The Calling

by Jeffrey Hancock

  “Yes, the massage did the trick,” I said out loud, but in my mind, I thought, So, this is how my love life ends not by a massive coronary fueled by a mind-blowing orgasmic thrill, but with a partner saying she rather not. Turning off my lustful self is not going to be easy. When I asked my mama about all those hormone-driven feelings at puberty, she answered, ‘All those feelings are normal and healthy, and in your family from your mama on up, we have been very healthy that way.’

  I stood from my bed and sat on its edge for a moment. The memory of this night will torment me every time I get a little randy. I looked at my wedding ring. Da’von in the body of Mark Galos had stolen my wedding ring, and for approximately two years, it was absent from my finger. Every day in those two years I missed it. My hand did not feel whole without it. Even the little indent on my finger the ring would nestle in never faded. I removed the ring from my hand. It looked no more than a hollow tube of metal to me. Even the inscription on it ‘Together Forever’ felt hollow. Somehow, wearing my ring seems hypocrisy. Next to bureaucracy, I hate hypocrisy most of all.

  I went to put the ring back on, and it was a snug fit. The indent on my finger was gone. I must be retaining water, I thought. In the kitchen, my wife and daughter were busy fixing their dinner. “Don’t mind me. I am just looking for a snack.” Opening the refrigerator, I grabbed a slice of bologna and a sweet pickle. I’ve loved this snack since I was a kid. While I headed back to bed, I ate.

  After I got under the covers, I turned my awareness inward. Standing at the knot of neurons holding Da’von prisoner, I reached out and touched it. “Soon. Soon we will do battle once more. I will have you out of my head and out of my life.” I slept deep, long, and restorative.

  Waking up early and before Charlene, I wanted to look at the wounds on my astral form. I closed my eyes and lifted out of my body. As is was in every other journey of this kind, there was a strange light that cast no shadows. I wondered, How do people do shadow puppets here? Looking in the mirror, I saw where the beastie had ravaged my body. None of the wounds were weeping, that I don’t know what, liquid. I had scars that were clearly visible all over my body. It looked kind of scary. How or why they healed so fast, I hadn’t a clue. I am just glad. Being whole could be important for my showdown with Da’von.

  Returning to my body, I got up and fixed breakfast for everyone. I had some time before I had to leave to get Theresa up to speed. My appetite was huge, so we had scrambled eggs with ham diced in it along with American cheese. Cutting up the potatoes proved easy with the gizmo I had bought the last time we all went to the Del Mar Fair. Using that gadget got me thinking. It has been a couple of years. Maybe we should go next time it comes around. Biscuits and gravy came to mind too, but those are for Sunday mornings. Biscuits and gravy, now that is a church I can get behind. Wheat toast and jam will have to do to round it all out instead. Of course, the first thing I started was Charlene’s coffee. Hot Earl Grey tea for me since there was no Diet Pepsis to be found.

  Char was surprised at my cooking this morning, but I wanted a big breakfast and didn’t want Char to believe she had to make one for me. While we ate, I asked, “Say Mo. When daddy gets home, why don’t we go on a date? Just you and me.”

  “That’s silly, Dad. Fathers and daughters don’t go on dates.”

  “Yes, they do. Ask your mother.” I stated

  “Your father has been talking to your grandfather again.” Char gave me a half-mocking look. “Yes, your grandfather used to take me out on ‘Daddy Daughter Dates’ as he called them.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  “It’s not important why. The dates were fun, and it gave us some time together where it wasn’t just school or taking care of the house.”

  “Do you still go out on dates with Grandpa, Mommy?”

  “No, Moiraine, mommy goes on all her dates with Daddy.”

  “What are we going to do, Daddy?”

  “I thought a nice dinner at a very grown-up place, The Vega Room. You’ll have to dress up. It will be just like a real date. I’ll ring at the door and wait until you are ready.”

  “Nathan, I’ve always wanted to dine there. Can I tag along?”

  “Sorry, this is a special date with my daughter only. We can go there for a special date once we get caught up on a few bills. I give you my word.”

