Accidental Companions

You never know what you're going to wake up to.

I woke up to the sound of a helicopter, flying low. I wasn't even aware at first that it had woken me up, you know how you just weave things into your dreams. Jay and I had gone back to his house after going to my friend, Lucy's wedding. It was nice. I got there at the last minute, rushed straight from work in my blood spattered scrubs. She had called me earlier in the week--"Just rush over. Don't change. At least you'll get to some of the mass." We arrived as Lucy and her groom (one of our city's aldermen) were facing the audience and the priest was pronouncing them man and wife. Lucy chose adulthood and stability. She's the youngest child of an Italian conductor. I've known her since we were five. She had long golden curls then, and was plump. A plump, bossy, pink and white and yellow little girl. Tossing her hair. "I'll tell! I get to be the mommy! You have to be my slave." She had bright, close set blue eyes. Still does. Sometimes you grow up with people with whom you are not entirely friendly, but who are more than friends and less than family. That's Lucy. She still has golden curls, and she's kind of plump. And she's the boss of her own ad agency. So I guess that it's good she was bossy when young. Everyone who was anyone in town was there. Jay traded flirty quips with this married local artist who always tries to pick him up, two of my old high school boyfriends were there. I had changed into a dress by the time we got to the reception. Everyone seemed so darn...old. Oh well. Nice night. We went back to his place, slightly tipsy from all the champagne. The farm has a lot of wild chamomile growing in the fields for some reason, and it smelled wonderful. We made slow, meandering, love and fell asleep listening to the frogs and smelling the rain and chamomile and honeysuckle.

And were woken up by the helicopter.

"Aren't there FAA rules about this?" grumbled Jay.

I stood out on the lawn in front of the house, watching the chopper. It circled, almost brushing the tops of the trees. It was a medivac. From my hospital. "They must be looking for someone." I said. I think I see someone wave.

We made some coffee, the chopper kept circling. We got into the saab for the drive back to town.

The road that leads from Jay's place to the blacktop county road to Route L into town is gravel. One lane in places, like over the little bridge that crosses La Belle creek. There are few houses on it. As we got into the valley, near the postmaster's house on the creek, we had to slow down. Crockett County Fire and Rescue. A university hospital ambulance. And Courtney. One of the nurses I work with.

Courtney used to be a supervisor. She's about 27. Very east coast. Not really pretty--but she doesn't need to be. Narrow aristocratic nose, dirty blonde hair. Slender to fault. Great nurse. One of the popular girls. Dated a lot of doctors. Dumped them. Fearless in a way. A little selfish. Always has a $2000 purse. She's getting married now. To a contractor named Mike with a daughter from a previous marriage. Quit her job to stay home and be a mom.

And here she is. By the side of the road, looking like a wet cat.

I roll down the window. "What are you doing here? You working?"

"That's Mike's truck," she says reasonably, pointing at the vehicle almost completely submerged in the water. The place is crawling with search and rescue people, sheriff's deputies, dogs and horses.

"Where's Mike?" I ask.

"We're trying to find that out. It doesn't look good. They're dragging the creek." She says this in the most conversational, pleasant way imaginable. Like how we all talk at work. "They've brought in the cadaver dogs. Don't worry. I can't believe how well I'm handling this. You must be Jay."

"Hello..." says Jay doubtfully. We look at each other. Jay pulls the car into the postmaster's driveway. We look around. Courtney is shrunken into her coat. Her face is all bony nose, hair skinned back.

"We heard the helicopter," I offer.

"Brad's on it!" As if on cue. Brad comes walking across the yard in his little flight suit. He puts his arm around me.

"Have you told him about us?" he asks, "Or should I?"

"It's over. When will you let it go?"

Courtney goes off to make a phone call.

"Is there anyone else here?" I ask.

"No. Just me. And she won't call any family. You live close--could you make us a pot of coffee?"

Jay and I turn around, drive back to his house and make a pot of coffee. It takes two hundred years. 1st because Jay has to grind the beans. Then because he has this stinky little walmart pot that takes forever. We make two pots, pour them in the Stanley and head back to the site. Jay drops me off and heads into town to his babysitting date with Elena.

"Jesus," Courtney says, "that took forever. What were you doing?"

"Well, we had to grind the beans..."

Courtney and Brad both start cackling. "I told you so." Brad says. "I told you Haley was grinding the beans."

Brad goes off, and Courtney and I lean against the car, talking about nothing important. Every time one of the dogs bark, she stops talking and turns white. After a few hours of this, I start thinking that there's no way anyone's coming out of this situation alive. I want to gently encourage her to get some family involved, or closer friends, but she's adamant. I give up.

"Do you want to come back to the house? I'll cook you some breakfast."

"I can't leave." She says. "Could you bring me something? I don't eat eggs."

I take Brad's car back to Jay's house. There's nothing there. Old moldy bagels, an almost empty box of stale triscuits, a can of cranberry sauce. One dubious looking egg. But in the freezer, there's pizza dough! What a find! I dig up a can of tomato sauce, a lump of queso fresco, capers, an onion, tomatoes, fresh garlic, some parmesan cheese--stick it in the oven. Then I go down to the garden and pick some greens. I can't tell which is arugula and which is poison ivy. I hope I'm not making a mistake. The whole thing's ready in ten minutes. I take it back down to the site.

"Let me guess, you had to pick the food out of the garden."

"Only partly correct."

She takes a piece of the pizza, then a few more. "Oh my God, this pizza is amazing." I take a slice. It is amazing. I kid you not, it's just about the best pizza I have ever had in my life. Brad takes a slice. "This is unbelievable." We sit together, leaning against the truck, scarfing pizza.

The radio crackles. Reception's bad in the bottom. "...white male....barefoot......walking Jones Hatchery Road..."

We stop eating.

Brad gets on the radio. Walks away.

Comes back. "It's him, Court." 2 miles away. Confused. Courtney, who's shown almost nothing all these hours, looks like she might possibly cry. "They're bringing him here."

My cue to go. I take the empty pizza pan, kiss her on the forehead, and walk back to Jay's. The sky is crystal and blue, the sun came up. The world smells like early summer. I think, I feel like a buddha. I feel transparent, and endless.

Jay's back with Elena.

"You look awful," he tells me.

"Thank you."

Elena and I paint watercolor portraits of the cat for the rest of the afternoon.

You never know what's going to happen, do you?

That's my 1/2 hour.