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She was acutely aware of the physiological illness since her teens. She had survived the turbulent years and was looking forward to a life that was normal.
But life was far from normal. In fact, the only thing normal in her life had been going from one crisis to another. She had moments where she had told herself that living was a better alternative than dying. She managed to wake every morning, do her job and come home to a small apartment that overlooked the city of San Francisco.
She had friends and what people would consider a social life, but although she loved the city, she did not frequent the hot spots. She seldom went out at night and preferred the companionship of a cat or two.
When Mittens died, she took his ashes to the ocean and in a quiet calm of solitude dispersed his ashes to the sea.
She prayed. She went to mass and found comfort in the litany of prayers that were once said in Latin. She added the name of Mittens to her prayer list and after a time another feline had come into her life.
It was a wonderful distraction, but a pet cannot fill the shoes of the one she loved. That love was special and as unexpected as a summer storm. It was a crisis she welcomed until the want became a need and an accident destroyed the one she loved.
She wept into the fur of the newly adopted kitty and tried to convince herself to continue to breathe. She succeeded until the shock wore off. She had become an addict of the love she had not realized she needed.
In the hours before the dawn, she locked the apartment and drove toward the bay. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and found herself walking into the water. When she no longer touched bottom, she started to swim. She waited for exhaustion to take hold...
Steven Keller was working odd hours of late. This was the monotonous part of the job. Paperwork. Unfortunately it had to be done by him alone. He had no budget for a private secretary while working at the Police Department. He had taken a rudimentary typing course while at college. Little did he know just how much of his time would be used typing reports that few would see. He was glad of the solitude and for once it was too late to go home, but too early to be on shift. He drove to one of his favorite spots by the bay.
He was surprised to see another car parked in the lot. His instinct started to work overtime. He parked near the car and casually walked around it looking for signs of foul play.
Then he walked to the water and saw a pair of worn out shoes nearby. In the dark he looked for any sign of movement. He cursed under his breath. He did not want to see another successful suicide first hand. He combed his hands through his hair and took off his shoes and socks.
She saw the shimmer of the water as it covered her. She welcomed the feel of the water and prayed that she would no longer feel. She was just about to take her last breath when she saw a movement in the water.
She cursed as curiosity took over and saw a hand half the size of her own flailing in the water. Instinct took over and she swam toward the commotion. Adrenalin erased the exhaustion and she found herself touching the outstretched hand.
It was the hand of a young girl no more than ten in a nightgown. She managed to raise the girl's head above the water.
The child gasped, coughed and collapsed against her.
For what seemed like an eternity all she did was tread water and keep the girls head above the current.
She thought of the saying that when you make plans, God laughs. She was in the depths of her depression and despite the promises of not doing anything stupid, she found laughter at the thought of something mucking up her plans.
But she could not afford the luxury of laughter. She needed to get both of them back to shore.
The clouds covered the moon, and she began the laborious task of getting them back to shore. She prayed.
Steve pored over the horizon. He looked frantically for any sign of movement. After a time, he noticed what he wanted to see.
Steve dived into the water and started to swim frantically toward the movement. As he swam, he kicked himself for not reporting the car. He wondered if he could make it to the woman in time. He prayed.
She cursed at her shortcomings. She wished she could be a better swimmer. She did not realize how a small child could be saw a drain on her. She did not want to come all this way only to lose them both to the depths of the water. She did everything to keep from panicking.
Steve was never so grateful to see the moon. In the shimmer of light, he saw that he was closing in on the movement he saw from shore.
He reached the woman and saw the girl in her arms. He took a deep breath and let instinct take over. Instead of trying to view the whole picture, he did concentrate on one stroke at a time. Each stroke brought them closer to shore. With any luck some patrol would canvas the area and find them.
The following morning, Steve entered the squad room as if nothing had happened during the night.
He had managed to be a hero, but thought nothing of it. In his eyes she was meant to be in the water to save the life of a seven year old girl who fell off a boat after having a nightmare.
He had never made it home, but he was glad he was where he had been. Sometimes he knew that fate played a hand in his life.
This time he was dealt a fair hand.
He wondered if Mike would say something about his clothes...
finis