Drama at my Doorstep

I think I was in the summer before fifth grade. I was at our high school, playing catch or tossing a football or riding my bike (did I do that in fifth grade? I can't remember... sometimes things merge together) or doing whatever I did when I went to the high school during the summer.

I heard a loud screech and then a big crash.

One must remember that I grew up in the country and automobile accidents weren't that common... maybe per capita they were, but there weren't many peeps in Colton, OR, so there weren't that many fender-benders.

It wasn't close to me. I wasn't hurt. I couldn't even see the accident, but I remember thinking, "That sounded just like it does on TV."

And that--more than the accident itself--is what I remember. That sometimes things happen in real life where you shake your head and say, "Wow. That just happened."

I got out of work last evening and was feeling great. I had caught up on sleep Saturday and Sunday nights, I'd eaten a healthy breakfast, and I was looking forward to relaxing with the cats on my couch. I had a lot of optimism that I was going to make it through the week running efficiently and was hoping my refreshed feeling would last. Alas, it was not to be.

Oh, I got into bed at a reasonable time. After reading some Aaron Burr and txting with Canberra I even was asleep by 11:15 or so... plenty of time to get a good night of sleep.

Then one of those "Wow. That just happened." moments happened.

I started awake at about 3:45 AM (about 3.25 hours ago) at the sound of voices outside my window. It's not uncommon for me to hear people outside (more on that later) but this was different. There was an urgency and a level of drama that I have seldom heard in my life.

A woman's voice said something like (and I'm not sure here... I was still partly asleep), "You are going to break the window. I swear I'll tell my parents."

A dude mumbled something back and I stood up, out of bed. I pulled back my heavy curtains and peeked in between my shades (I really would prefer to sleep in absolute darkness, but I do what I can do to get close to that) and there was a woman heading towards the building entryway and a guy standing by his car.

There was silence as they stood there, about twenty feet apart, and I felt like I was watching a play or a movie. Maybe a DVD with alternate camera angles, because directors rarely shoot from a bird's-eye perspective, especially during these pivotal scenes.

"What do you want me to do?" asked the man, "What can I do?"

"You can tell me I look good," responded the woman, "one last time..."

So much tension! So much angst!

Depending on the movie, at this point, the man has a few options. He can approach the woman, or he can remain aloof. He also can be kind to the woman or he can be harsh.

Approach/kind might be a line something like, "You know you always look good to me," followed by a hug.

Approach/harsh might be something like, "Shut up and kiss me," followed by a kiss (and perhaps followed by a slap and/or assault charge).

Aloof/kind might be, "You will always look beautiful to me. Goodbye." (Get back into the car, drive off into the distance."

Aloof/harsh might be, "I could tell you that, but lying is what got me into trouble in the first place." (Slam car door and drive off fiercely, maybe somehow making out with a random chick within eyesight of the woman he's leaving.)

I sort of respect all of these options. Whether the guy acted really sensitive or abrasive, they would have been consistent positions I could have enjoyed. What happened, though, was NOT like a movie.

"You can tell me I look good," implored the woman, "one last time..."

"Why should I?" started the man, "You don't care about what I think."

Clearly unhappy, the woman immediately gave bad body language and the guy changed tact...

"You know I think you're beautiful and smart and..."

But he'd lost her. She had tuned him out because he didn't act like someone in a movie, perhaps. He acted like a person and sometimes that's not good enough.

They wandered out of my range of vision and hearing after that. I dunno what was said.

I do know, though, that he came charging back to his car a couple of minutes later and made a last-ditch effort to reclaim his leading-man-in-a-movie cred.

"What do you care? It's not like I'm going to die!"

Or something to that effect (I was, to be honest, falling back asleep). He then sped off, with his engine revving. Leaving the woman to deal with the aftermath and for me to struggle to sleep for a few hours until I finally decided to get up and write this blog.

For some reason I doubt I'll be quite as refreshed after work today...