  After all the food was gone, I pushed myself away from the table and waddled to the front door to go to the theater. When I said waddle, I meant it. I had two full servings of everything plus all the leftovers from Moiraine’s plate. The ladies followed to the front door to say goodbye.

  As I turned to my ladies for my kisses, Char said, “Nathan, that is the most I have ever seen you eat. Are you switching one appetite for another?” Char asked as she raised an eyebrow. “It is not healthy to eat that much. You will gain too much weight if you keep eating like that. Maybe I will switch this house to vegetarianism.”

  “No, I am not switching one appetite for another, and do you mean only veggies like brussel sprouts?” I both shivered at the thought and praised the fact I can’t remember tastes.

  “Yum. I love brussel sprouts, Daddy! Can we get some at dinner tonight?”

  Ah, such a sweet girl. “No. I can’t even stand their smell.”

  Moiraine said, “Okay.”

  When I arrived at the theater, I could feel the ominous shadow of dread had been lifted. Rehearsals with Theresa went very well. We ran through the play three times. By the last rehearsal, she was spot on. She had told me her voice had left her but had come back full and true. That fact made me wonder. Did Headache Barbie transfer Theresa’s talent to Isabella? You can’t create something out of nothing. How is Isabella doing? I need to visit her.

  After the final run-through of the day, Matt gave us our notes and told us, “All right, people. We have had some setbacks, but we pulled together and overcome the shadow that was looming over this production.” A few heads turned and looked at me. “What with losing both our leads to one thing or another. Now we are stronger. The grand reopening is Friday night. I want everyone to relax and renew until then. We don’t want to over sharpen our edge. Go out. Have some fun. Relax, but remember to be here on time for the curtain call. We are going to knock their socks off.”

  One of the cast members yelled, “Cliché. You need a better speechwriter.” That brought a few laughs, and considering no alcohol has yet to be imbibed, it was a testament to how at ease the cast felt.

  “Okay, everyone, see you back here, and please be here on time.” The whole cast got up and started filing out. Trying to talk over the noise, Matt yelled, “Don’t get hurt or overdo it. My ulcer is finally back under control.” Nobody paid him any mind.

  Theresa caught up with me in my dressing room. “Nathan, you want to go out and have a drink? Maybe get something to eat?” Then after a pause. “As friends.”

  “Maybe another night. I have a heavy date tonight, and I have no plans to stand her up.”

  “A date, huh?” Theresa said with accusations in her tone.

  “Don’t get jealous. It’s with my daughter. It will be our first ‘Daddy Daughter Date.’” Which reminded me. I need to make reservations. Then Matt showed up.

  “Here you go, Nathan. As per our agreement.” Matt handed me an envelope.

  I put it in my pocket, “Thanks, Matt.”

  “Theresa, I’m glad I found you here. I wanted to go over a few things with you before you left for the night.” They both bid me farewell, then exited my dressing room.

  I sat down to call and make reservations at The Vega Room. I finished punching the last number…

  Flash.

  I was sitting at an intimate table for two in a fancy restaurant with cloth napkins and all. Moiraine was sitting across from me wearing an outfit that made heads turn. There began a ruckus at the Maitre D’s station at the front of the restaurant. The Maitre D was arguing with a man wearing a long heavy coat. This man threw back his coat and pulled out a 12-g
auge pump shotgun. He fired at the Maitre D point-blank.

  There came screams as people stumbled out of their seats and tried to escape. The room quickly turned into pandemonium.

  Flash.

  Back in the here and now, I heard a voice on my phone answer, “The Vega Room. How can I help you?” I made the reservation, though I had doubts it was still a good idea.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After I jumped into Tony’s cab, I said, “If you don’t mind, I have a couple of stops before we head home.”

  “Sure thing, Nate. Where are we heading?” I gave Tony the list of stops I wanted to make. If we hurry, I won’t be late for my date with Moiraine.

  First on the list was the Police Station where the difficulties with one Detective Hawkins of the police in America’s Finest City began. He and his partner had interrogated me about the shooting, where I stood vigil as a crossing guard near my daughter’s school. Our encounter left a bad taste in my mouth. Ever since then, he has managed to meet my eye every few weeks in my normal daily travels. One time, I found him sitting in his car across the street from my home. I hope this gesture will smooth the way between us. The last thing I need is to have a badge looking over my shoulder, waiting for me to give him a reason to lock me up.

