Her Day

Work in progress.

Since retiring the previous year, Ron made a daily morning ritual of walking along the Salt Creek Trail in Dana Point with his yellow Labrador, Chuck. Normally, it was a therapeutic way to start the day. Ron enjoyed being out in nature and waving hello to his neighbors who regularly walked, jogged, and biked along the same trail, not to mention Chuck’s veterinarian highly recommended that he lose a couple of pounds so the long walks benefited him as well.

The five-mile Salt Creek Trail stretches from Monarch Beach in Dana Point to the Sulpher Creek Reservoir in Laguna Niguel. About fifteen minutes in, Chuck began pulling Ron in the direction of some thick shrubbery and trees. This portion of the trail was surrounded on either side by greenery and it wasn’t unusual for the Lab to spot and chase after a rabbit or one of the many other creatures that reside in the park. Ron tugged on the leash a little only to have Chuck pull harder to the left. Whatever was tucked away in the shrubbery, Chuck believed it demanded his attention and wasn’t about to give up. When Chuck began whimpering while attempting to investigate, Ron decided to check things out for himself if only to appease his companion. A couple of feet away from the trail Ron saw a running shoe. As his eyes began to adjust, not far from the shoe, he noticed a hand.

“Hello?” He called out. “Are you ok?

Stepping a little further into the bushes, Ron tentatively tapped the stranger’s foot with his own. Was this someone who might have passed out drunk? As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. Once in a great while, the local police busted teenagers for partying in this area, but it was a rare occurrence. Where he lived in Dana Point was anything but a party town. It suddenly struck him that the person lying on the ground was haphazardly covered with leaves and branches, as if in an attempt to be hidden.

The hairs on the back of Ron’s neck suddenly stood up as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.

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Entry From the Journal of Kindra Friedman’s Stalker:

I’m not sure if she knew who I was, or if she even knew I existed. I remember seeing her around the campus either walking to and from class with her girlfriends or sitting on the grass with them, skipping her classes. I wasn’t the only one mesmerized by her. She fascinated everyone. She made everyone feel as if they were someone special.

A couple of times she looked in my general direction and smiled. Her green eyes had a sort of laughter in them. When she smiled, you almost had the feeling that she was keeping some sort of funny secret from you; that she knew something you didn’t and she found it quite amusing. Her long dark hair contrasted with her green eyes and fair skin made her a striking sight. Her warm soul only accentuated her beauty.

I never understood what possessed her to choose the guys she dated. They acted as though it were some sort of privilege for her to be dating them rather than the other way around. And she continued going back to them even when they treated her like trash. If she had ever chosen me I would feel like the lucky one. If only she had seen that. It almost seemed as if she cherished a challenge. I don’t think I could ever give her that challenge and I’m sure she knew that.

As she lies here, I look at her and wonder what could have been if she had taken a chance on someone or something different. If she hadn’t resisted and really listened to her heart because I’m sure it was telling her to do the right thing.

But girls like her never really do what’s best for themselves, do they?

I stand in front of her and soak her in for a few moments before I turn around and walk up the aisle toward the exit. The two men standing by the doors wearing earpieces glance at me as I walk out. As I walk down the stairs of the chapel I wonder if they are still watching me.