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The Woman in the Mirror She was beautiful. At least what I could see in the rear-view mirror. A perfect oval face. Fluffy, butter-colored hair. A nice tan. Designer sunglasses… you know, the whole nine yards. Hard to tell much about age with the sunglasses, but she couldn’t be over thirty. The car, of course, was a white BMW convertible. What else would you expect? I was on my way home from a hunting trip when I stopped to get a bite at the Mickey-D near the interstate. It had been a frustrating two days. The guys and I didn’t see a thing the whole time. Now after fighting the heavy Sunday-night-going-home traffic for three hours, I was beat. I just wanted to take a long, hot shower and try to unwind before going back to work tomorrow. Beep. I heard a car horn behind me. I glanced in the mirror again. The blonde woman was pointing at the traffic light. I glanced up. The light was red and I was blocking the intersection. I waved a thank-you and turned left toward the hamburger place down the street. I guess every man searches for his perfect woman. I’ve met a lot of candidates over the years. I even made a bad mistake once. But I’m still looking for the woman of my dreams. Correction: I just found her. And lost her at the traffic light. Maybe I should turn around and go back. Nah. She’ll be long gone. Besides, what would a beautiful, blonde yuppie in a new BMW see in a guy like me: A computer nerd on the downhill side of thirty and driving a beat-up eight-year-old pickup. Sigh. When I got to the hamburger place, I made a pit stop, then joined the line at the register. The only line, of course. Fortunately, there was only one person in front of me. I hate to wait in line for anything. Looking around, I discovered the place was done up in a 50’s style motif, with a big jukebox in the corner and fake coin-operated terminals scattered around the dining room. There were quite a few people for a Sunday night, including several families with small children. Probably on their way home from a visit at grandma’s house. I happened to glance through the window and my heart stopped. The white BMW was pulling into a parking spot three cars down from my truck. The woman of my dreams was giving me another chance. She took off the sunglasses and hung ‘em on the rear-view mirror. Folks, my heart was pounding so hard anyone within three feet could surely hear it. Soon. Soon I would get to see the rest of her. If it was anything the view in the mirror… "Sir?" A voice broke into my thoughts. "Sir? Can I take your order?" I turned around. The gal behind the counter was looking at me expectantly. She was cute. The way all eighteen-year-old cheerleaders are cute. I grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I was daydreaming." She laughed. "That’s okay. What can I get for you?" I tried to pull myself together. "Uh…I’ll have a Big Mac, a fry and a large Coke." She pressed the buttons on the register. I counted out the money and suddenly remembered the woman in the mirror. I looked out at the white BMW. It was empty. Where did she go? I frantically looked around the dining room, but to no avail. Maybe she was in the restroom. "Here you are, sir." I turned around and the cute cheerleader slid my tray across the counter. "You daydream a lot, don’t you?" she asked with a smile. I glanced down at her name tag. Lisa. Lisa Cheerleader. What a nice name. "I always seem to daydream when I’m with a pretty lady like you," I replied with a grin. Okay, kid, let’s see what you do with that. She actually blushed. "Enjoy your meal, sir." With a chuckle I turned away from the counter and stopped to pick up a straw. I had to find a seat near the window where I could watch the white car. A couple of napkins joined the straw on the tray. I turned to head for my seat…and there she was. The woman of my dreams. Twenty feet away. Talking on the pay phone between the inner and outer doors. I was not disappointed. Curly blonde hair. White T-shirt, tied at the waist. Blue-jean shorts. Suede hiking boots. Late 20’s. Average height, athletic build. A great looking tan. I could only stop and stare. She hung up the phone and turned towards me. She saw me staring at her and smiled. I guess a beautiful woman like her is used to gettin’ stared at. At least she didn’t seem to get mad like a lot of women do when they catch you looking at them. For my part, I couldn’t have turned away if I wanted to. "Hello," she said as she came up to me. Brown. Her eyes were a beautiful brown. "I…uh…like your car," I stammered as she came up to me. "What year is it?" She laughed. A delightful laugh. Surely she could see right through me. "It’s new. I’ve only had it a month. I really like it." "New? Oh…yeah…that’s nice." I replied, desperately trying to find some way to keep the conversation going. This is usually the point where the pretty ones give me the brush-off. "Did you get anything?" she asked. "Get anything?" I asked blankly. I couldn’t