by Nathan Roden
“Jack. Are you serious? An afro? That is groovy, man. Pork chop sideburns and a baby blue leisure suit. Jack Englemann; stayin’ alive. Let me guess, is this what you looked like when MG took you shopping?”
“It’s hard for me to believe that this was the fashion back then, but it was. Nobody asked for my opinion.”
Babe took over the running commentary as he continued to shuffle through thirty five years of history.
“Jack, Larry Bird called. He wants his shorts back.”
“Hey, Jack, your mustache is as wide as your tie.”
“Jack is a baaaad mutha — shut yo mouth— just talkin’ ’bout Jack.”
Babe opened an album that contained pictures from Jack’s and Helen’s wedding. This effectively brought the joking to an end.
“You know what, Jack? This may sound… I don’t know, maybe it sounds wrong, but Helen might be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
“Well, you did marry her daughter so it has to make some sense, don’t you think?” Jack asked.
“Now are you going to ask how the hell this fashion-starved nerd pulled that off?”
“Never crossed my mind,” Babe said with a smirk.
“Lying little shit.”
Jack reached for a distant stack of pictures that he only succeeded in pushing farther away from him. He stretched farther until he rocked back and fell over backward.
Babe laughed.
“You okay there, Jack?”
Jack started laughing.
“Sisk! Bentley!”
Babe took his cue. “Everett!”
And in unison: “Whip up a liver and whey shake, right away!”
Babe fought to his feet as the effects of the rum rushed to his head. He offered a hand to Jack and helped him to his feet.
“Let’s open presents,” Jack said.
Babe went first; a Red Sox jersey. For Mr. Pendleton. Jack knew that Babe owned no less than eight Red Sox jerseys. The next box contained an assortment of gourmet dog treats. A final box contained a portable snow blower.
Babe looked at Jack with a puzzled look on his face.
“Would you like to wade through snow every time you have to pee?” Jack asked.
“Oh, yeah. That’s good thinking.” Babe scratched Mr. Pendleton’s head.
“Good thing Jack is a smart guy, huh boy?”
Jack opened a box. He lifted up by the shoulders a circa 1976 Los Angeles Rams jersey—blue and gold, number sixteen with the name ‘Pendleton’ across the back. Jack held it up for several seconds and then lowered it slowly while he bit his lip.
Babe’s stomach clenched.
Uh, oh.
“I’m sorry Jack. Did I—”
“No, no, Babe. It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. It’s the best gift I can remember. Thank you.”
Babe breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“I got a box from Dad; one for you and one for me, from Dad and Uncle Zach.”
The packages were identical and contained DVD copies of the videotape that Zach had taken of their family reunion, the one with Jill pitching softball to Zach’s sons.
With Jack’s permission and directions, Babe put the DVD in the player. Before he started the video both men filled their mugs in an adult fashion. They watched the video play without commentary. Babe caught sight of himself a couple of times.
My God, I’m getting old, he thought.
As Zach carried his video camera around the park, many scenes featured a background of his boisterous laugh. This left the feeling of being present for a pirate adventure or perhaps a boar hunt with King Henry the Whichever.
The first time Jill appeared she was pushing a little boy and a little girl on side-by-side swings. Their high pitched voices could be heard across the park as they screamed the mantra of kids-in-swings everywhere—
“Higher. Higher. Higher, Jill.
“Higher!”
Babe watched Jill switch between the two children and on video it was almost terrifying. She pushed them so high that they defied gravity to stay in the swings. When the ride was over, they hugged Jill and ran off to brag about their death-defying swing adventure.
Jill showed a tinge of sunburn and the beginning stages of a tan—the result of the two week Caribbean cruise that she and Babe has just returned from. She appeared so healthy in the video.
Babe’s thoughts began to wander.
Should I have moved her out of the cold? Did the climate make her worse? Surely the doctors would have mentioned that, if it would have made a difference. But look at her pushing those swings like a teenager.
There was plenty of heat on her pitches that day, too.
Babe closed his eyes and shook his head.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, yeah. I was just thinking about— well, you know, about how people lived for thousands of years without being able to look at their own past; all they had was memory—memory and stories. Then suddenly there were pictures. And now we can watch the past move by in real time. That’s awesome, but it’s also…”
“Painful,” Jack said.
“Yeah,” Babe said.
“It can be. Dealing with regret is nothing new, but seeing the past right in front of my eyes, I always hear questions. Survivor’s guilt, I guess—could you have done this? Could you have made a difference if you had done…whatever? So is it a good thing or a bad thing? I know that it fucks with my head.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, “same kind of questions I’ve always had. That’s why I wanted to study psychology in the first place. But in the end it seems that the deeper you look the more you find that human beings are a collection of arrogant, intellectual slugs—convinced that we are gods—at the same time knowing deep down that we are as dumb as a box of rocks.”
Babe laughed.
“Which textbook are you quoting? I want to look that up.”
“That’s the First Book of Jack; Chapter One, Verse One. Not to be confused with the Book of You Don’t Know Jack Shit.”
Babe stood and picked up Mr. Pendleton’s leash. His cell phone rang.
