He wasn't the most popular kid in school, but he wasn't unpopular
either. He had settled into a comfortable niche somewhere in the middle
within three weeks of starting high school, and now, at the forefront of
his junior year, he was pretty much set in his ways. Blessed with both
brains and brawn, he was in the top ten percent of his class and on the
football team, too. His friends ran the gamut from jocks to nerds and his
interests were just as varied. Unsure of what career path he wanted to
pursue, he planned to join the Marines after high school.
He was an attractive young man. His slightly-taller-than-average frame
spread his muscle around evenly, making him more lithe than stocky. His
dark hair was cut short, unlike many of his friends'. His piercing blue
eyes, like diamonds, could melt hearts or cut steel. But it was his smile,
boyish and warm, that had many of the girls in the school vying for his
notice. He was flattered by their attentions, but uninterested. None of
them was right for him.
His standards weren't overly demanding. He wanted someone who would complement his intensity without criticizing him for it. Someone smart, of course, but not aloof; nice but not a pushover; tough but not overbearing. And it would be nice if she were good-looking, too. Okay, so his standards were a bit high, but that didn't stop the girls from trying.
It wasn't just his ruggedly handsome looks that drew the ladies. His persona was almost magnetic. Charm, wit, humor: he had it all. He was also just an all-around nice guy. He would help the kid who dropped his books in the hallway, buy lunch for the kid who forgot his money, even drive kids home who missed the bus. Not that he was a softy. He was something of a guardian of the helpless; standing up to bullies and tormentors, he had never yet lost a fight. Occasionally, he got in trouble for his battles for justice but most of the time he wasn't caught. His determination was often the first thing people noticed. Once he made up his mind about something, nothing could stop him from pursuing it.
From the outside, his life appeared perfect. In many ways, it was. But, like everyone, he had his issues. His parents had divorced and his father run off when he was twelve, leaving him virtually fatherless and the man of the house. He felt overwhelmingly protective of his younger sister, often acting like her father when it came to things like dating. Then there was his dislike of failure. It wasn't strong, but now and then it drove him to take risks in pursuit of success.
It was October when he first laid eyes on her. Walking down the hall between classes, he saw a vision of a goddess. Flowing dark brown hair framed a beautiful face inset with a mischievous mouth, a small nose, and...the most magnificent eyes he had ever seen. Deep, chocolate brown, they twinkled with playful delight. He had the feeling those eyes could read souls. As he passed her, their arms brushed and an electric shock ran through his body. His breath caught as he was forced along in the crowd. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared.
Later that day, he walked into his last period class and was thrilled to see her sitting inside. Attempting to remain casual, he ambled over to her and introduced himself.
"Hi, I'm L.J. Don't think I've seen you around."
She smiled a gorgeous smile and stuck out her hand. "Katherine. My family just moved here. This is my first day." Her voice was like music, a gentle stream burbling through the woods. He swallowed hard, a task made awfully difficult by the lump in his throat.
"Great," he croaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Great. Want me to show you around?"
She smiled again and he thought he might pass out. "Okay. Thanks."
The bell rang then, signaling the beginning of class. He struggled to pay attention, distracted the whole time by the stunning apparition in the chair next to him. The instant the bell rang again, designating the end of class, he was out of his chair and walking her to the door. He walked her to her locker, trying to spend as much time with this beautiful woman as possible but unsure of how to proceed.
"Um, do you want to...grab a soda or something?" he asked tentatively.
"Sure," she replied, gracing him with her smile again. He smiled back.
Over sodas in a local soda shop, they got to talking. He found her absolutely breathtaking. She was smart, funny, sweet, tough, charming, and unafraid to speak her mind. She was a breath of fresh air. He listened more than he spoke, which wasn't unusual for him. She didn't seem to mind carrying the conversation. She was a vivacious and lighthearted girl, but that didn't prevent her from discussing serious topics. They conversed on the war, the government, communism. Their conversation got lighter as they wore out the sober subjects.
"So what does L.J. stand for?" she asked.
He groaned good-naturedly. "Leroy Jethro," he said with a playful grimace.
"That's a wonderful name," she countered, and he could tell she really meant it. "Would you mind if I called you Leroy?"
