Remembering August (Triple C Ranch Saga)

by Rodney V. Earle

  “And don’t hold your breath,” the officer said over his shoulder. “It only makes it worse.”

  Sheila let the air out of her lungs through her nostrils, and then gulped another breath through her mouth. She tried to control the flow of air in and out, but her diaphragm had other ideas. “Hurry!” she whispered.

  The officer wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve and said, “Affirmative.”

  “Af—f—” Sheila stuttered, and then swallowed hard.

  The officer turned and bolted out the glass door. Sheila could see his outline through the etching as he disappeared from the lobby. “Jesus,” she whispered to herself and closed her eyes. “Take a deep breath.”

  “Jarvis!” the officer yelled as he ran out the front door.

  Sheila opened her eyes again as she heard the muffled shout through the door.

  “Jarvis!” he shouted again. “Get off the Goddamn phone! We have a situation here!”

  Sheila tilted her head to the right and tried to make out what Jarvis said in response, but he was too far away. “That answers that question,” she said to herself.

  She started to lose her concentration. Her bladder made another pronounced push. She squeezed her thighs together tightly and carefully shifted position and crossed her legs. Suddenly she heard what she thought was the slam of a car’s trunk, followed by a flurry of heavy footfalls on the pavement in front. She turned and saw the outline of two people as they rushed into the lobby.

  “Careful!” the officer scoffed as he approached the glass door. “Here… lemme get it.”

  The officer opened the door and stood to the side as Jarvis rushed into the hallway. The cheap sunglasses hung on to the bridge of his nose for dear life, and his forehead wrinkled spasmodically as he took a few steps forward and stopped. He had a pair of heavy bolt cutters and a roll of duct tape in one hand, and a shiny, canvas-like vest clutched to his chest.

  “Get me some crowd control in front and in back,” Jarvis said over his shoulder. “Back ’em up two hundred meters.”

  Sheila tried to piece everything together, but was even more confused at the mention of crowd control.

  “I assume you’re Mrs. Jones?” Jarvis asked as he peered at Sheila over the top of his sunglasses.

  “What the fuck gave you that idea?” Sheila quipped nervously.

  “Lucky guess,” replied Jarvis. He bent over and dropped the vest and bolt cutters to the floor.

  The officer stood behind him and barked out instructions in police code that might as well be Greek as far as Sheila was concerned. Jarvis tried to remove his suit jacket, but the roll of duct tape that he held in his hand made the left sleeve turn inside out. Sheila watched him let go of the tape, remove his arm, and struggle to maneuver the thick roll of tape from his jacket’s inside-out sleeve. “What the fuck?” she whispered to herself.

  “Okay, Mrs. Jones,” said the bumbling detective. “As you might have guessed, I’m Detective Jarvis, L.A.P.D.”

  “No shit,” she replied as she looked down at her aching hand.

  “Believe it or not, I’m here to help you,” he said and finally freed the tape and let his jacket fall to the floor.

  Sheila looked up at him. “Oh yeah?” she said. “And who’s gonna help you?”

  “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  “Okay by me,” said Sheila. “What do you want me to do?”

  “First thing I need you to do, Mrs. Jones, is concentrate on the key. That’s the most important thing.”

  “I’m trying,” said Sheila as she looked down at her hand again. “But I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.

  “Crowd control in progress, Jarvis,” the uniformed officer interrupted.

  “Firm,” replied Jarvis without looking back at the officer. “ETA for B.D.U?”

  “Four minutes.”

  “What’s B.D.U.?” Sheila asked. She closed her eyes and grunted at the cramp in her hand.

  “We call ’em the Bad Dude Unit,” Jarvis said as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. “They fix things.”

  “What kinds of things?” Sheila asked as she lowered her forehead to her outstretched arms and arched her back.

  “Just things,” replied Jarvis. “Officer Schmidt and I will get you squared away first, and then B.D.U. will clean up after us.”

  “Clean up?” Sheila asked, horrified.

  Jarvis stepped closer, but did not touch her. “I need you to look at me for a second. Okay, Mrs. Jones?”

