by Matt Hader
After they navigated the sharp incline of the dirt path of the Coyote Point hilltop, Sharon and Dougie found a seat on the only park bench there and watched as a 757 jetliner glided in right over the treetops.
“What’s in your purse that’s so important?” asked Dougie. “The way you were holding it before, I’m surprised you left it at home.”
“Let’s just enjoy the day, okay?”
“If I were to guess, I’d say the divorce papers your lawyer worked up for you, your bank documents, maybe some cash.”
Sharon just stared at Dougie.
“You were hugging it so hard, you nearly wrinkled the leather.”
Sharon let a sad giggle seep from her lips. “It’s complicated, Dougie.”
He just watched her for a few more seconds, and added, “You’re doing what’s right for you. There’s no fault in that.”
Sharon took in the sight of the boats all lined up like attentive soldiers in the marina below and changed conversational gears. “What a great day to be on the bay. The water is so calm.”
“I have a boat here,” said Dougie as he jumped to his feet. “Let’s do it. Fantastic idea.”
“Now?”
“Sure, why not?”
Dougie maneuvered his way down the path and out onto the road that separated the marina into two portions. He turned right at the third dock and made his way to the very end of the floating, wooded walkway. There, on the left, sat a 26-foot long, blue-colored cabin cruiser. Before Sharon made her way to the boat, Dougie reached to key-start the vehicle, but there was no key in the ignition. He lowered his shoulders, bonked his palm off his forehead, said “Duh,” and hopped back off the boat.
“Wrong one. I always do that,” he said. “I really need to get out here more often, you know. Been working too much.”
He stepped over to the other side of the walkway, pointed at the name of the boat painted on the back panel, ‘Bay City Roller,’ and said, “I painted that. I should remember the damn name, right?” He hopped into the similar-looking 26-foot long motorboat and immediately started the engine. He turned to Sharon, who still stood on the dock, and said, “Well?”
Her apprehension turned to excitement in an instant as she jumped onto the boat. Dougie toed his way to the port side and untied the vessel, pushed it away from the dock, got behind the wheel and started to gently throttle up the motor.
“Bay City Roller?” asked Sharon.
“I’m really into bowling these days.”
They cruised toward the center of San Francisco Bay, and skirted the eastern edge of the airport.
***
After they motored close to Angel Island, and then swung around the rocky shores of Alcatraz, Dougie guided the boat to a dock near the base of Hyde Street in San Francisco. Sharon loved to see that the sea lions were all leisurely sunning themselves on and around the empty dock spaces. The massive animals were pests for boat owners, but a loveable side attraction for any visitors to the area. Dougie found an open spot, guided the vessel to a stop, tied off the boat, and he and Sharon made their way on foot toward town.
“Hey! You can’t leave that there,” said the angry dock man as he approached Dougie and Sharon from the office at the entrance of the marina. “Those are reserved slips.”
Sharon side-glanced Dougie’s way and wondered if they had really done something wrong.
“It’s okay, I know the guy who owns the slip,” said Dougie with a warm smile, which deflated the anger on the dock man’s face for just a moment. Dougie then reached into his pocket, pulled out a couple of $20s and shook the dock man’s hand with the palmed bills.
“Yeah, I guess it’ll be okay,” said the dock man, as he turned and stepped back to his office.
Sharon took Dougie’s hand in hers, and led him toward a beautiful row of older brick buildings. One of the businesses, an eatery, had been there for years, and had amazing views of the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge that were known by people the world over. Sharon also knew that the restaurant had a fantastic specialty item.
They both peered each other’s way and said in unison, “Irish coffee.” They laughed as they made their way toward the eatery.
***
“It’s ground-breaking material, Sharon,” said Dougie, as he shoveled in the last of his crabmeat omelet. Sharon took a tiny bite off the corner of her sourdough bread toast, and said, “What’s the title of the new project?”
“Breaking the Glass Ceiling,” said Dougie, as he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “It chronicles the life of a recent college grad named Gretchen as she fights her way into the San Francisco business world. It’s fascinating stuff, really.”
“I’d figure you’d make sports documentaries, or something.”
Dougie gave Sharon a ‘come on’ grin and said, “There’s more to me than sports, Sharon. Female empowerment is an important issue for our times.”
***
As Sharon and Dougie exited the restaurant, Dougie spotted a limo that idled nearby at the curb. He stepped over to open the rear passenger door and lean in. Without Sharon overhearing what he said to the driver, he carried on a pleasant, yet brief, conversation. Dougie righted himself, and swept his arm in a comical fashion, inviting Sharon into the limo.
***
As the limo crossed north over the Golden Gate Bridge, Sharon got an incredible view of the city of San Francisco, Alcatraz, and the bay. Her blood pressure seemed to lower even further as she looked up through the open sun-roof and watched breathlessly as the 500-foot tall bridge towers passed overhead. She remembered the very first time she had seen the same views. She was about 5-years old, and her parents took her north on 101 to Belvidere for a family reunion. Her father had motioned to the exact same points of interest as they motored along that day.
Was she really moving home for good? It was nearly too good to be true.