think very well with this beautiful creature standing right in front of me. She pointed down at the camouflage outfit I was wearing. "You look like you’ve been hunting. Did you get anything?" My opinion of her went up a couple of more notches. I admire any woman willing to rescue a stalled conversation. Especially when it’s my tongue that’s tied up in knots. "No," I replied, "it was a bust. We didn’t see a thing the whole two days." She nodded. "Happens that way some times." Yeah, right. Like the blonde yuppie spent a day tramping around in the mud all the time. "May I help you, ma’am?" the cheerleader’s voice broke into my private world. I could have wrung her young neck with my own hands. "Nice talking to you." My dream girl smiled at me one last time. Then she turned and stepped up to the counter. "What’s your name? Can I have your phone number? Can I take you to a movie sometime? Can we go to dinner? Will you marry me?" All of these questions flashed through my mind. But, of course, I didn’t ask any of them as I walked sadly to my table near the windows. She had been very kind to talk to me at all. I guess I should consider myself fortunate for that much. Nice knowing you, woman of my dreams. I guess the food tasted okay. I don’t remember eating any of it. A few minutes later the blonde woman came into the dining room. I looked down at my tray to keep from staring at her, but my heart started pounding when the pretty jean shorts stopped at my table. "Better luck on your next hunting trip," she said when I looked up. "Oh, thanks," I replied lamely. For a few seconds neither of us said anything at all. What was she waiting for? "Well…uh," she said finally, "see you around sometime." The woman turned away and sat down across the dining room. When I glanced over a few minutes later, she was holding a fry in one hand and a paperback novel in the other. I couldn’t think of another reason to go over and talk to her, so eventually I picked up my tray, dumped my trash, and headed outside into the twilight...feeling like the world's biggest dunce. My key was just turning in the lock of my truck when I happened to notice a blue van parked nearby. I wouldn’t of paid any attention to it, except for the two guys sitting in the front seat. I only got a fleeting glimpse, but something about them bothered me. I wasn’t afraid or anything like that. After all, we were in the Mickey-D parking lot, right? Maybe it was the way they stared back at me. Kind of sinister, if you know what I mean. How does someone look sinister? Well, maybe it was the unsmiling expression on their faces. When you make eye contact with someone you don’t know, one or both of you will usually nod or smile. Something like that. These guys were the coldest pair of fish I’d seen in a long time. I slipped in behind the wheel and fired up the engine. Another hour and I’d be back home. I wonder if the cat missed me. Sometimes he’d complain loudly when I came home after several days away. Other times I’d get the cold shoulder treatment. Either way I’d have to put with it until he’d forgiven me. Such is life with a cat ruling the apartment. It was fully dark and I was fifteen minutes down the expressway when the white BMW went by me. I didn’t recognize it at first…partially because the top was up and partially because I was thinking aboring at her, but my heart started pounding when the pretty jean shorts stopped at my table. "Better luck on your next hunting trip," she said when I looked up. "Oh, thanks," I replied lamely. For a few seconds neither of us said anything at all. What was she waiting for? "Well…uh," she said finally, "see you around sometime." The woman turned away and sat down across the dining room. When I glanced over a few minutes later, she was holding a fry in one hand and a paperback novel in the other. I couldn’t think of another reason to go over and talk to her, so eventually I picked up my tray, dumped my trash, and headed outside into the twilight...feeling like the world's biggest dunce. My key was just turning in the lock of my truck when I happened to notice a blue van parked nearby. I wouldn’t of paid any attention to it, except for the two guys sitting in the front seat. I only got a fleeting glimpse, but something about them bothered me. I wasn’t afraid or anything like that. After all, we were in the Mickey-D parking lot, right? Maybe it was the way they stared back at me. Kind of sinister, if you know what I mean. How does someone look sinister? Well, maybe it was the unsmiling expression on their faces. When you make eye contact with someone you don’t know, one or both of you will usually nod or smile. Something like that. These guys were the coldest pair of fish I’d seen in a long time. I slipped in behind the wheel and fired up the engine. Another hour and I’d be back home. I wonder if the cat missed me. Sometimes he’d complain loudly when I came home after several days away. Other times I’d get the cold shoulder treatment. Either way I’d