Chapter 30: Escape Plan

29 June 1993 – Wood End, Provincetown, Massachusetts

This is what I needed...

Jeff sat in the sand on Provincetown’s isolated, sandy, southernmost point. He made his trek to Wood End via Breakwater Walk, a path across a rock dike at the west end of Provincetown Harbor. Jeff made a game of his earlier trip across the structure, hopping from rock to rock like a billy goat as quickly and safely as possible.

The private, calming vista before him was the reward for his journey. Jeff sat in the sand at the edge of the dunes, trying to figure out his next move. As he reclined against his daypack, he gazed west over the waters of Massachusetts Bay towards Plymouth. He wondered if he was as hopeful for a new start as the Pilgrims.

He didn’t know they landed at Provincetown first in 1620 before continuing to Plymouth. Jeff understood why people liked to sit by the water so much. The light winds produced a soft, lapping sound as the water came ashore.

Two nights ago, he checked into an inexpensive motel in the neighboring town of Truro. It was as affordable as possible for the area, and at least it was clean. The drive from Enfield should have taken four to five hours.

The only highway to the end of Cape Cod, US Route 6, alternated back and forth from four to two lanes. It produced impressive traffic jams from the Cape’s ‘elbow’ to its ‘fist’ every weekend during the summer. His drive took seven hours.

He spent yesterday exploring Provincetown. Walking its main road, Commercial Street, he’d only scratched the surface. The two outer ends of the street were lined with homes. The downtown area was a riot of restaurants, galleries, shops, and performance venues.

The people walking that street were diverse: old, young, gay, straight, couples, groups of friends, or, like him, single explorers ... infinite diversity in infinite combinations.

Jeff heard laughter behind him, snapping him from his daydreams. A pair of women ran down the beach toward where he sat. They stopped right in front of him and began to make out. Jeff was sure they didn’t know he was there. He was all but hidden from view by beach grass, where he sat in the sand. He cleared his throat to get their attention. One of the women screamed.

“Sorry, ladies,” he apologized as he stood, his palms out in a calming manner. The women retreated a step. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I didn’t want you to see me and think I was being a perv, either.”

The taller of the two studied him closely before retaking a small step towards him.

“Jeff! Jeff Knox!” she exclaimed with a smile.

Jeff stared at the woman who knew his name. Her hair was shorter, and her skin more tanned than he remembered, but he soon recognized her.

“Charlene Flaherty! How have you been, Charlie?”

Charlie bounded over and hugged him tight. The feeling of a woman in his arms always made him feel better.

“Jeff, you look great!” Charlie said. “Have you gotten bigger?” she asked, squeezing his bicep.

“Only my ego, Charlie,” he joked, “only my ego. And you look great. Your hair looks terrific, short like that.”

Charlie ran a hand through her short black hair and smiled wider.

“’Ego?’ You mean you finally found one?” They shared laughter. “Hey, Emilie,” she called to her friend, “come on over and meet Jeff.”

The blonde woman hesitated, then walked over and wrapped her arm around Charlie’s waist.

“Jeff, this is Emilie D’Avril, my partner. Emilie, this is Jeff Knox. Jeff was a year ahead of me in high school, and I was in the same class as his younger sister. How is Kara?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,” Emilie offered.

Jeff caught the French-Canadian accent in Emilie’s voice. He also noticed the distrust in her eyes.

“Enchantè, mademoiselle,” he replied, drawing a smile and nod from Emilie. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Kara’s good, thanks. She’s working for a graphic design firm in Springfield and dating a former coworker.”

“What brings you out here to the Province Lands?” Charlie asked.

Jeff blew out a breath, looking back out across the water.

“Still running from my problems, Charlie. Still trying to figure stuff out.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. He waved at his towel to invite the women to sit, and they did. He dropped to the sand, facing them.

“I left the Army after four years, in mid-’91, and moved home. I moved into the apartment above Bilzarian’s Hardware instead of back into my parents’ house. While I worked on getting my EMT certification that fall, I started doing some assistant coaching for Coach Kessler back at Thompkins.

“We won a state championship in hockey and made it to districts in baseball last year. We didn’t do as well this year, though. I started working as an EMT last Memorial Day and have been at an ambulance service out of Springfield since then.

“I just left that job. Now I’m here trying to clear my head and decide on my next move. There’s a situation back there I’m trying to escape.”

“What kind of situation?”

“A coworker went off the deep end and dragged some friends and me along for the ride. Then, my company was sold to another ambulance company. The coworker’s cousin manages the other company. He blamed me for her going off the deep end. He mailed a letter to every ambulance service in Massachusetts, trying to black-list me, telling them not to hire me.”

“Can he do that?”

“Our assertion is no, not without consequence, but he did mail the letters.”

“‘Our?’”

“My lawyer and me. We filed a defamation suit against the manager and the ambulance company ‘both jointly and severally,’ as the lawyers like to put it. We’re suing the manager personally for his actions as an individual, and we’re suing the company because he acted as their manager. Many of my coworkers also decided they didn’t want to work for them after that.”

“Well, I hope you have their balls for breakfast,” Charlie said. Jeff winced at the phrase. “Jeff, you didn’t react when I told you Emilie was my partner. I usually see some sort of reaction from people, especially people I know, but it was like I’d just told a stone from the reaction I didn’t see from you.”

“Charlie, I realized after I left Thompkins that life is way too short to worry about who is doing what with whom, especially when it doesn’t affect me. When my best friend was killed in the Gulf War, it underscored that point for me ... that life is too short.

“A friend at my ambulance company lost everything when her apartment building burned back in January. I didn’t care that she was gay when I offered her a spare bedroom at my apartment. All I cared about was that she was my friend, and she needed help.”

“Are you?”

“Not even a little, Charlie. That first summer, Allison Newbury and I were home, and we lived together, sharing the same bed for two months. I’m still as straight as I was in high school. I’ve heard about Provincetown and its beauty all my life, but I’ve never been out here.”

“Your friend from work? She wasn’t the coworker who went off the deep end, right?”

“No,” Jeff sighed. He looked away, across the water. “She’s one of the friends who got sucked into the drama surrounding that other one. She was the lightning rod for the crazy girl.”

“What happened?”

“The crazy girl fixated on me for some reason. I couldn’t stand her. Something about her turned me off right away. I can’t prove it, but I believe she broke into the ambulance company’s personnel office to get my address.

“I started feeling like someone was watching me shortly after that. Soon after, I found footprints outside my bedroom window, and I lived on the second floor. Then, before Connie moved in, things seemed to settle down. I was on a much different schedule than Dawn, the crazy girl, so I hardly saw her. I think that may have lessened her interest in me somewhat.