A Ferry Tale

I met April on February 14th. Just over two years after my girlfriend, Meredith, dumped me. The way Meredith dumped me was something I'll remember my entire life. And not in a good way. The way I met April was more than memorable, too.

I'm still don't understand what happened with Meredith. She left me three days before Valentines Day. A Valentine's Day when I intended to propose. I was picking up the ring I knew she liked the next day. Point six-one carat, VVS2 clarity, pear cut, faint blue, platinum setting. It was putting a monstrous dent in my savings, but she meant far more to me than mere money.

We both worked in Manhattan though our schedules were slightly different. She worked in the Jacob Javits Federal Building, one of a multitude of lawyers plying their trade in a Manhattan office of the federal government. I worked out of an office farther uptown as a security consultant, so I left for work a little earlier and got home later than she did.

I traveled out of town a little but not often. Most of my work was confined to the New York City boroughs, sometimes taking me to a client's local site. I spent more than half of my working hours on the twentieth floor in a nondescript office complex without a company name on the door. Meredith traveled infrequently, too. In her case, it was typically for legal seminars or meetings with legislative staffers, usually in Washington, D.C. Her last work trips were in mid-September and late October the autumn before she left. She was gone a full week both times, which was a little unusual.

We shared the house I bought from my grandparents on Staten Island. Like all the houses in the neighborhood, it was on a city lot, with a neighbor spitting distance away on both sides. The house had a covered porch and sidewalk in the front, a one car garage with no car in it at the end of the driveway, and a backyard patch of grass so small it almost took longer to get the mower out of the garage and start it than it took to mow it.

I was a little earlier than usual that Friday when I got off the train at my stop. My team wrapped a major system upgrade that week. I was looking forward to a long weekend. Meredith and I were taking Monday, Valentine's Day off. Then I anticipated a couple weeks of routine workdays dealing with administrative tasks before the next project kicked off. It was already dark when I got off the train. The short walk to the house was bitterly cold. The night only got colder.

I was buffeted by the wake of a small moving company truck followed by a van with the same company markings as I walked home. Both sped past as I turned onto my street. I idly wondered if my grandfather's old friend across the street was finally moving to Florida like he'd been threatening for several years. A taxicab was in front of the house as I approached. I watched a man carry two suitcases from my house to the cab and hoist them into the open trunk. Meredith followed a moment later with two more and set them down near the trunk. I got to the taxicab at about the same time she did.

"What's going on, Meredith?" I asked, though it was obvious. She was leaving. With far more luggage than she needed for a work trip or to visit her parents. And leaving on the Friday night of what was supposed to be a long weekend together.

"I accepted a partnership offer from a law firm. I'm moving there. I start a week from Monday. My flight leaves in about four hours."

"When did you get the offer?"

"Just before Thanksgiving."

"When did you accept it?"

"Mid-December. After I had time to review it and talk to them a couple more times."

"You weren't going to tell me?" I asked.

Meredith hesitated. "No," was her succinct reply.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter. You're not going with me."

We'd been together four years, living together nearly two. Just two weeks earlier, we'd discussed getting married. But we hadn't formalized our commitment, though I thought we were of one mind. I hadn't asked that night only because I wanted to have her engagement ring in hand when I did. She seemed happy with our talk. She was an enthusiastic participant in our lovemaking when we got home that night.

"So, that's it? You're just leaving?"

Her answer was again succinct. "Yes."

I briefly glanced at the cabbie, still standing at the back of his cab. All the suitcases were in the trunk, though he hadn't closed it yet. He was clearly nervous, fidgety. Probably worried that my conversation with Meredith might suddenly escalate from strained but civil. Meredith nodded at him. He closed the trunk and headed for the driver's door. Meredith got in the back seat without another word. She didn't look at me again.

Back to April.

The project I was leading was ahead of schedule, which would mean a nice bonus for me. The hospital group's new security protocols and system were due to go live in three weeks. I estimated there was still a week of work for the team to complete. Four test runs had gone well with only a couple minor, already fixed, hiccups.

