Focus Lost

by Doug Cooper

  Gabe turns to face her. “Hang on, you said she’s only seventeen?”

  Abbie puts a hand on each shoulder and spins him back around. “I know for sure because she’s a year older than me, except for the two months after my birthday when we’re the same age, until hers in November.”

  Gabe is quiet, considering the new information. “Hmm…if she’s underage, maybe we should send these to the police.”

  “Like the cops would do anything other than jack off to them.” Abbie folds the wet paper towel to a clean spot and wipes the dried blood from the last of the scratches.

  “Watch your mouth. What did I tell you about your language? This is serious. If we have proof of a crime, we’re obligated to turn it in.” He removes the shirt from the hanger and slips it on, hurrying down the hallway to his bedroom.

  Abbie trails behind, talking to his back. “But you saw her. She was obviously loving it, right? It’s not like he was forcing her.”

  “Still. The law is the law.” A gray suit jacket and pants dangle from a hanger on the door of his bedroom. Gabe lifts up the suit, holds onto the pants and tosses the jacket and hanger on the bed. He turns and motions for Abbie to turnaround in the doorway.

  Facing away into the hallway, she says, “Look, if you really want to get this exposed, bypass the cops and go to a tabloid. That way you can bank some coin too. We could probably use it.”

  Gabe kicks off his jeans and slips on the pants. “I’m not going to the media. It’s just not right to benefit on something like this.” He tucks in the shirt and fastens the pants. “Someday you’ll understand.”

  Abbie turns back around, nodding, approving of his transformation. “I doubt it, but I still love ya.”

  Gabe struggles to button the right cuff. Abbie strides over to help. He just extends his wrists and smiles. Abbie stares affectionately at him, calmly fastening one then the other. Sadness weighs down her eyes. She says, “Mom and Dad would be so proud of you tonight.”

  Gabe folds his arms around her. “Hey, don’t think about that. Tonight is a happy night.”

  The unhappy night was in the spring of 2006. The six hundred seniors of Gabe’s West Covina High School graduating class sat in rows spread out between the fifty and twenty yard lines facing the south end zone of Bulldog Stadium. Family members and friends filled both sides of the bleachers. Mexican fan palms alternated with the banks of lights circling the perimeter and extended toward the blue sky spotted with clouds.

  Screams and cheers from the students and spectators drowned out the final words of the principal as she formally introduced the new graduates. The seniors flipped their maroon tassels to the other side of their hats and tossed them skyward. The marching band seated to the right of the stage played the alma mater. Students sang along, officially barking out the words for the last time. “Alma Mater, we praise you. Your strength makes us born anew…”

  In the bleachers on the home side, seven-year-old Abbie stood with her and Gabe’s parents. As the students began to scatter on the field below, their dad lowered the video camera that had been pressed to his eye for the previous hour. “Come on. I told Gabe we would meet him by the south goal post.”

  “Give me your hand,” their mom said to Abbie. “I don’t want you getting lost in this crowd.”

  Abbie scrunched her nose, reluctantly extending her arm. “Fine, but I get to ride with Gabe to the restaurant.”

  “That’s up to him,” their dad said. “He may want to ride with us.”

  It was their mother’s turn to respond with a crinkled face. “We’ll be lucky if he still wants to eat with us.”

  They descended the bleachers and weaved through the crowd toward the goal post. Gabe was posing for pictures with classmates. His long, shaggy hair flapped in the wind. A pair of gold wayfarer sunglasses, similar to those of his classmates, covered his eyes. Their dad exchanged the video camera in his hand for a digital camera in the bag dangling around his neck.

  Abbie broke away and ran up to Gabe, jumping into his arms. He caught her and twirled her in a circle like a helicopter. Beaming, she pleaded for him to stop, but would’ve been upset if he had. Their dad circled around them, rapidly snapping pictures.

  “Okay, put her down,” their mom said. “You’ll make her sick. You know how dizzy she gets.”

  Gabe brought her in for the landing. Abbie staggered in the grass catching her balance, squealing with laughter.