have to put with it until he’d forgiven me. Such is life with a cat ruling the apartment. It was fully dark and I was fifteen minutes down the expressway when the white BMW went by me. I didn’t recognize it at first…partially because the top was up and partially because I was thinking about the project I was doing at work. I’d passed the last major exit a mile or so back and most of the traffic had gotten off there. It was only about fifteen miles to the state line and after that thirty minutes home. I glanced down at the speedometer. Right on the speed limit. The woman was probably doing ten miles over. Well, no surprise there. Did you ever see a BMW doing the speed limit? She was a few hundred yards ahead when I noticed more headlights coming up behind me. Then I did a double take. The lights were comin' up fast. Real fast. For a moment I thought the crazy guy was gonna run right into me, but at the last second the headlights swerved and the vehicle shot around me, moving at a high rate of speed. In the glare of my headlights I could see it was a blue van. The same blue van? What the heck was he doing out here? The van surged ahead, almost like it was chasing the BMW. As I watched, the van pulled up next to the white car. Suddenly the brake lights of the BMW came on. There was a stab of orange flame from the side of the van and the BMW weaved crazily back and forth. A split second later I heard the staccato bark of an automatic weapon. The sports car swerved to the right, ran off the road and down the embankment. Stunned, I held my breath, expecting the car to roll over. For a second it looked like she might get the car back under control. But then the right front wheel went into the drainage ditch and the car jerked to a stop. Good grief! Why were they shooting at her? Was she okay? I slowed down and pulled off onto the shoulder. I had to see if she was all right. But then I noticed the brake lights of the van. He was stopping too. What the heck for? To make sure she was dead? What kind of people were they, anyway? Shooting at a woman on the expressway. Must be a bunch of crazies on a joyride or something. There must be something I could do to help. I reached around and unlocked the 12 gauge from the rack behind me. The shotgun wasn’t much against an Uzi or something like that, but it was all I had. As I stuffed the solid point deer slugs into the weapon, I glanced up. No sign of life from the white car. Maybe she was unconscious or…I didn’t want to think about it. The van started backing up. I turned off my lights, piled out of the truck and ran for the ditch, but the white car was a couple of hundred feet away. All of a sudden I was glad I had the camos on. Lugging the big 12 gauge around, I was a pretty good-sized target. The van stopped and the doors popped open on both sides. Two men got out and I could see the glint of metal from their guns. Just then the passenger side door on the BMW opened and I saw a slender figure slide out into the ditch. She still alive. Thank God. The two men advanced toward the white car. I was still too far away. Then I blinked as I saw several bright flashes from next to the white car and then the sound of a large-bore automatic pistol shattered the stillness of the night. The woman had a gun and she was shooting back! One of the bad guys spun around and fell to the ground. His companion fired a long burst and the noise of the machine gun tore at my ears. The woman threw herself flat and I saw the windshield of the BMW shatter. The bad guy snapped a new magazine into his weapon and advanced on the car, firing as he came. Every time she’d try to get up, he'd fire again. She was pinned down. I dropped on my stomach and nervously worked the action on the shotgun. I sighted on the shooter and pulled the trigger. The 12 gauge kicked me in the shoulder and the sound of the shot was deafening. I’d forgotten my ear plugs. It was too far for good shooting, but I was amazed the see the rear window of the van behind the guy punched out by the solid deer slug. The shooter stopped and glanced in my direction, surprised by the unexpected interference. I held my breath. Maybe he couldn’t see me. Then something caught my eye. The woman was starting to get up. I saw the shooter swing back in her direction. I quickly worked the action and fired another shot in the man’s direction hoping to distract him. Then I rolled to the right as fast as I could. There was a stab of flame from the Uzi or whatever and the ground was torn up right where I’d been a few seconds before. The diversion gave the blonde woman time and she fired four or five quick shots before dropping back into the ditch. Attacked now from two directions, the bad guy apparently had enough. He turned away, dragged his wounded companion into the van and drove off. I made my way down the embankment just as the woman was getting to her feet. "Are you okay?" She turned at the sound of my voice and I saw the automatic in her hand. "Yes, thanks to you." Her