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| High Tide |
By:
Raz D'mello |
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High Tide
Jason Steele sipped the bland in-flight coffee and listened to the soft drone of the aircraft as it prepared to land. From his window he could see the dark city looming like a ghost, tiny lights coming up to greet him like a scattered swarm of flaming locusts. It had been a tiring flight and he longed for a hot shower in his small apartment and then thankfully, some rest. He stifled a yawn and reclined, trying not to doze off. For Jason Steele, sleep now seemed like a soothing balm on the septic wounds of civilization.
An hour later he stood in his apartment, listening to the familiar silence and the ticking of the antique wall clock. He picked up the remote then suddenly decided against the television, preferring a Beethoven on his worn out system. As the ancient symphony filled his head Jason Steele studied himself in the mirror. The little bulb overhead lit up his reflection in an orange glow, highlighting his middle age features. The apartment was still and he was all alone. He was about to undress and then head for a lazy hot bath when something made him glance at the mirror, once again. At first it looked normal, and then when his mind cleared its travel induced haze, he found it strange. Very strange. But not yet alarming. He would slowly get to that stage.
He stared at it, his mind going in a tired lazy circle, slowly resurrecting an old fear in Jason Steele. Hydrophobia.
Its origins lay in an innocuous school trip to a museum. Even back then Jason Steele had a gift of wry humour and he had promised himself to use it sparingly, lately it had caused him trouble with the adults around. The bunch of kids moved around artefacts, statues, metal jewel boxes and the like. They stopped near a Greek statue and their guide explained that it was of Triton, the Greek god of water and the ocean. According to myths, he stayed at the bottom of the ocean in a golden palace. At this point young Jason could not help but ask, “Sir, then did he come out of the ocean to pee?” and the laughter that followed did not amuse the guide, an old historian who acted as a guide purely out of enthusiasm for history rather than for anything else. After the excursion little Jason was singled out for punishment by his teachers. Before the kids left the museum, an angry Jason Steele had slipped back into the dingy interiors and kicked the statue of Triton off its pedestal. He had watched its head break away and roll into a dusty corner. The head had rested against a wall, its two black eyes fixed on little Jason. For a moment he had just stood there watching it with fascination as he felt the eyes bore into him, conveying something very private and personal. It was an ancient message, coming alive after several centuries of evolution and still untainted by time and space. He fled outside. Strangely afterwards, the air inside the homebound school bus had reeked of salt, like the air around the sea. Yet there was no sign of a sea for hundreds of miles around. And he could see those two eyes of Triton, glaring and alive.
Then something happened that would haunt him forever.
Little Jason had almost drowned in a local swimming pool. He had thrashed wildly, unable to breathe as a deathly white pall surrounded him, trying to pull him slowly to its foggy depths. Then seconds before he thought he had drowned, powerful hands of the instructor had pulled him out. The ordeal had lasted for only three seconds, but for the boy it seemed like a dark eternity. There was teasing laughter all around but from then on, Jason Steele saw accumulated water as a killer. A waiting predator. Deep inside he knew it had a score to settle with him. He could see the eyes of Triton. From then on, Jason Steele would often wake up perspiring, thinking he was drowning, sucked up in a dark vortex of churning water.
So, was it a sign?
Now standing in his apartment, his mind swayed between apprehension and fear as he looked closely. On the mirror were drops of water, scattered and slowly dripping like blood from a murder scene. With his brain thudding against his skull, he tasted one of the drops and blinked at his reflection in a now familiar fright. Seawater. The logic was missing. No other person had entered his airtight apartment in the last six months. Alarmed, he retreated into the shower. The hot water calmed his jangled nerves and cocooned him in a warm, steamy embrace. Somewhat comforted, his world began to blur as his mind raced back to the events of the past fortnight.
He closed his eyes and remembered Betty. His beautiful Betty. Was she thinking of him now…you bet she was. He thought of her golden curls flying in the wind as they had driven past Florida’s beaches. Then he remembered her laughter and happy shrieks as the car had gathered speed. She loved to drive fast. The last two weeks were easily the happiest moments of Jason Steel’s life. Quite in contrast to what he did for a living. He was a travelling salesman and his job involved selling people things they did not need.
The hot water was acting like an antidote, reviving the warmth and helping him erase a nagging fear, at least for now. And then he thought of the plan. If there ever was a perfect plan, he had hatched it. Now it was already in motion. Very soon…he thought and he felt a cool breeze caress his nape, making his hair stand up. The odour it left behind was of salt. Sea breeze. Florida.
The happy part of his life had started with the seminar at Nassau, Florida, a fortnight ago.
Sometime in the middle of winter, every year, was this big seminar for salesmen like him. They came in droves from all over the state, solemn looking, with grey coats, some wore glasses, and they ranged from the young and eager to the middle aged and composed. They all resembled Clarke Kent, Peter Parker or some equally innocuous men with hidden agendas.
Jason Steele found himself at Nassau one such winter afternoon and immediately felt the salty wind across his face. Lately, anything that was not work related was a luxury as his schedule kept him busy. Luckily, he had no family. But an empty apartment was not exactly a warm homecoming. Night after night.
The cool breeze rustling through his hair was making him apprehensive. He stood opposite the sea, eyeing it uneasily. Accumulated water. Beyond it the winter sun kissed the earth and turned it a shy red. He had thirty minutes to himself before the seminar. Behind him, the huge shopping mall rose like a monstrous pyramid against a cobalt sky. It looked pretty inviting with holiday shoppers streaming in and out. For a salesman, people meant potential business. He ambled in, product brochures and calling cards in hand. An elderly couple seemed interested, then a young man, a middle aged clerk and then a school teacher with her ailing husband, all in all five cold contacts. Even if one sale were to materialize, it would help him achieve this month’s target. He had been busy calculating when he saw her. A young woman dressed in a flamboyant polka dot top and a charcoal gypsy skirt. She was pretty in a strange sort of way, like an oddly designed car which holds your attention amidst a bevy of sleek automobiles. It wasn’t just her looks that made his heart beat faster but an irresistible child like innocence that surrounded her like a halo. She radiated a fresh dewy grass vulnerability, which automatically made you want to protect her. He had looked at his watch, still ten minutes to go. Fortune favours the brave, thought the salesman as he approached her, not knowing that this chance encounter would change his life. He was now mildly aware of the salt in the air and a low moaning sound, which came from the direction of the sea.
Betty Lou was pretty, talkative and a compulsive shopper. After the usual sales talk, Jason Steele had charmed her into inviting him over to her apartment to close the deal on a mini vacuum cleaner. Right through the seminar, he had thought about the girl at the shopping mall. Then he had thought about the emptiness in his life. Somehow the two connected well. She was someone he had wanted all his life.
