A Life On College Hill

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A Life On College Hill Page 22

by Lawrence F. Dooling


  It was easy to laugh at those bad memories. There was, however, one memory I wanted to forget. It was the very worst night of my life. I suppose it was the worst night of Meghan’s life, as well. I had a decision to make as I waited for the light to turn at the intersection of Main and Pine. Tempted? Yeah, I’d have to plead guilty to tempted.

  It’s like my life began for real the very next day. Meghan and I worked out whatever issues there were between us. From that day on we’ve been inseparable. Every day since then has been better than the day before. It just took one more at bat for me to succeed.

  The ocean breeze swirled over me, and the surf rolled on hypnotically. It was so difficult to keep my eyes open. If only those damn sirens would stop. They just kept getting louder and closer. Suddenly, they stopped right at my street and I panicked. Meghan had just walked up that way.

  My heart leapt into my throat, and I shot out of my chair. Racing up the beach, toward the street, I was shocked to see that the sky to the west was black. I had been so engrossed in my daydreaming that I didn’t realize a storm was moving in from the mainland. Crossing over the dunes, I found myself in the street on the wrong side of yellow police tape. A car had crashed into a wall. I was relieved that Meghan was nowhere to be seen.

  These cops worked fast. The area was already cordoned off to keep the crowd at bay. I couldn’t believe how cold it had become in just a few minutes. It was pitch black, and a hard rain was falling. The temperature must have dropped thirty degrees in minutes. Standing there in my bathing suit, I was freezing. I was embarrassed that all the onlookers seemed to be dressed for the weather.

  A police sergeant and a patrolman walked right past me to investigate the wreck. They were so intent on their work, they didn’t even ask me to move. As I stood in the street, shivering, I scanned the crowd looking for my wife. Many of the faces and voices seemed familiar.

  A girl’s voice rose above the crowd, “He was in my accounting class. He was a nice guy.”

  I could hear someone say, “It was the busboy.”

  Looking at the faces, I realized they were kids I knew from college. What were they doing in Stone Harbor? Why hadn’t any of them aged in all these years?

  I looked back at the policemen who were examining the wrecked car. They had placed a white sheet over it to block the crowd’s view of the interior. The sheet couldn’t cover a large slab of stone protruding from the windshield.

  I heard the sergeant say, “Looks like he went straight in at high speed. No attempt to brake. No attempt to swerve.”

  The sergeant asked the patrolman, “Any ID on our victim?”

  “It was probably just some college kid who flunked his midterms. A witness heard him screaming, for a few minutes, after the crash. He was barely alive when I rolled up. He was just gasping for air while I tried to get him out. He made eye contact with me just before he fell silent. I wonder what thoughts were going through his mind.”

  The sergeant replied, “He was probably thinking this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “By the time the EMTs arrived he was gone,” the patrolman added.

  The sergeant said, “As soon as the coroner gets here, we can bag him up and tag him a suicide.”

  “Did you look inside the car?” the patrolman asked. “It’s pretty messy in there. The steering wheel ripped up his face. You try and put him in a body bag, in front of this crowd, and you’ll need a fire truck to clean up all the puke.”

  The sergeant looked around, then said to the patrolman, “Twenty bucks says he bled out.”

  The patrolman replied, “I’m taking your bet. Look at how tightly he’s pinned against the dash board. You know a couple of broken ribs punctured his lungs. There’s no way he could get a breath of air. I’ve got twenty that says he suffocated.”

  “Either way, it was slow and painful,” the sergeant replied.

  Then he added, “We’re probably going to have to cut him out of the car. Just tie the sheet down, and we’ll tow him, as is, to the morgue. The coroner can decide who wins the twenty.”

  The patrolman said, “Some poor parents are having their last good night’s sleep. I hope I don’t have to make the phone call in the morning.”

  The sergeant shivered. “I’m freezing. I wish there was somewhere to get a cup of coffee at this hour.”

  The patrolman agreed, “Yeah, anyone ever opens an all-night coffee shop in this town, I’ll personally make him wealthy.”

  I walked up to the car and lifted a corner of the sheet. It was a Ford Pinto, just like the one I once owned. I still remember the day I had it towed to the junkyard. It felt like the death of a friend.

  It was now so incredibly cold I could see my breath. It never gets this cold in August. What the hell was going on? I needed to start watching the Weather Channel.