  “Let’s get a few of the graduate alone,” their dad said. He directed Gabe in a variety of shots and poses, then brought in their mom, and Abbie. As everyone grew weary and started to complain, he showed one of the other parents how to operate the camera and lined up several more family shots.

  Their mom looked at her watch. “If we’re going to make our six o’clock reservation, we better get a move on it. It’ll take us about an hour to get to Seal Beach, depending on the traffic.”

  “Do you want to ride with us?” their dad asked.

  “No, I better drive my own car,” Gabe said. “I have a bunch of parties to hit after. Do you think I can take the camera? I want to get a few shots of some friends in the parking lot.”

  Abbie, fighting back tears, clung to their mom’s leg.

  Their mom said, “Somebody was hoping to ride with you.”

  Gabe crouched down to make eye contact with Abbie. “You want to keep me company on the way there?”

  Abbie’s head popped up. She charged over to Gabe, jumping on him again, this time knocking him over. He swallowed her up in his robe.

  “Enough already, you two,” their mom said. “Get up off the ground before you ruin the gown.”

  “It’s not like I’ll need it again,” Gabe said, lifting up Abbie and setting her on her feet. He stood up, brushing the grass off his maroon robe and picking up the mortarboard lying in the grass next to him.

  “You want to follow us?” their dad asked.

  “Nah, I know the way.” He took Abbie by the hand. “We’ll meet you there.”

  Their dad said, “Take the Ten to the Six-oh-five. Will save you about fifteen minutes.”

  On the way, curling around the ramp to the 605, Gabe noticed Abbie turned away from him to stare out the window. She hadn’t spoken since they got in the car. He reached over and shook her leg. “Since when are you so quiet?” A tear streamed down her face. He said, “Hey, hey, hey. Why the tears? We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

  She buried her face between the seat and the door.

  Gabe said, “You know what I’m going to have at the restaurant? Maybe some crab…” He reached over and grabbed her thigh again. “…legs.”

  “Stahhhhp!” She jerked her leg away.

  “Or maybe some lobster…” He pinched her butt. “…tail.”

  A giggle squirted out. She pulled her lips into her mouth, fighting to hold in any further squeals.

  “No, I know what I want.” He lifted his hand, hovering it above her. A smile crept on her face as she anticipated his next move. “I think I’m going to have some…” He dropped his hand to her rib cage, tickling her. “…ribs. Nom, nom, nom.”

  “Stop it,” Abbie chortled. Gabe dug his fingers deeper into her midsection. She said, “You better stop or I swear, I’ll pee all over your seat. You know I’ll do it, too.”

  Gabe lifted his hand but kept it floating above her. “Fine, I’ll stop—but only if you tell me what’s wrong.”

  She pushed her lips out. “I’m mad at you.”

  “Me? What did I do?” Gabe asked, guiding the car along the San Gabriel Freeway by the California Country Club golf course.

  “You’re leaving,” she said, the frown returning. “Why do you have to go so far away to Chicago?”

  Gabe faked an attack with his hand, instantly transforming her sadness to a smile. “I have to go. The Art Institute there has one of the best
photography schools in the country. I can’t pass it up. It’s only four years though. Plus, I’ll be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas and summers.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “You promise?”

  “If I’m lying, I’m dying,” Gabe said, rubbing her head and mussing up her hair. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

  The rest of the ride, Gabe turned up the music, and they belted out the lyrics to some of Abbie’s favorites, like Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl,” Black Eyed Peas’ “My Humps,” and The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside,” with her doing some of her best passenger-seat dancing. She loved when Gabe played the music loud and encouraged her dance moves, which amounted to her acting out what she thought the lyrics meant. It was more entertaining than the actual song.

