jill's arm and shoved her behind me. We did an awkward dance together, backing, backing, Victoria advancing inexorably.

Suddenly, she lunged, the knife gleaming and arching towards my chest. Jill had hold of my arm and yanked backwards, throwing us off balance. We fell together and my casted leg flew up, knocking the knife out of Victoria's hand. She cursed and jumped on top of us. Jill managed to scramble away and reached for the knife.

Victoria was giving me a severe pounding when Jill raised the blade in her hand and plunged it into Victoria's back. Then my petite wife pulled the knife out and stabbed her again.

Victoria slumped, falling across me, forcing the air from my lungs. I could hear Jill sobbing as she sank to her knees on the floor. I managed to throw Victoria off of me and drag myself along the floor to take Jill in my arms. My good leg throbbed, and as I held Jill, I realized it was broken, too.

I murmured to Jill, "You saved our lives." Then I passed out. Again.

* * * * *

Well, the legs healed, but one is now shorter than the other, and I can no longer jog. Jill said that was good. It seems she'd been seeing Burlson while I jogged and Victoria gave her aerobics class.

Sometimes I wonder what Victoria was like when she wasn't crazed with jealousy. But I quickly push the thought away and find Jill and sit quietly with her. She is no longer carded at bars. She looks grownup now. Mature. I like her that way.

I don't even miss jogging anymore. Obviously, it's too dangerous a pastime for me.




Copyright © 1999 Jan Christensen