What a Weekend

Personal Essay

It began last Thursday, January 22, 2015 and lasted until Sunday, January 25, 2015. I’m talking about First Event, the first Transgender Conference of the year. Other years, I was excited and jubilant to be going; but this year, I was hesitant and even thought about not going. Depression can do that. What was I depressed about? I had made the mistake of setting myself up by believing that I would be invited to the family gathering on Christmas. It didn’t happen and when I spoke to one of my siblings the day after Christmas, he told me that it was never going to happen for me to be invited to family affairs. That being said, I think you can understand my “down-in-the-dump” blue mood.

Normally, I would have been packed and ready to go the week before. Not this year. Two days before the event, I was still procrastinating on what I was going to wear and to what function. That process carried over into the day before First Event. Finally, I was able to get over myself and, once started, began putting together outfits and planning when I would wear them. Each day and each event meant a change of outfits. There was one for Thursday night dancing; one for Friday day time; another for the Friday night buffet and Fashion Show and yet another for Friday night dancing. Three outfits were also chosen for Saturday.

This whole process of changing outfits actually coincided with the purpose of the weekend. That is, transitioning and all that it encompasses. So, with that in mind, my spirits started picking up and by Thursday morning, I was ready to go and feeling good. When my friend Tanya and I arrived at the Westin Hotel in Waltham, Massachusetts, it was as though we stepped into another world because of all the hustle and bustle of girls checking in, greeting each other, organizers trying to get everything and everyone to where they needed to be. It was great!

The highlight of my weekend came on Saturday when I met with the publisher, Trystan Cotton and editor, Mitch Kellaway of the book, “Letters for My Sisters”, of which I was a contributing author. We hit it off right from the start. I was asked to join them in the workshop and to read my essay, which I did and was moved when I saw that others were moved from my words. It was a great feeling to say the least. In speaking with these two wonderful and delightful men, I am happy to say that I will be sending them some of my short stories in an anthology with the purpose they will be published in my own book. Naturally, there are no guarantees with such an endeavor, but just the fact that they are willing to give me a chance is fantastic.

The only glitch in the weekend happened when Tanya had an allergic reaction to the medication she had been prescribed the week before. Thankfully, she did not require emergency treatment but she missed the Friday and Saturday events and remained in bed the whole time. It was so heartbreaking for me as well because I knew how much she had been looking forward to the conference. I was also disheartened that I was helpless. I couldn’t do anything to ease her pain and discomfort. The only consolation I had was being able to bring her some food and drink to help her keep her strength up until we journeyed home. Thankfully, when we arrived home, her dad took her to the ER and they were able to get her started on meds that helped to counter-act the other meds.

At home, I left everything in the suitcase for Monday to be unpacked, sorted and put either in the laundry or away. Then, the blizzard started and I felt it would be a good time to read, “The Butterfly Club”, written by my dear friend, Phyllis Calvey. Not far into the book, an idea began to formulate in my mind inspired by the words Phyllis had written. She writes about the butterfly being ever so present in so many spiritual ways to people and a sign, almost a premonition of sorts, that gave many a comforting feeling through the death of others and sickness. Phyllis captures the nature of the butterfly in its natural ability to change from a caterpillar to something extraordinary beautiful.

I thought about this and realized that as a transgender person, I have always likened my situation with that of a butterfly. I was born as a male and through time, practically lived in the privacy or cocoon of my mind, always feeling the pull to be who I truly am. Like a magnet, this feeling within kept developing and changing and becoming stronger until I had to break free from the confines of the cocoon and become the person I am today.

Because I have such a strong intimate relationship with God, I prayed and asked Him to guide me with the decisions I had to make. I was finally able to find the comfort in knowing that God created me in His likeness and that His love for me is unconditional in every respect and therefore, if I was born with these feelings, then He knew long before I did. Yet He still created me as I am and still loves me. Not a bad thing at all.

For years, I mentally labored over the reason why God would make me as I am, knowing that I would go through such persecution, both within me and externally from society and family. I didn’t have the answer for the longest time, but when I likened myself to the butterfly, I was able to realize that it is God’s way of making me come to Him even more than ever before. So many times when I had no one to share my thoughts and feelings and struggles, God was the only one who was there for me to speak about what was in my heart.