  Off the freeway, they navigated the local streets and the small stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway to Walt’s Wharf on Main Street, Gabe’s favorite restaurant. He didn’t recall why or when it had become his favorite. It just always had been. He used to come down with his mom and dad as a child before Abbie was born and go to the beach and play on the playground by the pier. They would spend the whole afternoon swimming, watching the surfers, and collecting shells. Every trip ended with a meal at Walt’s. Gabe would always ask the server, “Is the fish fresh?” to which the server would always respond, “If it was any fresher, it’d still be swimming.” A tradition that he had passed on to Abbie, and one she tortured the servers with like it was the first time they had ever heard it.

  At the restaurant, the attractive college-aged hostess informed them that they were the first in their party to arrive. She walked them to a table by the mural of a fisherman on a pier with his two dogs that covered the wall of the main dining room. The hostess said, “I understand we’re celebrating a graduation tonight?”

  “Yep, he just finished high school,” Abbie said beaming with pride. Gabe cowered, casting a glare at Abbie, slightly embarrassed to acknowledge his youth in front of their beautiful hostess. “What?” Abbie said. “You did.”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” Gabe admitted. “West Covina.”

  “Congratulations. I just finished my sophomore year at Cal State Long Beach,” she said, placing the menus on the table. Gabe didn’t know what to say next. He just nodded. She said, “Enjoy the meal. Your server will be right over.” Gabe watched her walk away.

  Abbie said, “Ooh, you got a crush on her. You want to go out with her, don’t you?”

  “Just sit down and stop embarrassing me,” Gabe said, sliding into one of the seats facing the mural. Abbie just stood by the opposite chair. He said, “What are you waiting for? Have a seat.”

  Abbie glanced over her shoulder at the flamingo propped on the post behind her in the mural. “I can’t sit here with that thing watching me.”

  He said, “It’s just a painting, Ab.” She shook her head. He pushed back in his chair. “Do you want to switch?” She shook her head again. He reached over and slid the menu to the seat next to him. “Just sit here then. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I don’t want to upset your girlfriend,” Abbie teased.

  Gabe patted the chair. “Just sit down and quit being an idiot.”

  The server came over and took their drink order. Abbie fidgeted with the table settings, whining, “What’s taking Mom and Dad so long? I’m hungry.”

  “I can’t believe we beat them,” Gabe said. “You know how Dad is about traffic. Thinks he always knows the best way.”

  Another fifteen minutes passed. Gabe ordered some appetizers, so they didn’t have to wait until their parents arrived.

  The food came before their parents did. The server said, “They might be a while. We’ve had several calls from diners with reservations who are stuck in traffic. I guess there was an accident up on the PCH. They’re probably caught up in that.”

  Another twenty minutes passed. Abbie peppered Gabe with questions. For every minute that went by without their parents’ arrival and with Gabe having no new answers, she became more upset. After another fifteen, Gabe said, “Stay here. I’m going to go to the hostess stand and use the restaurant phone to call Dad’s cell.”

  “You just want to talk to that girl,” Abbie said. “Let me come with you.”

  “Not now, Ab,” Gabe snapped, worry hanging on his face. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” He was back in three. “It went right to voice mail. Their phone must be out of juice. You know how Dad always forgets to charge it. Probably why they didn’t call.”

  After another half hour with the restaurant filling up, the server stopped at the table. “They should be coming now. I heard from another table that the roads are clearing.”

  But another hour passed, and they never came. Abbie was scared and crying. Gabe had run out of excuses. He probably would’ve left earlier, but he didn’t have enough cash to pay the bill. The restaurant manager, also concerned, told Gabe to just come back with their parents another time and settle up.

  As Gabe drove back up Main Street toward the PCH, he already knew what had happened. He just didn’t know how bad it was. Abbie still hadn’t gotten to that point yet. She said, “Where could they be? They know Walt’s is your favorite.”

  “Probably just some car trouble,” Gabe said. “We’ll head home and check the messages.”

  Turning left onto the PCH, they didn’t have to go all the way home to find out. On the left side of the road, barely recognizable because the front was smashed into the back seat, sat their dad’s white Subaru Outback. Glass and oil coated the pavement. A red jack-knifed semi with a smashed passenger-side cab still blocked one of the lanes.

  Gabe attempted to distract Abbie before she noticed the car. “Looks like it was a trucker.”