I'd stayed late that night to address other issues, unrelated to the project, that arose. I caught the nine pm Staten Island Ferry. I was tired. Afraid I'd fall asleep if I sat down inside then get an unwelcome second wind on the walk home. Instead, I made my way to the upper, rear outside deck. It was cold so there wasn't a crowd. Just two people besides me. A man and a woman huddled in a corner together near the rail. When I came through the door, the man glanced at me briefly. His aura suggested annoyance at my arrival. Like they wanted to get intimate, but I intruded. The woman ignored my presence.

After a few minutes, the man went inside, leaving the woman by herself. I hadn't paid any attention to them. After the man left, I noticed the woman was unsteady on her feet. When she started weaving back and forth, I hustled toward her, almost dropping my computer bag. I got to her just in time to stop her from pitching over the railing into Upper New York Bay.

"Are you alright? You almost went over the side," I said to her.

I got a vacant smile and a giggle. "I feel like I'm flying," she said.

I put my arm around her and brought her inside to a seat. I looked around for a cop but didn't see one. I hadn't seen one on the lower deck before I came upstairs, either. I decided to stay with her until I got her some help. It was still about twenty minutes to St. George Terminal. I'd get help for her there.

I noticed she didn't have a handbag. "What's your name," I asked.

"I don't know. Why don't you run a few names by me? Maybe I'll recognize something." She giggled again.

Oh, shit, I thought. This girl really is flying. I continued trying to talk to her. I got a few semi-plausible responses, but mostly just nonsense, and giggles.

When we got to the dock, I led her downstairs. She was able to walk under her own power but I had to steer her otherwise she'd have wandered aimlessly. She could easily have fallen on the stairs. The ferry wasn't crowded, probably less than half capacity but it still took a few minutes to disembark. I looked around for a cop; again, didn't find one. I took out my cell, intending to call 911.

"Who ya gonna call?" she asked when she saw my cell. I was surprised by the question.

"Emergency services."

She looked around frantically. Panicked. "Is there a fire? What's the emergency?" Her speech wasn't slurred. She sounded frightened.

"You're the emergency. You need help. A cop and a doctor."

"No, no doctors. I don't want a doctor. And no cops," she said, trying to forcefully pull away from me.

I reacted instinctively to avoid a scene. Probably not my best decision. "Okay, no doctor, no cop. What's your name?" I tried again.

"I told you I don't know. Maybe, I'll recognize it if you say it," she giggled again.

I took a deep breath. "How about where you live? Do you know that?"

"Of course! I know exactly where I live."

Finally, something I can work with I thought. "Okay, where? I'll get you home." I hoped there'd be family that could take charge.

"I live.... in a house!" she exclaimed proudly.

I went round and round with her for a good ten minutes and got nowhere except that she didn't want a doctor or a cop. That much she was adamant about. I really wanted to find a cop but there wasn't one in the terminal. The people nearby pointedly ignored us despite it being obvious something wasn't quite kosher about the situation between me and this woman.

"How about I take you to Staten Island University Hospital?"

"If I don't want a doctor, I certainly don't want a hospital," she said, her voice strident. And getting louder with each word.

I didn't want to abandon her. In desperation, and foolishly, I decided to take her home with me. My next-door neighbor and his wife are doctors. He works in an emergency room in Manhattan. She's an OB/GYN in private practice with privileges at a different hospital in Manhattan. Hopefully, one of them would be home. I preferred Brian though Teresa was more than qualified, too. I was sure he had more experience with both drugs and sexual assault victims than Teresa. He also worked several days a month at a substance abuse clinic.

I got her on the train and headed home. The motion of the train lulled her enough that I was able to call Brian. I should have called 911 from the train.

"Hey, Jeff. What's up? No lights at your place so I see you're not home yet."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "I got a problem I need help with. You're just the guy."

"How so?" he asked, hesitantly, sounding leery.

I first met Brian when I was a kid. He was more than twenty years older than me. I'd never asked a favor of him. I hated doing so now. Especially for professional services. "I kept a woman on the ferry from pitching off the upper observation deck into the bay. She's loopy. I can't get a straight answer from her when I talk to her. She said she feels like she's flying. She's damn happy, that's for sure. I want to take her to the hospital but she's adamantly against it. I can't get a name or address out of her. She doesn't have a purse. She was readily agreeable when I told her I'd take her to my house. There was a man with her, but he took off when I went out on the deck. I'm worried he might have drugged her. Maybe even planned to throw her overboard until I showed up. Right now, we're on the train. The rocking motion has her lulled and quiet, so I called you."