He realized he was in love and a sweet pain throbbed inside him. Although he found the love at first sight syndrome a bit silly, now he wasn’t so sure. Moreover, her body language was very encouraging, he was sure of that. He would ask her out, he thought. Or should he wait…no, he had very little time. He would definitely ask her out. In his enthusiasm he had overlooked one glaring fact. Betty Lou was married. But her husband was away on a long business tour. A thin smile was forming on Jason Steele’s lean face. The salesman had already devised something to take care of that one irritating factor.
Meanwhile, the seminar had consisted of long boring lectures, convoluted graphs and some drab audio-video presentations. The speakers, if Jason Steele had cared to observe, had all looked the same.
The salt odour in the air hung around him like an invisible fog, a reminder that the ocean was waiting for him. It was watching and listening. The address he sought tonight wasn’t far away from the water front. Fernandina beach, a sandy strip stretching eternally along the ocean. A row house loomed ahead, a wrought iron door at its entrance just as she had described it. Faraway, a dog barked playfully on the beach and sea water made lapping sounds against the rocks.
He knocked twice before Betty Lou opened the door and ushered him in. She appeared more beautiful in the evening light. He knew that she had looked forward to his visit, it was in her eyes and the way she looked at him and smiled. So it wasn’t very surprising that she poured him a drink. May be it was a tradition in Florida or may be she liked him to feel at home. Both reasons suited him just fine. After he broke the ice, the way salesmen are trained to do, they sat chatting for hours. It was like they were no strangers at all and seemed to know each other from ages. They spoke about their likes and dislikes, their childhood, their favourite holiday places and family, or the lack of one. Jason Steele learnt how lonely she felt in spite of her fairy tale marriage to a rich stock broker. Her married life had turned sour after only six months because her husband only spoke about figures and stock indexes. By now their happiness curve was plummeting in direct proportion to the sensex. Lately, her husband had even got into a drinking problem and rumor had it, he had a mistress stashed away somewhere in New York. Life was a bitch for Betty Lou. Jason Steele listened quietly, studying her soft face and feeling a rising anger for the man she had married. How could someone in his right senses think of hurting this woman, a fact he was wrestling with at the moment. He wanted to console her, touch her, take her in his arms and kiss her and shake her and yell that they were made for each other. But Jason Steele sat quietly in front of her, sipping the warm cognac and observing the flames leap up in the little hearth. It was just at that moment that Betty Lou dabbed her eyes with a kerchief and sniveled. Instinctively, he put an arm around her and let her cry. He smiled and kissed her cheek. She had never felt warmer in a long time. They looked at each other and never spoke a word. They never felt the need, all that was to be said had been conveyed by the moment. The cognac burned his throat and he felt alive. Betty Lou had breezed in his life like a fresh breath of life giving air. It helped matters that her stock broker husband was in another city, doing business or whoring, not that Jason Steele really cared. He had still not sold her the mini vacuum cleaner. That seemed unimportant now, as Jason Steele had just closed the deal of his life.
By the time he walked back to his hotel it was dark. Walking slowly by the beach, he had carefully gone over his plan. Not far away the ocean was silent, lazily creeping up on the sands and rocks and then slowly receding back. Over millions of years, the ocean has concealed many a secret in its murky and ominous depths, now it watched and listened to the turmoil going inside Jason Steele’s head. In the assembling darkness the sea looked strangely sedated on the surface. But underneath, it was alive. The air stung his exposed skin like a salty barbed wire. It felt good and complemented the cognac.
The seminar people had put him up in a cheap hotel for two weeks. After a light dinner in his room, he thought about his plan in detail. If he wanted a future with Betty Lou, her husband would have to be dealt with. There was no way her husband would agree for a divorce or an amicable parting of ways. Betty had told him so. Now he had only one choice. To force the issue with the arrogant stock broker. And if matters came to a head, he would have to take the drastic step. He would have to eliminate him. This however, would be implemented without the consent of Betty. Women were weak, this was a man’s job. And what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her at all. After all, he was doing them both a favour. His adrenalin was pumping him up and he couldn’t sleep. While he was still thinking feverishly about it, he had a brainwave.
He remembered Betty telling him that her husband had a sports car fetish and owned two of those civilized racing monsters. Well then, he would do it just as in the movies. Brake failure.
The next day dawned bright and clear. Jason Steele had a date lined up with his lady love. His spirits were high all along the seminar, and in the evening he found himself knocking on the wrought iron door. She stood there, looking prettier than he had last seen her. “Can you drive?” she asked him, throwing her golden curls back. “I can drive you crazy,” he smiled and took her by the arm. Like excited teenagers they walked to the garage which was adjacent to her house. It was more of a barn with thatched straw walls. The quiet ocean was visible through its holes and thin streams of air gushed in making the loose straws flutter. Parked inside were two identical sports cars. Both were red with blue streaks on their curvy sides. They were Fords. Jason Steele whistled in surprise at the metallic beauties. “That one is mine,” Betty said pointing to the one on the left, “the other one is my husband’s. He is crazy about it, never touches any other car, not even mine.” She didn’t see the glint in his eyes, she was busy shading her own against the wind. Brake failure, he smiled to himself and traced the cold steel contours with his finger without emotion.
Outside, the ocean stretched like a blanket of pale blue and reflected the sky on its tranquil surface. Lazy sea gulls glided on air currents and the late afternoon sun was losing its bite at irregular intervals as a procession of clouds drifted over it. The sports car had a contemporary design and looked inviting. It was an open top. Not used to driving expensive cars Jason Steele felt a tinge of excitement, like a child given a new toy. He followed Betty inside and settled himself in the plush upholstery. He turned the key and the car throbbed with life, then swung smoothly into motion. “C’mon Jason, step on it!” Betty laughed as she let her hair fly. He let it go and the car hissed forward in a tumble of raging horsepower and auto propulsion. Suddenly he was feeling young again. He forgot his lonely apartment back home, his insipid job and his future which until now had appeared bleak, there was only one thing that mattered. The woman by his side. As the car gathered speed, Betty Lou began to shed her inhibitions. She was no longer the demure, abused housewife of yore but a woman who loved to feel the wind in her hair. Jason Steele was taken by surprise as she urged him to go faster, squealing in delight like a speed freak teenager.
