The Man He Never Was

by James L. Rubart

  “Before you go after Mom and Brady, I’d like one more shot.” The words sputtered out of him, boiling rage.

  Toren was a bull at the gate, straining to get out. His dad tried to grin, but something in Toren’s eyes must have shaken him, because his dad hesitated, and Toren spotted a look of trepidation he’d never seen before.

  His dad swung for Toren’s gut again, but Toren had anticipated the move, blocked the punch, and countered with his own, a direct shot to his dad’s ribs. Air whooshed out of his dad’s lungs, but Toren didn’t hesitate. He pounded the other side of his dad’s rib cage, then back to the exact spot of his first blow. Then another. And another, each shot accompanied by the dull sound of fist on flesh, and Toren had no doubt he’d cracked his dad’s ribs in multiple places. The rage inside him swelled, more powerful than he’d imagined it could be, and he screamed with a guttural cry.

  “You like that!” Toren shoved his dad to the floor and launched his foot into the man’s stomach. “How am I doing now, Dad? What do you think I have inside? Is it more than squishy mush?”

  Little bubbles of blood appeared around his dad’s mouth. His eyes were closed, and deep groans emanated from him.

  “Is this what you were going to give Mom? Give to Brady? I’ll bet it is. So let me help you out, let me show you what it feels like before you give it to them.”

  Another strike, his foot landing in his dad’s ribs.

  “Toren!”

  The cry settled on Toren as if it had come from a great distance. An instant later he realized someone had been calling his name.

  He spun and found his mom standing at the edge of the family room, tears streaking her cheeks, horror in her eyes. “Stop! Please. You’re going to kill him.”

  The waves of anger pounding at the shore of his mind started to recede into the ocean of rage, and he sucked in deep draughts of air. He glanced from his dad to his mom, back to his dad. Then Toren knelt next to his dad and whispered in his ear.

  “If you ever lay a finger on my mom or my brother ever again, I will kill you. I promise.”

  His dad moaned as he tried to lift his head, but it thumped back onto the beige carpet.

  “You hear me, Dad?”

  His dad moaned again.

  “I need to know you understand me, Dad.”

  “Understand.”

  Toren stood, moved slowly to his mom, and said, “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry you had to see that. But I’m not sorry about what I did to him.”

  Toren pulled himself out of the memory and glanced around the terminal, his breathing rapid.

  “What I’d like to know, Toren,” Eden said, her voice soft, “is what happened after that.”

  “It worked.” Toren adjusted his sunglasses. “He never hit my mom or went after my brother again.”

  “No, I mean what happened to you.”

  “Crazy power.”

  “So your friend was right.”

  “Friend?”

  “Letto.”

  Toren gave a weak sigh. “All that rage. It fueled me on the field. Drove me. And there’s a part of me that liked it. Fed on it. After that day it was there whenever I needed it. Junior high, high school, college, the NFL. I went after every running back, every quarterback, every receiver on the other team as if they were my dad. The darkness inside gave me purpose.”

  “I see,” Eden said.

  “The field was my outlet. The place to let the dark side crusade. But it got worse and worse. I had a hard time controlling it when I got to the pros, and you already know it got me kicked out of the league. And since I couldn’t relieve the pressure on the field once I stopped playing, I brought it home.”

  Toren glanced out the terminal window. “So I went to The Center. And it worked, I got fixed, but that fix is wearing off. And now I’m here, flying away from the only solution I can think of. I got Hyde into a cage, but he’s breaking the bars and finding a way out.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “I’ll find a way. If it’s not at The Center, fine. I won’t give up. Not an option. There has to be a way to destroy Hyde, and I won’t stop till I figure it out and stand over the slain body of my dark side.”

  “I see,” Eden said again. “To that end, might I make a suggestion?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Clear your head. Get away from this. If only just for a day.”

  “Where?”

  “Someplace that holds good memories. Someplace that takes you back to when the days were bright and you and Sloane had life all figured out.”

  “Pretty good idea.” Toren nodded to himself. “I guess we’re done then.”

  “How so?”

  “You said you’d help me track down where I was. You did. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’d like to stay in touch.”

  “I think that will happen.”

  “Take care, Eden.”

  “I believe in you, Toren.”

  “Thanks.”

  Toren ended the call, knowing exactly where he’d be going sometime in the next few days.

  CHAPTER 31

  Friday Harbor rose out of the sea at eleven forty-three the next morning, and everything inside Toren shouted that this was the right choice. Friday Harbor, in the San Juan Islands, where he and Sloane had spent a magical weekend eleven years back. Not only because the weather had been magnificent, the crabbing had been spectacular, and their exploration of the remote parts of the island had been deeply invigorating, but because it was the place Sloane had revealed a secret she’d kept from him for three days. She was pregnant. It had been a weekend of celebration in every sense of the word. Eden wanted him to go to a place where he’d had life all figured out? Toren could think of few other locations.