  “Okay,” said Sheila.

  “I’m going to move to the other side of you and Officer Schmidt is going to help you hold the key for a few minutes. Are you with me so far?”

  “Yeah,” said Sheila. “I ain’t exactly goin’ anywhere.”

  “Schmitty,” Jarvis said, and moved just out of Sheila’s line of sight. Officer Schmidt let go of his radio and stepped forward.

  “When I tell you to, hold her hands steady with both of yours… like this,” said Jarvis. “But don’t touch the key. Copy?”

  “Affirmative,” replied Schmidt.

  “I have to pee soooo bad,” Sheila said as she looked up at Schmidt.

  “Won’t be long now, Mrs. Jones,” he said with a weak smile.

  “I hope not,” said Sheila. “Or I’m gonna pee all over myself… and your shoes.”

  Jarvis moved around to Sheila’s right, and Schmidt moved closer to her left. “Look at me again,” said Jarvis.

  Sheila looked up again at the thin detective. He was still peering over the top of his sunglasses, which she found odd. As if Jarvis sensed what she was thinking, he grabbed his sunglasses and yanked them from his face. He then whipped them over his shoulder, and they flew through the air and skidded down the hall.

  “I’m gonna place a bunch of tape on the wall, okay?” instructed Jarvis.

  “What does that do?” asked Sheila.

  “Just listen,” said Jarvis.

  “Okay,” said Sheila with a hard swallow.

  “One by one, I’m gonna place the tape over the door handle to hold it in place and keep it from moving,” Jarvis continued.

  “Okay,” Sheila repeated.

  “What I want you to do is keep the key perfectly still while I place the tape, and then we’ll see what we can do to get you out of here as quick as we can. Are you ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” replied Sheila. “Let’s go,” she said as she looked back down at her hands. “Can I let go of the other end?”

  “Not yet,” said Jarvis. “Schmitty will help you hold the key while I cut the keychain off, you copy?”

  “Affirmative,” Sheila replied.

  “Good girl,” said Jarvis. “Here we go. Schmitty… roll up your sleeves.”

  Officer Schmidt did as instructed as Jarvis went about his business with the tape on the wall and door handle. Sheila heard sirens in the distance. Jarvis worked quickly and methodically, and when he was finished placing the tape, he whipped the roll over his shoulder like he had done with the sunglasses. The tape hit the floor with a dull thud.

  “Okay,” Jarvis announced.

  “Can I uncross my legs?” Sheila asked.

  “Ummm,” replied Jarvis as he looked down at Sheila’s legs. “Let’s get Schmitty’s hands in place first. Schmitty, wipe your face.”

  “Copy, Gold Leader,” said Schmidt.

  “You men and your Star Wars,” said Sheila. “I swear.”

  “We love our movie quotes,” said Jarvis. “Keeps us sane in tense situations.”

  “Like this one?” asked Sheila.

  †

  Joan abandoned her stack of invoices and headed out the door in search of the items that Colleen requested. The more she drove Colleen’s El Camino, the more she liked it. Colleen referred to her ride as The Bitch because of its raw power under the hood. Joan liked the safety of being surrounded on all sides by more than just plastic fenders and airbags. The first time Joan rode in the passenger seat, Colleen demonstr
ated that she definitely knew the limits of her automobile.

  Joan tested a few of those limits as the tires easily let go of the pavement with each stomp of the accelerator. She grew more excited each time and got a feel for just what the car could do. She suddenly remembered something that Colleen said after her first ride in the gas-guzzler. She said, “Some cars have nuts, and some have balls. This bitch has both.”

  “Nuts and balls,” Joan said aloud as she eased up on the accelerator and sat up straight. She liked the feel of the brown leather steering wheel cover, which was stretched tightly and held in place by a thin plastic strap all the way around. She ran her fingers over it and she rolled to a stop at the signal in front of Tierra Rejada Park. The speakers emitted the same low hum as the day before.

  “Must be broken,” she said aloud. She looked down at the stereo and the word ERROR scrolled across the tiny screen. She reached over and fiddled with the volume knob, and then pressed every button she could find. The screen went blank for a moment, and then was replaced with Eruption.mp3 – 0:00.

