by Inmon, Shawn
He made the call each year on what had been their anniversary. The phone would brrrrrr in his ear and someone would answer. Most years, it was Louise Esterhaus, but on rare occasions, Harvey would answer. As time passed, Emily herself would often answer.
When she did, Dominick said a silent prayer of thanks, knowing that she would be alive in his mind, at least, for another year, then would quickly hang up. When Louise or Harvey answered, Dominick would say, “Can I speak to Emily, please?” then hold his breath, the memory of the phone call from his previous life still on his mind. Year after year, he got responses that varied from, “Can I tell her who’s calling, please?” to a gruff, “She’s not here,” from Harvey. As soon as he knew she was alive still, he would hang up.
After he had made his annual call in 1977, he hung up, knees weak with relief that Emily herself had answered the phone. One of these days, Caller ID will be invented, and they’ll be able to see that these strange calls come from Emeryville, California. When did Caller ID become popular, anyway? Sometime in the eighties, right? I should have paid better attention to all these little details in my first life.
Dominick graduated from high school again in 1977, once again with a sterling, if not-quite-perfect GPA. He once again took part in enough activities to get accepted at Cabrillo College. One blessing for him was that he hadn’t actually made it to college in his two previous lives, so when the fall semester started, he was glad to have a semi-new experience to live through.
Once he got to college, he realized that he had been suffering a low-grade depression the previous nine years. Being shot, then recycled time and again can have that effect on you. But he bloomed a bit when college started, glad to have a new challenge.
From his perspective, it had been almost twenty years since he had seen Emily, and she felt further away than she ever had. He still made his annual call to her parent’s house in Sheboygan, but now he was told, “She’s away at college, can I take a message?”
He did his best to think of Emily as little as possible, but she was never far from his mind. Over the years, doubts began to set in.
What if I go through all this, and she’s married by the time I catch up to her in this life? I can’t do this again, I just can’t.
Or, If we are what I have always believed we are, soul mates, would she have really rejected me the way she did? Wouldn’t we have found a way to work through it?
In the end, he did the only thing he could—he lived his life day by day, just like every other soul on planet Earth.
Dominick finished his four year degree at Cabrillo College, which had turned out to be the perfect spot for him to go to school. Because he was a California resident, his tuition was low, and much of it was covered by scholarships. It was close enough that he could go home and check on his family when he wanted, but not so close that it needed to be every weekend, or even every month.
His folks had sold the little house in Emeryville just after he graduated with his teaching degree, because they couldn’t believe how much it fetched on the open market. He wanted to tell them to hold on to it a few years longer, but decided not to interfere that much in their lives.
Once he had his degree, though, Dominick knew he wasn’t ready to start teaching again just yet. He was twenty-two years old, he was finally in a part of his life that he hadn’t lived over and over, and he didn’t feel like walking down the same road he had in his first life.
So, he went adventuring.
Chapter Fifty
In his second life, Dominick told his parents he was going on a drive to see what he could see, but then had beelined straight for Sheboygan. In his fourth life, he really did go on a walkabout. After he graduated in June, 1981, he drove south, to the beaches of Southern California.
He gave being a surfer his best shot. In the end, though, he found that surfing was another sport that he was not naturally talented at. He drank a few gallons of seawater after wiping out, then figured his time was better spent getting a tan on solid ground. He did manage to find a job working in a surf shop, and the owner, not to mention most of the girls who came into the shop, took a shine to him. The shop owner, Ted, let him stay in a tiny room above the shop.
For a year, that was enough for him, and he was happy.
Then, a man named Craig Simmons started hanging around the store. Craig was taking a few months off, living the good life, preparing for a season spent as a smokejumper in Arizona.
That sounded exotic and interesting to Dominick, so he asked questions. What he got in return, was stories. Stories that involved risk, danger, and excitement. Dominick was hooked. It was too late for him to join up with Craig that year. You don’t just walk in one day and become a smokejumper the next. Dominick had never flown, let alone jumped out of an airplane. He had no idea how to combat a wildfire in a remote area.
He knew he could learn, though, and so he gave his notice at the surf shop and drove to Missoula, Montana, where he learned to be a smokejumper. He also learned that although he had been sure he was in good shape, he had been horribly wrong. After he finished smokejumper school, then he was in good shape. Able to jump out of a plane, haul a 110-pound pack over miles of rough terrain, then wake up the next morning and do it again.
The following season, he caught on with the National Forest Service’s West Yellowstone Smokejumpers. During fire season, Dominick stayed so busy traveling from one hot spot in the western United States to another, he was able to forget about his situation, about missing Emily. Then, the season passed, and he would be assigned to a ranger station in some remote area, and he had too much time to think.
After two years of that, he knew the hard work was great, but the downtime was too much, so he got in his truck and drove south again. He didn’t stop until he saw the bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip. He wasn’t a gambler, but he loved the excitement of The Strip, especially after the long hours of quiet contemplation high atop observation stations.
