by Peter Parken
Art was not a gift he was blessed with though. He had no talent whatsoever for art, not before the accident and not after.
Nate and his mother both did a lot of research on Savant Syndrome after their visit with the neurologist. He told them to just go live their lives, that there was nothing that could be done about this, and neither should they even want anything to be done. Nate was still the same boy—just exceptionally gifted now in some areas that he wasn’t before. But he was still the same charming lad, the boy with the outgoing personality, the one who could be the life of the party, and the boy who had always had an overwhelming capacity for sensitivity, kindness and compassion.
Nate was still Nate. Just new and improved.
Nate parked his car in the hospital parking lot, paid for his ticket at the machine and left the stub on the dashboard of his BMW 735i. The car was only a year old and it was the first bimmer he’d ever bought. But he loved it—the way it cornered and accelerated. He’d never had a car like it before. As he walked away, he turned his head and took a moment to admire the gleaming emerald green machine. It stood out in the parking lot, for sure.
He saw his image reflecting back at him from the glass doors of the hospital as he approached the entrance. For a moment, he didn’t recognize himself with the baseball cap and sunglasses on. Nor was he prepared to see his stilting gait—his feet still hurt like hell from the burning metal of the trestles and he was walking tentatively. But he didn’t realize how frail he looked walking like that. He looked like an old man the way he was hobbling. And his shoulders seemed hunched—he wasn’t standing erect in his usual confident way.
He knew the last couple of days had taken a lot out of him—he wasn’t sleeping or eating right, and it was apparently starting to show. Nate wasn’t accustomed to looking his age—he was forty-five now, but today he thought he looked twenty-five years older. And there were times since the accident when he’d felt like he was indeed seventy. He was tired, beat up, insecure and frustrated, and he knew he had to just shake it off. His problem was that he took everything that he had a hand in personally. Nate took responsibility seriously.
But while the accident had taken a toll on him, he had to remind himself that he was still alive. At least he hadn’t suffered the horror that those poor victims and their families had suffered. However, knowing that he’d played a big role in their loss was weighing heavily on him. Had he missed something? Had he done something wrong in his design specifications? Or just the design itself? Had he been unknowingly reckless? He had to find out.
He checked in at the front desk and was directed down the hall to the elevators. Shelby was housed on the second floor in room twenty-one. Nate found his steps getting slower and slower the closer he got to her room. He had to face her, had to do this duty, but the coward part of him didn’t want to. He had to, though, and he was glad that the hero part of him was winning the internal battle in his brain.
He knocked on the door to room twenty-one and heard a sweet singsong voice inviting him in.
He walked to the foot of the bed and turned on his charm. “Hi Shelby. I’m Nathan Morrell. We’ve met before.”
She laughed. Smiled demurely at him. Then laughed again. “We have indeed met before. Can’t recall where. Perhaps we were just hanging around somewhere?”
Nate chuckled. She had a good sense of humor. He liked that. And now that he was looking at her under better circumstances, he was impressed. Her eyes were a sparkling blue and her hair was blonde and long. He could tell she’d applied a bit of makeup, but not too much. He didn’t like heavily made up women. She had a smile that would melt an igloo, and he really liked that about her too. Nate figured she was no older than thirty or so. He was thankful that he’d saved this lovely person. It was weird thinking that she came so close to dying that day—yet here she was, full of life and smiling her pretty smile. Seeing her alive meant so much to him; he was finally glad he came. Glad to be the hero.
She motioned with her left hand. “Come here to me. I want to give you a big kiss.”
Nate walked over and leaned across the bed. She wrapped her arm around his neck and laughed again. “I think I’ve done this to you before, haven’t I?”
“Yes, indeed you have. But not the kiss part.”
“Well, that can be fixed.” She pressed her lips against his cheek and held them there for a good five seconds.
She pulled her face back and studied him. Then she took off his hat. “It’s not polite to wear a hat around a lady, especially one whose life you saved.”
“You’re right. Pardon my bad manners, dear lady.”
She handed Nate his hat. “You don’t know how happy I am that you came to see me. You saved my life—I can’t believe what you did. I watched you climbing up, throwing away your shoes, hurling yourself over the top and coming down to me. I heard you cursing the hot steel on your feet as you dragged me up the trestle with my arm hanging around your neck. I remember all those things.”
Nate felt his face turning red and he looked down at the floor. “You weren’t that heavy and the steel wasn’t that hot. I just get ornery when I haven’t had my eighth cup of coffee.”
Shelby laughed in a special way that Nate knew only she owned. “You’re too modest.” She reached out and held his hand. “But you know what I remember the most?”
“What?”
“When my arm slipped off your neck and I was falling, you thrust your hand down and grabbed my arm. When you pulled me up, you spun me so that the back of me would hit the trestle rather than the front. I can’t believe you did that—and that you were able to think so fast to do that.”
Nate shuffled his feet and looked down again. He didn’t know what to say.
