Countenance of Man

by Matthew Nuth

  The development of the proposal had taken a full two months; a quick bank acceptance and funding would be critical if they had any hope of breaking ground on the development next spring. No approval and they would have to scrap the dream for the time being since they would not be able to afford to fund the business opportunity. Failure meant finding and landing another big job to carry the business until an alternative funding source could be found.

  Virginia had noticeably aged during the last two months. She and Paul fully recognized the risk associated with their plan. Although they were confident in the future business opportunity, if the funding did not come through, the expanded payroll with William and Arlin, meant some serious belt tightening for everyone.

  * * *

  The dinner table was particularly quiet. Paul and Dad were pushing around the food on their plates, but had barely taken a taste. William had not yet come home. He had planned to stay late in the University library to study for mid-terms. The past summer had been an exceptional time for William; he had demonstrated an ability and willingness to pull his weight by managing a number of small jobs while freeing up Paul to focus on the development of his business plan. It was a time to show an appreciation to his big brother for his trust. From a purely selfish perspective, he had also begun to see how Paul’s vision could mean a big pay-off for the family.

  Mom sat with hands clasped in front of her, looking exasperatingly from man to man. Mom, finally broke the silence. “Boys, if this is what a growing business is going to do to you, maybe it is not worth it. You know we have lived through some pretty tough times. You cannot let this effect you this much.”

  Dad looked up from his plate, stared at Paul then to back to his mother, “Virginia is seriously concerned about how much is riding on the meeting at the bank tomorrow. If it doesn’t go well, then we are back too square one. I guess we lay off Arlin and William. Hell, it won’t be such a big deal with Arlin, he just started. William will probably be thankful. He can get a head start on his studies.”

  Paul gazed at Dad. “It is going to be good at the bank tomorrow.” It has to be, Paul thought to himself. That said, he had already begun to think about fall back options if the meeting did not go so well. First off, he would have to scrap his plans to move into his own home and his dreams of wealth. Well, quod erit, erit. Maybe it would be a good time to try out San Diego to see if was half as beautiful as Orley made it out to be. God, Orley; that seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Virginia is going to meet us at the Walgreen’s diner at 9:00 for a cup of coffee to go over the proposal a final time. Dad, we can all three walk together to the bank. Hopefully, we can be done in time to celebrate over lunch. We get the deal, you’re buying.”

  “Just to let you know, Mom and I already have reservations for all of us at the Armstrong Hotel. They have a small room off the dining hall they have set aside for us at 1:00. Your Mother, William, Lyle, Virginia, Arlin, and Joe Klein will be joining us after the meeting. I may have jumped the gun, but Mom and I felt it was important to acknowledge the effort, success or not. God, let it be a success, because I don’t want to face everyone if it is not.” Paul’s father stated.

  Dad stood up from the table, took his full plate to the kitchen. As he walked into the kitchen, he said “Hon, the food looks great. I just am not very hungry. I hope you understand.”

  Mom, grabbed her plate, too. “That’s OK. Just make sure you have an appetite tomorrow.”

  Paul smiled. He now sat alone with his plate and his thoughts. Not exactly how he expected the night to end, but probably fitting. Silently he began contemplating if it was okay to ask God to help tomorrow. Although he wanted the help, he felt in his heart, it was presumptuous and selfish to ask God for help in getting the loan. Instead he settled finally on a simple, silent prayer: “Help me to do my best. Calm me. Let me do as you will. Let me not let my family down.”

  Paul, decided it best to finish his dinner. Now that the table was empty except for his plate it provided a great space to spread out and go over the proposal to anticipate any questions that might come up tomorrow. He struggled with why he felt so much anxiety at this time. They had established a strong line of credit with the bank. They were an account in good standing. Their relation with the bank was nothing but positive. And yet, they were embarking on a whole new phase of their business. He was afraid their history with the bank meant absolutely nothing with the exponential request they now had. More importantly, their project actually would change the town. Building off modernization in the post war world, they would provide a new type of single family housing; affordable, efficient, and stylish. It was important.

