Authors: J. C. Gatlin
She told
him she didn't want to get hurt, and he assured her he didn't want to hurt her
and that she was the love of his life. That’s when he got down on one knee and
removed a ring from his shirt pocket.
Kim
screamed, surprised and delighted, as he slipped it on her finger. It was an
elegant Solitaire diamond ring with a thin, two-toned band, and it was the most
beautiful thing she had ever seen. She accepted and then everyone in the
restaurant applauded.
She
couldn’t wait to show Mallory.
Mallory
of course invited them to a fancy dinner to celebrate. Addison made
reservations at the most-exclusive country club in the county. Mallory was
beside herself.
That
night, they saw Congress William Dietz dining at a table across from them. And
according to the gossip rattling through the clubhouse, Jack Nicholson and
Warren Beatty were dining in the back room. Mallory asked the waiter if he had
seen them.
Over a
three-hundred dollar bottle of wine, they ordered dinner. Addison requested a
medium-rare steak, Mallory lobster tail and Kim the veal. Ross asked them to
bring him a cheeseburger and told the waiter he didn’t like the wine. Please
bring him a Belgian Shock Top.
Kim was
furious, and told him as much. “You were entirely out of line,” she scolded him
when they were back in his
Camero
and headed home
along Morris
Munger
Road.
“I can’t
stand your fake friends,” he said. “Money does not impress me.”
“Good,
because you’ll never have any if you keep working at the garage.” Kim removed
the engagement ring from her finger and dramatically dropped it in the cup
holder. “Until you grow up, we can’t plan a future together.”
“You don’t
want to marry me?”
“I don’t
want to marry an immature boy,” Kim said. “You once told me that I make you a
better man. But I don’t see any evidence of that. We just keep going round and
round in circles. It’s infuriating!”
“It’s
infuriating, is it?” Ross was yelling now. “Infuriating?”
He took
the curve along the road a little too sharp, and the
Camero
skidded across the lanes almost hitting an abandoned fruit stand. Slamming on
the brakes, he skidded onto the gravel shoulder. In one angry swoop, he grabbed
the diamond ring from the cup holder, rolled down the window and chucked it
outside.
Kim
screamed at him and jumped out the
Camero
. Running
into the road, she searched for the ring as cars around her skidded and
stopped. Horns blared and one angry driver shouted and shook his fist at her.
Kim ignored them all, frantically searching for that elegant Solitaire diamond
ring with a thin, two-toned band.
But she
couldn’t find it.
Crying
and standing in the middle of the road, she lifted her head to see Ross roll-up
his window and skid back onto the pavement. The tires spun loudly, before the
old
Camero
sped off down the highway.
It would
be the last time she ever saw him.
That
night, she walked home, alone, hoping he would be there waiting for her. Hoping
he had cooled off. But the townhouse was empty, save for Zeus watching for her
out the front bay window. Ross though wasn’t anywhere to be found.
A week
later, she was still angry and boxed up many of his things. She had Mallory
drive her to Eddy’s Garage downtown and placed the box outside his locker.
To teach him a lesson.
But he wasn’t there either. And if he
ever got the box, she never knew. He never responded to the gesture.
As the
days passed, Kim found herself drawn to Morris
Munger
Road. There, she searched for that diamond ring. Sometimes she wondered if Ross
backtracked to the spot and beat her to it. Maybe he knew exactly where he
threw it and had already returned to retrieve it. Since she didn’t know for
sure, she continued looking.
Everyone
thought she was crazy for being so persistent. “It’s in the past,” Mallory
would say. “Get over him.” But she couldn’t. She even heard the neighbors and
the landlord asking Mallory what she was doing on the side of the road.
“What’s
she looking for?” Mrs.
Roundtree
asked. “Again and
again she searches that road. She’s driving herself crazy.”
“I think
that boy really hurt her,” the landlord added when Mallory told him that Ross
had tossed her engagement ring out the car window. “He didn’t deserve her.”
“I’m just
glad Ross is finally out of her life,” Mallory would tell them. “Good riddance
and I hope she never speaks to him again.”
Now,
after five weeks, she
was
about to see him again.
* * * * *
* *
She had
so much to say. It was all she had really thought about. But now she was unsure
of herself and her future. So she did the only thing she could: concentrate on
the old downtown buildings rushing past her outside the passenger-side window.
“For
Ross’ sake, I hope he’s a gentleman and apologizes to you,” Mallory finally
said, breaking the silence. She reached over to Kim and took her hand. Kim
turned her head and Mallory winked at her. “Else when I get through with him,
he’s going to be missing enough body parts to qualify for handicapped parking.”
Mallory
laughed at her threat as she pulled onto Eighth Street and into Eddy’s Garage
on the corner of Cypress. Kim and Mallory got out of the Miata as a young
mechanic with greasy blonde hair and wearing a black sleeveless Metallica
t-shirt approached them.
