Clearwater Journals

Sometimes, Life Is Excellent

Sometimes, Life Is Excellent

As I set off, the sun was still far enough above the horizon for me to feel its warmth. The air had cooled with the heavy wash of rain, and for the moment, all seemed very wonderful in my universe. I crossed the public parking lot near the south side of Pier 60 to get to the beach and, at the surf line, I started heading down toward the IHOP. The thoughts of all that had happened in the last few days totally absorbed me. I stopped to skip a few worn flat shells across the dead gray surface of the water. My best effort was only nine skips. "Must still be in a weakened condition from last night," I mused quietly.

When I got to the parking lot where we had left Mia's car the night before, I spotted a folded piece of paper stuck under Mia's windshield wiper. I thought that perhaps Miss Knock My Socks Off had left me a message. When I read the note, my heart did a small flip. In large black magic marker, it read-The bitch will get you killed. Disappear.-I looked around the lot. No one was watching. There was nothing out of the ordinary. I walked to the flat cement break wall nearby and sat down. The paper wasn't soggy from the earlier rain, so I guessed it had been left in the last few hours. Was this an example of Mia's humour? I didn't think so. Was this someone else's idea of a joke? It was pretty sick if it was.

At some level, I knew that there was nothing funny about this. Someone was threatening me. I remembered Billy Ray and Sammy. Was this the action of a jilted and jealous lover? Perhaps. I looked around again and crumpled the paper. I knew that I wasn't going to mention the note to Mia. She already had too much on her plate. As I stood and started to walk towards the Honda, I spotted a similar piece of paper pasted to the ground beside the car. I picked it up and carefully opened the fold. Same message badly streaked and blotted-The bitch will get you killed-Disappear. Persistent I thought. The guy had written this before the rain, realized the storm would mess it up and returned to write a new one.

I went back to the break wall and sat down. I considered how to respond. There was nothing that I could do. A message wasn't going to scare me off. So I guess I'd just wait and see what developed. I thought about how tired Mia must be. She was working a seven-hour shift lugging heavy trays of food after so little rest the night before. I also realized that she must be on a bit of an emotional roller coaster given the lack of any meaningful commitment from Langdon unless we met his criteria of coming up with even one new piece of information or evidence. No way was she going to hear about this threat.

"Hi ya sailor, new in town?" She was suddenly sitting beside me on the wall. How does anyone move up and down so gracefully and silently?

"Yes siree Bob thar little lady, here to see the sights," I drawled out in my best southern accent-which probably wasn't very good at all. I wanted to play along with her scenario just to find out where she wanted to take it. "Just got off the HMS Singapore and I'm looking for the meaning of life."

"I might be able to help you out with that one big boy if you got enough coin," Mia whispered conspiratorially. She looked all around carefully as if trying to spot a sly ninja blending in with the blacktop of the parking lot. Or maybe to see if a KGB assassin was sighting his laser scope in on her forehead at that exact moment. Seconds passed.

Satisfied that we were all alone, she casually placed her small tanned hand on the middle of my lap and smiled.

"Ah," I moaned realizing the game had taken on a new, albeit, very nice twist, "that would be the meaning of life according to the Zen Buddhist postulation on the moment of satori."

"Um," she murmured and squeezed me lightly.

"Aha, do that anymore, and it will be a fine mess you've got in my pants Stanley."