  She glanced up at the light, which was still red. Suddenly the speakers screamed with an ear-piercing squall of a metal guitar. Her arms flew instinctively in the air and her foot slipped from the brake pedal, causing the El Camino to lurch forward into the intersection.

  She fought for control of the wild hot rod and stomped the brake pedal. “Fuck!” she yelled, and then leaned forward to get a look at the stoplight, which had already turned green. Her heart raced. She looked frantically in all directions and checked her mirrors. She found herself alone in the middle of the intersection. Suddenly the speakers went silent.

  As she slumped down in the seat a little and let out her breath, the guitar began again and startled her a second time. She perked up again, but this time her hands held the wheel and her foot remained planted. “Damn it, Colleen!”

  She reached for the stereo’s volume knob. Her hand trembled as she turned it counter-clockwise, ending the guitar’s assault to her ears. She looked carefully in all directions, took in a deep breath, and then slowly eased up on the brake. She pulled over to the side of the road and moved the gearshift into park. She felt the vibration of the exhaust through the floorboard as the engine idled at a pace that matched her heartbeat.

  †

  Officer Schmidt removed a neatly-folded white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his face and arms as Jarvis instructed.

  “Ready, Schmitty?” asked Jarvis.

  “Affirmative,” he replied with a nod.

  “Ready, Mrs. Jones?”

  “Affirmative,” Sheila repeated.

  Schmidt stepped as close to Sheila as he could without touching the rest of her body. He then moved his hands into position over hers and looked at Jarvis for approval. Jarvis nodded and said, “Good.”

  Sheila looked down at her sweaty hands and took in a deep breath.

  “Let it out easy,” Jarvis said. “Go ahead, Schmitty.”

  Sheila let out her breath. Schmidt’s palms were warm and clammy, but she felt a bit of comfort from his steady, gentle touch.

  “You’re doin’ fine, Mrs. Jones.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” said Sheila without looking up.

  Schmidt slid his fingers into position and supported Sheila’s hand with a firm but steady hold. “Got it,” he said.

  “Excellent,” Jarvis said. “Mrs. Jones, you can relax your fingers a little. Let Schmitty do the work.”

  “I can’t see my hand,” said Sheila.

  “Don’t worry about that. Just close your eyes and breathe easy for a second.”

  Sheila closed her eyes and tried to visualize her fingers. Little by little she relaxed her grip, and Schmidt’s fingers pressed firmly against hers. The pain in her thumb subsided almost instantly. She looked up at Schmidt, who was sweating profusely. “You all right?” she asked.

  “Affir—” he started, and then corrected himself. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

  “Finer than a frog’s hair,” Sheila replied.

  Officer Schmidt smiled without breaking his concentration.

  “Uh-oh,” Sheila said suddenly as she raised her head and looked straight at the door.

  “What?” asked Jarvis. “What happened?”

  “Nothing yet… but it’s… about to,” Sheila stuttered in a panicked tone.

  “What?” asked Jarvis.

  “I can’t hold my bladder anymore.”

  “Oh shit,” said Jarvis. “How long?”

  “About thirty seconds… maybe less,” said Sheila as she closed her eyes tightly.

  “Okay,” said Jarvis in a suddenly calm tone. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. Are you listening?”

  “Y—yes,” Sheila grunted.

  “You have no choice,” said Jarvis. “You have to let it go.”

  “Here?” Sheila asked as she opened her eyes and looked up.

  “Yes,” replied Jarvis. “When you do, you must not move.”

  “I can’t—” She stopped mid-sentence.

  “Yes you can,” said Jarvis. “The most important thing is the key. You with me?”

  “I’m so fuckin’ embarrassed,” said Sheila as her eyes filled with tears.

  “There’s no time for that,” said Jarvis unsympathetically. “Just let it go, and we’ll deal with it.”

  “Maybe I can hold it another minute or so,” Sheila said as she looked away and closed her eyes again.