“Mr. Poulsen, sir, I may have to take the second exit because of road construction,” said the uniformed limo driver.
“That’s fine,” said Dougie.
Sharon looked at him and mouthed “Poulsen.” Dougie opened his mouth to correct the driver, but stopped, shrugged and waved the comment away, before he took in the views once again.
***
It was years since Sharon had been to Sausalito, but it really had not changed all that much. The old shops and restaurants that lined the water’s edge were just inviting them to explore. They strolled along the bay and watched as a ferry made its way around Alcatraz, toward San Francisco.
“You were right about my purse,” said Sharon.
Dougie nodded sadly, almost imperceptibly.
She stopped walking, and added, “It’s going to be strange living without him. But I’ve decided that I’m going to make sure my younger son moves with me. I’m just not sure about my teenager. He’s got a mind of his own these days. I’m going to let him decide for himself.”
“I know it’s drastic, but you’re doing the right thing for your family and for yourself,” said Dougie.
Sharon smiled and nodded. Before the tears could fully form, she said, “Okay, what’s next? I don’t want the adventure to end just yet.”
***
“I’ll put it on the credit card we have on file, sir. Just need you to sign here,” said the limo driver, as he handed Dougie an electronic clipboard. Dougie signed, added in a hefty tip for the driver, and he and Sharon exited the limo.
“Thank you, sir!” said the happily breathless limo driver when he noticed the tip amount.
This time, Sharon gave the now nervous and angry dock man another $40 for keeping an eye on the motorboat. She and Dougie made their way back toward the Coyote Point marina on the 26-foot long cabin cruiser -– Sharon at the helm. Forty minutes later, they made their final approach on th
e Coyote Point docks. Sharon parked the boat in the same slip, and they stepped toward the parking lot.
Sharon saw the car first -– the driver’s door wide open, and the engine running. It was Dougie’s BMW convertible. With the beautiful scenery, and cloudless sky above, she could think of no better car to use for the remainder of their day together.
“Did you set this up? You had this delivered here, didn’t you?” she asked as they moved quickly to the car. “I’m driving!” she playfully squealed as she sprinted to the car. Dougie laughed, and followed right behind.
They hopped in, Sharon quickly adjusted her seat, and they took off like a shot. Sharon noticed a man jog toward the car, and wave. She smiled and waved back.
“I know we’re having a good time, Sharon, but I really have to be somewhere else now,” said Dougie. “I’m so sorry.”
Sharon deflated a notch, and said, “Oh, no. But I thought you were taking some ‘me’ time?”
“I know. I just remembered this meeting I have to get to,” said Dougie.
“Maybe we can get together for a late dinner,” said Sharon as they drove through downtown San Mateo.
“Yeah, I’m not sure about that, either. This thing’s going to take me all night, probably. Take a left here,” he said -– and they pulled into the parking lot on Borel Avenue where they had met earlier.
“Why are we stopping here?” asked Sharon.
“My shirts are ready,” said Dougie. He leaned over the center console, hesitated for a moment, stared into Sharon’s eyes -- and kissed her deeply on the lips. As soon as the kiss was over, he got out of the car, and said, “Park the car in that far end of the lot.” He pointed toward the mostly unused side of the lot. “I’ll be right back.”
Sharon was a bit confused, but followed instructions. Dougie was back in a few minutes and carried a bundle of shirts neatly wrapped in plastic and placed individually on hangers.
Sharon noticed that the shirts were all the same, a crème color with slightly darker brown stripes. She was about to ask about the shirts when a San Mateo police car slowly drove past the parking lot on Borel Avenue.
Dougie leaned over and as he tied his shoe said, “I really need to get going, Sharon. I’m sorry, but I’m sort of late.”
“Oh, Dougie, I didn’t realize. I feel bad for keeping you.”
“It’s not far away. Just head over El Camino and pull into the grocery store parking lot.”
“Okay,” said a confused Sharon, as she put the car into gear. In a minute they were stopped in the lot of a major chain grocery store located two blocks away. Dougie got out, pulled one of the clean shirts off a hanger and quickly put it on -- he buttoned as fast as he could.
“If you can, when you get home, park the car over a street or two from ours,” said Dougie, as he grabbed up the other clean shirts.
“Why would I do that?” asked Sharon. She was utterly confused by what was transpiring.
“Just please do that for me. Thanks! Have to run!”
Sharon watched as Dougie ran into the grocery store. She wanted to follow him, but was so absolutely puzzled and flummoxed by what had happened in the past few minutes. She simply followed Dougie’s instructions and drove the BMW convertible to Princeton Road. There she parked the vehicle and walked the one block back to her own home on Iowa Drive.
As she absently found the spare key under the porch planter box, and unlocked the front door of her house, she stopped dead in her tracks. All of the events of the day began to flash through her mind -- which was now much clearer from the day away from her personal troubles.
“What in the hell just happened?”
Without thinking twice, Sharon made her way back to where she had parked Dougie’s car -- but by the time she got near the vehicle, a San Mateo police car slowly drove down the block, and stopped in back of the convertible. The officer activated his light bar and got out of his car to investigate the car.
