The flash of light and then the booming thunder ushered in the rainstorm to Los Angeles' beach cities as the sky turned dark. Jerry's leg hurt from the change in the weather and his hand went to the scar across his hairline, both gifts from the Sandbox. It felt like a spike had been driven into his ankle and he rubbed it, wishing it would go away. It had been over a year, now, and he still was miserable from the pain as he rubbed one ankle over the other. The rain came down in the somewhat late winter, early spring.
*****
Months earlier: "Your spine has been damaged along the L4-L5 area, causing you pain along your leg. The C2-3 area is also hurt and will cause you problems later, maybe not. We could operate but there's no guarantee that it will help and could very well paralyze you so that you couldn't walk at all." The VA doctor pointed out where the damage was on the X-ray, showing Jerry why he was in so much pain. It didn't look good and felt worse.
*****
Outside, it was still raining, the late afternoon gloom filling his room. "Wow, it's been awhile," he said to himself as he opened his laptop and cue'd up the word program. Jerry hadn't used the machine since it lost his master's thesis, somehow sending it into computer heaven, never to be seen again as it froze up. Fortunately, he was able to retrieve an earlier version of it from a flash drive that had been hiding in the bottom of his desk drawer and he had rewritten it in time to turn in to the university.
"What's this?" he asked himself as an errant email popped up onto the screen from someone named Crystal. He clicked on the document and was surprised to read that she was pregnant with his baby which was strange since he didn't know who she was.
There was no contact information other than the return email address. He looked at the date... two weeks earlier. Hmmmm... it was bad enough that she was pregnant but no response for a couple of weeks must have made her feel the worst.
What to do?
He knew he had to answer, if just to tell her that she had reached the wrong guy. He rubbed his leg, wishing the pain away.
"Dear Crystal," he began... "I'm sorry to say but you have reached the wrong email. I just now have read it and am writing you back. I'm sorry."
He looked at it, wondering what else to say but what could he do? It wasn't his baby and he didn't even know who she was.
He pushed 'send' and away it went, although he didn't know where. He went to the kitchen to fix lunch, leaning on his cane as he entered the room. He made a ham sandwich with some chips and a Coke.
Later that evening he got a very sad response. Crystal didn't have another email address and whoever gave it to her was lost in the wind.
What to do?
He needed to think... it wasn't his problem so why was he letting it bother him so much?
"Mom? There's this girl..."
His mother thought it was a scam to get money but he didn't think so. Crystal was so distraught in her writing, he was sure it was legitimate. He sat down and looked out the living room window to the street, watching the rain fall, tapping hard against the house as the sky got even darker, the thunder continuing to boom into the night.
*****
The next day, Jerry looked at the screen, feeling uncertain as to what to do but also feeling he had to do something. He was sure that the girl was honest yet frightened. Even today a single mother had a hard time dealing with society's attitudes.
"Dear Crystal," it said... "what can I do to help you?" He stared at the short message, wishing he could say more but didn't really know what to write. Jerry was sure that his mother would be angry but he couldn't live with himself knowing he could have done more.
Later that evening she replied, asking more for friendship than any financial aid. After finding out she living nearby, he offered to take her to lunch at the diner on the boulevard, a simple place that offered good food. She quickly responded and he arranged to meet her later, weather permitting.
*****
Jerry drove to her address, a tired nondescript older house in need of paint, what was there fading away to a light gray that quietly clashed with the unmown lawn. "Oh, boy," he said to himself, looking at what was there.
He got out of his red SRT Hellcat Challenger, a gift to himself after inheriting from his grandfather. He slowly walked up the bricks, leaning heavily on his cane, to the front door and quietly knocked a couple of times. He heard footsteps inside and waited patiently while the sound of fingers moving the chain was brought to his attention. The door opened and he saw Crystal for the first time, a cute teenaged girl with dark brown hair that seemed to be about his height and about six or seven months pregnant. "Good morning," he said with a smile, extending his hand in a friendly greeting, his cane in his left hand.
"Come in," she replied, taking his hand and then stepping back so that he could enter. He stepped inside, doing a quick once-over of the living room that was sparsely furnished with just a few pieces.
"Please, sit down." She pointed to the old furniture.
"Thank you," he answered and moved to the love seat near the front window, moving the newspaper from the cushion toward the small television.
"Did you have a problem finding the house?"
"No, it was easy, thank you. Have you lived here long?"
"No, I've only been here a couple of weeks. I'm sorry for the email. I really thought you were my old boyfriend but I guess not..." Her voice dropped off; he could feel the tension.
"Would you like to go now?" he asked, wanting to leave.
"Yes, please." She moved to the chair and got her coat. He helped her put it on and went to the door.
They left the house and she locked the door. "Wow! That's your car?"
"Yes," he replied. "It was a gift." He unlocked the car and helped her in, the muscle car low to the ground and not that easy to get into... especially for a pregnant woman.
The CD player began "Tears for Fears".
The drive to the diner didn't take that long and soon they were seated in a booth that overlooked the boulevard, watching the cars zip by on their way to the nearby beach.