The Jog
* * * It was a mostly sunny Saturday morning. There were a few clouds in the sky, straggling behind a storm that had moved out of LA the night before. Temperatures rose as the day progressed, and people began to make the best of the good weather by getting out of their apartments and their homes and spending time outside. Abigail Shoemaker was no exception. The recent rains and a lack of sleep over the past few days had put her in a mildlly depressed lull. She awoke with the sun peering through the venetian blinds, illuminating her still-slumbering roommate Meg with an angelic glow. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to enjoy such wonderful weather, Abigail got out of bed and out of the apartment for a run through Bel-Air. It felt good to get out and breathe fresh air. Abigail took her usual
route through Bel-Air, jogging along the winding streets past the twentieth-century
castles that pock-marked the hills. After a good half-hour, she decided to head back to
her apartment in Westwood, on the outskirts of UCLA. She was coming out of Bel-Air at the
corner where Bellagio meets Sunset Blvd. She stood at the corner, waiting for the light to
turn green. When it did, she jogged into the crosswalk. Just to her left, she heard the
hum of an engine moan to life and the world flashed white. It was a mostly sunny Saturday morning. There were a few clouds in the sky, straggling behind a storm that had moved out of LA the night before. Temperatures rose as the day progressed, and people began to make the best of the good weather by getting out of their apartments and their homes and spending time outside. Scott Huang was no exception. His roommate Pedro sat at the kitchen table as the sun peered through the venetian blinds, illuminating him with a devilish glow. Pedro was planning on going out to Hollywood and checking out Aron’s Records, and invited Scott to go. Seizing the opportunity to get out of his musty apartment, Scott decided to tag along. They left their apartment in Westwood and drove north on Veteran until it came to an end at Sunset Blvd. They made a right and started heading east towards Hollywood. Pedro was already complaining about the number of vehicles on the road, and all Scott could think of to reply was: “Hey, it’s LA. What do you expect?” Scott looked out the window at the blue sky and the clouds that resembled cotton balls. He took in a deep breath, but all he inhaled was the exhuast of the surrounding cars. The two drove a short while, and came to the crossroad that on one side led to the UCLA dorms, while the other led to Bel-Air. The light at the corner of Sunset and Bellagio turned red, and Pedro came to a stop at the head. Scott looked around, and on the corner to the left of the car, he noticed a girl who apparently had just come out of a jog through Bel-Air. She was dressed in standard jogger’s garb, with her wavy red hair tied back in a pony tail. Her stoplight had just turned green, and was about to cross the treacherous path of Sunset Blvd. Just as she stepped into the crosswalk, a blue Caddy turned the corner at a good fifteen or twenty miles an hour, with no regard for any pedestrians who might be crossing the street. Including the fair-skinned jogger in the Adidas shirt with red hair. He saw the car hit her, and she was knocked to the ground. Propelled by a
deep-rooted instinct to help out any living creature in need of help, Scott unbuckled his
seat belt with his left hand while shoving the door open with his right. He bolted out of
his seat into the busy intersection. “Scott! What the fuck?” exclaimed Pedro.
But Scott tuned him out, thinking only of the girl whod had just been hit by a car. The
jogger was lying on the ground, in front of the stopped Cadillac, stunned and dazed from
the collision. He knelt down and supported her head with his left hand. She was slowly
coming back. Abigail found herself on the warm asphalt, with the sun shining down on her from the Saturday noon sky. She was disoriented, and didn’t quite understand the reason for the dull pain slowly making its way up her leg. She felt a hand behind her head, keeping it from touching the hard ground. Her eyes were on fire from the enormous amount of sunlight bombarding her, until a head blocked it out and left a shadow to ease her discomfort. He had a head of messy black hair and thick black-framed glasses, the kind Buddy Holly wore. “Hey...are you okay?” asked the stranger who held her in his hands. “I...I think so....” was the reply Abigail forced out of herself. “My left leg...it kinda hurts a bit....” “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “Everything’s going to be alright. What’s your name?” “Ab....A....Abigail,” she stuttered, taken off-guard by the question. The stranger took hold of her right hand with his, and although hers was weak and trembling a bit, he gave it a firm yet gentle shake. “I’m Scott. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said
with a smile. By this time, her precious seven-month-old Kate was already fast asleep. The child’s thirty-one year old mother, still a bit plump from carrying her first baby, looked down on the sleeping lamb with loving eyes. “And, darling, that’s how I met your father,” she
whispered. |