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SAFETY MAN is all shriveled and puckered inside his zippered
nylon carrying tote, and taking him out is always the hardest part.
Sandi is disturbed by him for a moment, his shrunken face, and she
averts her eyes as he crinkles and unfolds. She has a certain type
of smile ready in case anyone should see her inserting the inflator
pump into his backside; there is a flutter of protective
embarrassment, and when a car goes past she hunches over Safety
Man's prone form, sheilding his not-yet-firm body from view. After
a time, he begins to fill out-to look human. Safety Man used to be
a joke. When Sandi and her husband, Allen, had moved to Chicago,
Sandi's mother had sent the thing. Her mother was a woman of many
exaggerated fears, and Sandi and Allen couldn't help but laugh.
They took turns reading aloud from Safety Man's accompanying
brochure: Safety Man-the perfect ladies' companion for urban
living! Designed as a visual deterrent, Safety Man is a life-size
simulated male that appears one hundred eighty pounds and six feet
tall, to give others the impression that you are protected while at
home alone or driving in your car. Incredibly real-seeming, with
positionable latex head and hands and air-brushed facial highlights,
handsome Safety Man has been field-tested to keep danger at bay!
Reprinted with permission
from Among the Missing
Copyright © 2001
by Dan Chaon
Ballantine Books
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I WAKE UP
along the side of the road where in a ditch there is a patch of mossy clover like a pillow.
An old farmer drives by in a pickup and gives me a ride in it.
In the dream, a girl I'd almost once married called me on the phone. It was all very normal and
un-dreamlike. I was surprised because I hadn't heard from her in years.
"Your mom asked me to talk to you," she said. "She's very worried about you. All of them are."
I said, "My God, Erin, I can't believe it! How long has it been? It's good to hear your voice. How
are you?"
"I'm fine," she said. Her voice was businesslike but not unkind. "I think the real question is, how
are you? What are you doing to yourself? You're a mess."
"Well," I said. I was a bit taken aback. She sounded so judgmental, and all I wanted to do was
talk. "It's complicated, really," I said. "I'm going through some changes."
"I know," she said.
"It's not as bad as it might sound," I said.
I was almost awake by that time, and I heard myself speaking the words aloud, and I opened my
eyes and stared at the weeds and gravel near my face. I couldn't even recall what state I was in. It
might have been Kansas.
Reprinted with permission
from Fitting Ends
Copyright © 1995
by Dan Chaon
Triquarterly Books
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Bibliography