  He drove his car to a few of the spots they’d investigated more than a decade back, and walked, thought about everything, didn’t think about anything, and stared out over the water, praying, asking for answers. After lunch at the Rocky Bay Cafe, Toren poked around a bookstore, then a bakery where he bought an oversized chocolate éclair, convincing himself the sugar-filled concoction wouldn’t count against his training.

  He’d almost settled into the belief that he would survive the coming days when the sensation of being watched danced along the back of his spine stronger than it had at any time since he’d returned from The Center. He glanced in the direction he felt it coming from and instantly spotted the tall woman from the party standing in the shadows of a building thirty yards away. She stared directly at him as she stepped forward onto the sidewalk.

  She nodded at him. Yes. This time he would get the answers he desperately needed. He strode toward her, four steps, seven, and still she stayed motionless, like a boulder in a river as people flowed around her.

  Was that a smile on her face? He couldn’t be sure from this distance, but it looked like it. She turned and walked away. After two steps, she glanced over her shoulder, and saw Toren trotting toward her. She smiled—he was sure of it now—and upped her stride to just shy of running. Toren broke into a full-out sprint.

  She rounded the corner of a building, but he would be there in seconds. There was nowhere for her to hide. He skidded around the corner just in time to see half of her disappearing around the building at the end of the block, fifty yards away. Impressive. She was fast.

  Toren plowed down the street as if he were back on the field and reached the corner in no more than six seconds, but when he came around the next corner, she was gone. Saying she had nowhere to hide was an exaggeration. She could have slipped into any of three shops within fifteen feet of the corner. Or if she truly was lightning fast, she could have ducked into one of the two shops on the other side of the street. But no one was that fast. He would have seen her.

  Now what? Which shop? The first? Too close, the obvious choice, and the last shop would have been too big a risk. She had to think if he was quick he’d get around the corner and at least spot the shop doo
r closing. So Toren chose door number two. He didn’t win the prize.

  After he yanked the door open and strode inside, he did a quick, barely controlled spin through the shop. Nothing. She wasn’t there. He took one more look and spun 360 degrees on his heel before approaching the counter and answering the question seeping out of the eyes of the woman standing behind it.

  “I’m looking for a lady, tall, slender. Did she just come in here?”

  “No.” The manager, or owner, drilled Toren with her eyes.

  For the first time, he took in the merchandise in the shop. Definitely for ladies only.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to disturb. It’s just important I find her.”

  The woman didn’t answer except to jab her finger at the front door and glare at him. Toren made for the exit. He turned just before pushing through the shop door back onto the street to apologize again. The woman’s ramrod-straight arm and finger hadn’t moved a centimeter, and Toren thought it best not to offer a second lame apology.

  He got the same result in shops number one and three, a small book shop and a marine supply.

  “No, no one came in . . .” And the third shop: “There hasn’t been anyone in the store most of the day.”

  He didn’t think they were lying, exactly, but the woman couldn’t have vanished into the floor or walls. She had to have come into one of the three shops. He turned to head back to his car when on impulse he decided to venture into the two shops across the street. He had no illusions the woman had stepped into one of them, but he was here and maybe she did have the speed and reflexes of Wonder Woman.

  The first shop, a consignment clothing store, gave him the same response. Toren pushed through the door back onto the sidewalk and glanced up at the sign of the only remaining shop. Mementos and Memories—A Safe Place to Find Your Authentic Self.

  “This ought to be good,” he muttered to himself.

  New Age pablum in the heart of the San Juan Islands. The shop was new since he’d last been to Friday Harbor five years ago. He pushed through the door and was greeted by a loud jangle of bells, but the woman behind the counter at the back of the store didn’t look up.

  Large sea-green glass floats lined one wall. Smaller ones sat on the thick gray wood windowsill. The sun streaming through the window lit them up and drew attention to their imperfections, which only made them more appealing.

  Two shelves filled with old hardback books and brand-new paperbacks sat to his left. Down the middle of the store ran two rough-hewn tables full of carved eagles, sea otters, and whales. Some were wood but most looked to be sandstone.

  He liked the place immediately, although he couldn’t put into words as to why. The atmosphere of the place almost made him forget why he’d come in. Toren strode toward the employee in the back. If the tall woman had come in here, she’d be long gone by now, but still, there was no harm in asking.

  He made his way to the woman, and when she still didn’t look up after Toren reached her, he said, “Excuse me, may I ask you something?”

  As the last word left his mouth, she raised her gaze to him, eyes alight, a gentle smile on her face.

  “Thank you for coming in, Toren. We’ve been expecting you.”

  “So she did come in here.” A wave of heat shot through him. “And you’re part of all this.”

  “All what?”

  “This crazy journey I’m on.”

  The woman simply cocked her head and smiled. Toren guessed she was in her late thirties. Straight, long dark hair and bronze skin coloring indicated she was Native American.

  “What do I do now?”

  “Please, take all the time to browse that you would like.” The light in her eyes grew brighter as she motioned around the shop. “I truly hope you enjoy your visit to the store today, and of course I hope you take a step further to uncovering the authentic you.”

