Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

Ray glanced down at a scrape mark along his right rib cage.

“Should I kiss it and make it better?” she whispered.

Before he could answer, she bowed down. He felt her warm breath against his cold, wet skin as she planted kisses along his rib cage. Ray shuddered gratefully. He was about to close his eyes.

But he noticed that solitary light again — coming closer.

“Wait, no. . wait, Jenna, no,” he whispered, pulling her up. “Someone’s coming. . ”

She looked out toward the meadow — toward the beam of light. “What is that?”

Ray urgently pulled her toward the base of the tree, where they’d left their clothes. “Let’s get dressed, c’mon. . ” He reached for his undershorts.

“What is that?” she repeated. Then she called out, “Who’s there? Is somebody there?”

Ray put on his boxers, then grabbed her bra and shook it at her. “Y’know, Jenna,” he whispered, “it might be a good idea to put some clothes on.”

With a perturbed look, she took the bra and slipped it on.

Ray swiped up her panties and handed them to her. He glanced toward that eerie, single spot of light again. Now he could see a person behind it. Someone with a flashlight was coming toward them. Ray quickly stepped into his jeans and threw on his shirt. To his utter frustration, Jenna was taking her sweet time getting dressed. She stood there in just her bra and panties, squinting at that lone figure with a flashlight.

Ray tried to get a good look at the man, but the flashlight was blinding him. He heard the man’s feet shuffling as the light got closer and brighter. Ray shielded his eyes. “Who’s there? Can I — can I help you?”

The light shined on Jenna. She sneered at the man behind it. “What the hell do you want?”

Now Ray could see the lean, tall man in a police uniform. He was about thirty-five, with black hair and a thin, weather-lined face. His police cap was tucked under his arm. “Seattle Police,” he announced. “Are there any more of you out here? Or is it just you two kids?”

Ray swallowed hard. “It’s just us. . ”

“Is that your red Volkswagen in the lot?” he asked.

Ray nodded. “Yes, that’s my car. I’m sorry. Were we making too much noise?”

“It’s not a case of too much noise,” the cop said, directing the light at him again. “This park closes at ten p.m. So it’s a case of trespassing — and indecent exposure.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Jenna hissed, defiantly standing there in her bra and panties. “Don’t you have anything better to do? It’s not like we—”

Ray swiveled around. “Shut the hell up!” he said under his breath. “You want to get us arrested? Let me handle this. . ” He turned around and shrugged at the cop. “I’m sorry, it was my idea that we come here. If we’ve broken any laws, it’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking. . ”

The cop switched off the flashlight. “I’ll let you folks finish dressing,” he said coolly, “and then I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Ray answered.

The tall policeman wandered back a few paces. He took a pack of gum from his shirt pocket and unwrapped a stick.

Ray grabbed his socks and shoes. “Get dressed, and don’t say a word,” he whispered to Jenna. “I know I’m sucking up. But why antagonize him? I don’t want to spend the night in jail or have an arrest record with indecent exposure listed on it. That would kiss off my plans to become a teacher. Please, just let me talk to him. Maybe he’ll let us go with a warning if I apologize and grovel enough.”

Jenna stared at him for a moment; then she nodded. “You handle it.”

Ray apologized profusely while the cop escorted them back to the parking lot. Lagging behind them, Jenna didn’t utter a syllable. The policeman let them go with a warning and a few cautionary tales about the different muggings, rapes, and murders that had occurred at the Arboretum after dark.

An hour later, over pancakes at the Dog House — one of Seattle’s most popular late-hour roadhouse-style diners — Ray and Jenna discussed whether or not any of the cop’s horror stories were really true. Ray felt so elated to have survived the night’s adventures with just a few scratches. All his terror and all of Jenna’s craziness — he’d never felt more alive. And the pancakes he wolfed down were the best he’d ever had — even though they’d been served up by a haggard, geriatric waitress, and the place was a dive. Despite the dim lighting, he could detect a grimy layer of grease and smoke covering everything — from the blown-up sepia photos of old Seattle on the walls to the silver tops of the salt and pepper shakers on their table.

Beneath that table, Jenna had slipped off one shoe, and her foot kept touching his. Her toes wiggled under the cuff of his jeans and worked their way up his shin. “You saved my life tonight,” she said, while nibbling on a piece of bacon. “You rescued me from myself, Ray. I don’t know why I do stuff like that, I really don’t.”

He didn’t dare ask her if she’d truly intended to kill herself earlier. He didn’t want to spoil the moment. He smiled at her. “You know, the Chinese say that once you save someone’s life, you’re henceforth responsible for them.”

“ Henceforth , huh?” she asked, sipping her glass of milk through a straw. “Well, I kind of like that.” Beneath the table, she scrunched her toes, playfully tugging at the hair on his shin. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, henceforth .”

“I kind of like that, too,” Ray said.

He’d been infatuated with her up until then, but that was the night Ray told himself she was the one— even if she was slightly screwed up. Who wasn’t screwed up in one way or another? She made him feel important.

They were married two years later, the summer after their graduation. It wasn’t always smooth sailing. Her demons emerged from time to time, but she never attempted suicide again.

Then, five months ago, that thing happened at the high school, and it all went to hell. He watched Jenna, his family, his career — everything — unravel. He’d rescued her once, but couldn’t help her this time. Nor could he save his daughter, who had packed up and disappeared amid all the fighting and the misery.

Ray didn’t see any way out — until just recently.

He remembered what Jenna had told him that night about her suicide attempts: “I guess it seemed like the only way I could take control of things, and — I don’t know — get out. . ”

Ray wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting inside the idling station wagon in the Arboretum parking lot. But the rain had stopped tapping on the car roof. He heard the wipers squeaking and the motor purring. He switched off the wipers. Beads of rain surrounded a clean, twin-fan pattern on the windshield. He had a clear view of Lake Washington Boulevard. There wasn’t any traffic at all.

The dashboard clock read 1:04 A.M. Everything was supposed to have happened four minutes ago.

The motor died.

Ray stared at the red warning light on the gas gauge. He didn’t try to restart the engine. Instead, he took out his wallet and looked for his AAA card. In his rearview mirror, he spotted a car coming up the road. A black BMW slowed to a crawl by the parking lot entrance.

Ray started shaking. He could hardly breathe — until the BMW picked up speed and continued down Lake Washington Boulevard. Then it disappeared around a curve in the road.

He finally found the card. With a trembling hand, he punched in the numbers on his iPhone. The AAA operator answered, and Ray told her that he’d run out of gas. “I managed to roll into a parking lot by the Arboretum — off Lake Washington Boulevard,” he said nervously. His heart was racing. “I’ll need some assistance. Do you know how long it will be before you can get a tow out here — or someone with a container of gas?”