Valentimes: Worst and Best of Times

I was about to go over the scenario in some detail and give a range of options - if not excuses, but I caught myself in time to understand that I was being handed a social queue, the kind of hint I sometimes miss. I swallowed my thoughts and words; "Yes. We would be delighted to do that for you tomorrow. By all means ma'am. Sorry about your fence."

"Oh, thank you. You are such a nice young couple. I think I have some pieces of plywood in my garage that my son-in-law left there. Could you see if that will work as a temporary fix? I'm afraid I'm not much use in handyman matters these days," she rattled her walker to emphasize her point. "Here, let me show you the way to my garage. Please bear with me, I don't move so quick anymore."

We followed her and Rascal to her laundry room, where she opened the entry into her garage. I found a couple of pieces of particleboard leaning against the wall. I selected a 4x8 panel that could be set against the damaged portion of her fence, blocking Rascal's escape route until a permanent repair could be made. We hauled the panel into the sideyard, securing its base with a couple of wooden stakes to keep it from falling over and reopening the gap. Mumbling under my breath to the woman working with me, "There, that should keep that Rascal from escaping and biting any future rescuers." I was worn out, but felt satisfaction in accomplishing something positive.

"How are you feeling now? I mean the bite on your hand and your upper body?" I was surprised to hear she spoke with genuine concern as she looked at me with compassion.

"Thanks for asking. It's been a horrible day. The worst - in so many ways. To be honest, I'm feeling mentally numb and physically sore. A real beating." I felt a tiny bit of cheer in having another human soul asking about my welfare. But still, no sugar-coating the situation, it had been a very, very bad day. I was still suffering with a significant and unresolved relationship question with Cynthia. And those action items on my personal errand spreadsheet were hanging fire, causing me anxiety as I feared both the jeweler and the florist would be closing soon. "I'm glad I was able to help you with corralling the dog. But I still have a lot of stuff to do. I hope that embankment is not too steep for me to be able to back on up and get on my way."

We walked back to where the elderly woman was waiting, watching us put a temporary patch on her fence. We reported to her what we had done, and my firm expectations that Rascal could not get out now. I told her I would be back to do a proper repair job later. Then I had to tell her, "I may have plans for tomorrow, its Valentine's Day you know."

She smiled as she looked at the two of us standing in her garage, "I can't thank you both enough. You're such a nice young couple." Neither of us felt like this was the time or place to correct her as to the true nature of our relationship. At the moment, I felt anything but a half of a nice, young couple. I really did not care much for my other half at the moment.

"I'll have to see to a few things - but I may be free tomorrow to fix your fence. It depends."

With a matronly smile of one who is vicariously watching a budding romance, "Oh, you needn't worry. I'm sure it can wait. You two go ahead with your sweet Valentine's plans. I know you will get it all put back just as soon as possible."

I needed to get going, but it is my policy to try and back out of circumstances such as these with a modicum of grace, "Yes ma'am, I'll get you and Rascal fixed up proper as soon as I possibly can. If you'll excuse me I need to go." I nodded by adieus to the two woman. I preferred to walk the short distance to my off-road parking job. I expected I could shift into reverse, back up my car to reposition myself on the pavement and be back on track. I pressed the automatic garage door opener mounted on the wall to let myself out.

Once the garage door had lifted a few feet off the cold concrete floor, Rascal bolted from the house, through the laundry room door and was headed for another jaunt into the great outdoors. "NO! Rascal stay!" The woman shrieked commands at the terrier that paid no heed. Rascal was about to slip out into the cold late afternoon and I sprung into action, sprinting after the damn dog as his owner went to retrieve the doggie treat box to rattle and entice him to return. I dashed after Rascal, I stooped to go under the slowly rising metal garage door, but I didn't stoop low enough. Focusing on the hind end of the terrier, I ran headlong into the door at a full tilt, catching the edge just above my nose and eyebrows. The collision knocked me off of my feet, dropping me onto the concrete floor. I was told the back of my skull sounded like a melon when it hit the ground. I was laid out cold for a moment.