  It was clear she wasn’t going to give any clue about what to do next. Toren figured he should be used to that by now.

  “But she did come in here, didn’t she? Tall, five nine, maybe five ten, slender, wearing jeans, dark-green coat. Ash-blonde hair with highlights.”

  The woman glided out from behind the counter as if she were on skates and gave him that kind smile again, as if he were a child she was quite fond of.

  “Yes, Toren, a woman matching that description did come in here, oh, maybe five minutes ago.”

  “I need to talk to her.”

  He glanced around the store even though he knew it was a worthless exercise, and the woman answered his question before he could ask it.

  “She’s no longer here. But you knew that already, yes?”

  He nodded. “Will you tell me where she went?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “She’s been stalking me.”

  “Really?” The woman winked. “Has she threatened you? Verbally or physically?”

  “No, but—”

  “So what has she done that makes you say you’re being stalked?”

  “She’s been following me around. She said some very weird things to me at a party, and now I see her again, miles from where I live, in a little town out in the middle of nowhere. And there she is, staring right at me.”

  The words sounded stupid even before they came out of his mouth.

  “So a man over six feet tall, who certainly appears to be in good condition and no older than his early thirties, spots a woman he’s met staring right at him in a town he considers to be out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Something like that,” he muttered. “Sounds ridiculous.”

  She leaned toward him, unsuccessfully trying to keep a smile from reaching the corners of her mouth. “I’m sorry. I missed that. What did you say?”

  “I said it sounds ridiculous.”

  Her eyes continued to smile, but the rest of her face grew serious. “Why are you so desperate to find out who this lady is, and what is it that tells you in here”—she patted her chest as Collette Engleton had done—“that she is part of what you’re searching for?”

  Toren almost rolled his eyes but held back. “Like I just told you, I thought she could give me answers about what I’ve been going through. And I know she can shed light on what I need to do next. All the clues I’ve been following led me to Friday Harbor, and then our mutual friend led me here. So I need to talk to her to find out what the next step is.”

  The woman nodded. “Might I make a suggestion?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She patted her chest again. “Try wrapping your heart around it instead of your mind.”

  Toren gave her his full attention. Hadn’t Clavin Sorken and Eden said almost exactly the same thing? Toren thought about this. Why would Eden have used those words?

  “What do you mean by that?”

  The woman nodded as if responding to a voice he couldn’t hear, then moved to a small table and picked up three pieces of dark wood interlaced with lighter streaks. The wood made him think of the golden tigereye stones he had collected over the years.

  “Those are stunning.”

  “I agree.” The woman picked them up and laid them in her palm.

  The pieces were two-and-a-half to three inches high. All were curved and twisted, each in a slightly different way. They were polished to such a high gloss they seemed to throw off light.

  “Can I show you something?” The woman held them closer to his face.

  “Sure.”

  The woman turned her back. In less than two seconds she spun around and held out her hand. The pieces were no longer separated. They had somehow become a solid piece of wood.

  Toren tilted his head from one side to the other as he studied the wood.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It? Or them?”

  “It depends on your perspective, doesn’t it? In the end it is all about perspective. Everything is.”

  The woman’s quizzical look was in perfect harmony with the playful sound of her voice. “When they are
apart, they are three, but as you have just seen, when they are together, they are one.”

  “Yes, I do see that. They are, or it is, beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I just finished them this morning.” She gazed at them as if they were her children.

  “You made them?” He cocked his head. “You have quite a talent.”

  She ran her finger over the surface of the carvings. “Would you like to hold them?”

  The woman held the three objects out to Toren, and he took them as if they were finely spun glass. They fit together so perfectly he had to squint to see the seams where they came together. He held them up close and peered at the wood. There. He could just barely tell where the pieces joined each other. He held the object out at arm’s length. From that distance it was impossible to see that the objects weren’t one solid piece. Toren ran his finger along the seam but couldn’t feel it.

  “Amazing.” He smiled at the woman. “What are they supposed to be?”

  “They are, of course, whatever you want them to be.”

  He frowned at her and she laughed. “I’m not trying to be elusive with my answer. It is an answer from the heart. I think everyone will see something different. Just like with a piece of music or a poem or a story or a painting. Perspective again, yes? Each person will interpret the melody and the rhythm and the words through their own experiences, their own views of life, sorrows, triumphs. Through their own filters of the soul if you will. And what reaches their hearts will be unique, because each soul has been crafted so very differently from every other soul.”

  He studied the pieces as he tried to make sense of the woman’s rambling explanation. “Okay.”

  “So what do you see?” She continued before he could answer. “You don’t have to answer now. It will likely take you a good amount of time to discover your response.”

  “I see the Trinity. Father, Son, Spirit. Three pieces that are separate and distinct, yet they are also one.”

  She nodded as if this were the only acceptable answer. “Then that’s what they are.”

  “My answer doesn’t surprise you.”

  She didn’t respond.