Searching for Swimmers

25

Jason begrudgingly followed the rental car's GPS to the Hendenmeier household. Although he never really trusted GPS navigation systems, and often hated individuals that relied so heavily upon them, Jason was pleased to find that it seemed to lead him to the door he'd driven 180 miles to knock on. Despite the large red dot on the indicator screen, and the mechanized voice announcing that he had arrived at his destination, he couldn't bring himself to hit the brake pedal, and instead continued his drive down Meadowlake Lane.

He was a bit put off by the affluence of the neighborhood and nervous to confront such a well-to-do couple with his insecure sperm problems. Clearly, he thought, a kid brought up in this environment will likely succeed in life. And not because of access to better schools and other fine things in life, but because the potential parents could possibly buy my sperm and then manipulate it into any lifestyle they choose. As he continued down the parkway, his caper and genetic rights seemed small in comparison to the enormous estates swallowing his rental car as he bit into the last of his beef jerky and passed the house on Meadowlake a second time.

Jason had never felt insecure about his middle-class lifestyle, but quickly realized a few things. One, he might not actually be middle-class. Two, he felt much more secure in this mid-size a rental car versus being behind the wheel of his ten year old klunker. Had he been driving his own car, he'd be concerned about being pulled over by the police. He hadn't seen a police car in his several trips around the block or on his drive through the neighborhood before arriving at his destination, but he suspected that in a neighborhood like this, all of the residents had the police department on speed dial, and half of them had the Houston police commissioner's cell phone number available at one push.

It was the third time Susan had seen the Nissan Altima slow down and then gradually increase its speed. The strange car, combined with the mysterious phone call to Jerry, made Susan a bit uneasy. She picked up the cordless phone she'd kept close to her since she'd missed the phone call Jerry had answered yesterday. She started to type in the phone number to the police department, and then stopped. What if the phone call had been from Sheila? What if the driver of the car was Sheila? Susan knew she was either being too hopeful, too paranoid, or both. Either way, she decided not to take action and instead, pulled a chair from the kitchen table up to the bay window and watched as the car continued to pass in front of her house.

Jason had managed to hit the brake pedal and even to lock the transmission into park. He sat in there in silence. Every which way he thought of the scenario, it ended the same way: awkward. He acknowledged the awkwardness as he tried to ignore the...what was that twinge? Pain? "I'm just going to have to risk it." He exited the car and walked to the front door, but before he'd even reached the front porch, the door opened to reveal a slim woman in her fifties holding a cordless telephone. Jason stopped. "Hi. How are you doing?" he shouted from the middle of the very large front lawn.

"I'm fine," the woman responded. "How may I help you today?"

"Now that, that is a bit of a long story."

"Well, I'm an old woman. All I have is time. Then again, I'm not getting any younger."

Jason gave a nervous laugh. He tried to analyze the situation in front of him. Why had he stopped walking? Here I am shouting at this woman in the middle of her yard. She probably thinks I'm a trespasser. He took a slow first step, although his fight or flight reflex told him he shouldn't be walking or even running in the opposite direction. Instead, he quickly sped up his pace until he was on the front porch. "Jason Purdue," he said and extended his hand.

She received his handshake. "Susan Hendenmeier, but I expect you already know that. Otherwise, why would you be here?"

"Actually, I was not expecting a Susan, Mrs. Hendenmeier, but a Sheila."