Sharon walked past without looking at the police officer, and made her way around the corner to Dougie’s house. She stood in front of the home for a beat and wondered what her next move should be. Finally Sharon stepped up to the front door to see if it was unlocked. On her way to the door, though, she took a glance into the attached garage window using her cupped hands -- and saw a BMW convertible parked there.
“What?”
Sharon’s anger grew, and she immediately stormed her way to Dougie’s front door. Without knocking she tried the doorknob. It was locked, so she kicked off her flip-flops and made her way to the side of the house, through the privacy fence gate, and to the back yard. There, she tried to open one of the home’s windows. The first one was locked, but the second one wasn’t. She didn’t even look to see if she was being observed. She just pushed the window open and shimmied inside the house, without a care that she’d damage the beautiful dress she was wearing.
As she got to her bare feet she stood in Dougie’s parents’ old bedroom. It hadn’t changed in 30-years, and their photos were still displayed on the walls.
Sharon stepped out of the room and into the hallway, where she passed by a bedroom that was still decked out with sports posters and teenage paraphernalia -- Dougie’s room.
She stomped directly to the interior garage door and flung it open. The convertible sat in the middle of the garage. Sharon walked around the car and studied it.
She opened the passenger door and unlatched the glove box. There she read from the vehicle’s registration that the car was owned by a person named Chin Wang Ho of Daly City, CA. “What is this?” she asked no one.
And then she saw something lying on the passenger floorboard -- all shiny and colorful. It was a DVD case for a film titled: Breaking the Glass Ceiling.
Sharon picked the DVD case up and noticed, right away, that it was some sort of naughty girls-gone-wrong, soft porn video. The star, Gretchen, a buxom blonde, was featured, barely dressed and in an erotic pose, juxtaposed in front of the San Francisco skyline. The credited writer/producer/director was Douglas W. Borchard.
***
On her way out of the neighborhood, in the rented white Dodge Charger, Sharon drove past the San Mateo police car parked with the convertible on Princeton Road. But now there was a tow truck backed up to the obviously stolen BMW.
“Asshole,” she said aloud as she turned on Parrot Drive and headed east.
She jerked her rental car to a stop in a parking spot of the busy grocery store on El Camino. Sharon got out and speed-stepped into the business. Once inside the store, her eyes scanned for Dougie with each and every angry step she took.
She saw the buxom Gretchen first, though. She worked register #3, as the cashier. Dougie, resplendent in the pinstriped dress shirt, complete with red apron and cheesy nametag -- was her bagger. With no customers to take care of, Gretchen and Dougie just stood there and pleasantly conversed.
The minute he saw Sharon, Dougie raised his hands in surrender, and said, “Whoa! Whoa! Wait, I only stole the boat. The limo driver deserved what he got for not checking ID. You stole the Beemer! That is not on me, babe.”
Sharon just stood there for a moment. Her face grew hot with anger, her muscles tightened. Fight or flight in all of its natural glory.
“Cute dress, ma’am,” said Gretchen with a coy and sincere smile. “Oh, no, it’s got a little rip there.”
Sharon just stared, until she finally said, “Thanks, Gretchen,” and spun around. She left the store without another spoken word. But all she could hear in her head, as she crossed the grocery store parking lot, was old neighbor Beverly’s voice saying, “I’m telling you, that kid has not changed one iota since high school” over and over and over again.
***
The waiting area in the terminal was unusually empty for this time of day. It was just Sharon and an elderly couple,
for now, sitting near the gate. She was a bit early for her flight back to Chicago, so the lack of people was to be expected, but still this was SFO, one of the busiest airports around.
As she scanned her cell phone for email messages, a man sat one seat away. He was tall, with graying hair, and a handsome face. She knew that she had seen him somewhere before, but couldn’t quite picture where. Then it hit her. He was the sexy airline captain, but he wasn’t dressed in his uniform this time.
He looked her way and they nodded to one other.
“Kind of early, huh?” he asked.
“Better here than at-” Sharon stopped herself, smiled, and said, “Yeah.”
“I think we’ve met in the past. You’ve taken flights I’ve piloted before, haven’t you?”
She nodded, and said, “I live in the Chicago-area. But I have a house here, too.”
“I’m off duty today. I fly here all the time for work, but I never get a chance to really see the sights, so…”
“What a great perk,” she said.
“I live in the Chicago-area, too, but San Francisco is my normal route. I’m in Lake Zurich. You know where that is?”
Sharon’s heart skipped a beat. Of course she knew Lake Zurich. It was only a few miles from her house in Balmoral. “Sure,” she said, trying to remain cool and controlled.
Then her cell phone rang and she instantly lost her smile. The caller ID read: Danny.
“Excuse me, I have to take this,” she said to the off-duty captain as she pressed the button to answer.
“Of course,” he said.
“Hi, Danny. How’s it going? What? Isn’t that illegal? Danny, you shouldn’t be doing that,” said Sharon. She did her best to turn and face away from the sexy captain so he couldn’t really hear what she said.
The captain gathered his overnight bag, gave Sharon a little wave, mouthed, “I’ll leave you alone,” and readied himself to stand.