  Another familiar voice suddenly rose above the murmuring crowd.

  “You were learning to be humble. You were learning to be patient. You were learning to persevere. You were learning how to live a successful life.”

  I turned toward the sound of the voice and was shocked to see Dee. Maybe it was the rain, but he looked as if he was crying. He bore an expression of pained sorrow.

  “Life, like baseball, requires nine innings to determine a winner. You forfeited the game in the third.”

  “Dee, what the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

  He pointed to the wrecked car.

  “That’s not my car. I got rid of my Pinto ages ago.”

  “You were a good kid, Randy, but in a moment of despair you made an unforgiveable mistake. You’ve been given the opportunity to experience the life you would have lived. You only needed one more day to make it happen. Just one more at-bat for you and Meghan to have the life you just experienced.”

  Sarcastically, I replied, “Yeah, right, I guess that was my reward for being a good kid.”

  I was pissed off because Dee was taking this a little too far. Some poor guy was dead in that car, and Dee was messing with me.

  Dee’s sorrowful expression turned angry. “It’s your punishment, not your reward. Now you’ll spend eternity alone, knowing what you threw away.”

  Looking around, I suddenly realized I wasn’t in Stone Harbor. I was on College Hill in Central Valley. The piece of stone in the car’s windshield came from Memorial Wall. Feelings of anxiety, fear, and frustration overwhelmed me. Feelings I hadn’t known since . . . since college.

  “Where’s Meghan?” I asked.

  Dee stared blankly as he said, “You really were her only friend. Your dying on the same night she had been raped was too much. Of course, she blamed herself for everything. If she had been with you that night, neither tragedy would have occurred.”

  “Dee, cut the crap! Have you seen her?”

  He turned toward the crowd and started to walk away.

  “Dee, where is she?” I begged.

  He turned back toward me, with a look of resignation, and said, “I suppose it wasn’t her fault. I mean, how much can a girl take? You were supposed to help her through the pain. The day after your funeral, Meghan Mallory made her own mistake.”

  “What about my mother? What happened to my mom?”

  With the same look, he said, “When your mother got the call she had a heart attack. She lingered for a time, but . . .” his voice trailed off.

  Angrily, I demanded, “But what?”

  “But she didn’t have the strength!” he replied just as angrily.

  “This isn’t happening!” I shouted back at him. “You’re not even alive. I was at your funeral ten years ago. I helped carry your casket. I’m not in Central Valley! I’m at the beach! I’m on vacation!”

  With that, I awoke, back on the beach, drenched in sweat and shouting at the ocean.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh . . . my . . . God! I am never, ever, falling asl
eep on the beach again!” I said out loud.

  My heart was racing, and I was gasping for each breath. I fought back tears knowing Meghan was safe. I wanted to run home and hug her, but first I had to calm down. If I walked in the house looking like this, she’d think I was having a heart attack. It would be sirens all over again.

  I jumped off my chair and dashed into the surf. Diving, head first, into a wave, I was jolted by the cold water. The shock was reassuring. I figured I had to be alive to feel pain.

  Returning to my beach chair, I didn’t need a towel. The breeze had shifted back to the west while I was asleep, and the hot breeze was all I needed to dry off. Flopping back down in my chair, I stared out at the surf.

  Thoughts of Meghan and my kids washed over me. To this day, people refuse to believe the story of how we met. I point to the scars on my face to prove it happened. I laughed out loud remembering the night she pulled me out of Will’s Bar and then passed out in my apartment. I still have a difficult time believing she married me, let alone wanted to have my children. What would my life have been like without her and my kids?

  A feeling of contentment enveloped me. I stared at the ocean as the tide continued its relentless journey. The warm breeze blanketed me as I closed my eyes and considered just how good fate had been to me.

  Ever so gradually, I was overtaken by a strange sensation. I looked to my right and then to my left. A shiver raced up my spine as I realized I was alone. There wasn’t another soul on the beach.

  Memories are the mind’s only preoccupation on the beach of my dreams. The sun rises from the ocean and sinks into the bay. Tides relentlessly advance and retreat across the sand. The hands of my watch are as irrelevant as my own.

  The entirety of each person’s life is eventually encapsulated into a brief newspaper obituary. What will be written about my life was all the consequence of one year of my life. My entire existence turned on the events of twelve months in a college town.

  Life in a college town is often vibrant, sometimes . . . .

 

 

 


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