  “No, Mrs. Jones,” said Jarvis in a tone that was less than supportive. “This will take longer than that. When you’re ready, just let it go, and as you do, keep thinking about the key. Schmitty will help keep it steady.”

  Sheila opened her eyes and looked over at Officer Schmidt. She felt utterly humiliated at the thought of what was about to happen. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly as she tried to say a word or two, but couldn’t. Time stood still as the jumbled thoughts that swirled around in her head wouldn’t make the connection to her vocal cords.

  Schmidt looked squarely into Sheila’s eyes with an almost telepathic empathy. He nodded his head and blinked slowly as if to say that he completely understood what Sheila felt. Tears slid down her cheeks as she closed her mouth and slowly nodded back.

  Without uttering a word between them, they turned their heads and their attention back to the key. Jarvis stood up and turned his back.

  “Anytime you’re ready, Mrs. Jones,” said Jarvis as he folded his arms.

  “It has to be now,” said Sheila with a sob.

  “Okay,” said Jarvis. “I’ll go get a couple of towels.”

  Jarvis walked toward the back of the building and disappeared around the corner. Sheila took a breath and held it as she continued to struggle with her bladder.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” said Schmidt. “You don’t need to fight it anymore.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Sheila.

  “Don’t be.”

  Sheila felt reassured by his tone and began to relax the muscles in her thighs. She tried to breathe normally and concentrate. She could no longer control the flow of urine from her bladder.

  Her pink Capri pants darkened between her thighs and down the length of her inseam. Goose bumps formed all over her body. She felt relief and humiliation at the same time as the steady stream of urine continued down her crossed legs and into her leather sandals. A puddle formed at her feet.

  Schmidt remained focused. He felt Sheila’s body begin to tense up again as she arched her back slightly. “All of it,” he said without looking at Sheila.

  “I can hold the rest,” she said calmly.

  “Don’t,” said Schmidt. “There’s no tellin’ how long we’re gonna be here.”

  “If I let it all go, you will be standing in it.”

  “I have three kids,” said Schmidt. “I’ve stood in worse. You can trust me on that one.”

  “Good point,” said Sheila. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said.

 
Sheila emptied the rest of her bladder into her Capris and the puddle at her feet widened until it reached the toe of the officer’s shiny black shoes.

  “How we doin’?” Jarvis called from the end of the hallway.

  “Evacuation complete,” said Schmidt, quoting another movie.

  “You guys are unbelievable,” Sheila chimed in. “Can I uncross my legs now?”

  “In a second,” said Jarvis as he approached with an armload of monogrammed towels. “Keep still for a sec.” He dropped one of the towels over the puddle of urine.

  “Got any coffee?” Sheila asked with a chuckle.

  “I think you’ve had enough coffee for one day,” said Jarvis with a frown.

  Schmidt chuckled in support of Sheila’s joke. He watched Jarvis drop a second towel at their feet and asked jokingly, “Would you care for spring water or something?”

  “This guy can’t take a joke for shit, can he?” Sheila replied with a whisper.

  “Okay, you can uncross your legs now,” Jarvis said as he returned to Sheila’s right. “Slowly.”

  “I know… and don’t move the key, right?” quipped Sheila.

  “That would be nice,” Jarvis said coldly.

  Schmidt tightened his grip on her fingers. She slowly uncrossed her legs and stood with her feet about shoulder’s width apart. “Now what?” she asked. “I’ve already pissed myself on purpose in front of two grown men. I’m pretty much ready for anything.”

  “Now we cut the keychain,” said Jarvis. He shuffled his feet as he passed behind her. Sheila strained her neck to see what he was doing, but she couldn’t turn around far enough without moving the rest of her body.

  “Don’t move!” Jarvis scolded.

  “Sorry,” said Sheila as she turned her head back toward the key.

  Jarvis grabbed the bolt cutters and surveyed the situation. “Schmitty, you’re gonna need to move a little to your left so I can have room to maneuver,” he said.

  “Affirmative,” said Schmidt. “Just say when.” He slowly shuffled his feet a few inches to the left.

  “That’s far enough,” said Jarvis.