Jacqueline Druga - The Flu

The question, ‘may I borrow your son,’ frightened Dylan beyond belief. She didn’t want to tell Patrick ‘yes’, but somehow when the handsome teacher came over requesting Anthony so he could get him ice cream with the other kids, all Dylan could do was nod. Watching the suave new Lodi resident left her speechless. But she knew that any schoolgirl smirk she had on her face better disappear because Mick would be back soon. She kept shifting her eyes to Patrick and the children he had with him. He got along with them well and was a natural teacher. She waited for the moment Tigger came running back because something had happened. Dylan kept waiting. Tigger only played.

She sat on a blanket in an emptier section of the park. Most people settled closer to where the band played, as if they couldn’t hear them if they were back some.

If the song ‘Come on Feel the Noise’ were being played at that instant by some band where the members barely surpassed twenty, Dylan supposed the park would be empty. However, since it was Dexter’s Rolling Rockers, there wasn’t an empty spot around the band left to dance. The group of sixty-year old men, who deliberately mocked the 1980s with tight ripped jeans and faded Quiet Riot tee shirts, blasted the tune at an appeasable level with minimal distortion, adding the smooth lounge band feel. Every couple, elderly and young, loved the band. Autographs were always asked for as if they were some sort of rock stars. Dylan had to admit she enjoyed the band, and though she really wanted to get some ice cream for herself, she knew the band’s set. Fearing that she’d miss their rendition of Duran-Duran’s ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’, Dylan stayed put.

The smile.

That was the first thing Mick saw when he arrived at Central Park. He didn’t want to be called away, but it was his job. It could have been worse; the four car minor fender bender could have Mick tied up for hours. Instead he observed the exchanging of information, hurried them along, issued citations he figured would be fought later, and moved on.

To Dylan.

Without a doubt, Mick was openly and absolutely crazy about Dylan. He had been for as long as he remembered. Since they were kids, there hadn’t been an instance that Mick didn’t seize the opportunity when Dylan and Sam broke up. Sometimes Mick and Dylan only dabbled in trying to be a couple, but nothing ever was serious or deep until the last breakup.

Mick had taken the breakup seriously, as did Dylan. Final. The end. Sam had left town, and against his own interests, Mick had located him. Sam had settled somewhere in West Texas and refused to return home.

That was fine with Mick. Dylan, on the other hand, didn’t take it as well. She went out a lot, drank too much. Mick followed her all the time, on duty or not, to make sure she was all right. A month after Sam left, Mick took yet another chance with her.

He gave her three choices that night in the bar. One, she could sit there and develop really bad posture from her habit of slouching on the barstool. Two, she could become the town’s newest lush, or three, instead of abusing alcohol, Dylan could just let Mick take away her pain.

Mick never expected her to take him up on his offer; he hoped, but he didn’t expect it. Perhaps he should have waited until she was sober before sleeping with her. But he got caught up in the moment, and he did chase her down several times the next day to make sure Dylan had no regrets. She didn’t.

That was six months earlier.

The relationship wasn’t exactly where he’d hoped it would be, but it was further than he thought it would be. And after all the years of waiting and chasing, despite what he outwardly showed Dylan, Mick was really happy with what they had.

“I’m back,” Mick announced just before he dropped down to the blanket next to Dylan. He watched her reach, lift her drink cup, wait until he was settled then she put it down. “Dylan, I wasn’t even close to knocking that over.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that. See, you cause minor earthquakes when you drop that big body to the ground. I can just hear the Seismology department in Cleveland right now. ‘Oh, we have seismic activity.’ ‘Nah, that’s just Chief Owens sitting down.’”

Mick blinked at her. “Why do you have to kill me every single time?”

Dylan smiled.

Rolling onto his side, Mick leaned into Dylan and she backed up. “What? I want a kiss.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “No can do. That’s a blatant public display of affection.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, if I don’t get a greeting kiss from you, this big body, as you call it, will roll itself on that little body, and I’ll cite us both for indecent exposure and sell the story to the Review . Up to you.”

After a little smile, Dylan kissed him. “There.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She picked up her drink. “How was the accident?”

“Boring. Where are the boys?”

“Well, Tigger’s over there with…” she sighed as she pointed, “Patrick.”

“Stop that.”

Dylan giggled. “Dustin’s got himself a little girlfriend to talk to and Christian…” she pointed again, only to the stage, “he’s got his head buried in that amp.”

Mick laughed. “Oh, that is funny. But you have to admit, the band is kicking tonight.”

“Especially Dexter,” Dylan commented. “Sixty-five years old. I don’t think the man has stopped wiggling that body for over an hour. The energy that man must have.” She exhaled. “Probably has more energy than you.”

“Probably. He has a secret to that energy, you know. Brags about it all the time.”

“What? His energy?”

“Sexual energy.” Mick stole her drink.

“Oh, get out of here, he does not brag about that.” Dylan took her drink back.

“Does too. Heard him giving away his secret. Was saying at the diner, he jerks off every day after his morning piss, releasing the built up testosterone that wears him down, all while insuring longevity for whenever Lil Carter gives him a call.”

“Liar.”

“Am not lying. Can I make up lies that fast and that good off the top of my head?”

After thinking for a second, Dylan shook her head. “No. You’re too creatively impaired.”

“Geez, thank you for…” The hiss of his police radio and the call of the name ‘Chief’ made Mick cringe. “Goddamn it.” He picked up his radio. “Yeah.”

The male voice spoke, ‘Hey, Chief, got a carload of intoxicated kids out at Barrett’s farm. They hit his fence. Problem is Old Man Barrett’s got them tied down with a shotgun until the police arrive. You wanna take it or you want me to call County?”

“I’ll take it, thanks.” Mick hooked the radio back and sat up. “Duty calls.”

“No, it did not. County could have handled it. You just don’t want to miss anything.”

“You’re right.” Mick stole a quick kiss. “I shouldn’t be long, but if I am, can I stop by your house?”

“Yes.”

Mick’s mouth opened, he was preparing to argue, to ask, even beg, but he didn’t have to. “Yes? Just like that, yes?”

“Yes,” Dylan repeated.

“Aren’t we becoming the couple now?” Mick stood up. “I’ll see you in a bit.” Smiling, he walked off. He reached the end of the park thinking about the progress he and Dylan were making, turned around to wave again, and when he did, he froze. There approaching Dylan was Sam. It didn’t take Sam long to sit right down. Tucking away the progress thought before he jinxed it, Mick stuck his hand in his pocket, turned back around and kept on walking.

Before she took the long drink of cold beer, Dylan giggled and rubbed her eye as she sat on her front porch trying to catch a bit of relief from the heat. “God. How can I forget her?” Dylan said and flipped another page of the yearbook she shared while sitting with Sam.