He had enough money saved from his Forest Service job that he didn’t need to find work immediately, but it was April, 1985, and Dominick was sure he remembered that Microsoft stock would be available soon. He wanted to buy as many shares as he could, just to ensure that he, and hopefully, Emily, would not have to worry about money in the future, despite whatever modest salaries they might have as teachers.
He couldn’t remember exactly what year the Microsoft stock debuted, but he had been able to do enough research to find out that the company existed, and was already growing rapidly. As soon as he got to Las Vegas, he found an investment advisor named Tom Patterson in the phone book and made an appointment for the next day.
When Dominick arrived the following morning, the receptionist looked him over, from his long, curly hair, to his work shirt, jeans and boots. She welcomed him and sat him in the outer office, then disappeared. A moment later, she was back, and said, “I’m sorry, but Mr. Patterson has been called away unexpectedly. Ms. Jansen will be right with you, though.
Dominick smiled to himself. I guess I don’t look like Howard Hughes, dressed this way, so they’ve shuffled me off to a junior associate. Whatever. I don’t really need investing advice. Just someone to buy the shares for me when they come available.
Ten minutes later, a tall, gray-haired woman with her hair pulled back into a bun, came around the corner. “Hello, Mr. ...”
“Davidner,” Dominick said.
“Yes, Davidner. Very good. Please, come with me.”
On the way to her tiny office, they passed an expansive office with a huge window that opened toward the Strip. A man sat with his cowboy boots on the desk, leaned back in his chair.
I would be willing to bet that is the absent Mr. Patterson.
When they reached Ms. Jansen’s office, she said, “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Davidner?”
“Has Microsoft made their IPO yet?”
“Microsoft? Oh, no. They haven’t even set a date for that. Why?
“I want to buy at leas
t a few hundred shares when it comes available. I know you can’t tell me for sure, but what would you guess the shares will open at?”
“Mr. Davidner, this is Las Vegas. If you wish to gamble, there are many easier ways to do so than to go through this firm.”
“Please. Humor me.”
“There’s no way to be sure, of course, but I might guess, maybe $15.00 per share.”
Dominick did some quick math, taking that number and how much he had saved over the previous few years. Might have to get a second job.
“I just got into town, so I don’t have an address or phone number, but I will soon. Can I get a card from you, so we can stay in touch?”
“Of course,” she said, handing Dominick a card from her drawer. “But, really, I have to advise you against putting all your liquid assets into a new stock like that. They are often highly volatile, and many times, they crash. I would recommend a less-risky portfolio, filled with blue chip stocks, like IBM or General Motors. I know it’s tempting at your age to look for a big win, but you have so many investing years ahead of you, boring is beautiful.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that under advisement. I appreciate you meeting with me.
Chapter Fifty-One
Dominick found a run-down apartment just off the northern end of The Strip that had affordable rents. Las Vegas in 1985 was not as glitzy and glamorous as it would become in another ten or fifteen years. The mega-resorts with faux Eiffel Towers, exploding volcanos and sinking pirate ships were not even a dream yet.
Dominick put his application in up and down The Strip and Downtown Vegas. The first interview he got was to be a bartender at a small bar in The Sands. The woman who conducted the interview thought Dominick would present the perfect image for the casino—as long as he was willing to get a haircut, which he was.
He worked five nights a week at the Silver Queen Lounge. The pay wasn’t much, but his tips were good. Meanwhile, he attended school once again, spending his days learning how to be a blackjack dealer.
Within a month, he had graduated and got a job dealing downtown, at Binion’s. Between working two full-time jobs on opposite ends of The Strip, he didn’t have time to think too much, and definitely didn’t have time to spend what he was earning.
During the five years since he had graduated from college, Dominick continued to call Emily once a year, on what had been their anniversary. Her parents were no longer as forthcoming with information about her, but Dominick could tell by their responses that she was still alive, if nothing else.
She might be married, with 2.5 kids, but at least she’s alive.
All the double shifts were worth it to him, though. On January 3rd, he got a call from Ms. Jansen telling him that the Microsoft IPO was scheduled for March. Dominick checked his bank balance. Between what he had saved on Forest Service duty and working himself into the ground since he had arrived in Vegas, he had $6,200 stashed away. He thought that even if the IPO opened higher than what Ms. Jansen it would, he still might have enough to buy 200 shares.
I sure wish I had paid more attention to this stuff the first time around. I remember that Microsoft stock split a bunch of times, and went up a lot, but I have idea what that means in practical dollars and sense. Does 200 original shares give me drop dead money for the rest of my life, or just enough to be better off than most other teachers? I guess I’ll buy it, forget it, and find out in another ten years or so.
When March 13 rolled around, Ms. Jansen, against her wishes, invested the entire $6,000 he gave her into Microsoft stock at 24.12 per share. Not quite as good as the $21.00 it opened at, but Dominick didn’t care. He felt like he had one more thing he could tick off his Lifetime #4 To-Do List.
He had come to like the financial cushion he had built up over the previous few years, and now that it was invested, he decided to continue working the double shifts at The Sands and Binion’s until he had a decent amount built back up. Dominick lived frugally, though, and after another three months of working both jobs, he felt like he could give one of them up. He kept the job working at the Sands, because he was a night owl, and that suited his normal circadian rhythm.