“You
broads needing your oil changed?” he asked, shooting them a toothy grin and
wiping his hands on a rag. “It’s Wednesday. We got a Ladies Special running on
Wednesdays.”
“No,
thank you.” Kim looked past him into the garage. She ran her hands along her sides
down to her upper thigh, as if to smooth out the wrinkles of her tight red
dress. She thought there would be more men standing around with tools, working
on cars. “I’m looking for someone,” she said,
then
added, “Ross McGuire.”
The young
man looked puzzled.
“Who?”
“Ross
McGuire?” Kim repeated. “Tall, nice build, works out, early twenties with short
black hair.”
He gave
her a blank stare. Kim laughed and glanced at Mallory and then back at the
mechanic.
“Ross
McGuire,” she said louder, a little more forceful. “He’s worked here for about
a year.”
The
mechanic, either bored with the conversation or thinking Kim was
hallucinating, shrugged his shoulders.
“I
ain’t
never
seen a guy like that before, but I just started.”
Kim bit
her lower lip, glancing around the garage. “Where’s the owner, Ed? Do you know
him?”
He
pointed to the office in back. Kim and Mallory walked toward it.
Ed looked
up from behind a cluttered desk as the girls approached. He was a middle aged
business man wearing jeans and a dirty Guns-N-Roses t-shirt.
“Miss
Bradford,” he said. “How are
ya
?”
“Fine Ed.
How’ve
you been?” She held out her hand. He grasped it and shook it, then released her
to swipe away the beads of sweat on his forehead.
“What can
I do for you?”
“I’m
looking for Ross.”
“
Ain’t
seen him for a couple of
weeks now.”
“Really?”
This
surprised her. “Where’d he go?”
“He’d
been
threat’n
to head on
outta
here. I
kinda
figured he finally walked.”
“He
didn’t say where he was going?
Another job?”
Her voice raised an octave from a little bit
of excitement mixed with panic. “Did he get the box I left him?”
“You
didn't know?” Ed squinted. “
He
jest
didn’t show up one night a couple a weeks back. You
ain't
seen ‘
em
?”
“We had a
fight and he left me. I broke off our engagement,” she said quietly. “I hadn’t
realized he’d quit his job too.”
“It
ain’t
suprisin
’, Kim. Ross din
just have a chip on his shoulder… he had a whole boulder. His attitude was
tough as hell to handle sometimes.”
“I see
..”
Kim shrugged, glancing at Mallory,
then
turned. She started to leave when Ed called to her again.
“Hey Kim.
You know
what,” he started, getting up from his desk. “Someone else was looking for him
too.”
“Really?”
She
turned back around.
“Who?”
“Some
guy, a kid about your age,” he said.
“Who was
it? Do you remember his name?”
“
Naw
...” Ed shook his head. “But he said he goes to the
University. He was a thin, little guy with black hair with heavy bangs that
fell into his face. Maybe you know him?”
Kim
inhaled deeply, thinking about her literature class.
* * * * *
* *
At that
same moment, a black and white patrol car rolled down the muddy road behind the
Flying J Truck Stop, finally parking behind a 1987 midnight blue
Camero
. The officer stepped out, moved cautiously toward
the
Camero
, and peered through the black tinted
windows. The vehicle had been reported abandoned and left by the roadside. But
he saw nothing unusual. The front seats were worn and beer cans piled in the
floor board. The keys were left in the ignition. He paused, and briefly scanned
the woods around the car.
Nothing unusual.
Returning
to the patrol car, he radioed dispatch. “We have an abandoned 1987
Camero
.
Dark blue.
License plate number X13-78G.”
A voice
answered, crackling over the radio. “Vehicle is registered to a Ross McGuire at
1200
Meadowbrooke
Lane...”
Writing
out a ticket, he got back out of the squad car and returned to the
Camero
, placing the ticket behind a windshield wiper.
9
Deadly
Still Waters
Thursday,
January 13, 2000
10:38 AM
The
Professor droned on in front of a classroom of roughly eighty students. Kim's
mind was elsewhere. She made notes in her spiral notebook, writing,
If
you forget me, there's something I want you to
know.
She thought of Ross, and the poems he had written.
The beautiful, handwritten love letters.
Earlier,
she had walked to the University taking the longer route along Morris
Munger
Road. Just as she had done for the last five weeks,
she stopped at the curve in the road and searched the ground around the old
fruit stand and real estate sign. She searched for the ring, but still didn’t
find it.
Five
weeks, three days and seven hours
, she
thought.
Five weeks, three days and seven hours.
Then the
warm memory turned cold. Once again she could feel him watching. Feel his eyes
burning holes in the back of her head. Self-consciously, she looked up and
behind her.