  * * *

  “Paul, what the hell are you doing down here.” William was gently shaking Paul to wake him.

  “Crap, I must have dozed off. What time is it?” Paul whispered.

  “It’s after 11. You better head off to bed. I’ll clean up here,” William offered as Paul slowly pulled himself up to stand and stretch.

  “I will take you up on the offer. How’d studying go.”

  “It went great for the first hour or so, but . . .” William gave a quick wink and shrug.

  “What do you mean the ‘the first hour or so.’ Heck, you were supposed to be at the library since before dinner. What gives? You know Dad is pretty bent regarding your grades. You have to get serious. We need you in the business.”

  “Paul, come on. You are starting to sound like Dad. If you must know, I am now unequivocally in love. I felt as though I had a religious experience when she sat down next to me in the library.” Paul’s smile was contagious.

  “OK, give. What is her name”

  “Samantha, and we are going to have lunch together tomorrow”

  “Lunch, no way, William. Mom and Dad are springing for lunch at the Armstrong. You have to be there. Didn’t they tell you.”

  “Omgosh, I completely forgot. One o’clock, right? Yeah, I’ll be there. Heck, maybe, Samantha could join us.” William saw the shock in Paul’s eyes and quickly caught himself . . . “Well, maybe another time.” With that William snagged Paul’s plate off the table and quietly walked into the kitchen.

  Paul, tiptoed up the steps to bed. Sometimes William was clueless. Kind, but clueless.

  Chapter 9

  “I’ll bet you, you never knew your Mom and I actually dated back before your Dad went to Korea” Uncle Bill blurted out. Upon noting my shocked face, he laughed and slapped his hand down on the table. “Hell, Randall, I didn’t think I could ever shock you. It wasn’t anything, really. Just a couple of dates for fun. Once she met your Dad, Sam dropped me like a lead balloon. Your Mom and Dad were meant for each other from the get-go. You know that idea of love-at-first sight. Well for them it was true.”

  “Well, why are you telling me this now? Shit, Dad’s not dead yet. You’re not saying you want to get back with Mom, are you?”

  “Randall, that could not be further from my mind. First off, your Mom is a one-man woman and her man is lying in a bed a mile away. After he passes, he will still be her one man, nothin’ going to change that and I would never try. I only brought it up to give you some insight to your Dad. Paul first met your Mom when I was stupid enough to bring her to dinner a couple of weeks after we got approval from the bank for our first round of funding for the small housing development I live in, just across College Boulevard from the campus. It had been a dream come true for us. I remember it like yesterday. Everybody was happy and exhilarated. That development was the spring board for everything your Dad did for this town, but even with the funding approval from the bank, our world kind of went into chaos that night.

  “Mark, you mind bringing us a bottle of wine. I think that will be better than a couple of beers to go along with dinner . . . plus, a couple steaks, medium rare . . . Randall, you up for a steak?”

  I barely got out a “sure” before Uncle Bill jump
ed right back into his request to Mark “My nephew and I might be here for a while, so anything else you would suggest with the steaks, just go ahead. I’ll trust you.” I had a suspicion this would be a typical Uncle Bill night; starting out serious and with a point, but quickly degrading once the booze started to flow. Maybe the saving grace would be he was starting with wine and not bourbon.

  Bill turned back to me and smiled, “Mark and Tim are great. Your Dad gave them a little starting money to get the restaurant going and they’ve turned it into one of the best in Colorado. Good guys, queer as a three-dollar bill, but I love these guys and leave it to your Dad to see their potential.”

  Mark had just returned to the table with a couple of bottles, smiling. “Randall, I know your Uncle pretty well so I figured we’ll keep a second bottle up he, just as a reserve.” Mark surprised me when he not only poured glasses for Uncle Bill and me, but he poured out a glass for himself. Taking a small sip, “Not bad, I think you will like it but it needs to breathe a little. Steaks will be on the way shortly. Tim and I will join you after the rush from downstairs slows a little.” At that, Mark headed off back downstairs.