After working close to eighty hours a week for the previous eighteen months, cutting back to one job felt like a vacation. The relief of that soon passed, though, and he was once again bored and restless. The job bartending at The Sands was repetitive. New tourists came in every night, but they all looked alike after seeing so many of them.
He checked his bank balance, found it healthy again, and put his notice in. He did the same at the tiny apartment he had rented, and found himself once again unfettered.
Dominick celebrated his 27th birthday on his last day in Las Vegas. He had lived there eighteen months, but aside from work acquaintances, he hadn’t made any close friends. Being a multi-life time traveler had its drawbacks, and one of them was that he felt removed from most people, separate.
He felt the need to connect with someone, though, so he called home.
Connie had graduated from high school several years before, and had decided to go to work instead of going to school. Sam was a fully licensed electrician, and had finally moved out and gotten his own place. Laura and Joe were in their early fifties now. They had moved from Emeryville, north to Middle Falls, which had caught Dominick off-guard initially. He’d had nothing to do with their decision to move, which had been predicated on Joe getting a supervisory role in a new job, and that got him off his feet at least part of the day. He hadn’t visited them since they had moved earlier that year. Even with Joe’s new job, they were both still working too hard, at least in Dominick’s opinion. .
He found a payphone and dialed their number. Maybe if this stock really takes off, I can help them out. Pay off their mortgage or something, so they can take it easier.
Laura answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“What’s up with you, Mr. Birthday Boy?! Your dad just asked if we had heard from you yet. How is life in the desert?”
“It’s a little boring, Mom. I’m going to move on again, do something else. Would it be okay if I drove up there and spent a few days with you guys while I decide what’s next?”
“Oh, Nicky, you know you never need to ask. It’s been way too long since we’ve seen you!” Over her shoulder, she shouted, “Joe, Nicky’s coming home!”
Faintly, in the distance, he heard the familiar voice say, “About damn time. I thought he’d disowned us.” Closer, he heard Joe say, “Come on home, Nicky. We miss you.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Dominick pulled into his parent’s new home, on the outskirts of Middle Falls, Oregon, after midnight the following day. He’d called ahead and let them know he would be getting in late, so they left the front door unlocked for him.
Inside the neat little one story house, Dominick found a bed made up for him on the couch. Joe and Laura had a spare bedroom, but they hadn’t set it up for company since they had moved. There was a fluffy pillow at one end of the couch, with a note in his mother’s elegant handwriting: “Welcome home, Nicky.”
After driving straight through the day before, Dominick fell asleep immediately and slept straight through until after 10:00 am the next morning. He woke up to find another note on the coffee table.
“See you tonight. I’ll make dinner. Mom.”
Either they were very quiet this morning while they were getting ready for work, or I was dead to the world.
Dominick spent the day rattling around the empty house, trying to find things that would keep him busy and help his parents at the same time. He didn’t feel he could do any of the remaining unpacking for them, but he was able to mow the lawn, and he fixed a loose gutter on the side of the house.
He even surprised Laura by having dinner ready for her when she came home. He had taught himself to cook during his bachelor years, and he made a very passable spaghetti that he cooked that night.
“What’s that I smell?” Laura a
sked as soon as she opened the door.
“You’ve worked hard all day, Mom,” Dominick said, wrapping her in a long hug. “You don’t have to cook, too. Men are not helpless, you know.”
She laughed, and said, “Have you met your brother? As much as he loves his food, you’d think he’d learn how to cook but he and the kitchen go together like a garbage disposal and a spoon.” She reached up to hold his face in both hands. “Don’t stay gone so long, Nicky.”
The door opened and Joe strode through. He grabbed Dominick around the neck and hugged him too. “You’re twenty-seven years old. When are you going to stop growing?”
“Six foot tall, Dad, just like I have been for ten years. I think you might just be shrinking.”
“Still big enough to take you down a peg or two.”
Dominick hugged him back. It was like hugging corded steel. I believe you could, Dad.
Over dinner, Dominick told them what it was like living in Las Vegas, The City That Never Sleeps.
Laura had just one question. “Did you meet any nice girls?”
Dominick held up his hands in a weighing motion. “Nice girls,” he said lowering his left hand, “Las Vegas,” and he lowered his right. “Showgirls? Yes, plenty. Cocktail waitresses? By the dozen.” For a moment, he flashed back on announcing that Sam had called Billy Stitts’ sister a whore, and how upset Laura had been at the use of that word in her house. Guess I’ll leave them off the list. “But, nice girls, the kind you bring home to Mom and Dad? Nope, not a one.”
Laura sighed. “Looks like I’m going to have to rely on Connie to give me grandbabies to spoil, since you and your brother are such late starters.”
Let’s see, 1987. That’s right. This is the year that Connie will meet Jim. They’ll get married next year, and she’ll finally give Mom those grandchildren the year after that.
“Has Connie met anyone?” Dominick asked innocently.