Brian didn't say anything for a moment. "You should get her to a hospital," he finally said.

"She pitched a fit about going to a hospital. Can you at least look at her? You deal with this stuff sometimes. Maybe between the two of us we can convince her to go to a hospital. I just want to make sure she's safe without getting into a hassle with her."

Brian was silent for a moment. "Alright, I'll meet you at your place. I'll look at her but if someone slipped her something, she really should go to an emergency room. How long before you get home?"

"I'm two stops away. Figure fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."

"How is she doing, now?" Brian asked.

"About the same. She's sitting here with a silly grin on her face. She's swaying with the rocking of the train. She's happy as can be. I still get responses that aren't helpful. Sometimes she makes sense but mostly she doesn't."

Brian met me on my front porch before I got the front door open. He didn't look happy.

"I'm sorry about this, Brian. I didn't know what else to do. I tried to find a cop. She pitched a fit when I tried to call 911 and suggested she needed a cop and a trip to a hospital."

"Let's get her inside and take her coat off so I can do a cursory examination."

Once she was inside, Brian helped her take her coat off and sat her in the first chair she came to, an armchair in my living room.

"My name is Brian Rizzo. I'm a doctor. What's your name?" Brian said to her.

"You, too?" she asked. "I told the other guy I didn't know. But he wouldn't try a few names to see if I recognized something. Are you gonna try?"

Brian looked over at me. I couldn't read his expression.

"I'm going to examine you. Check your pulse. Listen to your heart. That sort of thing. Okay?"

She looked around. "I told the other guy I didn't want a doctor. Is this a doctor's office? It doesn't look like a doctor's office. Do I have to take my clothes off?"

"No, you can keep your clothes on. I'm going to examine you now. Okay?"

"Okey-dokey. But I don't need a doctor. I feel great."

"I bet you do," Brian muttered.

I turned away but I could see some of what Brian was doing reflected in the window I was facing. He checked her blood pressure. She giggled and initially pushed his hand away when he tried to listen to her heart but acceded when he tried again. He listened to her lungs. Checked her pulse. Shined a light in her eyes to check the response of her pupils. When he was done, Brian turned to me.

"Her pulse is a little elevated but not dangerously. Her heartbeat is regular. I didn't hear an arrythmia, but I can't pick up what an EKG would. Her blood pressure is okay. She doesn't have any respiratory symptoms." He turned back toward the woman. "She's high on something. I'm not sure what though." He leaned down to the woman and asked, "Has anyone tried to have sex with you today?"

She looked up at him with a dumbfounded expression. "Are you kidding? I haven't been fucked in like... forever. I could use a good screwing. Are you gonna help me out with that?"

"No, I'm not," Brian gently told her.

"You sure? I'd enjoy a nice stiff dick, right about now."

Brian turned to me, "Depending upon what drug she's on, she might not remember anything about the last few hours. A rape kit is the easiest way to confirm one way or the other whether someone assaulted her." Brian addressed the woman again. "I need to get you to a hospital. Is that okay?"

She shook her head emphatically, "No hospital, no doctor. I feel great. I don't need a doctor."

"Check her coat. See if she has a wallet. Anything that might ID her so we can contact her family."

I rifled through her coat and found only a set of keys. No wallet or identification. I told Brian what I found.

"We're going to call an ambulance for you, okay?" Brian asked her.

Once again, she insisted, vehemently, "No! No ambulance! No doctor! No hospital! No cops! I'm fine. I'll leave if you call a doctor!"

Despite repeated gentle attempts to persuade her, she steadfastly refused to go to a hospital.

Brian looked at me. "Her clothes aren't all askew. You may have interrupted before anything happened. I'd feel much better if she got a workup and was kept for observation. But I won't force her to go. I don't think she's in any danger from whatever she's on. Even if we get her to a hospital, she might still refuse treatment. Even after she comes to her senses."

"Think she'll be okay if she sleeps it off here?"

Brian hesitated. "Probably."

"Alright. I'll get her settled on the couch."

"I'll swing by in the morning. My first appointment at the clinic is at ten tomorrow. I'll stop in at about eight to check on her." He packed his bag and turned toward the door. "You might regret this come morning," he said as he left.