Her transformation was a pleasant revelation to him as he stepped on it and raced down the road, only too pleased to oblige. It was, he realized with joy, the real side of Betty Lou. The side which was till now eclipsed by a doomed marriage. Driving fast and basking in the wild glory of racing ahead was her way of escaping the doldrums of reality, being slapped by the wind was rejuvenation from a morose life, feeling the surge of blood in her veins was like reliving childhood, a time when she was free to smell the flowers, build sand castles and make shapes out of clouds. Now speeding insanely without a care in the world and with someone she loved, was turning out to be the ultimate orgasm.
It was early evening and the sea foamed on one side of the long road. There wasn’t much traffic and the day stretched before them like a sunlit dream. They raced past swaying palms and a motley crowd of tanned tourists. He joined in her laughter, suddenly amazed at his ability to enjoy life and laugh unashamedly. By the time he realized his behaviour was not in keeping with the American Salesmen Code, he was past caring. They drove on long, snaking roads along the coast, throwing caution to the winds, literally. As the sun began sinking into the waters, it threw a deep orange aura around itself. They parked at a café called Land’s End and ordered pastries and sipped cold chocolate. Betty promised to show him around Florida the next day. As the bitter sweet aroma whipped past him, Jason Steele thought about the plan. “Betty, both of you have similar cars,” he quizzed her, “I for one can’t tell the difference.” She looked at him and laughed, “planning to take my husband for a drive, are you?” He sipped his chocolate and smiled, mostly to himself.
A soft moaning sound drifted towards him and from the corner of his eye, he looked at the sea. The view was breathtaking. White clouds like grazing sheep sauntered across a still blue sky, a sprinkling of birds hovered above the city line and the sun itself was a mass of flaming orange grandeur. But it was the water beneath the pretty picture that made him uneasy. The ocean was hazy and calm at the surface. It laid spread over eternity and beyond the wildest imagination of Jason Steele. Of late, the fear of water had come back stronger to haunt him. Now the sea seemed like it shared his dark secret and somehow didn’t approve of it. To hell with it, thought Jason Steele. He tried to ignore the salt odour which had begun to fill his nostrils. Finishing his cold chocolate, he took Betty Lou’s hand and kissed it.
“This is the happiest day of my life.” He looked softly at her, faraway the sea gulls raised a racket over dead, floating fish. Betty Lou seemed to soak in each word, perhaps reliving a childhood dream of a prince carrying his princess on horseback. Jason Steele waited for effect and then continued, “perhaps it’s fitting that I say those magic words today.” she felt she was about to melt.
“Will you marry me Betty Lou?”
A torrent of feelings erupted deep within her, most of which was gratitude. More than anything else, she wanted to thank him for rescuing her. She wanted to hug him for carrying her away and riding into the sunset, helping her escape the clutches of an evil count, her stock broker husband. Jason Steele looked at her expectantly, still holding her hand, “sorry, no ring…give this poor salesman some time, will you?” She put her hand over his and squeezed it. “Yes of course, Mr. Knight in shining armour.”
“Is that a yes for my first question or the second?”
“Both,” Betty replied coyly. He raised his mug, “this calls for a celebration, so will the lovely lady prefer champagne at her place tonight,” then shrugged dramatically, “or would she favour room service at my cheap motel…”
She slowly sipped her drink and winked. “By the sea, sales boy.” The sky had turned crimson by the time they were headed back. Jason Steele would have preferred an indoor celebration but hated to disturb the flow of events. Now he tried his best to conceal the predatory fear rising in the pit of his stomach. As the sports car raced home, he noticed the white surf rolling against the gathering black of a late evening, making the sea look like a crouching wet monster. A chilly wind blew across their faces as they parked the car in the shed alongside its twin. Betty disappeared into the house and soon emerged with a couple of beer bottles. The soft clink of the Haywards and a hushed sea were the only sounds around for a mile. The part of the beach scattered around was secluded, private property of Betty Lou’s rich stock broker husband, apparently priding himself on the proverbial house by the sea. But tonight everything belonged to Jason Steele. The house, the beach and the woman. The ocean sprayed salty droplets on their skin as it rose and fell making frothy margins on the sand. But it was still far away from where they stood, he had ensured that. It was getting darker as they held hands, uncertainly at first then confidently, having got over the initial guilt. Their bodies touched lightly as they felt the soft sand beneath their feet. The sky held the last traces of a setting sun which sank suddenly without warning, making obscure shadows settle on the tense waters below. The cool air did little to clear the anxiety Jason Steele felt by the sight of the vast sea stretching before him. The sea odour was making him sick, reviving the ancient fear of water throttling him and pulling him down.
If the sea had tentacles Jason Steele wouldn’t have been alive for so long. He wondered if Betty would understand his fears or would just dismiss them off as a stupid phobia. He wished he could too, but knew better. He could still remember his near drowning experience vividly and how he had laid awake all night. Thinking. That was no ordinary drowning. The water was alive and was grabbing him, trying to draw him towards its depths. It was personal, a case of settling an ancient, forgotten score. It was as if the water knew him, recognized him and smelled him out from an array of first time swimmers. He, little Jason Steele was what it wanted, thirsted for, if something like water could ever be thirsty. Wry humour. Tonight he could sense that the sea was waiting for him, again. Those eyes of Triton were very much staring at him. He had no intention of wading into the water only to be engulfed in its depths. It would later seem like a suicide or accident. Only he knew it would be murder. He watched the waves like a lone, tired soldier trapped inside enemy lines and alert for an ambush. Jason Steele looked around him, an out-of-the-way beach with no apparent sign of life, except for the sea and Betty Lou. He felt like Robinson Crusoe with his woman Friday. A good feeling for a city salesman. Then he listened carefully and he heard a low moan, unmistakably from the depths of the sea. A watery rumble, echoing through some dark, mysterious passages of an unknown world. He knew of it in a way a condemned prisoner knows of the gallows. The sea was breathing and he could feel its hate wave like a wild animal’s breath on his neck. Jason Steele felt it now more than ever. Trying hard to ignore the fear he led Betty Lou to a rock and then perched on it, away from the creeping waves. Betty nestled herself close to him, mesmerized by the occasion and the promise of tomorrow. He drank beer, aware of the plan lying dormant in his brains.