There was
a classroom of students around her, but she made eye contact with the black
haired boy in the back. He was glaring at her again.
Kim had
tried to approach him before class. She had even arrived early and waited for
him. But class started and the Professor began his lecture when the kid slinked
through the doors. He was now sitting in the back of the classroom. After
watching him a moment, she looked back down at the notes. She had been
scribbling the romantic phrase,
“If you forget me.”
The Professor
suddenly stopped talking and the classroom went silent. Kim turned around.
“If we're
not disturbing you, Miss Bradford,” he said. He started to continue his lecture
when Kim raised her hand, interrupting him.
The
Professor called on her again and she asked about the poem, If You Forget Me. “What
does it mean?”
“Neruda,”
he said. “It's his most famous poem.”
“It's
about unrequited love?” Kim asked. “It's so sad, though. Why would someone in
love give this poem to, say, his girlfriend?”
The
Professor put a hand to his bearded chin and turned, as if contemplating the
question.
“I cannot
be sure without talking to Neruda himself, and of course that is impossible
since he is dead now these thirty years.” He laughed as if he had made a joke.
The class was silent. “But as I reread this poem, it occurs to me that it is
not so much selfish, 'Hey, stop loving me and I'll stop loving you.
Easy breezy.'
No, this love he talks about is too
expansive
to drop so easily as if costing nothing. You can
hear it in the lines, '
Everything
carries me to you /
as if everything that exists.’”
He moved
toward Kimberly, sitting in the middle of the classroom. He continued.
“Instead,
I think this is a poem about how love cannot exist in and of itself. Love needs
love. If one stops loving you, it is not a law of physics that you will stop
loving them back, but they should not be surprised if they too are forgotten
and replaced with another love.”
He picked
up the poetry book on Kim's desk and studied it a moment. It looked like he was
reading the handwritten inscription inside the front cover. He set it back
down.
“This
poem is a warning to his lover that she could lose
his
love if she's not
careful,” he said to Kim, almost as if she was the only student in the
classroom. “This poem tells me to be careful. In fact, Neruda says things like,
'Everything carries me to you,' and '
My
love feeds on
your love,' which tells me that he is admitting his dependence on her. Thus if
she stops loving him and forgets him, his love will likewise diminish.”
The
student in the back of the class shuffled in his seat. “All I see in this poem
is a cynic who loves only for the sake of getting love in return,” he said.
All heads
in the classroom turned to him. It was the thin, quiet boy with shaggy black
hair that fell down into his face. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and
glanced at Kim. Their eyes met. He glared at her, as if angry that she even
brought it up.
“Michael,
that is so provocative,” the professor said, leaving the silent exchange
between his two students unacknowledged. “Would you care to elaborate?”
The boy's
eyes widened as tense lines formed on his face. The muscles on his forearm
hardened. After gulping a deep breath, he finally spoke.
“Well, if
his partner's love for him diminishes, he mercilessly abandons her.” The boy
shifted in his seat and his voice squeaked. “What a horribly self-centered
person he is. He should not be given the right to love anyone. He is a disgrace
for all the pure hearted lovers in this world.”
The class
was silent.
“I must
admit I'm more than a little surprised,” the Professor said, slowly. “You’re
generally so quiet and reserved. I don’t think you’ve said two words all year.”
The boy
looked down. “Still waters run deep.”
After
class, the boy collected his books and made his way out of the classroom. Kim
jumped from her desk and ran after him.
“Wait,”
she yelled at the edge of the door. In the hallway, he stopped and turned
around to face her. Other students pushed past them as they blocked the door.
“Did you
go to Eddy’s Garage looking for my fiancée?” Kim asked hesitantly.
He didn't
answer. After several seconds of awkward silence, she continued.
“Okay...”
She forced forward, closer to him as the last student lumbered out of the
classroom and bumped into her. She glanced at the clumsy girl, then back at
him. “So why were you there? Looking for my fiancée?”
He
sheepishly paused and looked down at his feet. Exasperated, Kim gave up. She
moved past him and started down the hallway. He called after her.
“Wait. My
name is Michael.”
Kim
stopped walking. She turned her head and gave him a sidelong glance. “Hello,
Michael.”
“Hello.”
His face closed, as if
her
was guarding a secret.
“I'm Kim.”
She walked back to him, standing shoulder to shoulder. She held her breath,
waiting,
then
forced a thin smile. “So, are you going
to tell me why you were looking for my fiancée at Eddy’s Garage?”
He shook
his head, but said nothing. Silence grew tight with tension. The smile left her
face and Kim told him she had to go.
“Wait!”
he called out again. “Have you seen him? I mean, have you heard anything...
from Ross, I mean.”