I hoped not.

The woman looked like she was about to fall asleep in the armchair she was sitting in. I went down the hall and got a sheet, pillow, and a blanket. I made the couch up for her. I took her hand. She opened her eyes and looked up at me and smiled but gently pulled her hand from mine.

"You're back!" she said giddily.

"Never went anywhere. C'mon. Let's get you settled in to get some sleep."

"I am kinda tired. What happened to the guy that was gonna fuck me?" she asked.

I forced myself not to smile. "No one was going to fuck you. He was a doctor. He came to make sure you were okay."

"Oh, that's too bad. A nice stiff dick would feel great. It's been too long since someone fucked me."

"Here, let me help you up. You can stretch out on the couch and get some sleep." I held out my hand. She regarded it for a moment, like she wasn't sure what it was for.

"Okay. I am kinda tired." She finally took my hand. "You have a nice hand. It's soft and warm. It's a nice hand."

She got up when I tugged but she was unsteady. I guided her to the couch and helped her down. She immediately rolled onto her side and curled into a fetal position. I took off the low pumps she was wearing and covered her with the blanket.

It was late. I hadn't eaten and I was hungry. I went into the kitchen and assembled a light dinner of leftovers. I popped it in the microwave and started it. I popped the cap off a bottle of beer, took my cell out of my pocket and called the office.

"Central, Derek Thompson," Derek said when he answered.

I knew Derek Thompson by name and voice. I spoke to him a couple dozen times a year. Overnight, he and a dozen or so other techs remotely monitored the security systems for a couple dozen organizations and buildings. Usually when he called, it was with a system problem he couldn't address because it was above his access level. He usually answered the phone if I called although sometimes it was Shelley Evans. I knew her almost as well as I knew Derek.

"Hi, Derek. Jeff Kintz."

"Hello, Mr. Kintz. How can I help?"

"I'm going to work from home tomorrow. Put it in the log and send an email to the department heads, please."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

I'd told Derek repeatedly to stop calling me sir or Mr. Kintz. But he came to us from the military. Once a Marine, forever a Marine. "No, that's it. Have a good night, Derek."

"You, too, sir."

I glanced into the living room after I took my dinner out of the microwave. The woman wasn't on the couch. Her coat was still on the chair where I put it after checking the pockets. I put my dinner down. I hadn't felt a draft from the front door opening or heard it close. I looked down the hallway. All the doors were open. The rooms were all dark. I flipped on the hallway light and checked the rooms. Only one had a bed. When Meredith left, she took her furniture with her. The thing she took that pissed me off most was the eight-thousand-dollar king-sized bed I bought when she moved in and its linens. I hadn't replaced it. I was sleeping on a single bed in what was my mother's childhood bedroom. That's where the woman was. Curled up on top of the blanket with her back to me. She was still wearing her dark green blouse and gray slacks.

I went around the other side of the bed to get another blanket from the closet shelf for her. I took a moment to look at her. Up until then, I paid no heed to her appearance. She'd been wearing a heavy, knee-length wool coat. My primary concern had been her well-being, which I was still concerned about. I hope I would have been as concerned if she were fat and middle-aged.

Her eyes were closed but I knew they were honey colored. Her hair was chestnut brown. She wasn't tall but wasn't short, either. Maybe five-five or five-six. She had a small waist, a nice butt, and strong-looking shoulders. I didn't study her closely while she was in my living room, but she wasn't chesty. She had a nice face. Not one you'd find on a magazine cover, but pretty girl next door with a slightly aquiline nose, full lips and high cheekbones. Her complexion had a healthy glow with a few faint freckles under her eyes, between her nose and cheekbones. She looked angelic as she slept. I tossed one of my grandmother's quilts over her and retreated to the kitchen and my dinner.

As I ate, Brian's words haunted me. I began second-guessing my decisions. Maybe, I should have called 9-1-1 despite her forceful objections while we were still on the ferry. Maybe the cops could have delayed the passengers from disembarking so I could try to identify the man that was with her. I doubted they could have responded that quickly. Plus, I didn't get a very good look at the man. All I could tell the cops was the man was five-eight or five-nine, average weight, wearing dark clothes with a hood over his head. I didn't know whether he was white, black, brown, or Asian. He could have been one of those alien grays for all I knew.