Strange Awakening by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 4
I made myself an early hamburger lunch and kept thinking about my situation. With brain damage I can never be 100%
assured of anything. Maybe I didn’t experience what I thought I did. If that’s the case, I have nothing to worry about. If I was right in what I saw, telling the police would at least give them a suspect if I wound up dead. I ate and drank quickly and was ready to go to the police station, when I realized I didn’t know where it was. Fortunately, I looked through the kitchen drawers again and found a local map, located the police station and made some notes.
After three or four turns I was elated to see the police station ahead. I was considering the possibility of being lost in the woods forever. I parked in the driveway and entered the place. I was greeted by a woman, approximately forty years of age, a bit overweight, with olive skin, medium length straight black hair and an amused disposition. She said; “May I help you?”
“Yes. I’d like to file a police report.”
“About what?”
I didn’t know what to answer. I paused for a few seconds, not knowing how to characterize my concerns concisely. I
decided to just tell the truth, no matter how silly it would sound. “I saw a naked girl in town.”
She couldn’t hold back her laughter. After she was able to control herself, she said, “At your age, I hope this isn’t the first time.”
“It’s the first time I saw one outside.”
She again smirked; “So, you’re complaining about public lewdness?”
“It wasn’t lewd.” Even I had to laugh. “It looked like she was in danger and so am I for witnessing the event.”
“What makes you say danger?”
“A young girl, about fifteen, exited the house right next to me and was escorted back inside by an older female. Then some guy, who was also there, walked over to me and told me to mind my own business.”
She just looked at me with the hint of a smile, probably thinking; “Maybe you should.”
“Is there any officer here I can speak to?”
“No one’s on duty for a few more hours. Would you like to come back later? An officer will be checking in at 3 PM.”
“Can you take the report?”
“Yes. What kind of report do you want to fill out?”
“I don’t know. How many kinds are there?”
“More than I can count. I’ve got an idea. How about we call this suspicious activity?”
“Sounds good to me. Will a reported ‘suspicious activity’
be investigated by a cop?”
“Probably. He might just ride around the area a bit, though, to see for himself.”
Though I wasn’t thrilled with the level of investigation mentioned, I decided that this was the best I could do, at least for the time being. “That sounds good. Let me tell you the story.”
She put up her hand and started to type something into the computer. When she got the screen she wanted, she said; “Name?”
“I don’t know their names.”
“No, your name.”
“Edward Jensen.”
“Oh, you’re the guy who got the brain tumor not long ago?”
Fully realizing that now the rest of what I say will be futile, I said; “Yes and it’s been removed and I’m told that I’m fine by the doctors.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Tell me what you saw.”
I told her the story as I saw it, but not remembering the precise nuance to the conversation with the threatening guy, I realized that I wasn’t making a good case for anything. She typed away as I spoke, showing no emotion and when I was
through, she walked to the printer and retrieved a copy of the report for me to sign. When I asked her for a pen, she informed me that filing a false police report was a crime that could be prosecuted. I wondered if she said this to everyone. I signed the report, was given a copy, thanked her and left. I had the distinct impression that what I had just done would do me little good. Now, I would attempt something really difficult and try to back-track my directions to get home. I wished I had a pencil and paper. I patted myself on the back, when I got there without much difficulty, but a smattering of fret. I again called Diane.
“Diane Jensen.”
“Hi again, Diane. Sorry to trouble you. I just filed a police report.”
“Good.”
“Well, I doubt if it’s going to do any good. They know I’m the guy with the brain tumor and the whole thing doesn’t make much sense anyway.”
“They’ll investigate, unless you said something really stupid.”
I laughed; “I may have. I’m not sure of anything.”
“Why don’t you just watch a movie for a while and forget about the naked girl?”
“It’s not the girl I’m primarily worried about. It’s the fully clothed guy. Do we have any friends I can talk to around here?”
“Not really. We used to spend so much time working, that home became a place to collapse and the weekends were spent doing chores. We were pretty isolated, but that’s what we wanted at the time.”
“I guess I could use a buddy now. When are you coming back?”
“Oh, that’s such a long story with a lot of ifs ands and buts it’s better to save it for another time. The short answer is ‘as soon as possible’ though. I miss you.”
“I think I miss you, too.”
“Love you, Chubby.”
I smiled at the word, for I wasn’t the least bit chubby at five foot nine and 159 pounds and answered, “Love you, too, Chubby.”
I went upstairs to peruse the movie collection. I certainly was in no mood for anything like “The Night of the Living Dead” or any horror movie in general. Come to think of it, I didn’t want to see anything with suspense, intrigue or crime. What was left? Love and animal stories came to mind. I decided to combine the two satisfactory formats and came up with
“Lady and the Tramp,” which I hadn’t seen since I was a kid. I
brought the cassette downstairs, figured out how the television and VCR worked and loaded it. When I saw it was properly working, I went back to the kitchen to fix some more hamburgers.
When ready I brought them and a bottle of beer into the TV room, restarted the movie and lay down on the couch to watch. Through I felt tired, my mind kept racing and didn’t allow me to doze.
I enjoyed the sweet sentiment of the movie, but really wasn’t paying full attention to it.
When it was over, it was still daylight and I was having trouble relaxing. So, I decided to take a short drive to the reservoir. It’s seems like every time I leave the house something weird happens and it’s un-nerving. So, I thought that if I could make one un-eventful trip, that might help me relax.