He was surprised. No one called him Leroy. His mother and sister called him Jethro, and everyone at school called him L.J. The football team called him Gibbs. He shrugged. "No problem."
Over the next few months, they grew very close. They didn't consider themselves as dating, but the entire school was calling them a couple. He had to admit, it did seem that way. They studied together, went to movies on weekends, and could often be seen around town holding hands. He felt for her like he had never felt before. When they weren't together, he got stomachaches. Whenever he saw her, his heart leaped in his chest. He often wanted nothing more than just to sit and be near her. He would give anything just to hear her melodic laugh. When he was with her, he could not stop smiling. She made him forget his fear of failing.
Life was perfect. As May rolled around and they entered the final stretch of their junior year, he couldn't have been happier. Even the weather reflected his mood. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and the flowers were in full bloom. Summer was on its way, in his heart as well as nature.
One night, shortly before exam week, he was invited to a party at a fellow football player's house. Wanting to relax before the stressful exams, he accepted and talked Katherine into going also. When they arrived, they found the house bursting at the seams with high schoolers in full party mode. The host saw them and explained that his parents were out of town and to make themselves at home. Slightly uncomfortable, he decided to stay for a while and see how things went. Katherine seemed willing to hang around for a bit, so they made their way to the refreshments. Someone shoved a can of beer into his hand. Staring at it, he decided to try it. What was the harm? It was only one can, after all.
He had had alcohol once before. Shortly after his father left, he had found a bottle of wine in the fridge. Curious, he had sampled it. He remembered now how awful it had tasted, but figured his tastes had simply been less mature then. Cracking open the beer, he took a swig and struggled not to spit it out. Not wanting to appear foolish in front of so many people, he swallowed hard and took another gulp. Each successive mouthful went down easier, and soon the whole can was gone.
One can of beer would not usually cause too much of a problem. However, his body was both inexperienced and rather lean. The alcohol went straight to his head and also upset his stomach. He ran unsteadily for the restroom, arriving just in time to heave his dinner into the toilet. Embarrassed, he found Katherine again and suggested that they leave. She agreed. Noticing how he struggled to walk to his car, she asked him if he was all right. He insisted he was fine. Still worried, she reluctantly got into the passenger seat.
As they drove, he strained to see the road and the signs. His vision was severely blurred, but his brain was reacting so slowly it wouldn't have mattered if he could see the signs. Katherine was a little concerned that he had forgotten to turn on the headlights, but he seemed irritable and she didn't want to distract him. She saw the stop sign, but he never did.
"Leroy!" she screamed as a pickup truck's lights flooded the car. It was coming straight for them, too fast to stop.
The pickup plowed into the passenger door, carrying the smaller car fifty feet before they finally stopped. Adrenaline overriding the alcohol in his brain, he unfastened his seatbelt and looked over at Katherine to see if she was all right. She was slumped in her seat, blood trickling from the right side of her face. Her head had slammed into the window with the force of the impact. She was pinned in her seat by the crumpled passenger door. He fought his own way out of the car, surprisingly unhurt himself, and returned for her. With the help of the pickup driver and the adrenaline coursing through his muscles, he wrenched open the crushed passenger door. He inhaled sharply. Her entire right side was mangled. Gently undoing her seatbelt, he lifted her tenderly from the wreck. She moaned slightly as he laid her softly on the ground. Her breathing was shallow and he heard a muted gurgling as she struggled for air. Her heartbeat was fast, too fast. Her whole right side was swelling. Her skin was pale and clammy and though she was conscious, barely, she didn't seem to recognize him or know where she was. He barely noticed as the pickup driver ran for a payphone to call an ambulance. He fought tears as he tried to make her comfortable. He heard the wail of sirens in the distance and took heart.
"You're going to be okay," he kept repeating, more for his benefit than hers. She recognized his voice and tried to turn her head toward him.
"Leroy," she said faintly.
"I'm right here, Katie," he soothed, holding her hand. "It'll be okay."
She seemed to know he was lying. "It's okay, Leroy," she breathed. "I know where I'm going. We'll meet again someday." Each word took a great effort and she closed her eyes to try and regain some strength.
"Don't talk like that," he said, panicking. "You're going to be fine."