Somehow the intense anxiety of Jason Steele was acting like an aphrodisiac and he started obeying the urges of his body. They kissed and undressed each other like characters from a Mills & Boon story. The moment possessed them like a starved banshee and they made love on the sands, with a passion that was more animal than human. It was a union of two souls searching for mutual salvation, knowing the waiting was over. They tore at each other, an act of revenge against fate. Exhausted, they made a bonfire and laughed and sipped beer. If it was not for the salt in the air, Jason Steele would’ve believed in paradise. Barely clothed, they frolicked on the sands like first time lovers. Well, they were first time lovers. Suddenly Betty Lou stood up, shaking the sand from her clothes, “let’s swim,” there was an impish streak in her voice, “I love swimming at night, it’s magical…” If she could see the expression on Jason Steele’s face she would’ve thought he had suffered a heart attack. In the leaping flames of the bonfire his face looked like he would certainly have one any moment. His mind was racing for an explanation and the salesman in him came up with one. He grimaced and threw his arms around her, “ever heard of seawaterititis?” She missed the humour completely and grew concerned, “hope it’s not dangerous, Jason.” His wry jokes were the fallout of too many ironies in life but this time his humour had saved the situation. He kissed her on the cheek, “just a bad case of the rashes, sea water doesn’t agree with me.” It was the closest he could’ve ever hoped to tell her the truth. He squinted at the purple waters and heard the low, muffled moan. For a moment he felt an urge to ask Betty whether she had heard it, but was afraid she might say no, shattering his fragile notion that all this was just his imagination playing overtime. It was a notion which he harboured deep in his heart, an anchor in times of a real storm. He wished he was just hallucinating after all. That there was no sea waiting to kill him. That the childhood drowning experience was just a blown up phobia of a nervous boy who hated water. That the salty odour of the ocean which haunted him even inside an airtight elevator, miles away from the sea was just a delusion. But Jason Steele knew otherwise. Suddenly he thought he heard someone calling his name over the din of the waves. To his surprise he saw Betty Lou run into the water, colliding with the rising surf, then slowly merging with the sea as it swelled and fell, gently carrying her with it.
“It’s beautiful, Jason!” she was yelling in joy, riding the waves, her bare arms glistening in the moonlight. He watched her mesmerized, she looked like a mermaid inviting him into her watery world. Jason Steele smiled at the sea with contempt, knowing it was a trap, bait that was held out for him. The Hayward was empty and he flung the bottle towards the sea, a small act of retribution. Betty swam with a childlike exuberance, shrieking as the cold water enveloped her, she was enjoying her freedom and celebrating it with the foaming sea. He watched the spectacle, angry and scared. For a moment he was concerned for her, thinking the sea would harm the woman he loved, but somehow he knew she was safe in the waters. The sea only wanted him. It was private and personal. Anger swelled inside him and he made his way to the garage. Inside his head, the plan had already swung into action. Above him the sky grew over cast and suddenly lightning streaked far away, its crackling reverberations following seconds later. He turned back to look at Betty and the sea. A second lightning bolt streaked upwards from the dark sea and ripped open the sky in electrifying glory, creating a spilt second day in the pitch black of the night. Then the skies threw up with a deafening explosion. He felt tiny drops of rain on his skin and wanted to call her back.
He strained his eyes to see her through what was now pelting rain, only to catch a glimpse of her lying back on the bobbing surf, waving happily. To him the sea in its entirety looked menacing with the lightning adding to its drama. Someone else would’ve marveled at the awesome sight, he simply cursed under his breath.
The garage loomed like an evil liar in the dark, water rushing from its straw terrace in torrents. A really strong wind could blow it away, he thought as he entered it. The two sports cars gleamed even in the weak light, accentuating their role in an ominous design. He searched around for the tool box, a trickle of sweat forming on his face. Outside, the wind howled through the holes of the barn and rain smacked into it with an insane fury. It sounded like the end of the world, the day of final reckoning, He wanted to check on Betty, the last thing he wanted was her to barge in on him now. A clock was ticking inside him, he had to carry out the plan in the next few minutes before the rains stopped. He identified Betty Lou’s car by its license plate, the only visible difference between the two cars. Jason Steele circled passed it and carefully studied the other car, inside out, trying to find some other dissimilarity, even a minute detail that would help him. Suddenly he found it. A hanging voodoo doll. It was a black doll, wooden and beautifully crafted, a tourist souvenir from somewhere. A white thread suspended it from a duct above the windshield. Although not a devout Christian, Jason Steele felt a pang of guilt, a weak pang nevertheless. For a moment he thought his imagination was playing tricks on him as he felt certain he heard a muffled moan, barely audible in the rain squall. Then wiping his face he went to work underneath the car.
He wrestled with the tools, his sweaty fingers making it hard for him to grasp them. He cursed in pain as something sharp and metal scraped his palm. Perspiration flowed freely and he felt its rancid odour filling his nose. The air inside the barn was warm, salty and sour. The rain lashed hard on the beach as he furiously targeted the sophisticated brakes. He breathing was laboured, every muscle in his body was screaming, straining to execute the commands of his brain. His face was taut and his eyes blinked periodically to keep out the sweat from blinding him. White tension gripped him as he willed himself to stop trembling, aware that his entire life, his fate, now hinged on what he was trying to achieve. It seemed like hours, when it was only seconds that passed as he tried to steady his hand, his mind, blotting out his fears and assorted phobias. Just as he was about to give up and uncoil to take a breather, suddenly without warning the wires snapped. Jason Steele had severed the cords that would stop the car in an emergency. When he emerged from underneath, the rain was petering out, the rumbling whine stopped ringing in his ears as if the elements, the sea had given up, ugly in defeat. It was a feeling of triumph that warmed him. Whatever he had in mind would now take its own course. Wait and watch. The storm had gone as suddenly as it had begun, throwing an eerie calm over the beach. The wind had calmed down and only a weak gust blew through the barn holes, making a soft whistling sound. He lay inside the barn, exhausted and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Jason Steele opened his eyes to an aroma of hot coffee and the warmth of satin bed sheets. A dull headache reproached him for the previous night in the garage-barn. Then like a sudden spiraling pain he was reminded of his dark deed and suspected if she knew. But the smile on Betty Lou’s cherubic face steadied his nerves. “Yoo hoo, coffee time…” she breezed in with a breakfast tray laden with eggs, toasts and fries.