  I left an envelope with the desk sergeant containing four tickets to opening night along with a note:

  Detective Hawkins, please enjoy the show with your wife. I also left tickets for your partner and his wife. If you can’t go, please give the tickets to other officers. Yours Truly. Nathan Embers.

  Getting back in the cab, I said, “Okay, Tony, the next stop is Saxie’s Jazz Joint at…”

  “Geez, Nate, I’ve only have been drivin’ in this town forever.” With that, Tony pulled out into traffic and set our path. We arrived before the club opened. Determined in my task, I got out. At the front door, I gave the secret knock. It was the rhythm from “shave and a haircut, two bits.” Smiling and waving at the camera, I waited. In short order, the door opened. Al’s doorman/assistant/bodyguard answered the knock.

  “You need another gun? Do you have real money this time and not just chump change?” He laughed in a low rumbling chuckle. Wow, he must have grown a sense of humor sense the last time I talked with him. He is a six-foot-five African-American gentleman. He was nothing but muscle, too. There was no fat on this man. He reminded me of Michael Clarke Duncan in The Green Mile. His nose is broad, and his eyes are deep-set. He was wearing his signature skin-tight fade.

  “This geek is bearing gifts for you and Al.” Halfway to reaching into my pocket, I found this man had put his hand on a concealed gun. I couldn’t see it, but I clearly heard the hammer of what I sure was a big ass gun being pulled back. I have to give him credit. He is fast. Opening my palm and only using my forefinger and thumb, I pulled the envelope containing four tickets to the opening night of the production out of my pocket. “I am giving you and Al these tickets to the production of Man of la Mancha here in San Diego. Please come and enjoy the show. There are four tickets in there. Bring your wives or girlfriends or whoever you please. This is my way of saying thank you. You and Al helped me out at a time of great need. I feel I owe a debt to you both. I pay my debts.”

  “It was only business, little man. You don’t owe the boss anything. Between you and me, how did you kill Mark Galos and get away with it?”

  “I didn’t kill Mark Galos.” It was the truth. I only destroyed the vessel that his soul once resided in. I destroyed the shell, not the man.

  He pulled his hand from under his coat and took the tickets. “Getting thank you gifts is a new twist here. I don’t buy the ‘I pay my debts’ line.”

  “How about, I don’t know if I’ll ever need the unique assistance Al provided again. A man might need overwhelming firepower sometime. This gesture of gratitude keeps the doors of communication open, and who knows, you might need my help someday.”

  When I finished my statement, the doorman broke out in a huge belly laugh. It sounded like joyful thunder. “Okay, little man, I’ll give the boss the tickets. I doubt he’ll go, but I’ll give them to him.” This man turned around, chuckling and mumbling to himself as he locked the door.

  I told Tony where to head next. It took only a few minutes to arrive at our next destination. Walking through the front door sent a plethora of memories flooding over me. Without breaking my stride, I dismissed those thought bubbles. The door to the breakroom and stairs to the manager’s office was locked. Without a moment of hesitation, I punched in the old code to gain entry. The buzzer sounded, and I opened the door. You guys should change the code once in a while. I climbed the stairs to Mike’s office and knocked. All I heard was ‘Come’ from the annoyed voice of Mike. Opening the door, I saw Mike at his desk with the typical arrayed chaos of papers.

  “What’s got you bugged, Mike?”

  “Oh, only the … Nathan!” Surprise covered Mike’s face. “It’s good to see you.” Mike walked around from behind his desk and shook my hand. “What brings you by? Are you looking for your old job? I can do some funny business with the paperwork. We sure can use you.”

  “Thanks for the offer, Mike, but that part of my life is over. Although, there are times I wish for the simplicity of my old job.”

  “Too bad. The graveyard shift has never really recovered. Lost a couple regular customers over that whole shebang. Some of the older ladies, you know the ones who buy alcohol the first part of the month, left in protest over your treatment. Can’t say I blamed them. So, If I can’t talk you into taking your old job back, what can I do for you?”

