The Clock: Chapter One

"She always asked the same question, 'Tell me again Tom, how old am I? I always forget.'"

The Clock

Chapter One

The rain fell in a light mist just enough to cause large droplets of water to drip from her chestnut brown bangs. They sagged over her forehead like strands of seaweed sweeping up from the ocean floor, swaying here and then there, held prisoner to tidal currents.

Across the street she looked through plate glass windows as if spying something irresistible.

Hands clasped together, she bounced on her tiptoes and smiled.

"Can I go inside?" she begged.

 I smiled. She knew I could never say no to her, but she always asked anyway.

 "Go," I said. 

She dashed inside and disappeared.

 Twenty minutes later she came  rushing back into the mist.

Darting across the street, she stood at my side and held up an old clock that appeared to have been broken for decades. It was made of some sort of dull finished dark wood. It was chipped, scarred, and scratched from years of abuse.

"Look!" she exclaimed as if she had found some great treasure, "only five bucks. Pretty good, huh?"

She looked at me with those big, blue, compassionate eyes of hers,

"It looked so sad sitting there all alone, I just had to have it." she said in a low melancholic voice.

It was so like her to pick the very thing that nobody else would think about.

"The man in there said it's been there collecting dust for the past ten years. Poor thing, all alone like that."

She spoke of it as if it were a living thing, and, I suppose, in her simple way, it was.

She laced her arm around mine, looked up at me and smiled,

"Can you fix it Tom?

 It's a real clock with real time. Just think of it, I could keep up with things better. I could even know when it's my real birthday without you having to tell me."

She looked down, concentrating on her thoughts,

"Tell me again Tom, how old am I? I always forget."

I smiled and put my arm around her to protect her from t he cold. She always asked the same question.

"Twenty three," I said, "almost twenty four."

I met Sarah five years ago on a beach near San Diego. She was there with her aging mother, feeding the poor seagulls popcorn; not a healthy diet for a bird.

Sarah was a late child, coming into the world when her mother Jane was in her late fifties. She was one of those miracle type children.

But now her mother Jane was getting older, too old. She could barely care for herself, let alone Sarah. Her husband had died a few years earlier. She was left with not much to live on. Fortunately, she found a job as church secretary. It didn't require overburdensome skills, and was not too physically challenging. It didn't pay a hefty salary, but it did help pay the bills by month's end.

Sarah walked the beach where the shoreline met the cold waters edge.

I was running around like an idiot in a sleeveless San Diego Chargers T shirt trying to catch the attention of any young lady who might, for some strange reason, cast her glance my way.

Eric was with me too. He and I had been best friends for as long as I could remember. He was a good guy most of the time, but sometimes was a bit lacking in common sense.

He was also noted, to some mild degree, to be a bit of a bully.

I had to admit, I found it disturbing.

He had, however, in the past two years, been trying to control his impulse. It's like I said, he was a pretty good guy, most of the time.

However, and there always seems to be a however, he would slip backward and show the ugly side of his daemon.

It wasn't known exactly what triggered his bullish behavior, but it always seemed to occur at the worst of times, and today was no exception.

He saw Sarah walking the shoreline and took aim at her head with the frisbee. It was no ordinary frisbee, it was large, heavy, and hard; a real professional type.

It hit Sarah squarely on the forehead, knocking her to the ground. She let out a loud cry as she hit the sandy beach. I ran to her side begging forgiveness and apologizing profusely for the idiotic behavior of my friend.

There was a small cut on her forehead where small droplets of blood oozed.

I looked up in time to see her mother, Jane, grabbing her chest and collapsing to the ground.

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed, "I think that lady is having a heart attack!"

"It's my mom," cried Sarah, "You have to help her, hurry please."

 I took off running toward Sarah's Mom when I stopped and shouted back," "Call 911."

"Can't," she said, "Don't know how."

I looked at her with a crazy look on my face.

"What moron doesn't know how to dial 911?" I asked.

"Me," she whimpered childishly.

I turned and dashed to her mother's side. She was gasping for breath and then suddenly stopped breathing all together. Her face turned blue and then pale white. Several bystanders managed to do some quick thinking and called for an ambulance.

A life guard came with one of those electronic defibrillators, but all attempts to revive Jane failed, she was gone.

Sarah held her in her arms and cried out,

"Mother, mommy, please don't leave me, please don't."

Eric stood beside me shaking uncontrollably,

"This was all my fault," he cried, "I killed her."

"Yes you..." I stopped myself short of finishing my words.

Suddenly I found myself stuck in the middle, trying to console both Eric and Sarah.

I was really mad at Eric for being such an idiot, but somehow, I couldn't find it within myself to show it. He was already beating himself up pretty good.

Sarah, on the other hand... what to do with Sarah?

I must admit, I am the worst at consoling. I never have the right words to say, and Sarah was a stranger to me, so things were just that much more difficult.

When the police arrived they pulled Sarah aside and began questioning her.

It seemed, as it turned out, at age 18, Sarah was orphaned.

She stood solitary on the beach, sobbing as the ambulance took her mother to a nearby mortuary.

Because of her age, the State Child Protection Agency could not take her in.

Jobless, and with no income, Sarah would lose everything.

Author's Note

This is a story of innocence, and I hope it remains so.