“You looked like a ship wrecked sailor when I found you inside the garage, half dragged you inside…feeling alright?” Betty laid the tray besides him and smiled, “you may think I am bonkers…to swim in a storm at night, but yesterday was different,” He smiled back at her, not knowing how to respond. Her swimming did give him enough time to work on the car, alright. She continued, “I was waiting for that night for too long, thought it would never come…but it did.” He looked at her with mixed emotions, a daze in his eyes. Betty Lou dropped a sugar cube in the steaming coffee and watched it dissolve, “a penny for your thoughts, Jason Steele.” He sat up groggily, aware of an ache near his temples. “Well Betty Lou, I suddenly believe in mermaids, beautiful creatures with the moon light shining on them, never thought I could marry one though.” They laughed, she childlike and carefree while he laughed with a purpose and thought about his next step. The breakfast was sumptuous. “You look stronger already, ready for a spin?” She leaned on him, drawing him close and he felt her hair falling on his face in soft curls and her heady perfume wafted around him in a mesmerizing loop. He saw the sports car careening out of control, racing around a sharp bend, her husband at the wheel. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, her fingers drawing circles on his bare back. He held her gently and traced a line across her nape with his lips, he moved lower and she moaned. The sky raced backwards as the red and blue car flew on the tarmac, trying to avoid a pole, the driver trying to brake the car, a sharp screeching sound lacerating the afternoon calm. He explored her crevices and she went taut and arched herself, answering his caresses with cat like sounds, purring deliciously.
The tension was like a charged magnetic field, they intertwined like jungle creepers in a forest where there was no sense of time or era, only the palpable power of passion. The satin bed sheet rustled as they moved in sync with each other, she was riding him, moaning and clinging to him, merging with him, rising and falling in tandem like a sonnet of ecstasy. Suddenly the car left the road and crashed into a fence wall of white pickets, making the driver protect his face, instinctively, with both hands. The racing machine ricocheted of the railing onto a dirt track, accelerating towards a slope, a hillock which signaled the end of the road and opened out into the vast ocean, some 300 feet below. They kissed each other with ferocity, clawing softly and making marks on their backs. They rolled, their bodies locked and throbbing, moving in unison until they couldn’t take it any longer. With a feral cry she shuddered and he moved his tongue knowingly on secret spots, igniting deep fires that surprised and took her unawares. She cried out and shivered, tears running down her face. Finally he closed his eyes and held her in a vice like grip, his body trembling, shuddering and then he relaxed, kissed her on the lips and then looked into her eyes. The sports car lurched forward and catapulted into the cloudy sky, swaying and flipping into the swirling winds, its driver going down with it, a scream frozen on his shocked face. Below, the sea rose like a furious animal, lashing against the rocks, foaming in anticipation. Jason Steele lay spent and totally exhausted, afraid and sweating, not sure why.
“He is due one of these days,” Betty said, tucking up her hair in a neat little swirl. It was beginning to rain, slightly, a steady sprinkle. She pulled herself out and returned the tray to the kitchen, her voice sounded disjointed, echoing from the passage. “I will have a final word with him, it’s now or never, Jason.” It was a wake up call, the sentence hit him like a jet of cold water on a winter morning.
“I am scared of him, I still am…but this time it’s different, you are with me.” She smiled warmly as she cleared the last of the plates. Well, he thought, all good things come to an end. The first chapter of his joyous stay was nearing an abrupt end. He had completely forgotten about her husband returning and more importantly, the devious plan. Now everything depended on it. Jason Steele had to return home, wait for his plan to happen, and then come back. Never to leave her again.
It was still drizzling when he bid her adieu. But before that, Jason Steele had visited the garage and checked on the car. The black voodoo doll still hung, silent and brooding. There was no salt odour in the air. Betty insisted to see him off but he preferred she stayed indoors. He wanted her to prepare for the final confrontation with her stockbroker husband. His flight was delayed by a few minutes due to fog, but apart from that Jason Steele’s was a smooth journey back home.
Now back in his apartment, the warm water rekindled the pangs of the last fortnight with Betty Lou. Jason Steele couldn’t help but feel he had dreamt it all. It wasn’t real. The seminar, Betty Lou, the drives, her night swim, the sudden storm, the plan…his plan, now it all came back to him in warm torrents mixed with the steaming cascade from the shower. When he came out, the mosquito on the mirror had dried and shriveled, just a remnant of the past. Jason Steele sniffed the air around him, still no salt odour, and no guttural echo of the sea. It was back to work for him and he tried to immerse himself in selling gadgets and appliances, after all he was one of the best salesmen his company had. Jason Steele had the ability of convincing people that they needed what he had to sell. He had used this knack on Betty Lou, convincing her that she needed him more than anything else. But this time it was not a facade, it was for real. The truth was, he needed her too. Mutual. The only factor he wasn’t ready for was the husband. Even that was worked out now. The plan. A little blood on his hands for the sake of love won’t hurt. Whoever said all’s fair in love and war, was definitely on his side.
At quiet moments, he thought of the plan. Worked and reworked it in his mind, replaying it over and over again. It was simple and he had instructed her about it, briefed her to the last detail. They had practiced it a few times, he even had played her husband in those arguing sessions. Betty’s stockbroker husband was due sometime this week. All she had to do was confront him, tell him it was over between them and to hell with his opinion. She knew all about his drinking problems and his whoring. She wanted to end the torture and break free. It was long overdue. After having said all that, she just had to wait. Wait for him to go berserk, take a swig off the Romonov and take off in the sports car, his red and blue Ford racer with the black voodoo doll. True to his habit he would race along the water front, drunk and seething mad and with the devil at his heels. Faster and faster…until he would arrive at the sudden curve, and then he would’ve to brake. Two problems, Mr. Stockbroker. One, you’re drunk and secondly, your fast car has no brakes. If you still care for puns, that’s the end of the road for you. Now will you kindly go over and leave us alone. We bet you will.
A thin smile would form on Jason Steele’s face as he visualized the episode, time after time. Nothing personal Mr. Stockbroker, he would whisper to himself, you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.
It had been a week since he had last seen Betty Lou and now he yearned to see her again. But first he had to find out about her husband. Had he returned…had she acted out her part of the plan…Jason Steele was getting restless. He had to find out. After a tiring day of selling gadgets and making house calls, he sat in his quiet apartment and dialed Betty Lou in Florida. He carefully punched the digits and waited for the rings. Nervous tension gripped his body, making his heart jump in the rib cage. He was taut like a coiled spring. There was an irritating flat beep at her end. He tried again. This time it rang and he clasped the phone tightly. It continued to ring for a few seconds. Nervous and excited, Jason Steele half expected to hear a male hello when he heard her familiar chirpy voice.
“Hey love, missing me?” Jason Steele whispered into the cordless.
