Here is the fourth installment of Drag Strip Date. Today, Darla faces a test of her skills and training, and an unwanted turn of events may complicate her life.
Synopsis:
Darla Rigs is a freshly minted medical doctor with a bright future. She’s escaped a bad relationship and moved to Victoria, British Columbia. But now she’s met Luke Bertolucci, a philosopher/stone mason. Darla likes Luke a lot, but will she be able to put the past behind her and start fresh?
DRAG STRIP DATE (fourth installment)
by Jerry Donaldson
Darla showered and put on a terry robe. She made herself coffee and toast in her little kitchen and took it out onto the balcony to enjoy the early June sun. Her tidy little one-bedroom condo was on the top floor of a newish building on a quiet street near the water. She’d borrowed the down-payment from her mother when she was finished her residency and ready to start earn a living. Darla pulled up the local newspaper on her IPhone and read the front page while she ate. When she was done she put the phone down, closed her eyes and thought about taking out her guitar and practising a few scales. Then the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hi Darla, it’s Lily. How’s it going with lover-boy Luke?”
“Oh, not so bad. We’re having dinner at the Faculty Club this evening,”
“What’s that, six days straight you guys have seen each other?”
“I think so, I haven’t really kept track,” Darla said.
“Oh, nonsense. You’re gaga over him,” Lisa said.
Darla sighed. “Yes, guilty, you’re right. He’s all I think about. We were at West Coast Speedway last night, watching drag racing.”
“Good lord, really? I thought Luke was a quiet academic.”
“He’s full of surprises.”
“So,” Lisa said, “what’s he like in bed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Saving ourselves for marriage, are we?” Lisa teased.
“Just a sec, I’m plugging in,” Darla said. She fished the earpiece out of her purse, plugged the connector into the IPhone and put the earpiece into her ear. She put the phone in the pocket of her robe, then stood up took her plate and coffee mug into the kitchen. “Hi Lily, I’m here.”
“So,” Lily said, “what’s the story.”
“Well, first off, I’m not a total slut,” Darla said, “I do like to get to know a man a bit before I throw myself at him.”
“Yeah, yeah, standard disclaimer,” Lily said. “Now let’s have it. I’ve seen his picture, he’s a babe. You like him, he likes you. What’s the hold up? Planets not aligning? Religious or philosophical differences?”
Lily was kidding, of course, but Darla reflected on that statement for a bit. I wonder what Luke does believe? We’ve haven’t discussed any deep stuff yet. But, maybe that was part of the attraction. All she knew was that he was a super-hot, intelligent man who liked her. How much more did she need to know? Would further knowledge of his beliefs at this early stage help her avoid a repeat of Conor, or Brad? I could start by finding out about his studies, she mused¸ find out what his academic passion is. That would be a start. And, I guess that will come up at dinner this evening. Hmmmmm.
“Hello. . . hello. Earth to Darla, are you there?” Lisa said.
“Yes. Hi, sorry. I was thinking about what you said,” Darla ran water into the kitchen sink and turned up the volume on the phone. “Conor and I never talked about big-picture stuff. You know, religion, spirituality, that sort of thing. It just never came up.”
“Well, the less said about Conor the better,” Lisa said. “Just so you are watching for the signs with this one. Have you heard anything from Conor lately, by the way?”
“Nope, nothing.”
Lisa changed the subject. “You going to the pool this morning?”
“I could do a quick swim, yes. I have to be at the clinic at 1. Meet me at the Y?”
”Yup. See you in a half an hour.”
“Okay, bye”
Darla finished cleaning up her breakfast dishes and left them on the draining board. She dressed hurriedly in jeans and a tee shirt, grabbed her gym bag and left the apartment. “Bye, Sparks,” she said to the cat on her way through the door; he did not reply. Then she was in the stairwell headed down the five flights of stairs leading to the building’s underground parking. She tried to avoid elevators as much as possible, preferring the exercise involved in climbing stairs. Her little Honda was parked in a far corner of the garage. She was very aware of the dangers gloomy, remote areas pose to women, so, as always, she held her keys in a closed fist with one key sticking out between her fingers, ready for use against an assailant. She looked carefully around her, and she looked in the back seat closely to be sure no one was there. Once satisfied that everything was as it should be, she got in the car, started it up and drove slowly across the garage, up the ramp and onto the street.
The YMCA was located three blocks from the walk-in clinic where Darla worked, so she parked her car at the clinic and walked. Lisa was already there, sitting in a chair by the front desk, reading a magazine.
“Hi, Lisa,” Darla said.
“Hi, yourself.” Lisa was a tallish woman with brown hair, brown eyes and a preference for yoga pants. She was bit on the curvy side for yoga pants, but Lisa didn’t care who thought what about how she looked. She had a sunny disposition and a rapier wit. “Shall we get in there? Aquafit starts in 25 minutes, so we can do a few laps before then.”
“Sounds good. I have to be quick anyway.”
So the two friends changed into their bathing suits, showered and got into the pool. In adjacent lanes they matched each other nearly stroke for stroke, up and down the pool, over and over. Both were strong swimmers. At the end of 20 minutes, other swimmers were gathering for the next time slot. Lisa and Darla hauled themselves out of the pool, refreshed and invigorated, and headed for the showers. They had just entered the women’s change room when a commotion started up out in the hallway. There was the sound of running feet, and then someone was knocking frantically at the change-room door.