eyes widened as she looked down my camos. "You’re the man from Mickey-D’s, aren’t you?" I bowed. "You humble servant, m’lady." Her car was in no condition to drive, so we gathered her luggage and headed back to my truck. After putting her stuff in the back, I slid behind the steering wheel and glanced over at her. She looked pale in the dome light. Her face and clothes were dirty and her hair was a wreck. No matter. She was still beautiful. Then I saw the blood on her T-shirt. "You’re hurt! Did you get…" She waved a hand. "No. I think it must’ve been from the glass." I grabbed my first-aid kit from behind the seat. I always carry a big first-aid kit when I go hunting. You never know when some fool is gonna shoot himself or someone else. She had a cut on the side of her neck, another on her left shoulder and two on her left arm. I swabbed the wounds with iodine. None of them looked very serious. "Thank you, sir," she said as I finished putting on the last bandage. "That was gently done." "Glad to help," I replied as I closed up the first-aid kit. "Another service provided by your friendly, freeway samaritan." She laughed. The same delightful laugh I’d heard earlier. I turned the key and the engine of the old truck roared to life. We swung onto the pavement and a few seconds later we passed the white vehicle in the ditch. I took a deep breath. My adrenaline rush was starting to wear off and I found myself in shock as I realized I’d been in a fire-fight. I don’t do that sort of thing all the time, you know. It was a long time since anyone had shot at me. I found myself gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands to keep them from shaking. "Hello?" Her voice broke into my thoughts. I glanced over. She was sitting with her back to the window and looking right at me. "Are you going to ignore me all night?" she asked with a smile. "Sorry," I replied sheepishly. "I was daydreaming." "Well, here I am driving down the expressway with a man who probably saved my life and I don’t even know your name." I looked back to the road. "I’m sorry, Miss," I replied as seriously as I could, "but the code of the freeway samaritans requires that we remain anonymous." I heard the laugh. "And you won’t make an exception, even for me?" I shook my head. "No, Ma’am. We’re not allowed to reveal our name or social security number to anyone we don’t know." "Anne," I heard her say. "Anne Henson. Is that good enough?" I nodded as I swung out to pass a truck. "Very well, Miss Henson. Since I know you, I can divulge that my name is John. John Dickson." We talked for a while and I found out that she worked for the federal government, but for some reason she wouldn’t tell me exactly what she did. I told her about my computer job and she surprised me by asking all kinds of questions about it. I found myself liking this mysterious woman, but it occurred to me to wonder about the 9mm automatic in her oversized handbag and why she was carrying the gun in the first place. We came to a rest area and Anne asked me to pull off. She was inside about ten minutes and when she came out she’d washed her face and changed into jeans and a long sleeve shirt. "Feelin’ better?" I asked as she closed the door. "Much better, thanks." She swung her legs up on the seat and sat facing me, same as before. If anything she was more beautiful than ever. I couldn't help myself and glanced down at her left hand. But the gold ring I was afraid of seeing was absent and somehow that made me feel a lot better. I pulled out into traffic again. We’d be in the city in about fifteen minutes, but I found myself wishing the journey was longer. Most of the women I’d met were only interested in themselves and rarely asked questions about me once they learned I was into computers. But Anne was as intelligent as she was beautiful and it made me sad to realize that soon she would be out of my life again. "John?" I glanced over at her. She was still sitting with her back to the window and this time she had a puzzled look on her face. "You’re doing it again, you know," she said quietly. "Doing what?" I asked. "Ignoring me." I quickly looked back to the front. "Oh. Sorry." "Well, since you won’t talk to me, can I ask you a question? A question? "Sure. Why not." "It’s a personal question. And you have to give me an honest answer, okay?" "I guess so." "How come you wouldn’t ask me to sit down and eat with you back there at Mickey-D’s?" My heart jumped right up in my throat. Sit with me? Eat with me? What was she talking about? "I…uh…I don’t understand." "John Dickson, you are really a dunce. You DO like me, don’t you?" "Like you? Well, uh…sure." "Look at me, you big dummie!" I glanced helplessly in her direction. She looked angry. "I saw you right away when I hung up the pay phone. Obviously you were attracted to me. Why didn’t you ask me to sit with you?" I looked back at the road. How do you tell a beautiful woman that she’s way outta your league? How do I tell her my tongue sticks in my mouth and