She was delighted to hear from him, “Jason! I dreamt of you last night, what kept you so long…” He felt happy listening to her. Betty’s lively voice acted like a magic potion on his mind, clearing the cobwebs and filling him with hope. He had not given her his number for obvious reasons, preferring to phone her instead. Betty’s husband had called her a day after Jason Steele had left. He told her there was some urgent business in New York and he would return sometime early next week. They both knew what the urgent business was. “I am dying to see you Jason,” she pleaded to him, “can’t we confront him together? I mean, with you by my side it’ll be easier….” He was fighting an urge to leave aside everything and jump on a plane to Florida, but some instinct warned him to stay put until the plan unfolded. “Betty, hold on till his return, once you tell him it’s over…he’ll understand and never come back.” Jason Steele knew he was treading on flimsy grounds. “Never come back?” she almost screamed. “You don’t know him Jason, he’ll do something terrible to me, and if he suspects anything…,” her voice was losing its firmness, a faint trace of panic in it.
“Relax love, he won’t suspect anything.” He assured her, confident of his plan. “Trust me, he won’t cause any more trouble.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He said coolly, “trust me, Betty Lou.” When he finally hung up he was already feeling guilty and concerned.
.
Jason Steele found it difficult to sleep that night. The silence of the apartment was getting on his nerves, he kept hearing her voice and her cherubic smile hounded him. He remembered her on that stormy night, swimming in the dark frothy sea like a mythical creature, beckoning him with her arms which glistened in the moonlight…the image froze in his mind like a silent movie frame. Betty was calling him, waving out, aware of some danger…and then the guilt hit him like a warm tidal wave.
No, he couldn’t leave her alone to face that monster, what if things turned violent, and what if Betty got hurt, what if…the possibilities kept pounding his head like blows from a sledgehammer, making it impossible for him to sleep. Before dawn he had made up his mind. He was jumping on the next plane to Florida. Jason Steele was going to give Betty Lou a surprise. It was the least he could do for her. For them.
Far away and in the middle of the ocean, something stirred and moved quietly in the great dark depths. An omen.
Jason Steele was sipping the bland in-flight coffee yet again, his ears growing immune to the monotonous drone of the plane. Below, the land gave way to a shimmering mass of a grey blue ocean. First he thought it was the engine drone but then he recognized the familiar moan gnawing at his brains, a muffled sound from a watery abyss. Then the unmistakable odour of the sea drifted towards him in a slow, hungry circle. Absurd, he thought. This is an air tight cabin. He looked down at the waters below, frightened at the prospect of a thousand feet drop. Not now, he thought and continued sipping the tasteless coffee. It was late evening already and the azure sky was still holding the brilliant orange of the sun. His plane would touch down at sunset. It would be dark by then and that suited him just fine.
Anonymity has its advantages. As he walked out of the brightly lit air terminal he felt happy at the prospect that he was a total stranger in this city. Not that he was a celebrity back home, but here he could slip in and out without being recognized. Considering the motive behind his visit, this feature was a huge benefit. Jason Steele left the white lights of the airport and entered the neon lights of the city. A light drizzle had left the streets wet and the lights of passing cars reflected on them like traveling lasers. The water front house he sought was a twenty minute walk from where he stood. He watched the city, its grey skies, the noisy screeching traffic snarling along, drenched corporate structures with massive glass facades, people unfurling umbrellas and careful not to step into puddles, young junkies hanging out at hip joints and prostitutes killing time in semi-lit alleys. A thin strip of sea stretched over the cityscape, it hugged a winding road which would take him to Betty Lou. In his mind was a swirling mass of jumbled thoughts, choking his power to reason and threatening to draw a blank. He had to relax. Jason Steele had given up smoking but now his body craved nicotine badly. He bought a couple of Camels and smoked one without pleasure. Slowly he started walking, the nicotine vapours penetrating his senses and jolting him to reality.
Every step he took transported him back in time. His far from happy childhood had been a dark and tasteless experience. He was an orphan. All he could remember of those days were the shrill bells of the boarding school and the cane smacking into his palm almost everyday. Despotic teachers, loneliness and a fear of being left behind in life were the only memories he lived with. And of course the fear of drowning was omnipresent, like a silent spider hiding in a silvery web. Jason Steele was walking fast, a strange impatience was pushing him forward. Around him a city was gradually slipping into darkness, some of its citizen getting ready to retire while some were getting ready for the night. The neon lights kept blinking at him from varying distances, giving him an impression that he was walking in some strange wonderland. More memories shrouded him, memories from another time, another place, memories he would rather forget now.
It was to a skinny woman that he had got married to. That was just after he had got a job as a sales assistant. She was the boss’s secretary cum typist. They were married for six months until she got ambitious and had left him for the boss. From that day his apartment had been empty and he had no choice but to concentrate on his work. He rose to become the best salesman of his company. It had been easy, there was nothing else to focus on. His life was empty and barren. And then there was Betty Lou. She had seen a rare quality in him that the world had missed. She had seen the warmer side of Jason Steele, a nice human being worthy of affection. She had seen him beyond his shortcomings. He thought of her and knew he was not a loser. Jason Steele kept on walking and sure enough a cold breeze filled with a salty odour blew across his face. Emerging out of his reverie, he suddenly realized that he was walking alongside the sea. In the darkness it looked eerie like a grey serpent, slithering slowly on the sands.
May be it was the pent up anger or the frustration that had accumulated inside him or the childhood drowning experience, or may be it was the sum total of it all that made Jason Steele climb over the concrete wall, open his zip and urinate into the sea. He did it with an unabashed arrogance, screaming loud abuses and making obscene gestures with his hand. It was a strange sight for the few people who pretended to ignore him. “C’mon get me you filthy monster!” he yelled till he was out of breath, “you lose, you sick son of a bitch…get the fuck out of my life!” The effort exhausted him but it also filled him with a rare confidence, he was feeling elated and he smoked another Camel, his fingers trembling to light it. Another ten minutes and he would have Betty Lou in his arms. Thinking of that he set out for the water front house with the wrought iron door. It was nearing midnight.
A crescent moon hung in the sky like a condemned culprit, while far below the waves rose and fell in a cushioned hush. Jason Steele crossed into an area marked private property. Here there was a silence that suggested distance from the city. First he wanted to make certain Betty was alone, so he looked for an outward sign of any new arrival. A city car, fresh tyre tracks, nothing. There was a light at one of the windows. Crouching in the shadows he watched for any movements inside. Nothing. Slowly he circled around the water front house and stood at the wrought iron door, listening. Except for the ocean behind him the night was still. The door was locked but he slid his hand underneath an iron grill and unlocked it easily. Was she expecting someone? Moving inside he walked in, guided by the stream of light peeping out of Betty Lou’s bedroom. He held the door ajar and smiled involuntarily. On a massive soft bed lay Betty Lou, asleep like a child, a blue bed sheet covering her from the chill. She looked like the sleeping princess in the fairy tale, oblivious of any devious plans of the world around her. For a moment he was tempted to wake her up and say hello, but the serenity of the moment stopped him. Instead he knelt besides the bed and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Since he had come unannounced he thought it best that he wait till dawn. Besides, the plan needed a final think. There were still a few hours for day break and he needed to kill time. Suddenly he knew what he needed. A fresh breath of air. Grabbing a set of keys from a mahogany desk he emerged out of the house and into the night. Betty Lou would get her surprise in the morning.