“We need a doctor, now !” a male voice shouted, “Is there a doctor around?”
Darla and Lisa looked at each other for a long moment. “Come on, dude, that’s you!” Lisa finally said, “Go on, move it!” So, Darla dropped her towel and headed out the door, still in her bathing suit.
In the men’s change room a scene of near-panic ensued. A very fat man lay on the cold tile floor, convulsing, arms and legs flailing and flecks of foam on his lips. Other men stood about, frozen into inaction. A boney old fellow with long gray hair and faded, blurry old tattoos on both arms sat on a bench, rocking and saying over and over, “Oh no, oh no, Vern’s sick, he’s sick, somebody get a doctor, doctor.”
Darla’s training kicked in, and she took charge. “Move back, all of you,” she said, “I’m an MD. He’s having a seizure. Give us some room, make room!” The small crowd parted and moved back. The old man on the bench continued to rock and wail. “Lisa,” Darla said, “go tell the desk to call 911.” Lisa moved swiftly and silently to do so.
Darla then picked from the group a young blond man. “You there,” she ordered, “Sit with him (indicating the old man on the bench), calm him down.” The man did as he was told. “It’s okay,’ he said to the old fellow, “the doctor will help your friend.”
Darla turned her attention to the fat man on the floor, and she took the actions her training dictated. “Somebody, give me a dry towel,” she said. Several towels were immediately offered. Darla took one, folded it and placed it under the man’s head. The fat man continued to convulse, and Darla held her hand on his chest and spoke softly to him, with her eye on the wall clock over the door. After four and a half long minutes the convulsions finally stopped. He was still unconscious, however, and Darla enlisted an onlooker’s help in gently moving him onto his side. She continued stroking his back and speaking softly to him while the small group watched silently. On the bench, the young blond guy had his arm around the old man with the tattoos. The old fellow continued to rock gently, but he was quiet.
Darla then realized that she recognized Vern, the fat man on the floor. She had last seen him at the drag strip, wearing a pink tee shirt and carrying popcorn and a drink back to his seat.
Then the ambulance paramedics, a man and a women, arrived with a stretcher. There must have been a siren, but Darla hadn’t heard it. Darla introduced herself.
“I’m Doctor Darla Riggs,” she said to the male paramedic. “I work at the Seymour Clinic over on Howe Street. I arrived maybe a minute or so after the seizure began. The convulsions lasted another four and a half minutes. His name is Vern.”
She then stepped back and let the emergency crew do their thing. By now the seizure had ended, but Vern was still only semi-concious.
“Thanks for the info, Doctor,” said the male paramedic, “He’s slow in recovering from the seizure. We’d better take him to the emergency room for a few routine checks.” Then he addressed the group: “Does one of you people know him?”
“This man does,” said the blond man sitting with the old tattooed fellow. “His name is Warren.” The female paramedic sat beside Warren and spoke gently to him.
“You know this man?” she asked, indicating the semi-conscious Vern.
“Yes, yes, I do, yes,” said Warren. “He’s Vern, my friend Vern. He lives in my building, he takes me swimming. Is he okay? Poor Vern, poor Vern.”
The female paramedic patted Warren’s knee. “Don’t worry, Warren,” she said, “we’re taking Vern to the hospital and he’s going to be fine. Do you want to come with us?”
Warren turned his head to speak to the young blond man. He was clearly quite upset.
“Charlie, my new friend Charlie, what should I do, do?”
“Vern, I think you can go with this nice lady and her friend,” blond–haired Charlie said. “They’re going to help Vern but they need to take him to the hospital.” Charlie winked at Darla, and she smiled back at him. We’re getting though this she thought. Thank heaven for nice people!
“You come too, Charlie, you too?” said Warren to Charlie.
“Warren, I don’t think there’s room for all of us in the ambulance. How about you and I ride to the hospital in my car, and we’ll meet Vern there?” Charlie said.
Warren thought on this for a bit, while the paramedics loaded Vern onto the stretcher and prepared him to travel. The he spoke. “Yes, Charlie, let’s go, let’s go,” he said.
“Okay, Warren, let’s go get dressed then,” Charlie said. To the paramedics he said, “We’ll see you in emergency.” Warren took Charlie’s hand and the two of them disappeared into the lockers.
“Wow,” said Lisa, “what a nice guy. He drops everything to help out a stranger. I wonder if he’s single.”
“Okay, Lisa,” said Darla, “I’ll leave you to follow up on that, because I am definitely going to be late for work if I don’t leave right now.” To the paramedics she said, “You’re good?”
“Yes,” said the male paramedic. “Thanks for your help, doctor.”
“Okay,” Darla said, “goodbye everyone. Lisa, let’s go get dressed.”
The two women left the men’s change room and went into the ladies’. Darla took a very quick shower and dressed in the change of work clothes she kept in her locker. Lisa was still drying off when Darla left.
Out on the street, Darla walked toward work and reflected on the activities back in the locker room. She had done her duty in a way that she was proud of, and that felt good. But her good mood lasted only until she arrived at the clinic. Because parked directly across the road from the Seymour Clinic she spotted Conor’s old, black BMW sedan. And it was not empty. There was someone sitting in the driver’s seat.
(to be continued)
On The Beach 