Raison Deidre

By Wes Payton

Raison Deidre is a companion piece to Lead Tears—part prequel, part sequel...with a bit in between. Fans of the novel will appreciate the wordplay and satiric style of this novella. Raison Deidre tells a story uniquely its own, while managing to answer some of the lingering questions from Lead Tears—her name is Deidre.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wes Payton
• Release date: Mar 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463517505

Wes Payton

Wes Payton has a B.A. in Rhetoric/Philosophy and an M.A. in English. His play Way Station was selected for a Next Draft reading in 2015, and What Does a Question Weigh? was selected for a staged reading as part of the 2017 Chicago New Work Festival. He is the author of the novels Lead Tears, Darkling Spinster, Darkling Spinster No More, Standing in Doorways, and Downstate Illinois. Wes and his family live in Oak Park, Illinois.

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Raison Deidre

by Wes Payton

Copyright 2020 Wes Payton

Published by Wes Payton at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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For Sharon, Chloe, and Felix...my raison d'être.

Part One: Demolition Deidre

Chapter 1

Deidre felt blandly beautiful and hated it. She would rather have been uniquely unattractive. Unattractive, of course, is not the same as ugly. Ugly is repulsive, while unattractive is between beautiful and ugly—neither positive nor negative—and uniquely unattractive is when people look at you and are not distracted by your prettiness or your ugliness, but rather see you as a distinct individual...or so Deidre thought. Ordinary unattractiveness, she believed, is when you have no remarkable features—no radiant eyes or bulbous nose, no pouty lips or oversized ears...every feature is just as it should be with nothing standing out; however, uniquely unattractive is when you have a pretty, though perfectly common face, marred by something incongruous, such as a lazy eye or a hideous mole...or a grotesque scar.

Deidre piloted her grandmother's fifty-year-old, avocado green Buick Riviera down the busy city street that led to the freeway. It was just after five o'clock on a Friday and rushed commuters were in a hurry to get to their suburban homes and on with their weekends. Deidre drove the speed limit, and yet a line of cars formed behind her, tailgating and honking—an unhappy parade. The stoplight at the intersection ahead turned yellow and she slowed her aircraft carrier of an automobile to a complete stop.

Deidre scanned her review mirror, taking note of the cars behind her. The Lexus, she thought...or maybe the Mercedes. She hoisted the heavy motorcycle helmet from the passenger's seat onto her head. She pulled down on the straps, the helmet's snug interior pressing around her skull. She laced the helmet's nylon strap through its Double D-ring, fastening it securely under her chin. The Lexus pulled up into the turn lane to her right, then the Mercedes behind it...followed by a Tesla. She switched on her dashcam that hung from the visor.

The interminable light finally changed to green, and to Deidre's surprise the Lexus actually turned off, leaving the Mercedes and the Tesla accelerating to pass her in the intersection before the street narrowed again due to the parked cars along the curb. The turning Lexus had shortened the window of passing opportunity for the two cars behind it, and Deidre gunned the Buick's V-8, but even so the Mercedes coupe was too swift for the old car and pulled ahead of her easily; however, the Tesla, quick thought the electric car was, soon ran out of available asphalt. As they cleared the intersection side-by-side, Deidre braced for impact. The driver of the Tesla had two choices: he would either have to accept defeat and slam on his brakes to retake a spot in the funeral procession of cars behind him or try for victory by accelerating dangerously to avoid the bumper of the parked SUV ahead and cut off the Buick that was nearly as long as a river.

Deidre never had a doubt. The Tesla almost made it, nudging its hood slightly ahead of the Buick before crashing into both the SUV's back bumper and the Buick's front wheel well, sending Deidre's vessel into oncoming traffic, smashing it and two other cars all to hell. Glass broke, airbags deployed, and people bled. Deidre slowly raised her head and looked into the review mirror, which was now twisted to an almost vertical position. Her nose had hit the steering wheel, leaving a gash across its bridge. It already felt distended and there was swelling below both eyes. Surely that would be enough to leave a scar.

You stupid bitch! The man in the Tesla shouted as he got out of his crumpled car. Why didn't you just let me in?

Why did you cut me off? Deidre replied as she pushed open her door. Where did you even come from...you weren't driving in the parking lane, were you?

The angry man stopped midway between their wrecked vehicles, observing the growing lines of cars, and trucks, and busses on either side of them, both of which stretched farther down the street than he could see. I was in the passing lane.

There's no passing lane, Deidre said as she took off her helmet and tossed it back onto the passenger's seat. Passing lanes are on the left...parking lanes are on the right. Here's a tip for remembering the difference: parking lanes have parked cars in them.

Were you wearing a helmet?

Deidre defiantly got out of her car and approached the man in the middle of the street. So what if I was? We can't all afford to drive fancy cars loaded with a dozen airbags, and people around here drive like animals—case in point.

A police cruiser slowly navigated through the wreckage and chirped its siren. A tall officer got out of his squad car, surveyed the situation, and addressed Deidre and the angry man. Are you the two idiots that snarled the traffic flow on this arterial street?

One of is, Deidre answered. It's tiny dick Tesla's fault.

Officer, this...young lady wouldn't let me in.

I didn't let you in because I didn't see you, because you were driving in the parking lane, which I believe is against the law...isn't that right, officer?

Another squad car rolled up to the scene—lights flashing but no siren. Everything okay here? asked the female officer as she exited her cruiser. Ma'am, there's blood on your face. Do you require medical attention?

I'm fine for right now, answered Deidre, but I'll be sure to get checked out later and have the medical bills sent to this asshole's insurance company.

These two are alright...just grumpy, said the tall officer. Could you check on the other motorists involved?

Sure thing, sarge, the female officer replied as she turned her attention to the two drivers in the oncoming lane who were now both inspecting their damaged vehicles.

Okay, said the sergeant, as calmly and with as little cussing as you can manage, tell me what happened.

Shit for brains cut me off, Deidre replied.

Miss, that counts as your turn, the officer said. Now what's your side of the story?

Well, the Tesla driver began. I was attempting to pass the young lady who had been driving unsafely slow when she sped up, forcing me into a parked car, which I then caromed off of and back into her car.

You tried to pass her in the parking lane, the officer clarified.

No sir, I attempted to pass her in the intersection, but from behind I didn't realize that her antiquated automobile was so lengthy, and thus I was unable to complete the maneuver before I reached the parking lane.

The sergeant looked at Deidre and then her smashed car. That's a '71 Riviera, isn't it?

You bet.

Nice car...or at least it was, the officer said, turning his attention back to the man. That Buick has a 455 engine, which back in its day was good for doing a standing quarter mile in about 16 seconds—not bad for a boat that size...but then its day was a long time ago. Your Model S, with its electric motor, is capable of going from 0 to 60 in 2.8 seconds. So you're telling me that you couldn't pass her in the intersection, which—by the way—is already reckless driving in my book.

You see, said the man cautiously, there was a car in front of me.

Another car passed her, and then you tried to pass her too...in the intersection?

No, Deidre chimed in, there was a car next to me that turned right, then another car passed me in the intersection, and then dickhead here also tried to pass me...in the parking lane.

If there was a red-light camera at this intersection, I could show you that she sped up and wouldn't let me in, the angry man protested.

I didn't speed up, Deidre said to the officer. I didn't even see him, but if you need proof that this maniac cut me off, I have a camera hooked up in my car.

You were recording video? the man asked incredulously.

"So why didn't you just stop