“Hello, Mom? Yes, Merry Christmas. I’ve been trying to call you for two days.
“I’m doing great. I’m at Jack’s house.
“Yes, I talked to him earlier today. He’s with Uncle Zach. They were going to rent a boat.
“He might have said marlin, I don’t remember. Some fish about the size of a Volkswagen.
“Probably because they’re in Florida, Mom. Fishermen don’t give a rat’s ass about cell phones.
“A rat’s ass.
“A rat’s ass, Mom. Seriously, you’ve never heard that?
“Of course I’ve been drinking.
“Because long ago, Mom, three wise men followed a star and brought gifts of Frankenstein and incense and Jack Daniels, and everybody was very, very happy. Where are you, again? Did you say?
“Oh, Charleston. North Dakota, then. Right. South Carolina. Sure, I understand. That’s right. We can never, ever, raise enough funds, ‘cause we got shit to do. Am I right?
“No, wait. Mom. I’m sor— hello? Mom. Mom?”
Babe dropped the phone to the floor.
“Fuck.”
Babe was wiping his feet while following Mr. Pendleton from outside when Jack’s phone rang.
“Jack Englemann.”
“Shit. No, no, it’s okay. This isn’t the first time and won’t be the last. Justice never sleeps because crime never sleeps, right? Yeah, ten-thirty. Not a problem. Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Jack tossed the phone onto the sofa and sighed.
“Man, we party pretty good at the beginning and the middle, Jack, but we have to work on these endings,” Babe said.
“In that you are correct, sir. I should have gone into a different line of work, like selling shoes. Or maybe hats. I think that it’s unlikely that there are calls being made at this instant involving a shoe or hat catastrophe that requires intervention on Christmas morning,”
Jack said.
“The guest room is made up, Babe. What do you need for Jo…uh, Mr. Pendleton to sleep on?”
“I brought his pillow. Before I forget about it, can I ask a favor?”
“Of course.”
“MG previewed an applicant that she said you wanted me on. He’s not discharged until March. Gabriel Athas—recruited as a spook, trained as a spook, and went out a spook. I’ve fought my way through classified applicants before, but this guy is something else. I know it’s the holidays and everything, but every call I make gets transferred, transferred again, and transferred again. It’s the biggest damn black hole I’ve ever seen. When you meet with the military brass do you think you can talk somebody into a little cooperation?”
“I’ll bring it up. We should have some stroke with them right now.
“I can’t tell you anything about that call, but I’m going to tell you this much, and I want you to be on your toes, Babe. We have another situation being investigated locally and out of Washington. RCI may have a part in it. This can’t leave this room. “
“It’s internal.”
Nineteen
Babe spent New Year’s Eve at Momma’s Sofa, mostly because he considered it too pathetic to spend the night at home alone. Jack was preparing for the meeting at the Pentagon, and was in his office late every night since the phone call on Christmas Eve. The one time Babe did get Jack on the phone, Jack said that he had to cut back on the alcohol.
Jordan and Samantha returned from their holiday visits but were swamped with real estate dealings. They were looking to buy in Washington and perhaps sell in Boston. They hoped to keep the Wellesley home but the uncertain future of RCI and Jordan’s income left them unsure of their finances.
Millie had made up with Bradley for the moment, and they were attending a faculty party at MIT. Tom hinted that Christie was ovulating or not ovulating, and apparently either was a situation to be capitalized on. Babe considered asking MG about her and Rebecca’s plans, but that idea left him feeling desperate.
Babe tried to get interested in the football game that evening but he couldn’t muster any interest in the epic battle between the Middle-Something Somebodies and the Southwestern-Something Somebody Elses, each of which sported losing season records. There were just so many of these bowl games and the ones that were usually scheduled on holidays were not exactly top shelf.
Klaus and Frieda Schroeder made a brief appearance about nine thirty. It took them another thirty minutes to pass through the hugs, the handshakes, and the kisses. Babe and Klaus shared a grizzly bear hug and Frieda got a hug and a kiss. Frieda took Babe’s face in her hands.
“May the new year bring you nothing but happiness, Mr. Babe.”
“Thanks. All the best to you, Momma Frieda.”
Between Lewis and Leo and the number of regulars at Momma’s that night, Babe didn’t feel alone at midnight. He got kisses from three girls and even one extremely drunk guy, which he could have done without, but it caught him off guard. It wasn’t worth punching the guy in the face over.
Babe left around one o’clock. He wanted to make sure that he was able to take advantage of the extended hours of public transportation. He had not driven a car since his Honda Accord was stolen five years ago. It was such a pain in the ass to drive and even more of a pain in the ass to park—not to mention the time and effort spent trying to park.
Whenever Babe thought about buying another car, his mind mercilessly wrenched him back to the night that he took Jill to a traveling play production downtown. He surprised her by buying front row tickets for the play several months in advance.
The day of the play was not a good one for Jill. She was having trouble with her balance and she was nauseous. She fought hard to hide her condition from Babe because she knew how excited he was to be taking her out.