  “Mike, I am here to give you this.” Pulling out another envelope containing two tickets to the production, I handed them over to Mike. “I wanted to give you a little something for the way you went to bat for me and for giving me a chance with the job in the first place.”

  “Nate, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  “Take your wife out for dinner and a show. Who knows, you might even get lucky.” Mike chuckled a little bit at that last statement. Mike and I talked for a few minutes about nothing important. Before the conversation started to drag, I said my goodbyes to him and left for my next stop.

  Waiting for my turn in the pharmacy line, I caught Marcy’s eye. She became a little flustered and finished up with the customer in front of her. Next, she came running from behind the counter and gave me a big hug.

  “Nathan, it’s good to see you! I never got the chance to say thank you for helping me get my job back. Thank you!” She hugged me again, and this time when we pushed away from each other, I saw her wipe tears out of her eyes.

  “It was no big deal. I was already there, giving corporate some trouble, so getting your job back was the kicker. Anyways, I know you are busy. I’ll be quick. Here.” I gave Marcy another set of tickets.

  “I saw the advertising on TV. You looked good as Don Quixote.”

  “Thanks. Here are two tickets. Take your mother to the show.”

  “Mom can stay home. I’ll take my boyfriend,” Marcy affirmed.

  “Congrats. I hope he’s a good man. If not, let me know, and I’ll haunt his dreams.” I can do it too. I laughed in my mind.

  “Funny, Nathan. He is. He treats me better than any other man I’ve known.”

  “So, you’re saying he’s a bit boring.”

  It was Marcy’s turn to laugh as she said, “A bit.” Marcy was getting some upset looks from the customers waiting for their prescriptions, so she hugged me one last time and went back to her job.

  Climbing in the backseat, I told Tony, “Home, please. I have a date to get ready for.”

  “You got it, Boss,” Tony said, tipping his hat, and we were off.

  We arrived home, but before I exited the cab, I started talking to Tony, “Say, I want you to come with me. I have one last stop before home.” He agreed. He followed me to Mrs. Blake’s front door. I rang the bell and waited. Mrs. Blake is a cat lady. Even with hair styled up in a roller-set, she
stands only about five feet tall. I’d bet she even puts toilet tissue in her hair at night like my mother did when I was a young boy.

  “Who is it?” came from behind the door.

  “It’s me, Mrs. Blake. Can I talk with you?” The sounds of many locks being turned filled the air. The door cracked open. A single eye peered from the crack.

  “Oh, thank God it is you, Nathan. I got so worried.” The door closed, the noise of the chain being undone could be heard. The door opened fully, and Diego made a mad dash out the door. That cat loves to escape. “What can I do for you, Nathan?”

  “I want you to come out with my family, and this man, Tony,” Mrs. Blake did a little start as she focused on Tony. “He is going to drive us all to the theater.”

  “Nathan, I can’t leave this house. I am so afraid.”

  Over the last few months, I have been slowly trying to help her overcome her fears. It is but a little battle in the grand scheme of things, but one I am willing to fight. Mrs. Blake is a kind and gentle woman and a fair landlord. In the climbing rents of San Diego, she has kept the rent stable for us. She has also worked with me when I have been unemployed or under-employed. “I know, Mrs. Blake. Charlene and Moiraine will be there with you. I will be there too. There is nothing to be afraid of out here.”

  “Thank you for the offer, Nathan, but I can’t leave.”

  “Mrs. Blake,” I stretched out my hand and took hers, “You are stronger than your fears.” I patted her hand, “Trust me.” I tried to conduct bravery through our touch. Hesitation and doubt flashed across Mrs. Blake’s face. She was in the deep grip of fear, a fear of everything. I continued, “There is such beauty out here in the world to see. I know your husband, God bless his memory, would not want you locked away from life.”

  “Where are you going to take me?” I saw the opening, and I jammed a crowbar of hope into it.

  “We are going to take you to the theater to see a musical. Mrs. Blake, I am starring in the production. My own mother can’t be here for me. If you came and saw me perform, it would be like she was there too." I saw her swallow. A softness touched her face. I can be a manipulative prick sometimes.