David Allan Evans’ Short Stories
There were no stars and no moon over Crystal Lake. It was early in May, after swimming hours. We were the Central High School relay team—which earlier that day had broken two 25-year-old records at the Holstein Relays, the last meet of our senior year–sitting on the edge of the dock about 15 yards from shore, with our feet cut off at the ankles by the cold, black water. We were celebrating, working on our third beer.
“Why did you buy the hide-a-bed?” My wife Beth and I were sitting in Walt and Edna’s Truck Stop around midnight, on a Friday in June. We had been to a beer joint called Danceland with another couple, after I’d played a softball game. We hadn’t done any dancing, and not just because I still had my uniform and sneakers on. Beth wanted to stop for coffee. As if she had questions to ask.