Time and tide waits for no one. An ancient saying, but it continues to stand the test of time. The chill was rejuvenating him and the silent night gave him an impression that the world was standing still. The plan kept going in his head in happy repetitions. It was just a matter of time. Behind the house the barn stood just as it had stood on that stormy night. He entered it and a thrill ran down his body. A stray moon beam made the car glisten and it seemed to be inviting him for a spin. Jason Steele had a rush of adrenalin as he took the wheel and heard the powerful engine rev. The pulsating sound reverberating inside the steel body excited him sexually. Just before the car moved forward he instinctively looked above the windshield and smiled briefly. The space was empty. Soon the red and blue machine was sliding out of the barn and into the open night streets of Florida. Jason Steele was again feeling the stirrings in his loins. It was the cumulative effect of several things that were happening to him. The speeding demon in which he sat, the thought of surprising Betty Lou in the morning and the plan tumbling in his mind. The watch on his wrist displayed the time in an eerie greenish glow. It was an hour past midnight. The streets stretched infinitely in front of him and apart from a stray vehicle once in a while there was no traffic. It gave him a feeling of owning the world as he stepped on the gas. The ocean ran alongside him and the salty spray in the air was all around, but he knew, nothing could come between him and what he deserved. He punched the air with his fist and laughed aloud, his voice trailing him, unable to keep up.
Slowly the needle moved, indicating a burst of speed that was spilling over the allowed limit. The car tore down the winding road, gathering speed and he felt the wind would suck him out if he let go. It was nearing two in his watch and he continued to travel, the palms flying past him in a tearing hurry while above him an endless grey sky somehow kept merging with the road ahead. He drove like a maniac, powered by an addiction that refused to leave him, all the while egging him to speed on. He pushed a switch and the radio crackled to life, some country song which he had heard years ago erupted out of it, lingered and then faded into oblivion. He was probably moving too fast for it. The water front house was miles behind him and he was dimly aware of the changing scenery, he was moving out from the city into alien territory. It was then that his car gave a little jolt and he turned behind to look at a speed breaker marked with fluorescent stripes, swiftly fading away into the darkness. Nothing serious, he thought and then his blood curdled and his breath got stuck in his throat. He stared ahead, his mind frozen and numb with fear. A black voodoo doll had leapt from an over head duct above the windshield and was swinging from side to side, on its face was an ugly lopsided grin.
Betty Lou had dreamt that Jason Steele had visited her in the dead of night, sat by her bedside and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She had felt his warm lips and smiled in her sleep, afraid to open her eyes and see the dream fade away. Earlier in the day, she had been thinking about her husband and the ordeal that lay ahead, so feeling tired had drifted off to sleep somewhere just before midnight. Now she woke up and sat upright. Betty Lou looked at the bedside clock, it was two in the morning. There was a hint of Jason Steele’s after shave in the air. Had he been here or was it her mind playing tricks. She went back to sleep. Betty would need all her energies for her husband’s homecoming tomorrow. She didn’t notice the set of car keys missing from the table. She had cleaned the cars that afternoon, arranging and sorting out the interiors. Betty Lou had carefully inserted the black voodoo doll in a duct above the windshield. It was something she hated and wanted out of sight. It reminded her of the man she had married.
It took only a fraction of a second for Jason Steele to realize what had happened. In the darkness he had chosen the wrong car. He was now trapped in a speeding death machine. Once the fatality of the moment hit him, he felt cold sweat form all over him, making his shirt stick to his drenched back. The cold air cut across him like sharp sheets of ice and a frenzied sense of panic made him sick to the pit of his stomach. The red and blue car was racing like a torpedo, its tyres screaming and threatening to lose traction any second on the asphalt tarmac, moist with nocturnal dew. In extreme fear and paranoia, the mind shuts off and the body gears up for the inevitable. Jason Steele tried slamming the brakes a dozen times, hoping for a miracle but it was futile. The car raced on fuelled by a death wish. It was easily doing 200 km/hr. Suddenly he was aware of the sea, fear had made his mind skip the fact that it was always there, a python pretending to be asleep but all the while stalking the rat.
The sea had watched him as he drove out tonight, as it had watched him on that stormy night when he had severed the brakes of the very same car he was now trapped in. Jason Steele’s life was getting ironical and it would be an irony that would seal his fate. It was still dark and the road was relatively clear as dark silhouettes of trees, isolated houses and distant hills swept past him at breakneck speed. He felt like a convicted killer inching on towards an inevitable noose. His hands trembled with fear and perspiration made it difficult for him to handle the steering. The cool air suddenly had a lot of salt in it and he felt an old nausea creeping up his gut, making him breathless. Those statue’s eyes in the museum stared at him, embedded in a severed head which rested against the wall…the childhood drowning was coming back to him, crawling all over his body like an insect and suddenly he felt tired, too tired to fight the watery gloom. He wanted to think about Betty Lou, of what could have been and the life he was soon about to leave behind. Images from his past and present began merging into a crazy incoherent maze as the last traces of logic left him.
Jason Steele began screaming over the howling wind that blew against him, he was screaming for help and hoping some desolate soul would hear him at half past two in the morning. There were tears in his eyes and he was crying out in anguish, a sour anger welling up inside him at having been drawn into something bizarre like this. This can’t be happening, he thought, this was absurd and insane. It was a bad dream. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to wake up with Betty in his arms, but still the cold wind kept hitting him, and the car kept racing away like a runaway wild horse. Never in his wildest nightmares did he think that the end would come like this. Things like these happened only in movies or to other people, not him. He contemplated jumping out of the racing car but knew death would be instantaneous. Instead he hoped to crash against something and stop the car, injuries were better than a fatality. His lips trembled in a silent prayer as he tried to regain control of himself. It was still dark and he thought the elements had conspired against him to withhold the morning till it was all over. He could feel the sea in the vicinity and the landscape in front of him felt strangely familiar. The red and blue car showed no sign of slowing down and kept up its manic pace. Suddenly he sat stiff and stared ahead, the wind still slamming on to him furiously as it shrieked past his ears. Somehow he knew what would happen from now on. Jason Steele had an epiphany. Further up the road he could make out a sharp curve, and at this speed it would be ten seconds before he would have to negotiate it. Sweating profusely, he braced for it. After that he would be on the road to hell.