  I was at a loss at this. “So, Uncle, since when did you become such good buds with restaurateurs that you now eat together? I thought this was just going to be you and me. What gives?”

  “Soon enough, Randall. They wanted to tell you a little about your Dad themselves. That’s all. How’s the wine?”

  “It’s actually pretty good. I’ll bet it’s expensive. So back to the infamous dinner where you introduced Mom to Dad; what was the chaos?” I figured if I did not get Uncle Bill back on topic before he started in on the wine, the night would be lost.

  I was surprised when Uncle Bill actually began to tear up. His eyes became red and his mouth began to clinch. I could tell this was a tough topic. Finally, his eyes dropping to the glass of wine he had cupped his hands around. “That was the night your Dad found out he was going back into the Army. You know, the Korean War.” With this Uncle Bill grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass.

  “Shit, I was such an ass that night. I accused him of messing up our family’s future. Saying that if he hadn’t gone to fight in WWII the government would not be tapping him for this war. I actually went so far as to say good riddance and never come back. Randall, I was really bad and I never really had the chance to ask him to forgive me before he headed off to Korea. Anyway, I think he forgave me as soon as foul words spewed from my mouth, but he never forgave himself for the impact to the business and his dreams.

  “You know your Dad never had a choice. He wasn’t married, he didn’t have kids, he wasn’t in school, and he was a young army veteran; never had a chance. It was back to a hell hole thousands of miles from home . . . and he only had a couple of weeks to report.”

  With that an older man in a dapper suit showed up at our table with a couple huge ribeye steaks. “Hi, I am Tim. I really hope you enjoy dinner tonight, Randall.”

  * * *

  Paul’s hands were trembling after having read the letter from the Selective Service System at dinner. He had received an order to report for an “Armed Forces Physical Examination” at the Greyhound Bus Depot on Monday, April 17th, 1950, less than a week from this evening. “Mom, Dad, William, this doesn’t have to change anything. We should still move on the development.”

  Dad stared at Paul. “Paul, there is no way in hell we can pull this off without you . . . and William no more comments from you. We will just wait until this mess in Korea is over. I will sit down with Virginia and you tomorrow and we will just have to figure out a way to put this on the back burner until you come home. No if’s or but’s.”

  William was stewing. It was unclear if he was more upset about Paul going back into the army, the delay of potential wealth through the development, or being humiliated by being ignored in front of his new girl, Samantha. Dad had not even bothered to acknowledge him as he talked about what they were going to do now that Paul was back in the army. Heck, hadn’t he proven himself this past summer to be capable? Couldn’t he be a solution to keep the development on track? What did Virginia and Paul have that he didn’t? Then the answers struck him like a ton of bricks; talent, smarts, commitment, and Dad’s trust. Hell, they had everything the company needed. William, sat quietly, realizing now how he had let down the family. Even worse, Samantha had not taken her eyes of Paul for more than a few moments ever since sitting down at the table. It was obvious; tonight, William had lost his illusions of self-respect and self-worth plus he had lost his girl.

  * * *

  Uncle Bill, pushed his plate back from the edge of the table. He had pretty much demolished the huge steak. I had to admit the steak was probably one of the best I’d ever had. It looked like the only real difference between Bill’s appetite and my appetite was the commitment to wine. I was on my second glass and Bill had just drained what was left of the second bottle into his glass.

  Mark had just returned from the main restaurant downstairs. “Sorry, Tim and I have not been able to break away to join you for dinner. It has been hectic downstairs.” Looking at the two emptied plates, “Wow, it looks as though you REALLY liked the dinner. Tim will be so happy. By chance have you left some room for a desert? This morning I made a cheesecake just for you two. Plus, I have a great port I’ve wanted to break into.”

  “I have to say, that was one of the best steaks I can remember. Uncle Bill, you up for Mark’s cheesecake.”

  “I do not know where I would put it, Randall. Besides, I think I kind of overindulged on the wine; it was superb. I didn’t bring my reading glasses and I did not recognize the label.”