The Monarch butterfly will travel thousands of miles over land and sea, through different climates and harsh weather to reach its destination and fulfill its purpose…..to be complete. It is the way it is created.

With that in mind, I look back on Christmas and the exchange of words with my brother and I realize that this is another harsh storm trying to pull me away from myself and more importantly, away from God. How easy it would be to be spiteful and angry and bitter, all that God does not want me to be. All of whom and what I am not. I am transitioning into the person I was meant to be…….a woman. I am a woman who is gentle, kind, forgiving and loving. I cannot do this without the grace of God.

Maybe, just maybe, this is my sign of the butterfly and maybe, just maybe, I am a different kind of member of “The Butterfly Club” because, after all, I am dying to my old self and becoming the new.

  Chelle Munroe©

   January 29, 2015

A Cold Attitude

Part Two

 “How’d you find that out?”

“I asked one of the cleaning girls if she knew anything about her.”

“She’s probably got pneumonia from sitting out here on the ground,” Paul added without any recognition of compassion in his voice.

Again, Mark just stared at his friend and tried to fathom why Paul was so cold and uncaring. Not being one to pry, however, he let the moment pass and they proceeded to the restaurant.

At the end of the day, Paul informed Mark that he was going to stay a little later to work on a layout for a new account they had acquired.  Before long, the cleaning ladies came in and Paul asked one of them if she knew the hospital where the young girl had been taken. She didn’t know but returned a few minutes later with the information.

Without knowing the girl’s name and not being a relative, it took a bit of doing before he was able to find out what room she was in. She was in the Intensive Care Unit and when he inquired about her, he was told her name was Sandra and that she was in critical condition. He also learned that she had no family, her father having left her and her mother when she was a baby and her mother having passed away when Sandra was ten years old.

The nurse brought Paul into the room and he sat in the chair next to the bed. A couple minutes later, the nurse returned and checked the tubes connected to Sandra’s arms. When the nurse went to adjust the bedding, Paul noticed that Sandras’s legs were misshapen.

He closed his eyes as his words about knowing life’s hardships came back to haunt him. Having lost his own daughter Tina at two years old, he had turned bitter and resentful. His marriage split up and he could never involve himself with anyone on an intimate basis. He had wallowed in his loneliness in spite of having had all the means to overcome it. Now, as he sat in the hospital room, with the monitors beeping, he realized that he knew absolutely nothing about real loneliness. Sandra, on the other hand, did. Yet, in spite of all she had lost and been through, she still smiled and offered a blessing.

He now understood that her panhandling was to stay alive. The cruel words he had spat at her on so many days invaded his mind and tore at his heart. What kind of a monster had he become?

“I’m sorry,” the nurse’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Your fifteen minutes are over.”

Paul glanced at Sandra and then at the nurse and nodded. He stood up feeling like all the energy in his body had completely drained out of him. He was a shell moving robotically toward the door. In the elevator, he vowed to return and to speak to the doctors to find out what could be done to help Sandra.

That night, tortured by the memories of Tina and the visions of Sandra lying in the bed hooked up to machines, Paul was unable to fall asleep until he practically passed out from emotional exhaustion. His concentration in the office the next morning was anything but focused. At lunch time, he explained to Mark about Tina and his visit to see Sandra the night before. Mark sat quietly while Paul informed him of Tina’s death and Sandra’s deformed legs and being hooked up to the monitors.

Mark was then able to understand Paul’s cold attitude in the previous weeks and sympathized with all that his friend had gone through. Having children of his own, Mark also shivered at the thought of losing one of them. Such pain was beyond his comprehension and wondered how Paul would have endured for so long without having shut his emotions off.

After lunch, Mark headed back to the office while Paul hailed a taxi to go to the hospital. He was determined to find a way to help Sandra. In amongst his angst to help her, thoughts of possibly adopting her weaved in and out of his mind. He kept thinking that their meeting was more by design than happenstance.

At the hospital, Paul forced himself to remain calm and patient as the elevator seemed to take forever to open. He made his way to the nurse’s station and inquired if the doctor had been in and how Sandra was doing. The nurse informed him the doctor would be with him briefly and told Paul he could go in to see Sandra.