When I regained consciousness, Rascal was returning to get his doggie treats and the hippy chick was kneeling at my side helping me sit up while holding the goose egg on the back of my head, and thankfully not touching the swollen contusion on my forehead. My field of vision was narrow and dark, except for all of those glittering little lights dancing around before my eyes. "Oh man, that was terrible to watch. You hit the ground pretty hard. Are you all right?"

"No," was my obvious answer. I was too dizzy with throbbing pain and the loud heartbeat pumping into my brain prevented me from screaming "Hell no!" at her. The elderly woman had shut the damn dog up inside the house while she returned to babble and act flustered as she stood over me. "No, I'm not feeling all right. I've had kind of a bad day. Please just let me get back to my car and I'll be happy to be on my way."

The young woman, kneeling beside me supported me as I worked to regain my feet and my balance. I was grateful that she did not yank on my arms and reinflict shoulder pain as she assisted me. I was now standing and shuffling down the driveway. "I'm going to see that he gets back to his car. You and Rascal have a pleasant evening. Good night." I didn't bother to wave or say anything to Rascal's owner. The passenger door of the Volvo was opened for me, and I poured my suffering body into the seat without a word.

When we pulled up to the stop sign, I could see flashing blue and red lights of a police cruiser to my right. This was an unwelcomed surprise. The police had arrived at the scene of my accident and were investigating. We slowed and pulled over to the shoulder of the road. I got out, approaching the officers with halting steps which must have looked like I was one of the walking dead from a zombie movie. The woman quickly came around her car and stepped to my side. Officer Heimlich played his flashlight beam across my body as I approached and then shined it over to hers.

"Do any of you two know who owns this car?" was the clipped question put to us as his beam shown into my eyes.

"Yes officer. That's my car."

"All right sir. Have you been drinking this evening sir?"

If I was feeling better, I would've been indignant; but I was mentally numb and my skull was splitting with raw aches. I murmured, "No. No, why no I haven't been drinking."

"Sir. I'm going to need to see some ID and your insurance. Do you have your ID with you sir?"

I thought about what he had asked, and it took me a long time to understand and think it through. I stammered, "Yeah. Yes officer, I have a driver's license in my wallet." I reached into my back pocket, producing my proof insurance and license for the officer.

"OK sir. Stand right there." He directed his question next question to the woman leaning into me for my physical support. "Ma'am, are you with him?"

"Well kind of. I stopped... well... we - or he, well both of us were trying to get a dog that lives in that yard there," she gestured with both hands toward the broken fence. "Rascal the dog got out through the fence and we chased him and brought him back to his doggie mama. But... No, I just met him because of the dog. We're not 'together' like... ooh, I'm not doing a very good job of answering your question, am I?"

The officer kept the light on her, "That fine ma'am. I'm going to ask you to step over here," he pointed the beam to a spot next to his cruiser. "I need you to stay right there and don't move unless I ask you to, do you understand?" She nodded and followed his directions, taking her station leaning against the car.

"Ok sir. I need you to hold both arms straight out from your shoulders, and I want you to walk with one foot right in front of the other along this line right here; toe to heel, toe to heel." With his flashlight Officer Heimlich painted a line where the blacktop met the gray concrete of the curb. "Can you do that for me sir?"

I would liked to have done what he asked me, but I was not sure which of the two or three lines he was wanting me to walk along. As I looked down at my feet, the throbbing pain creasing my brain took precedence over coordinating my feet and the cop's requested tightrope-walking performance. I tottered, spun as my knees failed to support me and I took a hard seat on the ground. "OK. Just stay seated right there sir." He stepped toward me, looked at my dilated pupils with his light and told me in a stern tone, "OK sir. I'm going to have to restrain you; put your hands behind your back for me please."

"Wait! Wait! Wait! No - he's not drunk..." With a couple long strides she was coming over to plead my case.

"Stop! Hold it right there! Ma'am I told you not to move!" Sensing her mistake, she threw up her hands and backed off toward the spot from which she had come. As he watched her retreat, he snapped the handcuffs around both wrists.

I was thinking to myself; Gary, you thought it was a bad day when you were out trying to catch the damn dog. This has not been a good day. It has become worse than you could have ever imagined. What more can go wrong tonight? A second police car turned on its emergency lights as it pulled up behind Officer Heimlich's unit. A female cop with three stripes on the sleeve of her jacket came over to officer Heimlich.