She had something she had to tell him. "Leroy, I want you to know –"
He cut her off. "Shh. Don't try to talk."
She wouldn't be dissuaded. "Leroy, I love you."
He choked back tears. Though it had been fairly apparent, to themselves and others, they had never actually said the words. Now he realized they were entirely true. "I love you, too, Katherine."
She tried to smile, that beautiful smile that he loved so much, but the effort was too much. Just then, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics surrounded her, separating them. He stood back, numb, letting them do their jobs. He heard disjointed words that made no sense.
"Internal bleeding...shock...punctured lung...concussion...multiple fractures..."
He retched. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and he realized what had happened, what he had done. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have been drinking; he shouldn't have been driving; he had run the stop sign; he was the reason she was lying on that stretcher, wounded and bleeding. He ran. He couldn't take it anymore. He heard the ambulance start toward the hospital, sirens screaming, and still he ran. He didn't know where he would run, but he had to get away.
He was told later that she had died on the way to the hospital. They had done everything they could, but she was simply too far gone. There had been no tears, only bitter anger. Toward her for leaving him, toward the paramedics for not saving her. But mostly toward himself for failing her. He had first failed to protect her and then failed to save her. His old fear of failure, once minor, was back with a vengeance. He would never let himself fail again. If that meant putting himself in danger, fine. If that meant never letting anyone get close to him, so be it. He would not fail again.
He was tried and convicted of DWI and involuntary manslaughter. He was given a light sentence due to his juvenility and obvious remorse. Because it was a juvenile conviction, the records were sealed and did not prevent him from entering the Marines or leading a normal life. Thirty-odd years later, there was no apparent fallout from the incident. There were definite quirks to his behavior, but no one knew why.
For example, his need to drive maniacally fast and recklessly. He felt that if he died in a car accident, he would somehow redeem himself. There was also his name. Since he was 16, no one had called him Leroy. He wouldn't let them. And, of course, his obvious failed relationships. Three ex-wives wasn't exactly the best record. Finally, there was his phobia of failure. He often took seemingly unnecessary risks to accomplish a task. His obsession with success was often aggravating to those around him, but he couldn't help it.
The irony was that the more he succeeded, the more he feared failing. With every case he solved, he became more anxious he became about the next one. When, on occasion, he did fail to work out the situation, he fixated on it until he did solve it. It drove his colleagues crazy. It drove him crazy. He hated not being able to let things go. He wished desperately that he were like other people. But he couldn't fail. For himself, for Katherine. He would not fail. He could not fail.
His standards weren't overly demanding. He wanted someone who would complement his intensity without criticizing him for it. Someone smart, of course, but not aloof; nice but not a pushover; tough but not overbearing. And it would be nice if she were good-looking, too. Okay, so his standards were a bit high, but that didn't stop the girls from trying.
It wasn't just his ruggedly handsome looks that drew the ladies. His persona was almost magnetic. Charm, wit, humor: he had it all. He was also just an all-around nice guy. He would help the kid who dropped his books in the hallway, buy lunch for the kid who forgot his money, even drive kids home who missed the bus. Not that he was a softy. He was something of a guardian of the helpless; standing up to bullies and tormentors, he had never yet lost a fight. Occasionally, he got in trouble for his battles for justice but most of the time he wasn't caught. His determination was often the first thing people noticed. Once he made up his mind about something, nothing could stop him from pursuing it.
From the outside, his life appeared perfect. In many ways, it was. But, like everyone, he had his issues. His parents had divorced and his father run off when he was twelve, leaving him virtually fatherless and the man of the house. He felt overwhelmingly protective of his younger sister, often acting like her father when it came to things like dating. Then there was his dislike of failure. It wasn't strong, but now and then it drove him to take risks in pursuit of success.
It was October when he first laid eyes on her. Walking down the hall between classes, he saw a vision of a goddess. Flowing dark brown hair framed a beautiful face inset with a mischievous mouth, a small nose, and...the most magnificent eyes he had ever seen. Deep, chocolate brown, they twinkled with playful delight. He had the feeling those eyes could read souls. As he passed her, their arms brushed and an electric shock ran through his body. His breath caught as he was forced along in the crowd. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared.