They left home early but drove around for thirty-five minutes attempting to park near the theater. The nearby parking lots were full. The thirty-five minutes was filled with starts and stops, abrupt lane changes, and horn-blowing. Twice, Babe spotted an empty parking place only to have someone whip into it before he could get to it. When they could wait no longer, Babe parked more than a half mile from the theater.
They had walked less than two blocks when Jill broke free from Babe’s arm and ran into an alley to throw up. She wretched until Babe had to help her to stand. They returned slowly to the car, Babe helping her to walk. Jill cried softly, apologizing over and over until Babe was crying as well, as he begged her to stop apologizing.
Babe was not without a number of options when it came to closing time at Momma’s. Jack lived just a few blocks away. The most convenient option was his office. Or, to be more exact, Jordan’s office. It really didn’t belong to Jordan but it was his idea. Due to the distance from his home and his wife’s job, Jordan asked for either a salary inclusion for a nearby apartment or a small apartment located on the premises.
The Bureau Okayed the efficiency style apartment that was located at Research Consultants, Inc. Jordan told his staff that the apartment was available for “emergency layovers”. These usually coincided with closing time.
Babe, Tom, and Jordan kept a couple of changes of clothing in the apartment’s closet. Babe also kept a bicycle there. He had used it to get home twice, but afterward he was forced to get it from his house back to the office, and that was a lot of trouble. The bike was very much a weather-dependent solution.
The first time he rode the bike home he was sloppy drunk. The night’s adventure began in a cab.
He hailed a cab outside of Momma’s one night, and he fell into the back seat. When the cabbie asked him the address, he gave the cabbie his work address. Babe paid the bill along with a ridiculous tip. He got out of the cab and watched it drive away. Then he realized his mistake.
He wrestled his bicycle down the stairs and less than a mile from the office a policeman pulled behind him and turned on his lights. This was the night that Babe learned that it was illegal to ride a bicycle while intoxicated. When Babe told the officer the story of how he ended up at his office instead of at his house, the officer thought that was the funniest thing he had heard in a long time. He helped put Babe’s bike into his trunk and drove him home.
Tonight, Babe was not really that drunk.
Maybe I have been drinking too much, he thought. He damned sure didn’t want to go there. So, he told himself that it had been okay to let loose for a little while. It was the holidays; there had been a little less stress at work, and a lot less volume. He had been a widower for three and a half months. Permission granted.
Babe settled into the bus seat. As New Year’s Eve melted into New Year’s Day, he thought about the end on the holidays and the return to business as usual. And although New Years was not as much of a ‘family’ time as Thanksgiving and Christmas was, he felt lonely as soon as the door hissed shut on Momma’s Sofa. He looked forward to seeing Mr. Pendleton, and while that thought made him happy, he couldn’t help but picture his future self—wrinkled, balding, tired from a day of guarding his lawn from his porch-mounted rocking chair and then making the move to a different chair in front of his fireplace where he fell asleep covered in a warm blanket and an assortment of cats.
Twenty
It was three weeks into the New Year before Babe could finally meet with Jack for dinner. Babe took off early on a Friday afternoon to be ready, assuming that Jack was crashing early these days; which he was. And he was a mess.
“Yeah, that was a little rougher than I expected,” Jack said. “Mrs. Leland is a passionate woman and the passage of time hasn’t calmed her at all. When the Pentagon stiffs started reading off terms like they were making a real estate deal or something, she went nuts. We all underestimated her.
“Going in, you kind of expect someone in her position to be numb and maybe a little intimidated by the Pentagon staff. I assumed that she was prepared to hear from some high level officers wearing sharp creases with eight pounds of fruit salad
on their chests pontificate about how bad things happen in the ‘fog of war’, and how there are so many inherent dangers in the region.
“I believe we had the best deal we could hope for. We had the military on their heels. It’s not like we demanded that they change their operations or policies. We just wanted them to acknowledge that the military experience had contributed to this young man’s death and his inability to lead a normal life. His family deserves something. I thought we had done that.
“But I’ll hear that woman’s voice for the rest of my life.
“I don’t want your blood money! I want to know what happened to my boy’s mind. He was a good boy. He was a good man. Somebody, please tell me what happened to him!”
Babe pushed his salad around the bowl.
“That’s tough.”
“I talked to one of the Generals about the roadblock you’re running into,” Jack said.
“I got a call from him today. We’re not going to be able to access anything. He followed up on your inquiries and said that each had been processed, but they were all met with ‘no access’—classified beyond our reach. He said that all he could do was to make sure the requisitions were a part of the candidate’s file.”
“Wow, this will be a new one. Starting from ground zero,” Babe said.
“Guess I better bring my ‘A’ game. Have you heard from Jordan? I haven’t seen him since before Christmas.”
“I talked to him earlier in the week. They’ve about decided to start with a condo in D.C. until we get something firm on our future here. They’ve looked at a few properties around Arlington but the commute is scaring them off.”
“I miss Jordan already,” Babe said. “He’s not just smart. He knows about people, and not just the book-smart way. The stuff you learn from paying attention. He’s also a lunatic, in a good way. That’s why he puts up with Tom and me. Jordan has a nine year old boy inside of him that waits to be asked to come out and play.”