"What have we got going on tonight Michael?"

"Typical Friday the 13th Sarge; this fellow claims that car down there. He took only two-and-a-half steps along the 'line of truth' before he took a seat; his eyes look dilated and his responses are slow."

"What about the lady?" The sergeant nodded her head toward my companion bursting with body language that said, 'I need to come over there and say something'.

"I'm not sure of her part in this story - could just be a witness. I haven't run any ID or gotten her whole story.

The female cop flashed her light over to my companion, "Good evening ma'am. I need you come over here and take a seat next to him. I have a few questions." With a fierce look, she followed her orders and took a seat and set her jaw as she looked up at the cops and waited for her chance to talk.

I got the first question from the sergeant, "Do you know this woman?"

"We just met by accident, she I think is like Captain Ahab or a witch doctor or something." My warped and distorted sense of humor was another poor choice on my part for this miserable day. The cops both turned their heads to look at one another. I had just confirmed their suspicions that I was delirious from some controlled substance. Even in my fogged brain, I knew that I had not helped my case with my acerbic little inside joke. "OK. I shouldn't have said that. It was a bad joke. I'm not having a very good day. Please just shoot me now."

With a suppressed smirk, Officer Heimlich responded professionally, "No sir; we do not intend to shoot you. But we can agree, you are having a pretty bad day."

The woman seated next to me on the cold curb spoke up, "Hey. Excuse me; may I say something in the way of an explanation for what is going on here? Because it's not what you think."

The sergeant took a hard look at her, "Fine. What's the real story here - mind you I don't have all night."

"Well, he's not drunk or high; I can assure you of that." She had started my defense in a tone of righteous indignation that was carried by notes of deep sincerity and honesty. I thought maybe even these hardboiled cops might believe her. I hoped they would anyway, as I was only capable of digging myself deeper into my pit of misery and despair. She pointed out the contusions on my forehead and tender knot on the back of my head, explained just how and when those visible injuries were sustained and pled my case as a kind gentleman returning a lost doggie to a worried and lonely elderly widow residing in the house behind us. She filled in all of the details working chronologically backwards through all of the events. Emphasizing my helpful efforts in snaring Rascal, being bit for my efforts and the promise I'd made to repair the woman's fence tomorrow. Then in a shameless appeal to any smidgeon of the romantic submerged deep within our inquisitors; she told them, "He even promised to do the fence repairs and forego his 'Valentime's Day' plans to help out the lonely widow and her dog."

Did she just say "Valentime's" - not Valentine's? I find it so irritating when I hear people substitute an 'm' for the 'n'. It is wrong. A childish mispronunciation. I hate it almost as much as I hate it when people say "Star Track" instead of "Star Trek." I had to let it go this time, since my freedom depended upon her words. Unfortunately her explanation took us close to, if not beyond, the Sergeant's time limit of 'I don't have all night' warning; but the cops may have been thinking that this tale of woe (if true) had to be a great one to recount at the donut shop.

The sergeant turned to question her, "So, did you witness the accident happen ma'am?"

"Yes, I saw it all happen. He wasn't speeding or anything, but he was trying to avoid a cute couple of bunnies in his lane. They were right there," she pointed to the spot in the road as if the cops were to turn their heads and looked, they would see the pair of rabbits still there as proof of her story. She giggled at that point; explaining, "They were bumping bunnies."

"Excuse me Miss, you said 'bumping bunnies'?" asked an engaged, but now confused Officer Heimlich.

"She means they were mating." I added this clarification, hoping it would conclude this episode. I just wanted to get out of the cold night air and get home to rest after the jeweler and florist.

The Sergeant chuckled at the euphemism and my clarification. "So, you maintain that this all started with a couple of fucking rabbits?" Michael and his sergeant laughed at the joke. I was in no mood to find any humor, especially at my expense. The cops seemed to not only believe her story of how I came to fail the sobriety test; but they appeared to have some sympathy for my misfortune.

"Fucking rabbits. Doin' it in the middle of the road? Man, I think you could use a lucky rabbit's foot hanging from your rearview mirror. Maybe it'd counteract your one hell of a bad Friday the 13th." Officer Heimlich shook his head at my skein of bad luck.

