of Dutch and his fishermen friends. Even Lue Khang was encouraged, inspired to make a giant vat of his famous fish soup for the event.
Bill was shocked when I told him the news about the proposed golf course, “What a bummer!” He shook his head in disbelief as he taped the poster up in the window, “We should stage a sit-in at Congressman Hill’s office– it’s just down the street! He’s even in town… I saw him on the news yesterday.”
“A sit in?”
Bill’s eyes grew dreamy with nostalgia, “You know, I did the whole war protest thing back in the day…” he leaned in and winked at me, “And I have the arrest record to prove it!”
I giggled, imagining Bill as an idealistic young hippie, “No thanks, we’re going the legal route, but maybe I should stop by his office and hang one of our posters,” I said caustically, “He should know who’ll be voting him out of office next year!”
“Power to the people!” Bill called out after me as I headed out the door.
I turned back to see him holding up a raised fist and saluted him in return. I skipped from storefront to storefront merrily, received warmly by the various shopkeepers I asked to hang up my poster. A few doors down a side street at the end of the block, I came across an office with a portrait of the despised congressman himself in the window. I decided to stop in and voice my opposition, striding in defiantly. I may not be old enough to vote yet, but I had an opinion.
I entered enemy territory to see a pretty young girl crying behind the reception desk, being soothed by a gray haired woman who looked up at me with pain in her eyes.
“Uhm… excuse me,” I said, uncomfortable at interrupting their private moment.
“I’m sorry miss, but the office is closing early today… Did you have an appointment?”
“No…I was hoping to have a word with the congressman–”
Upon hearing that, the girl began crying in earnest, and the older woman patted her back, speaking over her head to me, “I’m sorry to inform you… but Congressman Hill passed away this morning… we’re all still in shock.”
I froze in my tracks for a moment. Oh my God, I thought. I’d been so angry with him… Almost as angry as Peter had made me. My knees started to wobble and I staggered back a step.
“Goodness gracious!” the woman said, rushing around the desk to take my arm and steer me to a chair. “Put your head down and breathe,” she advised. I exhaled in a ragged gasp, realizing that I’d been holding my breath.
“How?” I managed to choke out.
The crying one wiped her eyes and hiccupped, “His car went off the road on Highway One… He– he went over the cliff.”
“He must have fallen asleep at the wheel,” the older one added.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” I whispered, holding my stomach. I’m not sure how I knew, but I was certain that it was because of me.
“Were you very close?” asked the older woman.
I shook my head, “No… I had no idea… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…” my voice trailed off. I looked up into her concerned eyes. She had no idea that I was the cause of all of their anguish. First Peter, and now the Congressman.
Apparently my anger was lethal.
She spoke gently, “Calm down dear, we only just learned the news… it’s not your fault.”
A terrible feeling of guilt and panic welled up within me. I got up and fled, running out the door and back the way I came. When I finally stopped, I looked up to find myself standing right in front of the surf shop. I took it as a sign.
I knew what I needed to do. I strode in, stone-faced, rushing to purposefully pick out a new wetsuit and a surfboard that was most like my favorite one– the one that had been left behind that fateful day in the little cove. The same two guys were at the counter as before, and they watched me move about the store with slack-jawed stares. I piled my purchases at the cash register, avoiding eye contact in the hopes of avoiding conversation.
“Are you like, Kimo’s girlfriend?” the white haired boy ventured.
I looked up at him with angry eyes, “No,” I said coldly, pulling an envelope out of my purse, “How much?”
The tall one rang up my purchases and they both watched, fascinated, as I paid