Suddenly, the door to Shelby’s room opened, and a tornado of a man blew in—with a nurse following close behind. “Sir, you can’t…”
The short, fat, and balding man rushed to the other side of Shelby’s bed and tossed a business card onto the sheets. “I have to be quick—they don’t want me here. But, you need to know I’m the lawyer who’s launching the Class Action suit against Flying Machines Inc. and Adventureland. You’re entitled to be part of this lawsuit and you’re a key witness. Call me.”
With that, the little man rushed past the flustered nurse and headed towards the door, giving Nate a quick glance as he passed him. Suddenly, he skidded to a stop and pointed. “You’re…you’re him!”
Chapter 7
Shelby sat upright in her bed. “That’s him alright! This is the man who saved my life!”
The lawyer chuckled. “He’s also the prick who almost killed you. But, don’t worry—we’ll make him pay.”
Shelby looked from the lawyer to Nate, and back to the lawyer again. “What…what do you mean?”
The lawyer was just about to reply when another nurse came into the room, an older lady. “Sir, we have to ask you to leave. You didn’t check in at the desk, and you’re not on the list of invited guests.”
The first nurse started sputtering, “I tried to tell him, Helen, but he…”
The second nurse, who seemed to have some authority, waved her hand at her colleague, silencing her. “Sir, please, get out of here now or I’ll call Security.”
He shuffled towards the door, then turned his head back to Shelby. “Just ask him, Ms. Sutcliffe, just ask him.”
As soon as they’d left, she turned her head slowly towards Nate, and asked him in a soft voice, almost a whisper, “What did he mean?”
Nate swallowed hard and sat down on the edge of her bed. “I was one of the VIPs invited for the inaugural ride of the Black Mamba.” He paused, trying to choose his words carefully, but he knew there was no other way to say it than to just say it. “I’m the CEO of Flying Machines Inc. I designed the Black Mamba.”
Shelby just stared at him. No twinkle in her beautiful blue eyes. No expression on her pretty face. She slid down on the bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin. “Please leave.”
Nate didn’t want to leave just yet. He felt he needed to explain, to defend himself in some way. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call the nurse?”
Shelby closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Can we talk about this?”
With her eyes still closed, she replied, “Mr. Morrell, I asked you to leave. Please do that before I scream at you.”
*****
Nate just drove—had no idea where he was going, although there really wasn’t very far you could go in Alexandria. He headed to familiar territory almost by remote; Old Town was where he felt most comfortable. It was where he lived and where the sights had a calming effect on him.
He loved this city. It was where he’d been born, but despite that connection Alexandria had character that most American cities had to struggle to attain. It was founded in 1749 and was the birthplace of George Washington, the very first President of the United States. And at the other extreme it was where Jim Morrison of The Doors had been born.
It enjoyed a colorful history, and that history was just one of the things that made the city unique. During the Civil War, the Union soldiers had moved in and taken over from the Confederates, making it one of the largest supply centers for the war effort. And as a Confederate state, it was in itself a paradox—while it was home to one of the largest slave-trading operations in the United States, it was also a large ‘free-black’ community.
Nate parked his car in his reserved spot at his own office on King Street and started walking. He thought of dropping into the office for a bit, but decided against it. He hadn’t been there since the accident and really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone yet—even though his staff probably needed to see his face, hear his reassuring words. Nate himself needed to hear some reassuring words and wasn’t in the right frame of mind yet to prop anyone else up. For the moment, his friend and partner, Tom, would have to carry the ball.
Nate knew that he’d be okay in a day or so. The shock of seeing the look on Shelby’s face at that very moment when he told her who he was…well…it was a moment of shame that he’d never ever forget. He couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone look at him that way before; a look that was a combination of disgust, anger and pity, all rolled up in an expressionless mask. Made even blanker when she’d laid her head back on the pillow and just closed her eyes. At that moment, she’d signaled finality; that she wanted nothing more to do with her ‘hero.’
Nate concentrated on walking fast—the faster the better. He held his head up high and focused on keeping his shoulders erect. His feet still hurt like hell, but he pushed the pain out of his head and forced them to move. His eyes were wandering in different directions. Paranoid that people were looking at him, talking about him. But—everyone just seemed to be going about their business, unconcerned about the hero who had transformed into a goat. Nate took in some deep breaths as he walked—told himself that this feeling of vulnerability would pass.
He wandered into the Old Town Farmers Market on Market Square—he knew it was the oldest market of its kind in the entire nation. Packed with people, the smell of fresh produce was refreshing, almost intoxicating.
Nate found himself out on the street again, marveling at how there always seemed to be something to do in this small city. It had so many special events and parades: First Night Alexandria on New Year’s Eve was something that he and Stephanie had never missed; the George Washington Birthday Parade in February attracted visitors from across the country; Saint Patrick’s Day Parade in March was incredibly colorful and of course the pubs cooperated by staying open from morning until the next dawn; the USA and City Birthday celebration in July brought out the patriots; and the King Street Art Festival in September showcased talent from right across the country. And no one ever missed the Del Ray Turkey Trot in November—an event that was perfectly timed with Thanksgiving. Then, in December, there was the Scottish Christmas Walk and the Boat Parade of Lights down the Potomac River. There was always something to see and do in this little city and he had no desire to live anywhere else. The wonderful temperate climate was also hard to beat. He felt sorry for people who had to endure winter in all its fury. Winter in Virginia was similar to spring in most other areas of the world.
