by Dave Eggers
—You saw a woman?
—I did. I know this park is closed and the shoreline should be empty, but this morning, before you woke up, I was down by the bluffs overlooking the ocean, and it was high tide, so I was deciding if I should risk going down to the beach. I was just standing there when I saw this figure along the shore. Seeing anyone at all freaked me out, so I dove onto the ground, thinking it might be someone looking for you or the congressman or something. So I was crouched down in the grass, and when I looked up the figure was closer and I could see it was a woman. A woman and her dog. I kept watching her as she came closer, and pretty soon I could make out that she had this cable-knit sweater on, and jeans rolled up to her calves, and she was barefoot and was throwing this tennis ball into the surf where her dog would retrieve it. The sun was still low, and everything was golden, and I thought I was seeing my destiny.
—I can’t believe I have to listen to this.
—I mean, this was the woman of my dreams, Kev! Just beyond my wildest fantasies. And for an instant I thought that I could get to her. You know, run down to the beach and unite with her. But then I realized that I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk to her, because I had you here, and I was hating myself for that, for taking you and preventing any chance with her, and then I was laughing at myself, because I’ve never been within a hundred miles of a woman like that, never had a shot at anyone like her, so who was I kidding? I’ve never been within reach of anyone I coveted. But I have to thank you, Kev, because if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have seen her.
—I think you should talk to her. Now. She might still be there.
—Wait, what? That was a pretty dramatic change in tone. Oh, I get it. You want me to talk to her so she can wonder who I am, why I’m here, maybe report me to the local police, maybe express some vague concern about the man staying at the closed Army base. And that’s why I can’t talk to her. I’m smarter than that, Kev! But shit, on the other hand, it must be a sign, right?
—It has to be a sign.
—It does, right? Why would a woman like that, who in every way fits the description I’ve had in my head since I was ten, be walking alone on this deserted beach? Where did she come from?
—She’s looking for you, Thomas.
—Don’t patronize me.
—I believe in destiny, Thomas. That’s how I met my wife. We shouldn’t have met at all. I missed a plane, ended up seated next to her in the airport lobby, and that was that. I believe in true love, and destiny, and love at first sight. And I think you have all three happening right there on the beach now. So you’re a fool if you don’t pursue it.
—Shit. This is so tough.
—It’s easy. Easiest thing in the world. Go for it.
—I have to, right?
—You do.
—Damn. I’m stuck, though.
—You have to act, dude. You have to talk to her. How far could she have gone? Go get her. This is the scene in the movie when the guy goes after the woman he’s meant to be with. Go.
—You think I should?
—I do.
—Fuck. Maybe this is what this was all about. You, the congressman, my mom, Hansen, maybe it was all meant to lead me to this woman in the sweater.
—It’s the only logical answer.
BUILDING 52
—You’re back already. No luck?
—No. No sign of her at all.
—But later today. You’ve got to look for her then.
—Why?
—If she’s walking her dog now, she’s got to be walking it in the afternoon, too.
—I’ve never had a dog. You walk them twice a day?
—At least, man. At least twice a day. So you’ve got to stay on watch. She’ll be out there again for sure.
—Okay.
—You already missed one opportunity. The universe was telling you to go after her this morning.
—Shit. Okay, I will. I will. I probably have what, two days left, max.
—Tops. All the more reason to go after her.
—Okay, thanks.
—No problem.
—I’m really sorry you’re chained like this.
—You want to let me loose? I can help you with whatever.
—No. You know I can’t.
—Thomas. We’re friends.
—I know, I know.
—I can watch things here when you’re on the beach. I can do whatever. We’re in this together now.
—No. I shouldn’t.
—You should.
—I shouldn’t. It’s not that I don’t trust you.
—You do, right?
—Absolutely. But think of it—if you go around helping me, you’ll be complicit. I can’t have that. I need you to stay innocent.
—Thomas.
—No. I know I’m right. I’ll see you soon.
BUILDING 55
—You awake?
—No.
—Mom. Wake up.
—Oh Thomas.
—Why are you sleeping? It’s three in the afternoon.
—I’m in pain. Thomas, you have to let me go. I’m in such pain.
—That’s just withdrawal.
—Withdrawal from what, you fool?
—How would I know?
—I’m not on anything, Thomas. But I am sixty-two years old. And being chained up like this is very hard on my body. Have you seen my leg?
—It’s ugly, but that’s just because you’re leaning on it funny. If you just laid your leg down like everyone else it wouldn’t turn all purple. Jesus. That is disgusting.
—You have to unshackle me, Thomas.
—I can’t. Just lay your leg down, and it’ll take the pressure off. Give it an hour.
—I can’t believe you.
—I just came in to tell you that this was all happening for a reason.
—That’s what you’ve been saying.
—No. I mean that I think there’s a more divine purpose.
—Oh no.
—I saw a vision this morning and I think it’s a sign. I mean, here I am in the middle of nowhere, and you’re here, and the astronaut is here and the congressman, and then I see this woman who has been in my dreams since I was ten or so. It all has to mean something.
—Thomas, you brought us all here. This is no coincidence.
—Right, but that was just a prelude to this woman on the beach. She was wearing exactly what I always saw her wearing in my visions, jeans and a cable-knit sweater. And there she was, alone on the beach with her dog. And now I feel like I’m so close to something. Once I talk to her, she’ll know who I am and why we were on the beach at the same time.
—And what? You go skipping down the coast and fall in love? Or you bring her back here to show her what you’ve done? She’ll want to be with a kidnapper? She’ll fall for you and your wonderful achievement here? You’re nuts, I know this, but you’re not this nuts, are you?
—This is the problem with you. You’ve never had any kind of optimism. You’re such a dark-hearted cynic. You pretend like you have these New Age ideas about things, and every so often you have some experience you think is magical or whatever, but really you’re a very very pessimistic, black-hearted person. So you can’t even conceive of something like this happening. Something pure and good, like a woman appearing on the beach for me. You don’t believe in anything clicking into place. Your life has been a sloppy mess so you assume mine will be, too. You don’t believe in destiny.
—Well, Thomas, I actually do. I believe you are destined to go to jail, and be evaluated by a clinical psychologist if you’re lucky. And they’ll determine that you have delusions of grandeur, and display acute antisocial behavior, and have monumental control issues, and you think destiny is seeing a woman on the beach during a suicidal kidnapping escapade.
—Good. That’s good.
—It’s not good. None of this is good.
—You know what’s telling? The astronaut, who I barely know,
is more supportive of me pursuing this woman than you are.
—Because he wants you caught, you imbecile. Of course he wants you making contact with some woman on the beach. He wants her to report you.
—On the surface, sure, that might seem true. But you know what? Kev actually cares. You know that he and I were friends in college, right?
—Of course you were.
—How would you know? We were. That’s why he’s out here. He confided in me when we were in school, he told me he wanted to go up in the Space Shuttle, and now it’s fifteen years later for him and now there’s no chance that will ever happen. So I’m trying to help him see a new path, and he’s appreciative of me.
—I’m sure he is, Thomas.
—And he met his wife in a similar way that I met this woman.
—While kidnapping his mother and locking her to a pole.
—No! No. No. Why do you have to be so cynical? Don’t you see that something extraordinary is happening?
—Thomas, I think you are very very ill.
—
—Where are you going?
BUILDING 52
—Back already! You see her?
—I saw her, but not the right her. Tell me something, Kev: Your parents were probably perfect?
—They were not. They got divorced and both remarried.
—But they’re probably all best friends. You all have Thanksgivings together.
—No, we do not. No one likes anyone else.
—But that’s recent. Growing up?
—I had eleven different bedrooms before I was in high school. I was beaten repeatedly by my father, and he once broke my arm on purpose.
—This sounds rehearsed. You’ve said this before.
—I keep it foremost in my mind.
—But still you succeed.
—Yes. Not the answer you wanted?
—I don’t know.
—You been back to the beach?
—Not yet.
—You should get out there. You never know. You definitely don’t want to miss the girl while you’re talking to me.
—Yeah.
—You should go.
—I know. I know. Thanks Kev. I feel good about this.
BUILDING 52
—Kev!
—Oh hey.
—You were napping?
—Well, buddy, there’s not much else to do out here. You’ve been running? You’re out of breath.
—I ran back here. I had to tell you. I met her.
—You met the girl?
—I did.
—Wow. Good. I’m so glad.
—I know. I did like you said. I went back to the bluff, and I waited for her to come by again with her dog. It was three hours or so, but she came back. About five o’clock.
—See, told you.
—Yeah, so I saw her down the beach, and she was walking toward where I was, but there wasn’t any way for me to get down there. I hadn’t figured out a route to the beach. And the bluff there is too steep to jump or shimmy down. So I start freaking out, looking around for some path or something. But I had to find one quick, so I could get down to the beach and start walking toward her like it’s casual, like I’m just like her, someone who walks the beach this time every day, right?
—Right. You’re smooth.
—So I run about a quarter mile down the way, away from her, and finally I find this huge path down to the shore. It must have been some kind of boat launch back in the day. So I get down to the beach and can still see her down the way, walking toward me. And you know what the great thing is?
—It all sounds great.
—She’s wearing the same sweater, this cream cable-knit sweater. I mean, the sweater is half the whole thing for me. Any woman who wears a sweater like that knows everything I want. And the jeans rolled up. I mean, a barefoot woman with jeans and a white cable-knit sweater! That’s my fantasy.
—And it should be. So you talked to her or what?
—Well, that was cool. I mean, I’m not ever good at approaching any woman, but she made it easy. The first thing she did was wave. I mean, just when we were in clear sight of each other, but still pretty far away, she waved. We were the only two people for miles, so I guess it’s not unnatural to wave, but still. She made the first move.
—A clear sign.
—It is, right? We’re all alone out there, and the sun’s dropping over the water, and she’s throwing this ball to her dog, and there we are, walking toward each other. It was like we were the last two people on Earth.
—Or the first.
—Right. It was beautiful.
—And then?
—Well, eventually we get close enough to talk, and we say hello, and I ask what kind of dog she’s got, and she says it’s some kind of Labradoodle, which itself is another sign, given I’m allergic and that’s a hypoallergenic dog.
—And you told her this?
—I told her I was allergic. Not that it was a sign that we were destined for each other. I’m not nuts.
—And she looked like …
—Oh god. I mean, perfection. She’s a little younger than me, I think, probably thirty, but honestly, she’s the embodiment of everything I’ve ever wanted. She’s got the clothes, I knew that, but then she has this great J.Crew face, you know, no makeup, just this handsome face, these small blue eyes, a little crinkly around the eyes, like she’s been outside a lot and doesn’t care about a few wrinkles. I like that.
—Body is good?
—Like an athlete. I didn’t ask her yet, but I bet she played soccer or lacrosse or something like that. She’s a little short, so one of those sports where you can be smaller and fast.
—So you found out where she lives?
—Apparently there’s a small town just at the edge of the park. She’s a vet there. Isn’t that incredible? I guess she’s the only one for twenty miles or something. And she walks about five miles a day with her dog, who she says needs long walks twice a day or else he chews up the house.
—Told you. Twice a day.
—Right. And this is just about the endpoint of her walk. So again, a perfect sign that she was meant to be here, and I was meant to be here. Think of it: if I had been half a mile farther down the beach, I never would have seen her. If I hadn’t brought you or anyone here, I wouldn’t be here. Actually, if I’d only brought you here, and if I’d left after a few days, I wouldn’t have seen her at all. So it was destiny that I kept taking people, because this is three days in, and I only saw her now. It all connects. Everything was necessary.
—And did she ask why you were here?
—Her dog liked me, too.
—That’s good. Why wouldn’t he?
—Yeah, right? I told her I was just a tourist, just checking out Fort Ord, taking pictures. She did bring up the fact that the park is closed, but I think I scored some points by saying I just went around the barrier with my van and had been camping here.
—And did you bring her back up here? I mean, where is she?
—No, no. I didn’t think that was the way to do it. Do you?
—I don’t know. Carpe diem, right?
—C’mon. You know I’m not that stupid. I bring her up here, one of you guys sees her, starts yelling, everything turns to shit.
—Sure, but don’t you want to talk to her? Sit somewhere?
—There’s no way I can bring her here.
—So what did you say? How’d you leave it?
—I just said I’d see her again tomorrow.
—Okay.
—And see, that’s where things got interesting. I feel pretty proud of myself here, because I knew she walks in the morning, too, right? But I thought if I told her I knew that, it might scare her. So I couldn’t say, “Hey, I saw you this morning, too.”
—Right. You don’t want her to think you’re strange.
—Exactly. But I didn’t want to have to wait till tomorrow afternoon to see her again. So I needed her to volunteer the informatio
n that she does a morning walk, too.
—And did she?
—She did indeed. When I said, all casual, “Well, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” she said, “Oh, I’ll be back before then. I walk in the morning, too.”
—Perfect.
—Right. So I’m set.
—Wow. This is incredible. You’re so close.
—I know.
—And tomorrow, what happens? You bring her up here? I don’t mean so close that she can see us, but up here in general?
—I don’t know. Damn. I can’t.
—Why not? You need someplace to close the deal, don’t you?
—Close the deal?
—I don’t mean you’re gonna make babies. But it seems like you walk up here, find a warm and quiet nook where you can at least get a first kiss or something.
—Yeah. Right.
—There’s no other way. This is how you know if she really digs you. It’s always a change of venue. You know how I told you about meeting my future wife?
—You were at the airport?
—We both missed our flights, and we started talking just there in the waiting area. But then I asked her to get some food and a drink with me. Just in the airport bar, like twenty feet away, but that little trip, those twenty feet, meant everything. It meant that she liked me enough to stay in the airport when she could have gone home. And to walk with me, from one place to another, to have a drink with me, a stranger. That’s the sign she’s intrigued enough to take a chance. But until the woman does that, follows you somewhere, you’ll never know.
—Right.
—Damned straight I’m right. So tomorrow, you talk to her, you see if she’ll come up here. Just look around the fort. If it’s meant to be, she comes up, no problem. She’s already out on a walk. You make some excuse, like you have a fire up here you need to feed. Something to get you off the beach and up the hill.
—Brilliant. Thanks, Kev.
—No problem.
—You know, I told my mom about all this, about you helping me out here, and how far back we go, and she was such a bitch about it. She doesn’t believe we’re friends, that I could know someone like you.