Cheerleaders Part II of a Series

    I spent the next several weeks watching Amber and getting to know her as a person.  You might find it surprising how you can observe somebody from a distance without them even realizing but gain a good understanding of who that person is.  The next time you are venturing out to Yoga or heading to the local coffee shop take a look around you as you exit your front door.  You might find that guy milling about by his car or fumbling with his keys or just walking his dog is the same guy that has been outside watching you for a very long time.
    Amber frequented Yoga three times a week.  It was a local class in San Mateo and she walked there on most occasions in her matching sweats and or tight fitting shorts.  I did enjoy it on the warm mornings when she would come outside wearing the form fitting revealing clothing and with her Ipod on make her way through the streets heading off to her class.   It surprisingly didn’t take me long to figure out her schedule as I sat in my car or walked my dog around her block over and over again waiting for her to appear.  You do need to keep notes on times and dates and sooner than you might imagine a distinct pattern forms.  I am sure if we thought about it we all most likely follow fairly standard routines.
    Yoga was Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings at 7 AM.  She would almost always walk and she tried to get up in time for a stop at Pete’s for a coffee on the way there and sometimes on the way back.  She seemed addicted to the black energizing liquid.  She appeared to live with two other girls both around her same age who apparently worked in the corporate environment.  They routinely exited the building between 7:45 and 8:30 AM each weekday morning dressed in business attire that was very professional but stylish.  Both girls were very pretty like Amber who I was starting to grow found of.
    One of the girls appeared to have a boyfriend.  Her schedule was not quite as routine with her sometimes appearing to not spend the night in the apartment and at times showing up at the front door in the morning walking with him to his car as they parted ways heading off to start their day.  He was older than the group of girls appearing to be in his early thirties but was athletic and oozed money as he headed off in his BMW convertible.  Girls of this caliber went for the bucks in a relationship and who could blame them.  We all want to be comfortable in life and if you can get there by flashing a smile why not take advantage.
    It was a spectacularly warm evening for Burlingame and I was sitting in my car around 10 PM on a Thursday night a block away from the house just watching.  I could get wrapped up in pretend scenarios as my mind wandered with possibilities of what they might be talking about or how their day had gone.  Amber and one of her roommates were up in the apartment alone and from my vantage point my guess is they were making dinner.  The roommate with the boyfriend had just pulled up as her main squeeze was dropping her off and it seemed like they were in the middle of a heated debate.  He screeched to a stop in from of the main entrance and her finger was stabbing the air in his direction as her mouth violently spewed forth several comments I was unable to hear.
    I was as shocked as she was when I saw his right hand flip from the wheel and arch upwards hitting her on the right cheek as both her hands instantly grabbed her face for protection.  She lunged for the door and frantically started grabbing the handle as she flipped it several times before it became disengaged and opened spilling her out on the curb.  She had barely cleared the car before he slammed down on the accelerator lurching forward as his wheels screamed out in pain from the sudden motion.  It wasn’t that difficult to turn on my ignition and follow him as I quickly deduced I needed to understand this gentleman more than I already did.  As I drove by the front entrance I couldn’t help but notice Amber’s roommate crying in full force fumbling with her key as she entered her haven of safety.
    I followed the boyfriend for less than twenty minutes as he made his way home exiting on Ralston Ave. a few miles south on 101.  He pulled into an outside parking spot as did I and I followed him into a small three story apartment building.  He was easy to follow closely as he was still fuming, his face crimson red and he was cursing continuously under his breath.  I simply walked behind him as he was opening his door pretending to move further down the hall and missed the look on his face as I slipped the 6 inch blade into his back penetrating his lung I imagine as his gasp for breath was garbled like he was sucking in water drowning in a lake.
    I gently closed the door behind me as he stumbled forward into his apartment.  The hallway and living room were dark so I was hoping the two of us were alone.  He fell on the floor rolling over looking at me with eyes that were no longer full of fury but consumed with terror as he looked into the face of his own death.  I spoke softly but firmly and stated mechanically that he was going to die and it had nothing to do with him being an accidental victim.  I could relate to his desire and need to be physically dominating but I could not condone the act of violence when there is not a desired goal laid out to be attained.
    His was an act of anger.  Not an act of carefully planned artistry.  A painting no matter how easy or how difficult is not something that you can simply drop buckets of colors on and expect it to be a vibrant depiction of your imagined goal.  He was using violence because he felt he could, not because there was a visionary ending he was hoping to attain.  I could not sit by and allow this to happen just as Michelangelo would not have allowed his memories to be tainted by an amateur who understood nothing of what art was intended to be.
    I slipped my hand in my pocket pulling out the latex gloves and as I was putting each one on slowly inserting every finger I could hear the gargled blood spewing indecipherable words as the boyfriend lay begging for his life with the blood now freely flowing from his mouth and nose.  He was erupting from the inside out and if I was feeling merciful I might have ended it there.  Instead I squatted down in the corner watching for close to 15 minutes as his chest slowly stopped pumping coasting to a halt with one last final gasp hurtling a spoonful of mucus about two feet in the air.   He was done and would no longer be hitting women needlessly without cause.  I carefully stepped out of his apartment walking casually back to my car below and within just a little over an hour was back at my watchful spot dreaming of Amber and what her friends must be saying closed off from the world comfortably locked in their apartment.
    Would they thank me when they found out what I had done?  I would have to tell her someday how I had watched over her and protected not only her but the people that she was close to.  She was mine and I would not allow her to feel pain or her friends to feel pain when I could easily prevent things of this nature.  I could patiently wait for the thanks that I was sure to receive and my reward did not need to be immediate.  Patience was something I had learned many years ago and focused my strength inward keeping me in tune with my inner being of tranquility.  I felt happy.