Statistics Lie
By: David Van Rossum
I startle awake from the nightmare every night. A dream that was recorded somewhere in my mind from that day just a few weeks ago. I hate that day. I probably always will.
The sun was low but you could still feel it. A gentle wind blowing from the northeast was a reminder of the cold weather predicted to move in that night, bringing with it a wintry mix. I was on my return trip of a mile and a half walk along the beach. The tide was half, on its way in. The sun was a little behind me off my left shoulder as I walked at a steady pace. My hands were tucked in the pockets of my jeans and I was thinking that I would have to wear gloves on tomorrow’s walk. Outward bound I had walked behind a couple with their dog and a woman, bundled against the chill, walking briskly close to the water’s edge. They had all veered right, up to the parking lot of the state beach. On my return along the beach I was alone. That rarely happens when the sun is out, even on the coldest days of winter. The fine ocean front homes were deserted, their owners back to their main residences. There was a light swell and no surfers, kayakers, or paddle boarders were bothering with it that day.
I was nearing the beach access dirt road that would take me back to the street that connects to mine when I saw her. She was sitting on the rocks just pass the short road. Her hair was long and brown and didn’t appear to move in the breeze. From a distance of about 25 yards she looked unfamiliar, but she was looking my way. I remember thinking at the time that I must have been lost in thought, looking toward the Isles off the coast to have come so close and not noticed her. She had a long, black, dressy coat that hung from her seated form, reaching the sand and folding onto itself. The coat was open revealing a violet dress that reached over her bent knees. She didn’t have shoes on but held a pair of black heels by the straps in her right hand that was resting on her leg. A bright red object lay just in front of her. I thought her feet must be cold.
I didn’t have a dog with me. The two little ones had gone off with my daughter to the barn where she trained before going off to law school. It was good to have her home. Our other two children were home too. It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. More people would arrive tomorrow. Our too big, too dumb, lovable golden retriever wasn’t going anywhere without my wife. She was much too busy with preparations to consider our normal walk.
The woman rose awkwardly as I approached. She was about fifty with a pretty face. She pulled her coat around her, still holding the heels. I nodded and said hello as I turned left to move along the access road. She just dropped her head and gave me small wave with her loaded hand. I started up the road and had gone a few steps when she called, not too loud “Excuse me?” I turned and she was standing near the entrance not quite to where the sand ended.
“Yes?”
“Would you mind taking my picture?”
“No, not at all.”
“I’m so sorry to bother you but I would really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.”
I walked back toward the surf as she retrieved the red object that turned out to be a purse. I think my wife would call it a clutch. When I came up to her she had retrieved a phone from the purse and handed it to me. It was an iPhone with pink casing. The background picture was up and showed a woman, probably this one, posing on skis with black pants covered by a white ski jacket. The woman wore a white hat, tinted goggles and happy smile. The scenery behind her showed a blue lake, down and off in the distance.
“I want to send it to someone. This is really great.”
I handed the phone back and said, “Not a problem, but you are going to have to set it up so I only have to press a button!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as she played with the gadget, the shoes still a dangle in her hand. We were close now and I could smell her perfume. It wasn’t too much like it is with some ladies. It was pleasant but I couldn’t describe the scent to you. She wore red lipstick and I could see that she had applied a good amount of makeup. I noticed a diamond stud in her ear and a gold chain that held a large diamond surrounded by small blue stones on the bare skin just above a modest show of cleavage. We were both shivering. I was getting cold.
She handed the phone back and pointed out how to view and snap the photo. “Do you mind if we go down by the water?”
I shrugged and we started across the beach to cover the relatively short distance to where the tide had come in. A couple of gulls scattered as we walked. “I’d love it if you can get the islands in too.”
“I’ll do my best.”
We stopped where the sand was wet but had yet to be claimed for good by the incoming ocean. With her back to the waves, facing me where I had stopped a few feet away, she stood on one leg, and gave the bottom of her foot a brush with her free hand. Without adjusting her leg position she expertly slipped on a heel running the thin strap behind the back of her leg above the ankle.
“Are you from around here?” I asked.
“I live in Boston but we summered here when I was young. I’m Maggie, by the way.”
“David”
I didn’t attempt to shake her hand as she was finishing up with the other shoe.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said again as she peeled off the long coat, folded it over her arm then placed it on the sand that was still dry. She was way underdressed for the weather then with just that purple dress, but I have to admit she was attractive.
“Do you want me to hold that so it doesn’t get all messed up?”
“No, no it’s fine. Just an old coat” she replied as she dropped her red purse on top of the black bundle. She moved to her left, stood tall while smoothing out her dress. “How’s this?”
“That should work,” I said. She looked directly at me or the iphone in front of my face and gave a smile. I took the picture, moved up to her so we could inspect the result. It wasn’t bad if I do say so myself.
“Well, thank you so much David,” she said with an offered hand.
I shook it while a gold bracelet slid to the bottom of her wrist. It was firm business-like handshake. “Anytime. You should put that coat back on before you freeze.”