  Abbie craned her neck looking at the semi and scanning the accident scene. “Looks bad. Do you think Mom and Dad were—” Her eyes fixated on the car. “Pull over, pull over.” She shook his arm. “That’s Dad’s car.”

  Gabe switched lanes to the outside to move farther away. “No, that’s some other white car.”

  Abbie flung off the seatbelt, kneeling on her seat, then scrambling into the back to get a better view. “It’s his. I’m sure of it. I can see my purple dance school bumper sticker on the back. You have to stop. They’re probably here.”

  Gabe angled the car to the side of the road. “Okay, I’ll go check, but you have to stay here.”

  “No, I want to go with you,” Abbie pleaded.

  “This is not a discussion,” Gabe said. “I’ll go talk to the police and check what happened. I need you to stay here.”

  Abbie protested, her fear turning to tears. “But what if they’re hurt? I want to see them.”

  “If you really want to know, then stop fighting with me and let me go find out.” Gabe unhooked his seatbelt and exited the car. The rubber-necking traffic crawled by. He weaved through one lane at a time. The smell of burning oil hung in the air. He walked to the edge of the yellow tape blocking off the scene. The uneasiness in his stomach swelled. He could see that the inside of the mangled car was charred. Water used to extinguish the fire dripped onto the street.

  A California Highway Patrolman stopped him from entering the scene. “Son, you’re going to have to stay back. We’re not quite finished here.”

  Gabe’s legs wobbled. Dizziness filled his head. He squatted down, steadying himself with his hands on the pavement. He looked up at the patrolman, gathering the strength to straighten his body. “That’s, uhm, that’s my parents’ car.” The vertigo returned. He fought through it, knowing Abbie was watching. “Are they okay?”

  The patrolman came over. “Vickie and Paul Adams are your parents?” Incapable of speaking, Gabe nodded. The patrolman lifted the tape. “Why don’t you come over here and sit down, son?”

  Gabe followed the patrolman to his car and sat in the front seat facing out with his feet on the pavement
. Abbie sat in the driver’s seat of Gabe’s car, her face pressed against the window.

  The patrolman said, “Their car had just rounded the bend and was heading southeast on the PCH.”

  Gabe delayed the outcome by interrupting the patrolman. “They were coming to meet my sister and me for dinner at Walt’s.”

  The patrolman said, “The semi was traveling the opposite direction and attempted to make a turn on Marina Drive. He says he never saw the car.”

  Gabe latched on to the patrolman’s comment, squeezing out any potential hope. “So they’re all right?”

  The patrolman shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Only the driver of the truck survived. Your parents’ car collided with the passenger-side of the semi. I know it probably doesn’t help much, but they didn’t suffer.”

  Gabe dropped his head into his hands and sobbed. Again remembering Abbie was watching, he straightened up and looked across the street to his vehicle, but she was no longer in the window. The door was open and she was running across the street toward him. Cars screeched to a halt. He leapt from the seat and charged toward her.

  She jumped into his arms. “Tell me what happened. They’re okay, right?”

  He squeezed her, pulling her head into his chest. “I’m sorry, Ab. There was an accident.”

  Standing in his room, remembering that day, Gabe hugs Abbie and rubs the back of her head. She regains her composure and pushes back from him. “Tonight won’t be so happy if you’re not on time. You better get a move on it. You’re not famous enough to be fashionably late.”

  Gabe snags the jacket from the bed and angles toward the door. “You’ll be there later?”

  “Of course.” Abbie walks to the dresser. “Gabe?”

  He stops in the doorway. “Come on, Ab. I’m already late enough. What is it?”

  She picks up a bottle of Giorgio Armani cologne from the dresser and sprays some at him. “You stink.”

  Gabe steps into the lingering fragrance and kisses her on the cheek, then hurries away.

  Abbie follows him down the hallway to the front door and watches him through the bay window in the living room as he backs out of the drive and speeds off. When the Suburban is out of view, she turns and walks back through the kitchen out into the studio.