“Oh, my god, people are going to see me in this thing.” Terrance whined, as he pulled the floppy golf hat down further on his head, pushed a pair of heavy black-rimmed sunglasses onto his face, and let the clutch out on the 1974 Ford van. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as the vehicle lurched towards the warehouse door. He’d not driven a stick shift vehicle but once in his life. This fact only increased the driving difficulty as he tried to coax the beat up, rusty clunker that hadn’t been serviced in over ten years, at least, onto the streets of a bustling community. If forced to make a guess, Terrance would have said that no more than four of the eight cylinders of this rust bucket’s engine were firing or had plugs inserted. For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed his mind that driving this vehicle in public constituted an even greater threat to himself and the public than the cartel. Fortunately for him, he hadn’t noticed the inscription written across the back of the rolled up floppy hat he filched from Anthony’s pile of clothing located by the bathroom door which read, “I’d rather be golfing.”
This may very well be one of the longest days of my life, thought Terrance as the barely functioning vehicle lurched along the side streets towards the professor’s neighborhood. Before this day ended, several potentially humiliating experiences awaited him, including his meeting with the professor. Yet, he was determined to go forward and take his medicine. He deserved little mercy from the professor. He’d betrayed his trust.
Miraculously, over the next several minutes it took Terrance to cover the distance to the professor’s home, he only rarely came close to smashing into other vehicles on the road. Possibly his failure to become a real threat resulted from his failing to get up enough speed to do a lot of damage even if he did hit something. Yet, he still gave a sigh of relief when he came to a safe stop in front of the professor’s house.
Terrance sat in the jalopy for some time after he stopped looking around the area to make sure he detected no signs of the cartel’s presence. Satisfied, Terrance took a deep breath, let it out, and grabbed for the inside door handle which came off in his hand. He patiently put it back on, opened the door, and exited towards the professor’s front porch. Each step along the way caused his heart to beat faster. In due course, he stood before the professor’s front door breathing so hard he wondered for a moment if he might not be hyperventilating. One thought occurred to him as he stood there—he never again wanted to feel as he did at that moment. “Never do anything like this again,” he whispered.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! The loud doorbell rang as Terrance stood in disbelief at the racket the small button set off. He barely tapped it and nothing less than Big Ben announced his presence. One thing about it, though, the folks inside knew, for sure, someone waited at the door. Standing frozen in place, Terrance heard footsteps as the home’s occupant approached the front of the house. The front door began to swing inward.
“Terrance, my boy, how wonderful. What are you doing out here? But, please come in.” The man is either the best actor in the world or a saint, Terrance determined as the professor stepped aside, holding the door open for him to enter.
With head down to hide his shame, Terrance complied.
The professor spoke first as they walked into the parlor, “I was telling the missus just a few minutes ago that I expected you sometime this morning. Well, was I right?”
“About what?” said Terrance, his puzzlement obvious.
“About what? Didn’t I tell you? I’m sure I told you.” Now the professor appeared puzzled. “I said, ‘We’re due!’ Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, right. Now I remember. Yes, you did say that, and you were right. Boy, were you right.” As Terrance said this he held out his hand towards the professor. In it, he held the wining ticket. “Here you are. Sorry it took so long for me to get it to you.”
The professor accepted the valuable piece of paper from Terrance, but as he did, he couldn’t help but notice the anguished expression on the young man’s face. From that moment on, the professor never looked at the ticket.
“Thank you, son. Do you have a minute to sit? You know dreamers such as you and I ought to avail ourselves of each other’s company more often. I’ve believed for sometime that it takes a dreamer to fully comprehend another dreamer. So please sit, and tell me what’s been monopolizing that wonderful imagination of yours of late?”
Terrance did as requested. He couldn’t believe the professor hadn’t already jumped him for taking so long to get back with the ticket. Raising his head to give the offended party a full and complete target upon which he could vent his ire, Terrance waited. But no recriminations came forth. He saw only a pleasant, friendly man sitting across from him waiting for him to speak. Is this person really human? thought Terrance. Surely, he must have some doubts as to where I was last evening.
Terrance’s feelings of guilt and shame finally got the best of him. He couldn’t keep his previous night’s treachery inside any longer. He had to tell his friend what he did.