Nate had visited most of the world’s major cities, but none of them captivated him as much as his own city. Maybe it was because he had been born in Alexandria, but he didn’t think that was it. He knew a lot of people who absolutely hated the cities they were born and raised in; Nate had never felt that way about Alexandria. He loved that it was so scenic. It enjoyed the lushness that the state of Virginia was so famous for, but also had the big city feel of being right across the river from Washington. And being that close to the seat of power for the entire country was a feeling that was hard to describe.
He continued walking—his feet were starting to feel better now. Nate’s talent for concentration was allowing the pain to recede. He hadn’t yet chased the feeling of shame out of his head yet, but that would come in time. He had to rationalize the whole thing, had to understand what happened. He knew in his gut that he and his people hadn’t made any mistakes—that something else had happened that they couldn’t have anticipated. He didn’t know what that was yet, but once he was allowed to examine the wreckage he’d be able to figure it out.
He glanced to his left and noticed the Alexandria Black History Museum, and he knew that just up ahead was the birthplace of George Washington. He thought that was kind of ironic; a museum celebrating black history in a state that had tried to separate from the United States during the Civil War primarily over the slavery issue. And doubly ironic that it was down the street from the ancestral home of a President who himself had owned slaves.
Nate chuckled at the paradox. The chuckle didn’t last long—he realized that his situation was a paradox as well. The man who had designed the rollercoaster that killed twenty-five people was also the man who had personally saved the lone survivor.
His mind wandered again—he thought about his marriage to Stephanie. How they’d been together for ten years. No children. He’d wanted them, she hadn’t. Of course, when they were dating she’d been all for it. After they’d tied the knot, her attitude changed. She seemed to get caught up in Nate’s success—became this monster of materialism that Nate had never seen coming. Why hadn’t he seen it coming? Was he that bad a judge of character? He—the one who could analyze virtually anything—wasn’t able to analyze the one he thought he loved? She’d transformed into a posh and shallow little princess, who in a moment of anger—and perhaps in an attempt to hurt Nate—confessed to having more than one affair. Stephanie was someone who craved attention—she was more insecure than Nate had ever realized. It probably didn’t take much more than a smile, a wink or a nod to get her into the sack. She needed to be desired—didn’t seem to realize that most people told her just what they knew she wanted to hear. Women told her she was beautiful just to be in her company, to hob-knob with one of the wealthiest women in town. They gushed over her house so they could be invited to her lavish tea parties. And most men would say virtually anything to any woman just to get laid. Stephanie didn’t seem to understand that she was just being used by everyone—but maybe she was just using them, too, in order to get her fleeting rushes of desirability.
Nate had turned around and was on his way back to his office parking lot. He was feeling a lot better. It was such a warm and sunny day, he removed his jacket and hat—he figured the hat wasn’t a very good disguise anyway.
The divorce was going to be expensive. They were still living together, but that was as far as it went. He slept in the newer wing of the house and Stephanie slept in the original section. She felt more comfortable there anyway, with the posh ornateness surrounding her. That was what made her feel good—and every time she had the opportunity to show it all off to friends, she did just that. She had a special way about her of making people feel small, making them feel inadequate—actually seemed to enjoy watching them squir
m.
His marriage had been an expensive mistake—but, like everything else in his life, Nate would move on. He would correct the situation and move on. Funny, the fact that his wife had had affairs didn’t even bother him. Because he hadn’t loved her for a long time now. He should have ended the marriage after the first two years, but his career had become so all-consuming he hadn’t paid much attention to his personal life. He had known in his heart who she really was—what she had turned out to be. She was virtually ‘unlovable.’ There wasn’t one quality he could think of that he loved about her. Maybe he was a bit guilty himself—guilty of putting up with things, keeping her in his life because she was the convenient ‘trophy wife’ for his business dealings and jet setting.
He didn’t know. It could have been that—at least part of it. Who really knows why things happen the way they do, what motivates people to do the things they do in life? You’d have to have the ability to go back in time to truly understand what was going through your head. Even though his brain was one of the best analytical machines ever created, Nate wasn’t capable of properly analyzing himself. Well, maybe it was more just a case of not being able to be objective about his personal life and the decisions he’d made. That was tough for anyone to do.
For now, it was just a marriage in transition—one that had already ended, but just needed the legal work to make it official. They were legally separated, but just sharing the same premises for the sake of convenience and economics. She wanted him to be the one to move out—because she couldn’t bear to part with the house. Nate didn’t care—he could live anywhere. But he hadn’t had the time to look around yet, and with what just happened at Adventureland it would no doubt have to take a back seat for a little bit longer.
Nate was walking across the street to the carpark when he heard his name being called. He turned around to see his friend and colleague, Tom Foster, running toward him.