Special thanks to the awesome team at the (awesomely named) Exterminating Angel Press for featuring this short essay in their latest issue. It’s title is “Liability,” and I offer it in tribute to Noepe Center for Literary Arts in Martha’s Vineyard, MA.
Liability
I witnessed an attempted hit-and-run from my balcony the other night. I was a bit tipsy myself, which made me feel oddly implicated, an accomplice in spirits. I had not driven, which made me feel vindicated, if not wise, as though I’d learned something important during my days of drinking and not driving.
Anyway, all the elements were perfectly in place for a potential crime of this kind: late evening, crowded street, someone inebriated behind the wheel. Minding my own business with what should have been my final nightcap, I heard that familiar, discordant sound movies always mute by overdoing: the merciless crush of metal against metal; the sound of what’s not supposed to happen happening to things specifically designed to withstand it. The collective intake of breath (including my own), then an audible gasp from assorted bystanders—alive, bearing witness, unharmed.
And then the moment where whatever’s going to happen next happens. In this case, a poor decision that will end up adding money, time and ill-will on top of an initial mistake: the perpetrator attempting to drive away. The assembled crowd would have none of it. People from all sides stepped forward and improvised a collective call to arms. “No!”, “Stop him!”, et cetera.
An alpha male made it his business to become part of the solution. “Get out! Take the keys out of the ignition!”
“Oh look at him, he’s totally drunk! Somebody call the cops,” somebody else said.
It wasn’t necessary. This is a small town, it’s tourist season, and the police station is just up the road. An approaching siren, seemingly reading our thoughts, confirmed that this incident was about to become an official part of the permanent record.
A group of men surrounded the driver, whose body language conveyed the acquiescence of someone in the wrong. It’s safe to assume this is where the culprit flashed through the limited options of his liability: awareness, acceptance and dread. Caught in the act with tons of witnesses; worst case scenario. Unless…
Other people, mostly women, gathered around the car the offending vehicle had crossed lanes to crash into. It was a young couple and they appeared uninjured—this was, fortunately, not meant to be more than a misdemeanor (or, at least, not manslaughter). No one hurt, sufficient damage, undeniable accountability: a home run for some insurance company.
Several patrol cars secured the scene, lights flashing, a small army of officers protecting and serving.
I’ve seen similar situations play out several times: there’s an almost intimidating resolve whenever Good Samaritans intercede. People generally will rally for the right reason, particularly if they’re confronted with an injustice in real time.
And it occurred to me: if poverty could be remedied on a case-by-case basis, starvation would become extinct with remarkable efficiency. Ditto health care, or gun control, which would be easier to approach—much less understand—on the micro level. Americans, especially, are unwavering when confronted with quandaries wherein doing good makes them feel good. The resolution of needless deprivation would, I thought, be as miraculous as it was definitive.
It would, regrettably, require a considerable amount of time.