Paul reached out and took Sandra’s little hand in his and was shocked at how cold it felt. He covered his other hand over hers and whispered, “It’s going to be okay. I’ll keep you warm. I’m so sorry for all the things I said to you and one day I will explain why I had such a cold attitude toward you.”

One of the monitors in the room started beeping loudly and two nurses came running into the room. One of the nurses came to the side of the bed where Paul was standing. “There’s a small room down the corridor and once we see what’s going on, we’ll let you come back in.”

Paul reluctantly walked to the small waiting room for family. He sat down and closed his eyes.

A short time later, the door opened and a man came in. “Hello, I’m Dr. Sinchow,” he introduced himself.

Paul stood up. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with Sandra and what can be done to get her back to good health?”

Dr. Sinchow cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there is nothing we can do for Sandra,” he offered somberly.

The words startled Paul. “Her condition’s that bad?”

Dr. Sinchow lowered his eyes then looked at Paul. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Sandra has little time left.”

Paul felt his knees weaken and sat down. Tears flowed down his cheeks. A number of things raced into his mind but none of them coalesced into a coherent thought.

Just then, Dr. Sinchow’s pager beeped. He glanced down at Paul and said, “You can go in to see her if you are up to it. I will tell the nurses.” He then left the room. Moments later, a nurse appeared and asked Paul if he was okay and whether he wanted some water. He shook his head and whispered, “No. Thank you. Can I go in now?”

The nurse nodded. “Yes, come with me.”

Paul stood by the bed hating the fact that there was nothing he could do once again. His heart was breaking. He reached down and took Sandra’s hand in his. “I don’t know if you can hear me Sandra, but I am the man who treated you meanly when I came out of the office at Weller & Wheir everyday. Please forgive me for my stupidity.”

He stretched his leg out and hooked his shoe behind the rung of the chair, pulled it closer and sat down. He bowed his head and closed his eyes wishing with all his might that she would be all right, yet knowing that his wishes wouldn’t come true.

Paul wasn’t sure how long he had been there but he heard Sandra give a deep sigh and then the monitor went flat screen and he knew she had died. When the nurses came in, he was still holding Sandra’s hand. His cheeks were stained with tears.

Paul left the hospital a short while later and decided to walk back to the office with Sandra’s words burning in his mind: “You shouldn’t be so angry all the time.”

He took a deep breath and knew in his heart that his life would be changed forever: a change for the better because that’s how Tina and Sandra would want it to be.

  The End

   Chelle Munroe©

   January 10, 2015

A Cold Attitude

Paul Callan and Mark Jannitz stepped out from the office building and turned to the right. Sitting on the ground was a young girl with a blanket wrapped around her holding a cup and a sign with a string draped around her neck asking for donations.

Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill and placed it in the cup.

“God bless you,” the girl smiled and looked toward Paul.

Paul turned his head away and started walking. “Why do you encourage her?” he asked when Mark caught up to him.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he replied. “She’s just a kid. Who knows what her situation is that’s got her out here begging.”

Paul looked at him. “Don’t be so damn naïve all the time. She’s probably out here because her mother’s at home with a bunch of illegitimate kids and don’t get enough from welfare. Trust me, you’re not helping her, you’re enabling her.”

Mark shook his head. “Why are you so bitter and callous?”

Paul avoided answering. Inside the restaurant, he said, “We need to get moving on this project or we’ll both be sucking our thumbs if the jungle drums are right.”

“Have you heard anymore about whether the company is going to just down-size or close?”

“Not a thing. I believe I have enough years to keep me locked in if they have cut-backs.”

Mark cleared his throat. “I don’t want to sound like I have cold feet but are you certain this concept of ours will hold water?”

Paul stared into Mark’s eyes. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been testing the waters and I already have a few companies who are interested in marketing their services with us. They believe our marketing strategies are the best they’ve seen in years.”

Mark took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s going to take a lot of capital to get this off the ground. I mean, I’m risking everything.”

Paul nodded. “I know that. Look, we’ve been friends for years. I’m not going to send you to the poor farm like that kid we just passed.”

The men talked and ate their meal and then headed back to the office. Neither of them noticing the young girl had left.

Four days later, Mark got his notice that he was being let go. He walked into Paul’s office holding the slip up for Paul to see.