"So, do we need to call a wrecker to get your car back up here where it belongs? Or do you think you can back it out without any help?" The sergeant was giving me a choice; and none of them sounded like booking me into jail.

Pleased to see that her narrative had gotten me off the hook, the woman next to me pressed her charm and my case with the cops, "I don't think he can drive safely with his hands behind his back. But if you give him a chance, I feel he can be on his way to finish his Valentime's errands." She seemed to be cleverly suggesting that I regain my freedom.

Officer Heimlich looked over at his sergeant, then back at me. The cop in command gave a nod. He pulled me to my feet, stepped behind me and unlocked the cuffs. I wobbled a bit on my feet. "Sir, you're not in any condition after your unlucky Friday the 13th to operate this vehicle. If you authorize her, maybe your lady friend here could put it in gear and get in back up here. Otherwise we'll have to have you towed."

I'd been losing control all day. I hated my circumstance and the embarrassing forfeiture of control. I was defeated. "Yeah. She can drive my car." I handed her the keys.

I spoke to the woman holding my keys, "Excuse me. Before you try, I need to check on a Valentine's message from my girlfriend; do me a favor and get my cell phone for me. It should be on the dash." She retrieved it and placed it in my hands. I turned it on, but my eyes would not focus well enough to read through the cracked screen. "I'm sorry, I'm having a hard time reading this right now. Could somebody read this text to me?" I held the phone out to see who would help me with Cynthia's text. I was still expecting it to be something mundane about tomorrow; though I had a hard pit of fear in my stomach telling me that I already knew what it would say. I just refused to acknowledge what was coming.

With a tentative reach the woman with a muddy skirt took my phone. It must've been awkward to be the one to read a strange guy's Valentine's message to him, no matter what it said. She looked at the fractured screen and then drew a short gasp. She hesitated. "Oh, um, it says here; 'Gary. I've changed. I no longer want to be seeing you. Bye.'" Everyone could feel my world collapse with a solid thud; the cops, the Volvo lady and me. Not one of us wanted to be where we were. No one wanted to be a part of this bludgeoning of a guy while he's down. It was time for everyone to look for a way to back out as graceful as possible and leave me alone to deal with a smashed relationship along with my smashed car sticking in a smashed fence as I leaned on the cop's car with a doubly smashed head.

"Ouch. Sorry to hear that sir," said the sergeant, embarrassed to see me suffer even more.

Officer Heimlich followed with, "Yeah. Nothing hurts as bad as that. I know."

Without adding anything further, my designated driver scrambled down the bank along the muddy ruts left by my tires and clambered in behind the wheel. We could see the back-up lights flash on as she shifted into reverse, so we stepped aside. She gunned the engine, backed up the incline only about four feet before the wheels began spinning in futility, digging into the damp earth. It looked like this chick was not going to be able to get my car up the muddy slope and back onto the street. She had the good sense to cease spinning her wheels; I could see she cranked the steering wheel hard as if she was going to make a left turn. With a roar, she punched the accelerator driving my car parallel along the muddy slope toward the creek. She eased off just a tad as she came to the brim of the cutbank, but not hesitating as she nosed over the steep earthen slope and into the shallow creek, then again accelerating across the sand and rock creek bed, zooming up the low incline on the other side of the creek where she cut left and pulled onto the pavement at other end of the bridge. Driving slowly across the bridge, she parked across the street from where we were watching the destruction derby spectacle.

She stepped out, straightened her skirt and walked across the street holding the gaze of the two cops. She held a confident countenance, as if daring them to write her a ticket for her driving. She only dropped her head to look at me as she held the keys suspended between thumb and forefinger, waiting for me to offer an upturned palm to receive them. She let them fall into my grasp, "There you go Gary. Your car is back on the street where she belongs; just about where you were when you barely missed hitting our bumping bunnies."

"Impressive," stated the sergeant flatly. The sergeant turned to the two of us standing on the road's shoulder; "One more thing Gary, do you have someone that can pick you up tonight? I won't let you drive under your physical condition; those are two nasty lumps on your skull." The sergeant was looking over my head wounds a second time.