It was Sunday afternoon, and my first drive to my cousin Michael’s house. My mom told me every year that the McClellan’s had a huge block party and soon I would be able to go to it. She also talked about the dog they had and that Michael’s mom was her sister. But she didn’t talk about Michael’s dad so much, so I had to shape an image of him with my mind, but the image I had formed was nothing like what I saw him as. Corey McClellan was tall, and loomed over me like a bird does to a bug about to strike, He wore a dark gray/blue shirt with a collar. His pants were also a dark shade of tan. His voice was as strong as an ox but as calm as a drop of rain. He had a constant vigilant glare that let me know he was watching me. I had only observed him for a few moments before he walked away. As he paced off into the distance, I noticed a slight flick of his pointer finger, like he had constantly pointed his finger at wrong do-ers in his house.
As I cavorted around the McClellan’s house I thought about what went on in this family’s life before they had this beautiful house. So to chide my sensation of asking every single person in this house what there life was like, away, I simply just asked Michael’s dad, Corey, what his life was like. But before I could finish my sentence, he started telling me a ridiculously complicated story about the first time he saved someone’s life. It was told a little like this…
“Back when I was twenty-seven and I had a job as a lifeguard, I could remember the day when I first saved someone’s life, it was an afternoon on a Sunday; I was off duty. As I lay there on the beach watching the sun cake the water with rays of light a faint cry beseeched my calmness, “Corey! Corey! come quick!” I soon noticed the caller to be my friend Tim. He had found a young girl about the age of nine who had fallen in a hole before the tide had risen and knocked herself out. She wasn’t breathing properly so we had to perform CPR for what I assumed was twenty or so minutes. Eventually when the water had risen a few feet we layed the little girl on a surfboard and paddled her back to a rescue boat called “the Outrage.” As the boat came into port we noticed the girl still wasn’t breathing right again so we did CPR on her until the child’s breathing calmed. All the while I felt a wave of nausea, and pity race through my body, which was unfamiliar to me. But I pushed those emotions out of my body and said to myself “I must focus on saving a life not my petty emotions.” As we were coming up to the shore I noticed lifeline there waiting for us to bring them the girl. When we handed her over to lifeline they took her to a hospital to be cared for.
We waited patiently for them to call, but no call came. I looked over at Tim, and tried to engage him in conversation to take my mind off the knot in my stomach, but he was too transfixed on the telephone to even notice my existence. I grunted at him, knowing he wouldn’t hear me, and got up. I strolled over to the restroom, walking as gently as possible to try and calm my nerves. My hand squeezed around the door handle, I felt its cool surface being protruded by my sweat, and I suddenly realized how hot I was. As I was about to enter the bathroom I heard a silent ringing and then a high pitched yelling from behind me, “Corey! Corey! They said she’s alive! she’s alive!” A wave of joy flew over me and I raced to my friend and jumped up and down with glee. “We did it Tim, we are hero’s, so to speak.””
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