It Just Figures

*Chapter Two*

"Detective Howard?" he repeated. He couldn't believe she was on the phone, that she called him. Of course how else would they be on the phone with each other? He'd never have the nerve to call her.

"Brody…" He heard her let out an exasperated puff of air, like she was blowing a stray strand of hair from in front of her face.

"Brody... we have to talk," she continued after a pause.

"Oh, shit!" he whispered to himself as he scrambled for the remote. He jammed his thumb randomly up and down over the buttons in a panic, trying to turn off the tape in the darkened room, afraid Howard would hear herself over his end of the phone.

"Oh SHIT?" he heard her say, followed quickly by "Hey, fine."

"No, that's not what I meant!" he said quickly. "I mean, no, please, Kay—I mean Sergeant Howard," a bit too loudly, and then, softer, "I didn't mean you, Detective Howard." And he shut up.

A pause, then a sigh. "Brody, I was a little, well, stressed this afternoon, and..."

He interrupted, "No, Detective, it's no big deal. It's okay, really."

"No, Brody, damn it, it's not okay—really," she added sarcastically. She sounded even angrier than she had in the stairwell.

"Um, okay," he said, then shut up again.

"Listen. I really don't know what to say, I mean, hey, I don't even know why I'm calling," she laughed. Brody suddenly feared she would end the call right then and there, and he felt his heart sinking fast. Say something!

"Detective Howard!" he blurted, "Would you, maybe, um, meet me tomorrow morning? I mean, if you think, I mean you said we have to talk.." he stammered. He couldn't believe what he just said! There was a pause on the other end of the line, time for Brody to think, idiot!

Howard sighed again. "Where. And what time."

******

The next morning dawned cold and breezy and sunny. Had it been a hurricane Brody would have thought it a beautiful morning. He was down at the bay side a half hour early, sitting on a very cold park bench with a $1.99 red rose in crinkling plastic wrapping gripped tightly in his hand. He would have liked a rose in soft, green tissue from a florist, but the Quickie Mart was the only place open that early. And he waited.

Howard was late, so of course he thought she changed her mind. He was scrunched down low on the bench, legs stretched out in front of him, tightly crossed at the ankles. She wasn't going to show. His chin was almost on his chest. A greasy brown paper bag with bagels and rapidly cooling coffee sat on the bench to his right. His arms were crossed. Every muscle was tight; in the cold, in his misery. And he thought, What are you so hopped up about anyway? He unfolded his arms from his chest to jam his cap down even tighter on his head. What do you think is going to happen? He rolled his eyes. Sheesh! Idiot! Did you think she was going to come? He opened his hand and let the noisy rose fall to be carried off with the wind. It slid across the sidewalk to the harbor's edge and over, to waltz with the white-capped waves. Dancing up and down, up and down, in and out of his sight it bobbed, on waves that rose higher than the pavement to drop right back down out of sight again, into the cold, green sea. It seemed to be mocking him—Rose? She Loves Me. No Rose? She Loves Me Not... until he couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed the bag to fling it into the water and sink the damn rose, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a little red tornado twisting above a slight figure striding towards him along the bike path. He caught his breath—breathe, Brody—as she came closer. She was wearing a worn navy p-coat, her hands jammed deep into the pockets. He glimpsed a knotted tie under the wide vee of her wool coat collar. Jeans and sneakers. She was beautiful, and he couldn't believe she showed.

"What the hell is that?" she greeted him.

"Uh, bagels," he said.

"No, that!" She pointed to his left.

"Um, a kite?" he answered.

******

Side by side, they walked out into the empty early morning park, aways off from the bay and a bobbing rose. The grass was winter burned brown, the trees bare. "A kite?" she said again. "Aw, com'on!" But she smiled, just a little bit. And just a little crooked.The next thing Kay knew, they were joined by a third party.

It was a bat. The biggest, blackest damn bat she had ever seen. A damned, diurnal bat that flew in the light of day on the end of a string. She had never flown a kite before, and watched open-mouthed as he fed the string further and further, the bat flying ever higher. She thought, this is just silly. What am I doing here? Then gasped as the bat lost its sonar and flew too close to a harbor light near the water. Forgetting everything, she grabbed his arm just below his shoulder, bellowing at him, "WATCH IT!" then, "Oh, oh!" when he pulled on the string, leaning way back and towards her at the same time, bumping her sideways, and the bat dipped down and away from disaster in the nick of time.

"Wanna try?" asked Brody.

She looked surprised, dipped her head sideways a bit.

"I don't know how," she said.

She startled when Brody took her left hand in his right and put it on the end of the big, blue plastic spool with its thick winding of grubby string.

"Got it?" he asked.

She nodded, gripping tightly. He nodded back, let go, stepped away. She shifted the spool to her right hand, put her other hand on the left handle and she breathed in in amazement. The kite was weaving back and forth in the wind, scooping, darting, rising. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. There were no murders in this world. This was a world of only sky, wind, sun, and a bat on a string. This wasn't balsa and paper, this was something alive in her hands, she could feel it, feel its pull, feel its pulse. She looked at Brody looking at her.

"Can I let it go higher?" she asked.

"Let more string out," Brody answered, "But remember—you let it out, you bring it in. Them's the rules!"

Kay looked back at the bat. She loosened her grip on the spool and it spun in a blur, the kite getting smaller against the sunny, blue sky.

Watching her, Brody slipped in and out of the moment. Flying with the kite, he was in his element, he'd forget himself, and then suddenly remembering where he was, in a pretty park with Howard, he'd slip back again, unsure. Yet something about it was different. It was an easier feeling than before, and he didn't know why, he just didn't recognize a touch of hope.

Suddenly, the bat dive bombed towards the earth.

"Omigod!" she screamed. "What do I do? Brody, help! It's committing suicide!"

Brody, running backwards, yelled, "Move back!" "Pull it this way!"

She ran backwards too, not knowing whether to look at the kite or over her shoulder so as not to fall, and not caring either, just doing. And miraculously, the bat flew back into the sky. When she saw it soaring again, she stopped running, threw her head back and laughed. She looked at Brody to see him grinning up at the kite. She noticed that his teeth were small and white, and he had this tiny triangle of red beard, just under his lower lip—dead center.