“Yes...”
she thought about it a moment before saying more. It would be the first time
she told anyone. She drew her lips in thoughtfully. “We have dinner plans on
Friday.”
“Oh.” He
stared. It was as if she just slapped him. The tension between them increased
with frightening intensity,
then
his expression
darkened with an unreadable emotion.
Kim took
a step back. Stumbling ever so slightly, she apologized,
then
said she really had to go. Turning, she walked away, picking up pace.
Later
that afternoon, Kim tried to disguise her foul mood when she walked into the
old
folks
home. Nurse Carla was helping a man walk
along the wall, his hands gripping the railing. Seeing her, Carla lifted up and
beamed.
“Miss
Bradford, your
Grandaddy
seems to be feeling better
today.” She waved a hand,
motioning
Kim
to come closer. “I took him to the
cafeteria to eat his peas and carrots and then we went for a walk.”
“He’s out
of his room?”
“He’s in
the
rec
room talking to all the pretty ladies.” Nurse
Carla laughed. “An’ child, he’s been there all morning.”
Kim
turned down the opposite hallway and made her way past a pair of elderly women
in a walker and wheel chair. There was a woman in a nightgown sitting in a gray
folding chair outside her room. She called out to Kim with her arms raised,
asking if she’d seen her little daffodil. Kim made her way past them to the
rec
room at the end of the wing.
Across
from the kitchen, the
Rec
Room was a large den with
metal fold-out chairs and tables. There was a piano in the corner. Several
television
were pushed against opposite walls with couches
positioned in front of them. There were about thirty patients in the room. Some
were in groups, sitting at tables where board games were laid out. There were
two catatonic men staring at a television set.
Kim found
her Grandfather, dressed and wearing a brown sweater, sitting in an arm chair
along the back wall. He was facing a picturesque window that looked down at the
street.
She
walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was asleep in the
armchair, his body slightly leaning toward the left. Quietly snoring, he had
been staring out the window, watching the world below him. Kim knelt beside
him.
“Hi,
Grampa
.”
She paused. Feeling a cool draft coming from the window
pane, she fixed his sweater so it better covered his chest and neck. She
thought about returning to his room to retrieve the old quilt, but changed her
mind. It would probably get left behind or someone would take it. Then she
straightened up and sat in a matching armchair beside him.
“You look
good today.” She watched him a moment. His head leaning to the side, he was
breathing deeply, snoring with several light wheezes followed by one long sigh.
Then it all started over again. “I love you,
Grampa
,”
she said into his ear.
She said
nothing more to him during this visit. She just simply sat beside him and
watched him sleep in the chair.
* * * * *
* *
In her
bedroom loft, Mallory lay on her stomach atop the bed. Her legs bent upwards
and a single high heeled shoe dangled from her left foot. With one hand, her
fingers pressed the buttons on her phone as she held the receiver between her
shoulder and chin. She groaned at the shrill beep of a busy signal, hung up and
dialed again.
It was
another KYGL radio contest: The thirty-fifth caller would win $3,500. She was
caller number seventeen, then caller number forty-six. Frustrated she slammed
down the receiver.
When the
doorbell rang, her mood seemed suddenly buoyant again. Leaping off the bed, she
yelled, “Just a minute!” and scrambled downstairs.
Mallory
signed for the UPS package at the door,
then
tore it
open. Beneath sheets of bubble wrap, she found a black sniper rifle, and a red
polished DM13, and a shiny, black
Tippmann
X7
Phenum
Electropneumatic
paintball
marker. She reached in the box and lifted out a red and pink assault matrix.
There was
a note attached that read,
“Mallory,
I picked
out these DAM’s especially for you. Please share these with Kimberly and I’m
looking forward to seeing you both this weekend.
– Dr.
Alec Whitman.
P.S. I’ve
included two tickets to the game this afternoon. Hope you both can make it.”
Mallory put
down the handwritten note and peered back into the box. She found an envelope
with two tickets for this evening's charity exhibition game with the Tampa
Yankees--- a solid two months before Spring Training. It was the majors versus
the minors in a winter game benefitting St. Jude’s Children’s Cancer Center.
Her smile
broadened with approval.
Gunz
Gonzales would be
there. Now she had to get Kim there.
From her
upstairs bedroom window, Mallory
watched
for her best friend.
When she finally saw Kim walk through the security gates and cross the parking
lot, she glanced back at the box of paint guns.
With the
sense of conviction that was part of her character, she stood and backed away
from the window. It was time for her to go to work.
* * * * *
* *
Zeus
greeted Kim at the front door when she stepped inside and walked through the
living room. She threw her literature books on the kitchen table. She held the
poetry book for a
moment,
then threw that down as well
and moved back to the living room. Zeus followed.
Picking
up the phone on the end table next to the recliner, Kim dialed Ross’ mother.