“I will. Thanks again.” I was dismissed. I started away back to the road and she retrieved her purse and turned to look out to sea. I started up the road at a good pace, I was really cold now. Glancing back, I noticed she was looking back at me. Quickly adjusting my sight forward I hurried along….. about six steps. Crack! It made me jump and it seemed to echo over and over.
I whirled around and saw the purple fall to the ground. I just stood there seemingly for minutes. Then I ran toward her, stumbling a little when my feet made the transition from the hard packed dirt of the road to the soft sand. A gull screamed as I rushed to the purple dress. She was lying on her left side, hair covering the side of her face. And there was blood coloring more and more of that hair by the second. There was a gun. Don’t ask me what kind. I couldn’t tell you. I dropped to one knee instinctively placing my hand over the wound. It was warm. The one eye I could see was open and looking at the water. I knew it wasn’t seeing.
Look, I’m no lifesaver. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know how many times I said aloud, “C’mon Maggie, c’mon Maggie, c’mon.” I kept pressing my hand to her head, pushing it against the ground. Just trying to hold the blood in until someone came. My hand wasn’t that warm anymore. I was shaking, almost uncontrollably. I looked down the beach but it was still empty. I screamed for help for a while. Nothing. I was talking inside my head. Keep calm. Call 911. I reached my left hand into my left pocket, still kneeling. No phone where my Blackberry should be. My daughter took it the barn because hers wasn’t charged. Keep calm.
I needed help. I scrambled to my feet, probably pushing off Maggie’s head as I rose. I started to run to the road, stopped and sprinted back, remembering the pink iphone. It was there next to her, face up, screen lit. I picked it up, but there was just scrolling dots preceded by that one damn word. SENDING. Damn it. Service sucks down here. Don’t ask me why, but I put the phone down gently as close to where I picked it up as I remembered. Then I ran as hard as I could. Up the beach, down the access road, around the curve of the intersecting road and right down my street four houses to our place. The cold burned my lungs but my mind was still talking. Too many crime scene shows. My prints all over the phone. Don’t be silly, it was clear what happened. She friggin killed herself. Jesus, women hardly ever kill themselves that way. I saw that on TV too. My heart was pounding. You can’t get in the front way. Its always locked. The garage doors were closed. I went through the courtyard gate to the side door thinking I was having a heart attack. I felt the warmth of the house as my golden barked and jumped at me. He always does that. “Call 911!”, I yelled. My wife, wide eyed in the kitchen, stood still and pale and managed to say “What?” as I rushed in.
“Oh my God, you’re bleeding!”
“Just call 911. Ambulance and police to the access road. I don’t know the address.”
My wife still asking behind me, I ran back down the long hallway to the door that goes to the garage. I jumped in my car, started it and waited impatiently for the door to slide up. My mind was racing. I sped down my road, made the left, then down the road a quarter mile to the access road. I drove the 300 feet to the end. The purple clump was still there. The ocean had moved in those few short minutes to swim around her feet. I couldn’t go down there again. I couldn’t help. I considered just leaving and let the police trace the 911 call to my house. I’d rather talk there. That would be cowardly though, I thought. Although, standing on that rise next to the rocks where I had first seen that woman, I didn’t feel brave. I remember all of what I have written so clearly. I remember looking down there at the body. The red purse identifiable next to her. I couldn’t make out the gun, but I could see the phone where I placed it. The sirens were coming as I noticed the contingent of gulls that moved to within a few feet of the body. I remember wondering if that message on that damn iphone ever went through.
The police got there first. Just one officer in his white car with the blue stripe. He knew me. He didn’t go right to the body. He stood with me blowing dryly through his lips. He talked to me. I talked back. I have no idea what we said. He stayed with me up there away from the body. The chief came and then the EMTs. Other people were around. Gawkers I guess. I don’t really remember. I’m no expert but maybe I was drained of adrenaline or my mind was trying to close down. I was remembering all of what happened right up until I wasn’t alone anymore. I gave statements. I must have read them. I must have signed them. I had follow up interviews. I must have told the truth because they stopped.
I never found out who she was. I don’t why she did it. I don’t know where she was buried. I didn’t read the papers. I haven’t researched online. I really don’t care if her message got sent and I’m not curious at all as to who the recipient was supposed to be. I just don’t care. I don’t feel sorry for her, nor me. I don’t think about kids she may have had or parents that may have survived her. I don’t care. At least I don’t care now. My feelings of it all must be deep inside me somewhere. They just must be. People ask me about it. I don’t talk about it. I just point out the obvious shame of it all. My family asks me how I am. They must think I’m crazy to be so detached. Thanksgiving was ordinary except for the unusual number of concerned looks my way.
I really don’t care. I have walked down the beach and back a few times since then. I haven’t been alone on those trips. The dogs and my wife have been with me every time. She asks me if it is hard to see where it happened. I tell her no and I’m not lying. I just don’t care. Not until I close my eyes at night and start the sleep that has no trouble coming. I know I will sleep. I always have. And every night I watch that well dressed woman with the pleasant perfume kill herself.
