The Back of His Head
“Kenneth Newstead Orr and Catherine Orr, the newspapers called them, my polite, slightly indifferent adoptive father and his wife who was my late father’s widow. Architectural designer and primary school teacher their occupations, their car a late model saloon, the weather conditions at the time of the accident normal. An ambulance and two police vehicles attended the scene of the crash, and my mother and Ken died at the scene. The driver of the other vehicle, a mobile library, was shaken but un...hurt.
I remember the words, I remember all the words.
In fact I can remember every detail of that afternoon—the principal of my school appearing at the door of the classroom to ask for me, the hush over the class as I stepped carefully between the desks to follow him out, the linoleum of the corridor rolling beneath my feet as I walked, the policeman and policewoman waiting in the principal’s office, my clear understanding that something of tectonic significance had occurred. I can remember every detail of that office in the moment the policewoman spoke the simple sentence to me.MoreLess
I remember the words, I remember all the words.
In fact I can remember every detail of that afternoon—the principal of my school appearing at the door of the classroom to ask for me, the hush over the class as I stepped carefully between the desks to follow him out, the linoleum of the corridor rolling beneath my feet as I walked, the policeman and policewoman waiting in the principal’s office, my clear understanding that something of tectonic significance had occurred. I can remember every detail of that office in the moment the policewoman spoke the simple sentence to me.MoreLess
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