it gets hard to breath when I’m with someone like her? I shrugged my shoulders as I stared at the white lines rushing past the left side of the truck. "I don’t know. Maybe I was afraid you’d say no. It’s happened before." For a moment she was quiet. I glanced at her and she appeared deep in thought. "When was the last time you took a chance, John. A risk?" I smiled. "About thirty minutes ago?" "I’ll give you that," she agreed. "But what else?" I looked back at the road and thought about it. "I flew a helicopter in the service. Got shot at in the desert. Does that qualify?" "You’re a pilot?" she asked and I could hear the surprise in her voice. "Yeah," I replied. "Apache. Gunship. During Desert Storm. That was a long time ago." "Did you like flying?" A big smile came to my face. "Loved it. You can talk about the fast-movers all you want, but there’s nothing like skimmin’ the trees at 150 knots." Again she was quiet for a moment. "So how’d you get into computers if you liked flying so much?" "I was engaged to a girl. Stacy didn’t like worrin’ about me buyin’ a farm. So I got out." I took a deep breath. "Our marriage lasted eighteen months. I knocked around awhile and finally discovered computers. It’s interesting and it keeps a roof over my head." I glanced over at her. "But its nothing that most gals want to talk about." "Done any flying since you got out?" "Some. Not enough to really stay current. Rotary-wing time is expensive. But, yeah, I fly once or twice a month. There’s a guy with a Jet Ranger who flies express packages to various places. He lets me ride in the left seat and I get some stick time." "John, that’s wonderful! I’m happy for you." I looked over in surprise and she had this big grin on her face. "I think it’s great that you get to do something you love. Oh!" she exclaimed as she glanced out the windshield, "you need to get off here." I swung the truck quickly to the right and down the off-ramp. A couple of turns later we pulled up in front of the federal office building. How about that. She did work for the government. We piled out and I pulled out her stuff from the back and carried it over to the glass doors. "You gonna be okay?" I asked. She nodded. "I’ve got some phone calls to make about the car and so forth, but the duty officer will get me everything I need." "Are you gonna tell me why those men were tryin’ to kill you? And why you’ve got that big piece of artillery in your handbag?" "Sorry, John, but I really can’t talk about it. Let’s just say I was involved in a drug bust. The bad guys weren’t happy about losing their shipment." "Oh. Well…uh…okay, Anne. I’m glad I could help you." My heart sank. Now she was gonna go away. I’d probably never see her again. But for some reason she stood there. Now what? "John Dickson, are you going to take a chance or not?" I stared at the beautiful woman in front of me. A beautiful woman who actually seemed to like me. Fancy that. Could it be that she…? Did she want to…? "Uh…could I maybe call you some time? We could go to dinner or a movie or something?" Listen, folks, I know all this sounds stupid. But I really do get all tied up in knots when I’m talkin’ to a pretty woman. It’s always been that way. Amazingly, she smiled. "I’d love to have dinner with you, John. After all, you’re my hero. You saved my life." The beautiful blonde woman opened her huge handbag and I could see the 9mm automatic inside. But what she pulled out was a business card. "Here’s my phone number, but I’m afraid it’s an answering service. I’m out of the country a lot for Uncle Sam. How about I call you next time I’m in town?" We said goodbye and I watched as she pushed her way through the glass doors into the building. The woman of my dreams was leaving me again. But maybe not for good. Maybe she would actually call me some day. Well, I went back to work, but somehow it wasn’t the same. The project I was designing no longer interested me. I tried to give the boss a good day’s work, but my heart really wasn’t in it. I kept thinking of beautiful Anne Henson and the things she'd said. Like taking a chance. Like doing something you love. Over the next couple of days I thought a lot about flying. I called my friend the chopper pilot and started flying with him as often as I could. Jack was pleased to have someone to talk to on the long cross-country flights and my old skills came back to me faster than I thought possible. I had a lot of vacation time stacked up and with the boss’ permission I started taking Fridays off so I could fly. Two months later I passed my flight physical and my FAA certification and one Friday when Jack and I walked out to the Jet Ranger, he told me to take the right seat. The pilot’s seat in a helicopter. "You take it today, John," he said. "I’ve got some things to take care of." He walked away without another word and suddenly it dawned on me that I was a flyer again. All because of a beautiful lady named Anne. Every couple of weeks I’d get a postcard from her. Usually from some