“Professor, I did something yesterday that I’m very ashamed of. I was going to take all the money and run away. I actually got as far as Omaha before I turned around. I’m sorry I betrayed your trust.” Now, it was out, and no matter what happened next, nothing could be as bad as trying to keep it all inside. Terrance waited for a response.
The professor’s expression never changed as he rose from his seat. “How about a glass of ice tea? I’m going to get myself a glass; how about you?”
Terrance didn’t understand elderly people. Every time a crisis arose, they offered you something to drink. Try as he might, for the life of him, he couldn’t make the connection. What is it about difficulties and liquids that necessitate bringing them together on such occasions? He had a lot to learn before he got old. If he ever got old, that is.
“Yes, thank you, I would appreciate a glass of iced tea.” Why fight it. It was obviously part of their rituals.
The professor disappeared into the kitchen and returned in a few minutes with two large glasses filled to the brim with iced tea. Terrance accepted his graciously, and after taking a couple of sips of the delicious liquid, admitted that maybe these elderly folks were indeed onto something good. Why not soften the bad news with a treat beforehand?
“Now,” said the professor after having reclaimed his seat, “where were we? Right. You were telling me about your supposed indiscretions, am I correct?”
“Professor, they weren’t—” but the professor cut him off.
“Terrance, my boy, will you humor an old man and let him tell you a story?” asked the professor. “Good,” he said without waiting for a response. “Actually, it’s a fable. One of Aesop’s if I remember correctly. I’m very fond of fables as they are generally timeless in their relevance. Well, the name of this fable is, “The Bear and the Two Travelers,” and it goes like this. Two men were traveling together when a bear suddenly met them on their path. One of them quickly climbed up into a tree and concealed himself in the branches. The other, seeing that he would be attacked fell flat on the ground, and when the bear came up and felt him with his snout and smelled him all over, he held his breath and feigned the appearance of death as much as he could. The bear soon left him, for it is said a bear will not touch a dead body. When he was quite gone, the other traveler descended from the tree and jocularly inquired of his friend what it was the bear had whispered in his ear. He gave me this advice, his companion replied, ‘Never travel with a friend who deserts you at the approach of danger.’”
“Do you know what the moral of this little story is?” asked the professor as Terrance looked on in puzzlement. “As in my humble opinion, all good stories have a moral. The moral is: Misfortune tests the sincerity of friends.”
“Now Terrance, I don’t know what occurred recently in your life, and I will not pry. But I can easily see that you are operating under an abundance of personal stress. Nevertheless, you proved your friendship by refusing to succumb to whatever perils presently bedevil your life. I further
believe it is your true nature to do what you did today. As a fellow traveler and friend, I stand ready to demonstrate that same loyalty to you.”
All was quiet until the professor shared a final thought. “Terrance, I feel very fortunate to have been blessed with two wonderful, fair-minded, deeply spiritual parents. And they often reminded me that I was endowed with no purpose, or right, to hold myself out as a judge of another person’s character. But, mind you, they never once told me I should not recognize it. Now, I will hear no more of your trip to Omaha.”
It took Terrance a moment to still his quivering lips so he could speak. “Thank you, professor. I promise I will never do anything like this again. But, I was thinking, I’d like for you to keep all the winnings. It would make me feel better if you did, and it doesn’t look as if I will need it, especially, if another deal I’m working on comes through.”
“That’s very generous of you son, but as I don’t intend to cash this ticket for sometime, let’s hold this most gracious offer of yours in abeyance for the next several weeks while I’m getting the final details worked out regarding the ranch. Then, if things are going okay for you, we will most certainly accept your offer. Deal?”
“It’s a deal,” said Terrance, cracking a smile.
“Good,” said the professor. “Now about this other deal you’re working on. I meant it when I said I’m not going to pry, but is there anything at all I can do to help?”
Terrance refused this much-appreciated offer. He wanted to confide to his friend, but it might end up putting him in danger. Besides, nothing the professor offered to do mattered now as he already planned to sneak out of town to Atlanta. That reminded him, he had to call Arête and make arrangements to see her, but not until he slipped into the apartment and retrieved some personal things. He cringed at the possibility of having to borrow clothing from Anthony.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR