The Sunset Witness

by Hayes, Gayle

  As I was walking back to my car, I realized the address Sarah had given me over the phone was the same number as that on the house Nate and I shared with two other people when we attended the university in Missoula. Was this Sarah's idea of a joke? Or was I to blame? Had I written my old address instead of hers because Orchard Avenue had stirred memories of Nate? If I only had the number wrong, why didn't I find her on Orchard Avenue? I called her number and was not surprised when she did not answer. I was sure she'd used me again.

  I searched my phone browser for the graphic design company Sarah mentioned. I was encouraged to find it did exist. When I arrived, I found a CLOSED sign hanging in the window. They were open from nine to five Monday through Friday. I peered in the windows and saw three desks. The desktop name plates were for Craig, Jennifer, and Ed. If Sarah worked for the company, she did not have a desk in the office. I called the number on the bottom of the sign. An automated answering service gave me extensions for Craig, Jennifer, and Ed. There was no extension for Sarah. I left a message on Jennifer's extension. I told her I was looking for a friend named Sarah who might be employed at their company. I asked her to call me one way or the other on Monday. By this time, I felt like the butt of a sick joke, but I wanted to believe I'd misunderstood somehow.

  I drove slowly through Hoquarten noticing places to eat and shop. I passed a modern-looking hospital and a clinic. There was the usual mall with shops specializing in sports equipment, shoes, various types of apparel, and a hair and nail salon. I found the Agate County Courthouse and Agate County Administration Building and assumed the sheriff's department must be close by when I saw vehicles like the one the evidence tech had driven to Sunset when I met Detective Gannon. I pulled into a parking space in front of the administration building and went inside. The sheriff's department was straight ahead. I asked the receptionist if Detective Gannon was on duty. She was not. I wanted to know if she'd been in touch with Sarah after she moved to Hoquarten.

  It seemed I'd not be getting any information until Monday at the earliest, so I left downtown Hoquarten and drove until I found a Fred Meyer grocery and drug store. I needed everything, so my cart was almost overflowing by the time I unloaded it into my trunk. I was too hungry to wait for lunch, so I pulled into the lot of the local diner, ordered one of those truck driver breakfasts Twyla thought so little of, and hoped no one I knew would see me eating there. The diner was not busy, so I took my time over brunch to give Sarah time to call me back. Before I left the parking lot, I called her again. I did not leave a message.

  As I was driving north out of Hoquarten, I'd noticed signs advising I was leaving the tsunami hazard zone. Once I was back in Hoquarten and again when I picked up the highway to Sunset, the warnings reappeared. The difference in elevation was not noticeable to me, but it must have been significant enough to warrant the difference in signage. I wondered if the warnings had a negative impact on the beach economies. If I'd known about the Cascadia Subduction Zone before I left Arizona, I'd not have agreed to assume Sarah's lease.

  The Cascadia Subduction Zone is also known as the Cascadia Fault and runs from Vancouver, Canada to northern California. It separates the Juan de Fuca and North American plates. The Zone has the potential to cause an earthquake of 9.0 or greater. The last earthquake caused by the Zone was in 1700. After more than 300 years, another quake would not be out of the question. Tsunamis followed all previous earthquakes.

  Perhaps the heightened awareness about tsunamis would encourage people to stay in motels and hotels farther away from the beach. Those establishments might actually raise prices while the beachfront locations would become less expensive and more accessible to those who did not believe they were in danger. On the other hand, I might have taken the warnings to heart when everyone else simply ignored them.

  If it were not for getting groceries cheaper than I could in Sunset, the trip would have been a waste of time. Hoquarten was a typical small town and not a place I felt inclined to explore. I was relieved to find so many of the services I'd need and had not thought about until I saw them.

  I'd not return to Hoquarten to see Sarah. I did not feel the need to file a missing person report. It would have been one thing if I'd not heard from her at all, but she'd responded with an email the day before. I thought about her reply. She thought it was a great idea for me to drive to Hoquarten instead of her coming to Sunset. She would be up early unpacking. I could get there whenever I wanted. Possibly, Sarah's email had a different meaning. What if she were not in the area at all? Of course she would have thought it a great idea for me to go there instead of her driving to Sunset. Maybe she would be up early unpacking somewhere else. It wouldn't make any difference when I arrived in Hoquarten. That scenario didn't make any sense. Why would she send such a deceptive email?

  I never would have moved to Sunset except Sarah was going to be close. My old friends had scattered to various corners of the world. Sarah and I remembered the same people, places, and events. Our friendship had survived the kind of blows that should have caused its demise. Perhaps she would have preferred that it had ended. I chose to forgive and forget. My parents were proof that hate destroys the person who harbors it.

  Still, I felt hurt and confused by the idea that Sarah might have deceived me again. There must be another explanation. Possibly her email account had been hacked and someone else was responding to me. Still, we'd not spoken by phone since I arrived. She never was very good about returning phone calls. I'd been in Sunset for four days. There should have been some time when we would have connected. Possibly, she did not want to be confronted with my questions or to have her location compromised. Perhaps Detective Gannon was right. Sarah might have been so terrified of the man she saw in the parking lot that she was in hiding even from me. I wasn't comforted by the thought. Had she put me in danger by luring me to the beach house to protect herself?

  By the time I arrived in Sunset, I was weary of thinking about Sarah. She was probably fine wherever she was, and I was stuck with the mess she left behind. The thought triggered painful memories.

  Nate had dreamed of moving to Montana after his family visited Glacier National Park when we were in high school. By the time we graduated, Nate and I'd become inseparable. We'd applied to the University of Montana and were accepted. When we weren't studying or in class, we were outdoors. I was never athletic, but Nate and I regularly hiked to the M on the hill above Missoula when we didn't have time to go farther. On longer trips, we camped and hiked on trails all over western Montana.

  We were supposed to work in Glacier together during the summer between our freshman and sophomore years. Instead, he stayed in Missoula. I worked in Glacier as a dining room attendant. I was never sure why Nate started drinking too much, but I always wondered if it started after his nineteenth birthday.

  He seemed all right when I left for Glacier. I arranged to switch weekends with another attendant so I could surprise Nate for his birthday. I bought his favorite cake at Bernice's Bakery in Missoula. When I arrived at the house, he was gone. The couple we shared the house with was touring Europe for the summer. Nate was never taught how to clean up after himself. I started cleaning the house and stripped the bed so we would have fresh sheets while I was there. Then I realized Nate had been with someone else. Even then, I felt partly to blame for spending the summer in Glacier.

  I was packing to leave when he walked in with Sarah. He said he'd just picked her up at the airport. I knew he was lying. Aside from her overnight bag, I'd found a small gold cross that must have been separated from the chain when they were in bed together. The necklace was my gift to Sarah for her eighteenth birthday. If I'd not found the cross and he'd walked in alone, I could have forgiven Nate. I calmly walked toward them on my way out of the house. I told Nate I hoped he'd enjoy his birthday cake. Then I took the cross from my pocket and gave it to Sarah. I told her she might want to take it off the next time she and Nate wrestled in bed. I returned to Glacier and then moved out of the house
before Fall Semester.

  By the time school started, Nate already was drinking too much. Friends told me Nate often cut classes to party or to recover from a party. He was drunk while he took his finals, and he failed most of his courses.

  Nate's parents intervened after he flunked out of school. By the following summer he'd stopped drinking and joined the army. The world was relatively peaceful, and Nate thought he might be a career soldier. Instead, he was sent to Afghanistan after the September 11 attack on the twin towers. Army life seemed to agree with him, though. Perhaps, he craved the discipline. He stayed for more than one tour before he was blown up by an improvised explosive device. He once told me he might be a general like Schwarzkopf. Nate had a favorite Schwarzkopf quote, and he repeated it often: "The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. The hard part is doing it."

  After Nate's remains were lowered into the ground, Sarah and I hugged each other and cried. We'd not seen each other since Nate's nineteenth birthday. There was no time to talk after the funeral. I had a plane to catch back to Montana. I was in my first month of my last year of law school, and I was already overwhelmed. I didn't see Sarah while I worked at my father's firm. She'd moved to Nevada. She hadn't come back to Villanova for my father's funeral. I left for Europe shortly after. Six years is a long time in a friendship. Were we still friends?

  Fortunately, I had to keep busy. Unloading and finding places for all the groceries was time consuming. I made room on the shelf in my closet for extra toilet paper, Kleenex, and paper towels by removing Sarah's pillow and sheets. I stuffed the sheets inside the pillow case so I could take them to the laundry. I felt relieved. I'd not see Sarah again. I was about to close the closet door, when I thought to check the sheets for stains. I pulled the fitted sheet out of the pillow case and spread it out on the living room carpet. For a moment, I was reliving the past. I realized I was crying when I heard someone pounding on my door. I hurriedly stuffed the sheet back inside the pillow case and wiped my eyes with my fingers before I opened the door.

  The scruffy-looking man I'd seen near the restrooms my first day in Sunset was in my face. He'd not shaved, and he needed a shower and clean clothes. He was asking for help to get back to Portland. He'd been robbed of what little money he had. I told him I had only a dollar and some change and that I never keep cash on me. He said the dollar would help. My purse was still sitting on the drop leaf table, so I dug for my wallet and found a dollar bill. The man had entered the kitchen and was right behind me when I turned around. I gasped and shoved the dollar at him, telling him I was sorry I couldn't help. He looked at me and said he was sorry he caught me at a bad time. I was embarrassed. I knew he could tell I'd wiped tears away. He was still thanking me as I closed and locked the door. I watched him walk down the stairs and toward the entrance to the parking lot. Then I went into the bathroom and cried.

  Sunday, June 5, 2011

  When my alarm went off on Sunday morning, I hit the snooze button and lay there thinking. I know better than to cry, but every now and then I need a good cry. The aftermath always leaves me feeling drained and lifeless. My eyes suffer the most. I'd worn my glasses to Twyla's Saturday night to conceal the puffy lids and redness. The extra makeup I'd worn left me feeling overdone, like one of the customers. Joel told me about her but I had to see her for myself to fully appreciate how accurate his description was. The furrows in her face and bags under her eyes were accentuated by the volume of foundation and powder she'd used to conceal them. I hoped no one at the restaurant was laughing at me behind my back Saturday night.

  Joel had asked if I enjoyed my visit with Sarah. I told him I never found her. He said he didn't have an address for her because she told him she was going back to Pennsylvania. I asked him if he'd talked to her lately. He'd talked to her Friday. He gave her a hard time because I had to postpone sightseeing Saturday with Michael until Sunday. Joel was surprised Sarah didn't call me back.

  I'd planned to tell Joel something came up and I couldn't make it on Sunday. I was in no mood to have my heart broken again. The first thing out of Joel's mouth when he saw me was, "Michael is really looking forward to Sunday." I pretended I was, too.

  While we waited for our first customer, Joel and I brought each other up to date on our histories. I wondered what attracted Joel to Sunset. He lived on the surf, and Sunset was known for having great surf. He ran out of money at the same time Twyla needed a server. I was surprised to learn there were apartments on the hill above Sunset. Joel shared a two-bedroom with a friend who worked in Hoquarten. The friend was touring Europe, so Joel invited Michael to stay with him for the summer. They'd met at the university in Las Vegas. Joel's childhood best friend died suddenly, and Joel decided to put his education on hold and live a little. Joel was raised in Portland. After his father died, his mother moved to Las Vegas and then to the east coast when she remarried. Joel said he'd never leave the Pacific Northwest.

  The alarm woke me after I'd drifted off to sleep again. After a long shower and three mugs of coffee, I started feeling as if I could join the human race again. Joel had told me not to dress up, so I wore jeans, a Beatles t-shirt I'd purchased in London, and sneakers. We'd be outside seeing the sights, so I'd have my yellow hoody with me. I transferred the essentials from my purse to the bum bag that I'd also bought in London. While I waited for Joel, Breanna, and Michael to arrive, I answered email and tried not to notice there was nothing from Sarah.

  I heard a vehicle and shut down my laptop. I was surprised to see Michael standing alone on the porch. He told me Breanna was in an accident on the way back to Hoquarten Saturday night. Michael asked if I still wanted to go out. I could have said I thought we should wait for Joel, because I had no idea where he planned to take us. Or I could have suggested we go to the hospital to see Breanna. However, the chemistry between Breanna and me was not great. I was sorry she was hurt, but I knew she would not have expected me to go to the hospital.

  In spite of my vow never to fall in love again, I was glad fate had thrown Michael and me together, and we'd be alone for the entire day.

  Michael had backed into the spot in front of the beach house. When I saw the black Lexus, I wondered what he did for a living and was sorry I hadn't asked Joel for more information. I decided not to comment on the car. It might be a rental. If he actually drove a dented, older car with peeling paint, he'd be sure I broke up with him because of it. The Lexus smelled new. I was surprised when Michael asked what I thought of it. I said it was very luxurious. He waited for me to say more. Then he told me a woman in Las Vegas refused to go out with him when she saw he was driving a car made in Japan. I told him I drove a Camry assembled in the U.S. with parts made in Japan. I liked the fact that people in Kentucky had jobs assembling the Camry.

  Michael had not been on the upper, winding road that Frank described as a highway one should take only to see the lighthouse or to kill time. It seemed perfect. We pulled off to see the lighthouse. It was a lovely day to be outside with a light mist and no wind. He asked another tourist to take our picture in front of the lighthouse. It seemed a presumptuous thing to do since we hardly knew each other. He seemed very sure of himself. It both attracted and repelled me at the same time. On the one hand, it meant he was enjoying himself. On the other, it meant he assumed I was, too.

  Aside from the tourist who snapped our photo, there were no other visitors at the lighthouse. We stood behind a fence that kept people from getting too close to the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean with a view to the cliff on the opposite side of the cove. With the mist, a slight breeze, the dense vegetation, and the sound of the surf crashing below us, it was a romantic setting. We were quiet as we stood there absorbing it all and becoming one with it. We both seemed to relax. I sensed he was watching me. When I looked at him, he leaned toward me and kissed my lips very lightly. I felt my defenses fall away. He wrapped me up in his arms and kissed me again. I could tell our passionate embrace surprised even him. We had cros
sed a threshold, and I knew there was no going back.

  We walked to the Lexus without a word between us. Michael drove back to Sunset. He backed into the spot by the beach house and then opened my door. He followed me into the house and locked the door, standing with his back to it. I'd gone to the window beside the drop leaf table to lower the shade. When I turned around, his arms were open. I wrapped my legs around him and kissed him several times before he carried me to the bed. It was as if a whirlwind had stripped us bare and thrown us together. I'd never wanted a man as much as I wanted Michael. It was early evening when we both realized we were hungry. Michael pulled on his jeans and went to the kitchen to scramble eggs. I started a CD of Rachmaninov's Concerto No. 2, and then I went into the bathroom to fix my hair.

  Michael's eggs were scrambled with a small amount of cheddar cheese and milk, fluffy, and moist. I toasted English muffins. We ate by candlelight, sipping a white wine I'd splurged on at the grocery. We didn't talk. Occasionally, our eyes met followed by a kiss. Then Michael tipped my wine glass so the wine covered my lips. I started to wipe them with a napkin, but he stopped me, and gently licked the wine from my lips. That sent us into a new frenzy of passion. He started the shower, undressed me and then hurried out of his jeans. The water was nearly running cold by the time we finished making love. He wrapped a towel around his waist and then dried me with another, kneeling at my feet as if I'd conquered him. Everything he did aroused me more. He picked me up and carried me back to bed.

  I woke up and lay beside Michael in the dark listening to Rachmaninov. I was grateful he'd survived his depression and writer's block to compose the music that seemed meant for us. The concerto was dark, powerful, and mysterious like Michael. The frenetic pace and passion had choreographed our lovemaking. I realized for the first time in my life I didn't care who Michael was or had been, or where he came from or was going, or if he loved me. Men had said they loved me and then left. I was ready to try something different and daring.