His heart was pumping faster and erratically, his shirt was drenched, clinging to him like a second skin. He felt his blood dry up in his veins and his face was white as death. Within the past half an hour he had actually died a thousand deaths. Now he awaited the inevitable, almost romancing the thought of the climax. He had passed the threshold of pain and death. The powerful headlights caught the sharp curve a couple of seconds earlier than he had expected and he gasped, losing control. The car careened off raising a cloud of dust and veered onto a dirt track. It wasn’t until he saw the white picket fence ahead of him that he realized the exact sequence in store for him. It was the same sequence he had visualized for Betty’s stock broker husband. So it was inevitable that he would crash into it. And when he did, he felt no pain, only a faint notion of Betty Lou’s soft curls falling on his face and a strong aroma of hot coffee. The battered car flung parts of the fence into the air and rolled on, charging like an injured and angry bull. Inside, Jason Steele sat hunched over the wheel, blood dripping from an ugly gash on his forehead, clutching the steering with his one hand while the other hung limp besides him. When the car reached the slope which he knew it would, he was holding Betty Lou in his arms and kissing her softly on her lips. Her fragrance kept wafting around him in a nostalgic loop. Underneath he felt the smooth satin sheet, he could even listen to it rustling as they rolled over, consumed by an unknown fire. The car was out of control and it lurched from side to side, its tyres churning out loose dirt and gravel as it sped screaming and protesting, its front resembling a snarling rabid dog. The engine gave a series of ugly whines as the vehicle was dangerously close to losing traction on the slippery slope, yet it climbed, propelled by a satanic will towards a certain doom. Every time the car leaned and lurched Jason Steele’s body pitched forward and slammed back into its seat, still secured by the seat belt. He was stroking Betty Lou on her back, drawing circles on her smooth skin, kissing her on the nape as she moaned softly and whispered into his ears. Now they were making love on the beach, under a sky strewn with stars that glistened like a necklace of pearls on a bride. He was telling her about his plan to get rid of her husband, and then the wonderful days that lay ahead…a fantasy marriage and an unforgettable honeymoon.
An overwhelming hush of the ocean hung everywhere, the sound which suggests that the sea is nearby, just around the corner but still invisible. The battered and bruised car raced up the slope, silhouetted against a starry sky. The moon shone on its steely curves making it look like a prancing goblin from a horrid fairytale. Its driver sat still behind the wheel, a crooked smile on his face which was caked with recently dried blood. A thin stream of red oozed out from his mouth but he was still conscious. Both his eyes were half closed and his body had gone limp, still held by the bloody seat belt. But he was alive. He was holding on to life in desperation, wanting to be awake when it would all end. He wanted to look Triton in the eye and go down fighting, and not as a dead salesman. He was reminded of a line from school, water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Wry humour. Suddenly he was thrown up with a jerk and his head banged against the roof, the car had hit a jutting stone and was lumbering quickly down the slope. The final journey had begun. The wrecked red and blue car gathered momentum as it was helped by the steep descent, moving against the ferocious ocean wind and into the salty buoyant sprays hanging above the cliff. It was on its suicidal last lap, racing towards the cliff which opened up without warning into the churning seas below.
They were making love. They fondled and caressed each other, their lives a single passionate blur, she holding him, her fingers moving through his hair, her warm body trembling in his gentle but firm stranglehold…they moved in a rhythm, in a final celebration of life...then they shuddered and moaned, their energies spent and souls fulfilled…he lay staring into her eyes…arranging a stray strand of her hair…suddenly she was waving at him, half submerged in the sea, astride a wave…an enchanting mermaid inviting him into the netherworld, he could see streaks of lightning and hear distant thunder, and then cold rain pelted him, he could smell the sea…feel the salty spray on his face…the car gave a sudden jerk as it left the ground and launched into thin air, sucked into the dense mist of the black night. The moonlit car plummeted down, buoyed and held for a moment by the thick mass of swirling vapours rising from the restless ocean. Inside the spiraling vehicle the world stood still, its driver hunched over the wheel, barely alive and empty of all feelings. As the dark fog enveloped the car, Jason Steele’s world was calm and serene. He was oblivious to the ear shattering din and the resonant whip lashing of an angry sea. It had waited long enough. Several moments before the car hit the churning waters, Jason Steele thought he saw fireworks explode in a black sky and the stars falling all over him, and when he opened his eyes he was standing atop a waterfall, ready to jump into a deep lake several feet below. He liked the feel of the gurgling cold water around his feet as he looked down at the calm lake. Overhead a blue sky stretched beyond the horizon. As he readied for the jump he saw the eyes of Triton glaring at him. Frightened, he closed his eyes. Then he heard a sweet voice telling him not to be afraid and jump. “Jump Jason, jump.” It was Betty Lou clearing away the breakfast dishes, her voice sounding disjointed from the kitchen passage. As her sweet breath filled his senses, Jason Steele closed his eyes and jumped. He floated in the air and squealed in delight, enjoying a new found freedom and then his body sliced through the waters as he dived into the deep lake. Suddenly he found the cold water all around him, a wall of icy white gloom. But this time he emerged to the surface, cutting the water with smooth graceful strokes. Ahead he saw Betty Lou, swimming like a mermaid and beckoning him, teasing him on. He was enjoying the water and for the first time in his life he wasn’t afraid of drowning. They swam for a long time in the shimmering lake and now he was feeling tired. Jason Steele saw Betty Lou floating away from him, her face glistening in the golden sunshine and a smile frozen on her soft lips. She continued floating away and gradually became a distant mirage as he watched, helpless and tired. Then slowly the lake began to gather around him, gently tugging at him and pulling him towards its bosom. He slowly sank, unafraid and content, arms stretched out in triumph. Jason Steele was surprised that the water did not feel cold anymore.
The crash threw sea water spiraling upwards and its sound was drowned by the deafening roar of the ocean. The red and blue wreckage was tossed around like a rag doll by the rampaging sea and then sucked down into some dark abyss. The sea was deceptively calm when the first rays of the sun fell on it. Sea gulls flew by creating a ruckus at the sight of a dead fish and the water rippled with a subdued excitement of a new day. Somewhere along the coast, the tide had purged out the only evidence of last night’s mishap. A black voodoo doll floated in the tranquil waters, a lopsided grin stuck on its bewildered face.
Later that morning Betty Lou welcomed her stock broker husband as he arrived back home. “God knows how much I missed you, darling,” he exclaimed as he hugged her. Betty Lou wiped a tear as she whispered, “me too.” |
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