Later that day, he walked into his last period class and was thrilled to see her sitting inside. Attempting to remain casual, he ambled over to her and introduced himself.
"Hi, I'm L.J. Don't think I've seen you around."
She smiled a gorgeous smile and stuck out her hand. "Katherine. My family just moved here. This is my first day." Her voice was like music, a gentle stream burbling through the woods. He swallowed hard, a task made awfully difficult by the lump in his throat.
"Great," he croaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Great. Want me to show you around?"
She smiled again and he thought he might pass out. "Okay. Thanks."
The bell rang then, signaling the beginning of class. He struggled to pay attention, distracted the whole time by the stunning apparition in the chair next to him. The instant the bell rang again, designating the end of class, he was out of his chair and walking her to the door. He walked her to her locker, trying to spend as much time with this beautiful woman as possible but unsure of how to proceed.
"Um, do you want to...grab a soda or something?" he asked tentatively.
"Sure," she replied, gracing him with her smile again. He smiled back.
Over sodas in a local soda shop, they got to talking. He found her absolutely breathtaking. She was smart, funny, sweet, tough, charming, and unafraid to speak her mind. She was a breath of fresh air. He listened more than he spoke, which wasn't unusual for him. She didn't seem to mind carrying the conversation. She was a vivacious and lighthearted girl, but that didn't prevent her from discussing serious topics. They conversed on the war, the government, communism. Their conversation got lighter as they wore out the sober subjects.
"So what does L.J. stand for?" she asked.
He groaned good-naturedly. "Leroy Jethro," he said with a playful grimace.
"That's a wonderful name," she countered, and he could tell she really meant it. "Would you mind if I called you Leroy?"
He was surprised. No one called him Leroy. His mother and sister called him Jethro, and everyone at school called him L.J. The football team called him Gibbs. He shrugged. "No problem."
Over the next few months, they grew very close. They didn't consider themselves as dating, but the entire school was calling them a couple. He had to admit, it did seem that way. They studied together, went to movies on weekends, and could often be seen around town holding hands. He felt for her like he had never felt before. When they weren't together, he got stomachaches. Whenever he saw her, his heart leaped in his chest. He often wanted nothing more than just to sit and be near her. He would give anything just to hear her melodic laugh. When he was with her, he could not stop smiling. She made him forget his fear of failing.
Life was perfect. As May rolled around and they entered the final stretch of their junior year, he couldn't have been happier. Even the weather reflected his mood. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and the flowers were in full bloom. Summer was on its way, in his heart as well as nature.
One night, shortly before exam week, he was invited to a party at a fellow football player's house. Wanting to relax before the stressful exams, he accepted and talked Katherine into going also. When they arrived, they found the house bursting at the seams with high schoolers in full party mode. The host saw them and explained that his parents were out of town and to make themselves at home. Slightly uncomfortable, he decided to stay for a while and see how things went. Katherine seemed willing to hang around for a bit, so they made their way to the refreshments. Someone shoved a can of beer into his hand. Staring at it, he decided to try it. What was the harm? It was only one can, after all.
He had had alcohol once before. Shortly after his father left, he had found a bottle of wine in the fridge. Curious, he had sampled it. He remembered now how awful it had tasted, but figured his tastes had simply been less mature then. Cracking open the beer, he took a swig and struggled not to spit it out. Not wanting to appear foolish in front of so many people, he swallowed hard and took another gulp. Each successive mouthful went down easier, and soon the whole can was gone.
One can of beer would not usually cause too much of a problem. However, his body was both inexperienced and rather lean. The alcohol went straight to his head and also upset his stomach. He ran unsteadily for the restroom, arriving just in time to heave his dinner into the toilet. Embarrassed, he found Katherine again and suggested that they leave. She agreed. Noticing how he struggled to walk to his car, she asked him if he was all right. He insisted he was fine. Still worried, she reluctantly got into the passenger seat.
As they drove, he strained to see the road and the signs. His vision was severely blurred, but his brain was reacting so slowly it wouldn't have mattered if he could see the signs. Katherine was a little concerned that he had forgotten to turn on the headlights, but he seemed irritable and she didn't want to distract him. She saw the stop sign, but he never did.
