National Treasures
Page 15
Pullman is dark and frigid at this suppertime hour on the Galloway family farm- but not too dark for James and Gerry both to begin recognizing the familiar aura that reemerges each time one returns to the place they call home.
It did not take more than five minutes for the two to unload the truck. James backs in close to the garage, which stands at the end of the house and facing the street end. The front end of the house itself is faced 90 degrees in the direction of snow-blanketed acreage. The two Galloway family labs, because they were either busy eating or sleeping, never did manage to come barreling around the corner in a barking frenzy like they do so many times throughout a given day.
Gerry’s mother and father are sitting down for a classic comfort meal consisting of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, dinner rolls, and by doctor’s orders-a salad. They still have no idea that their son is about to walk through the home’s garage entry, pass the running washer and dryer in the utility room, and into the house.
“Are you sure you don’t want to use my old man’s fax machine?” James asks.
“Oh!” Gerry said anxiously, as he makes his way back to the passenger’s side of the truck. “The contract!”
James can only laugh at his friend’s absent-mindedness; the very cause of a wardrobe Houdini job.
“No we have one here,” Gerry assured him, pulling the contract out of the large pouch on the back of the seat. “Pops has been doing some crop adjusting work for one of the insurance companies.”
Gerry now has all he needs, and since its 2010, he motions in for a big man hug.
“But keep your phone handy just in case,” he continued, patting James on the back.
They disengage.
“I got about an hour,” Gerry said, looking out into the farmland. “But I’ll give Doug an insurance call soon after I inform Moms and Pops.”
“And what about Molly?” James asked kindly.
“I’m sure I’ll be on the phone most of the night,” Gerry said with a big smile, as it just hits him that his decision to play baseball for another year will be finalized within the hour.
“Well I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” James said, beginning to turn his way back towards the direction of the truck. “Just don’t make any traveling plans back to Chicago until you talk to me, alright?”
With a motion light from the garage’s exterior now illuminating the driveway, James walks his way backwards alongside the truck.
“I’m going in that direction sooner or later,” he said with a shoulder shrug. “So we might as well go together.”
From James’ point of view, he can now only make out Gerry’s silhouette. His friend nods to him and says, “I owe you my life,” sticking his right hand up high to signal a sincere “so-long” before entering the house.
Since James had spoken to his father from outside of the Floor Store earlier in the day, he knew he was now on his own for supper since both of his parents have a scheduled class to conduct this evening.
Not feeling the need to hurry home, he decides to take a routine stroll through campus, as a drive-by sight of Martin Stadium always brings back some great memories. Along the way, curious about the local news, he turns the satellite radio off in order to listen to the local AM news station. There appears to be some sort of theology hour call-in show at the moment, as some man from Colfax wants to know if dinosaurs and man co-existed.
Finally, just before reaching his turn home to D Street, is when James begins to realize how hungry he is. He thought that in case Mom hasn’t had a chance to go food shopping for the week, he’d better head straight down to the Dissmores grocery store first.
About a mile later, James pulls into the cold, slushy parking lot and finds an opening about three spots in from the front of the store. But before he can park, he must wait for a pair of large black men to finish getting out of their crimson colored Maxima in the next row.
They move like Frankenstein, he thought. That one must be 275 lbs.
He assumes they are football players since both men are wearing customized, university colored tracksuits, typically reserved for athletes on scholarship. They also wear the “we own this town” look on their faces, to boot.
The grocery store is full of coeds in groups of two, three or four, loading up their respective carts with a mélange of processed and frozen foods along with a bulk of more empty calories that come in liquid form; such as cola, beer and select fruity malt liquor beverages.
This observation reminds James that he still has the beer from Cheyenne back in the cooler in the truck, so he doesn’t need to buy any more at this time. He ends up bagging two red-delicious apples, one orange, and one grapefruit from out of a very still produce section before snagging some skim milk and a box of Grape Nuts to check out with.
Before leaving, James sticks the grocery bag in the cooler at the back of the truck. Then for no reason, other then this feeling like it was the right place at the right time, James carefully wraps up what is left of the Vermont’s Finest grass in a sandwich baggie and places it under the windshield wiper on the driver’s side of the crimson Maxima.
When James gets back home he settles in by turning on the Knicks vs. Bulls game before building a fire. He makes himself a ham and swiss sandwich, washing it down with one of those 24 oz. cans of High Life.
During a commercial break between the third and fourth quarter, James decides to get up and make sure the guest room has everything in order, for he will be ready to sleep the first chance he gets after greeting his folks.
He flips on the light not only to find the room is indeed guest ready, but a small cardboard package addressed with his name on it is set on the middle of the bed as well. It’s the reading material that Tina had told him she would be sending. There is a yellow colored sticky note on it, and in his mother’s handwriting it read, “Came today--XOXO-- Mom”.
James picks up the box and carries it into the kitchen.
I thought she was just going to send some papers, he thought. This is a little heavy, so the whole book must be in here.
He becomes even more surprised when he removes the Ziploc bag of homemade brownies on top to find The Bible underneath. It’s the very same Bible he saw in her apartment, only this time it was full of sticky notes, where highlighted bits of scripture is found throughout. This is a collection of wisdom, such as Luke 1:37, that Tina deemed most relevant for James for this particular point in his life. Initially, James can only feel the need to collect himself on the couch in the nearby living room. Soon after sitting down he locates a folded piece of yellow notebook paper in the box.
James opens it up to find a message written by Tina. It reads: “If we could bottle up whatever you have inside that makes you who you are and sell it, the world would be a better place. This is my last crack at keeping you on the writing team. Enjoy the (sunshine free) brownies. Look forward to hearing from you. Yours, Tina.”
For the next 30 minutes, James just sat there, in and out of reading the selected scripture. Everything feels like it’s starting to make more sense now. Yet at the same time, he could barely wrap his mind around what just happened. Surreal like, as if this were one of his patented dreams.
Then he could hear the garage door opening, and within moments, his parents came in the house.
“Welcome home!” His mother said with great pleasure.
Everyone then exchanges hugs.
“Did you eat?” His dad asks him.
“Yeah, I had a sandwich,” James said.
“So we’re excited to hear about your trip with Gerry!” His mother said vibrantly.
James looks very satisfied and feels transformed. It’s as if a new, improved patented breakthrough wheel had just been inserted to go along with his inner engine, making everything run more efficiently because of it. He wants to ask his parents if they’ve ever come across the enlightening emotion that he is currently experiencing, but he can only utter, “Mom, I met a girl.”
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