exotic location like Berlin, London, Tokyo or Sydney. She really was a world traveler. One Thursday morning I was deep in the middle of a CAD drawing when the phone rang. I reached absentmindedly for the handset. "Engineering, Dickson." "Hello, my hero," she said in my ear. For a moment I was speechless. "Anne?" "You haven’t rescued any other damsel in distress lately have you?" "No," I replied. "It's...its just so great to hear your voice again." "I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Mr. Dickson. How come you didn’t tell me the whole truth in the car?" "Truth? What do you mean?" I stammered. "You didn’t mention anything about being awarded a Silver Star," she said. "Or havin’ a top-secret security clearance." How did she know about that? "Oh. I guess I didn’t think it was important. Most people could care less." "Listen, John. I’ve only got thirty seconds before my flight leaves. Are you ready to take another chance? A big one?" I thought about it. "Okay, beautiful lady, for you I’ll take a chance." "Great," she replied. "This Saturday drive over to the air force base and give your name to the guard at the gate. He’ll direct you where to go. Be there at 10 o’clock and I’ll meet you, okay?" "You’re gonna be there?" I asked, my heart beating fast at the prospect of seeing her again. "Yeah. Oh, and John…bring clothes for ten days and your bathing suit. I gotta go. Bye." She hung up and I sat there staring at the phone? Clothes for ten days? At the air force base? What is the world was she talking about? Now used to the idea of taking a chance, I got my affairs quickly in order and on Saturday morning I pulled up to the front gate of the air force base. A courteous air-policeman directed me to operations and just as I got out of my car a giant C-5 Galaxy came in for a landing. It always amazes me how something that big can actually fly and I watched in awe as the huge aircraft taxied up and stopped right in front of me. A ramp dropped from the rear of the plane and the ground crew started loading palettes of equipment on board. I heard a car behind me and when I glanced around I saw the red Toyota MR-2 pulling into the parking lot. But something caught my eye and I looked up just in time to see four F-15’s pass overhead in tight formation. I turned and watched until they were out of sight. I never get tired of seein’ things like that. I can watch it all day long. "Hello, Captain Dickson," said a voice next to me. I turned automatically at the mention of my old rank and was surprised to find a female naval officer standing next to me. My eyes flicked to the gold oak leaves on her collar, proclaiming her to be a Lt. Commander. Above two rows of ribbons were the gold wings. A pilot. Only then did I notice the name tag: Henson. My mouth dropped wide open in surprise as I took in the beautiful face of the woman of my dreams. "You dirty rotten dog," I started to say, "why didn’t you tell me that…" She held up her hand. "You’re not sorry you came, are you?" "No, but…" "I am a navy pilot, John, but right now I’m on detached duty to another government agency. I travel in uniform because it attracts less attention that way." "You’re a pilot? For real?" It was unbelievable. She grinned. "Yeah. I fly fast-movers. And some other things, too, when the job requires it." At that moment a big air force master sergeant came trotting up to us. He saluted. "Commander Henson?" Anne returned his sharp salute with one of her own. "Yes, Sergeant. And this is Mr. Dickson. He’s going with us." The noncom checked his clipboard. "Yes, Ma’am. Thank you. We’ll be leaving in a moment. Please get aboard." He saluted again. I watched as she returned the salute, still in shock. The woman of my dreams was a naval officer? A pilot? The sergeant turned away and I heard the sound of a motor as the ramp of the C-5 started going up. "Get your bag, John," Anne said, "our ride awaits." She turned toward the big transport. "We’re going in the C-5? Where to?" "Hawaii," she called over her shoulder. "But…" My feet were glued to the concrete. She turned and came back to me. "John Dickson, I told you about taking a chance. This is yours. Grab it with both hands and hang on. When we get to Hawaii, I’ve got some leave coming and we’ll have time to get to know each other. But while we’re over there, a man is going to talk to you about a job. A job flying helicopters for your country." She grinned. "Now close your mouth, pick up your bag and get aboard." I did. I got the job. And a few months later I asked the woman I saw in the mirror to marry me. That night on the expressway seems long ago and far away now. But, you know, Anne was right. Sometimes ya gotta take a chance and follow your heart. Oh, one last thing. You heard me say there’s nothing like skimming the trees at 150 knots. That’s true. But I have to admit that 800 knots in an F-14 ain't too bad. Especially when the pilot up front is your wife. [END] |
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