"Leroy!" she screamed as a pickup truck's lights flooded the car. It was coming straight for them, too fast to stop.
The pickup plowed into the passenger door, carrying the smaller car fifty feet before they finally stopped. Adrenaline overriding the alcohol in his brain, he unfastened his seatbelt and looked over at Katherine to see if she was all right. She was slumped in her seat, blood trickling from the right side of her face. Her head had slammed into the window with the force of the impact. She was pinned in her seat by the crumpled passenger door. He fought his own way out of the car, surprisingly unhurt himself, and returned for her. With the help of the pickup driver and the adrenaline coursing through his muscles, he wrenched open the crushed passenger door. He inhaled sharply. Her entire right side was mangled. Gently undoing her seatbelt, he lifted her tenderly from the wreck. She moaned slightly as he laid her softly on the ground. Her breathing was shallow and he heard a muted gurgling as she struggled for air. Her heartbeat was fast, too fast. Her whole right side was swelling. Her skin was pale and clammy and though she was conscious, barely, she didn't seem to recognize him or know where she was. He barely noticed as the pickup driver ran for a payphone to call an ambulance. He fought tears as he tried to make her comfortable. He heard the wail of sirens in the distance and took heart.
"You're going to be okay," he kept repeating, more for his benefit than hers. She recognized his voice and tried to turn her head toward him.
"Leroy," she said faintly.
"I'm right here, Katie," he soothed, holding her hand. "It'll be okay."
She seemed to know he was lying. "It's okay, Leroy," she breathed. "I know where I'm going. We'll meet again someday." Each word took a great effort and she closed her eyes to try and regain some strength.
"Don't talk like that," he said, panicking. "You're going to be fine."
She had something she had to tell him. "Leroy, I want you to know –"
He cut her off. "Shh. Don't try to talk."
She wouldn't be dissuaded. "Leroy, I love you."
He choked back tears. Though it had been fairly apparent, to themselves and others, they had never actually said the words. Now he realized they were entirely true. "I love you, too, Katherine."
She tried to smile, that beautiful smile that he loved so much, but the effort was too much. Just then, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics surrounded her, separating them. He stood back, numb, letting them do their jobs. He heard disjointed words that made no sense.
"Internal bleeding...shock...punctured lung...concussion...multiple fractures..."
He retched. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and he realized what had happened, what he had done. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have been drinking; he shouldn't have been driving; he had run the stop sign; he was the reason she was lying on that stretcher, wounded and bleeding. He ran. He couldn't take it anymore. He heard the ambulance start toward the hospital, sirens screaming, and still he ran. He didn't know where he would run, but he had to get away.
He was told later that she had died on the way to the hospital. They had done everything they could, but she was simply too far gone. There had been no tears, only bitter anger. Toward her for leaving him, toward the paramedics for not saving her. But mostly toward himself for failing her. He had first failed to protect her and then failed to save her. His old fear of failure, once minor, was back with a vengeance. He would never let himself fail again. If that meant putting himself in danger, fine. If that meant never letting anyone get close to him, so be it. He would not fail again.
He was tried and convicted of DWI and involuntary manslaughter. He was given a light sentence due to his juvenility and obvious remorse. Because it was a juvenile conviction, the records were sealed and did not prevent him from entering the Marines or leading a normal life. Thirty-odd years later, there was no apparent fallout from the incident. There were definite quirks to his behavior, but no one knew why.
For example, his need to drive maniacally fast and recklessly. He felt that if he died in a car accident, he would somehow redeem himself. There was also his name. Since he was 16, no one had called him Leroy. He wouldn't let them. And, of course, his obvious failed relationships. Three ex-wives wasn't exactly the best record. Finally, there was his phobia of failure. He often took seemingly unnecessary risks to accomplish a task. His obsession with success was often aggravating to those around him, but he couldn't help it.
The irony was that the more he succeeded, the more he feared failing. With every case he solved, he became more anxious he became about the next one. When, on occasion, he did fail to work out the situation, he fixated on it until he did solve it. It drove his colleagues crazy. It drove him crazy. He hated not being able to let things go. He wished desperately that he were like other people. But he couldn't fail. For himself, for Katherine. He would not fail. He could not fail.