  Mark smiled and winked, “I thought you might like it. It’s actually a Petite Sirah out of an up-and-coming winery in Temecula, California. Randall isn’t that close to your home?” Without even waiting for my answer Mark jumped right in to describing how the spicy, plummy taste seemed to go so well with red meats. He obviously knew his food and drink.

  Although I had no doubt Uncle Bill loved the wine, he pretty much loved any wine that poured, in this case, maybe too much. His eyes divulged that none of Mark’s description was sinking in; perhaps if Mark had come up a couple glasses earlier?

  “Mark, I hate to say this, but I think my uncle and I are going to have to pass on the cheesecake. I hope Tim and you are not too disappointed, but from Uncle Bill’s eyes, I think it might be time for us to head home. Plus, I suspect my Mom will be sending out a search party for us shortly. Maybe we should just pay the check and we can swing by again over the next couple of days.”

  To this Mark laughed and said “There’s no check from us, Randall. Never is and never will be. We owe more to your Dad and Mister Simmons that we could ever pay back with meals.” With that he stepped to Uncle Bill’s side and grasped one arm. “Randall if you catch your uncle’s other arm; I think it best if we help him down the steps. They can be pretty tricky. And I am going to hold you to your offer to swing by again. Tim and I always enjoy sharing stories about your Dad.”

  Chapter 10

  Even with the ride home being short, Uncle Bill had fallen sound asleep and was sawing logs by the time I pulled in behind the house on Armstrong Street. I had briefly thought of driving him to his house, but leaving him without his truck didn’t seem right and it was too far for me to walk home. So Uncle Bill would be staying with Mom and me tonight. Thank goodness, Mom had decided to hire the live-in nurse.

  Uncle Bill, groggy and muddled, woke up just enough to allow me to walk him into our home. It was all I could do just getting him up the entry steps to the front door; it would be next to impossible to walk him through the house to my bedroom; at least without waking the entire house. Bill got the couch tonight.

  It had been a fun and relaxing night, and I was not ready to turn in. Except for the tic-toc-tic-toc of the grandfather clock in the living room, Uncle Bill’s snoring, and the dry, sho
rt breaths coming from Dad’s mouth, the house was eerily quiet. I sat down with a cup of late-night coffee at the kitchen table to open the box Mom and I had pulled up from the basement earlier in the day. I had barely started to rummage through it earlier in the day, and I now wanted to see if Mom had saved anything from the time before she married Paul. Before digging into the box, I grabbed Dad’s blue book off the table and began to flip through some of the pages I had yet to read.

  Johnny Jackson, you deserved better. I guess you know what it meant to be a real man. Sorry I never returned the favor . . .

  I remember a Johnny Jackson from Dad’s business when I had been a kid. I kind of doubted this was the same guy. Johnny had been a quiet, big black guy that came to our family back when I had been a child. He had worked for Dad for several years until he had passed away quietly during my junior year of high school. Some of my friends thought he was kind of creepy because he would talk to himself while he was working. I figured he just had a lot to say, but didn’t have many folks he felt comfortable talking with. Initially, I never knew why Dad had invited him into our family, but that was just Dad. I read on.

  * * *

  ‘I hate this country’ was all Paul could think as he hopped out of the jeep in January of 1951. It was humid and cold, maybe not bitter, but cold in any case. Pusan was dirty, congested, surrounded by desolate low mountains; generally miserable, but at least it was far from the front.

  Pusan was a port city in the far southeasterly part of South Korea. It had been the center of heavy fighting several months earlier as the Chinese and NKPA, North Korean People’s Army, had been converging on the city in a push to drive the United Nation defenses into the ocean. Thankfully, they failed and the United States 8th Army had responded by surprising the NKPR with a counter attack led by an amphibious landing at Inchon, close to Seoul. The tides had certainly turned. Now if President Truman would just get out of MacArthur’s way and let him win, maybe Paul could return home sooner than later.