Paul stood up and walked around to the front of the desk. “I’m sorry. I heard it about three minutes before you got called into the conference room.” Seeing the worried looked on Mark’s face, he added, “We’ll be okay. I’ll make some phone calls this afternoon to see if I can get some appointments set up.”

At the end of the day, upset that he had failed to get any definite appointments, Paul left the office in a bad mood. Outside, he spotted the little girl sitting where she had been days before. When she looked up at him, he said, “Why don’t you go home and tell your mother to get a job.”

In spite of the hurt reflecting in her eyes, she still managed to smile at him and said, “Have a nice day.”

For the next two weeks, regardless of what time he entered or left the Weller & Wheir office building, Paul was confronted by the young girl collecting donations and each day, she would wish him a good day and each time he would grunt and walk past her, sometimes even saying cruel things.

On the following Wednesday, Paul was given his termination papers and packed up his personal belongings and carried them out of the building.

The young girl was sitting in her usual spot but instead of wishing him a good day, she simply said, “You know you shouldn’t be so angry all the time.”

That got his attention and he stopped and looked down at her with a scowl. “How old are you?”

“I’m twelve,” she answered, staring him straight in the eyes.

“Twelve, huh? Let me tell you something. You’re not old enough to be giving me advice. When you get old enough and have to work for a living instead of pan-handling, then you will know what the hardships in life are all about; then let’s see if you’re so happy then.”

At that, she smiled her usual smile and said, “Have a nice day.”

He shrugged his shoulders and stormed away. “Stupid kid,” he mumbled under his breath.

The very next morning, Paul and Mark got their first big break and landed an account. From that moment on they seemed to be in a whirlwind of events. Ironically, they were able to get a large office in the Weller & Wheir office building just four floors down from their former employer. They were on their way.

Each day, they encountered the young girl and each day, Mark gave her some money. Of course, Paul voiced his opinions and objections and ignored the young girl’s wishes to have a good day. 

As the days passed, Paul realized he hadn’t seen the young girl sitting outside the office building collecting money. Finally, he made mention to Mark as they were going to lunch. “I see your friend hasn’t been coming around.”

Mark looked at him questioningly.

“The beggar,” Paul supplied.

Mark glanced down and then looked around. “You’re right,” he said. “I wonder what happened to her.”

“The cops probably nabbed her for vagrancy.”

Mark just shook his head and continued walking toward the restaurant.

At lunch time the next day, Mark stated, “I found out the kid’s in the hospital.”

    (continued)

    Chelle Munroe © 

     January 10, 2015

   

The Flight

Part Nine

James followed Martin with no problem whatsoever. That is, until Martin pulled to the side of the road and went into the woods. When Martin reappeared, he looked up at the circling plane, waited a moment then jumped into his truck.

Martin waited a few minutes before starting the engine. He kept glancing out his windshield and side window to note the plane’s passing. After observing it passing overhead three times, he started the engine, shifted into gear and made a u-turn.

“What the heck?” James said aloud.

“What’s wrong?” Dan immediately asked.

“He’s doubling back again,” James said a touch of puzzlement in his tone.

“You want me to head back?” Dan asked, easing his foot off the gas pedal to let the truck slow down.

“No,” James replied. “You get to Stafford Road. I’ll stay with him. I know he’s going to head your way again.”

“Gotcha,” was all Dan said and stepped on the gas pedal again.

Martin could hear the steady whine of the plane’s engine and knew it had to be James following him. He had sensed being followed earlier but dismissed it until he went into the woods and watched the plane circling. He was sure of it now and had to decide what to do. Moments later, he knew exactly what he had to do and stepped on the gas pedal and felt the old truck pick up speed.

James was making another pass when he spotted Martin’s truck take a turn that went against everything James had thought Martin would do. He watched in eagerness, trying to figure out what the old man was up to.

After watching the truck take different turns, James began thinking that maybe Martin had thought he had been going in the wrong direction and was now trying to find his way again. Not once, did James anticipate Martin’s next move.

When Martin reached the main road, instead of going right leading to Tiverton and home, Martin swung the truck left heading back to Little Compton.

Confused by the move, James scratched his head and said,  “What are you up to old man?”

Dan’s voice came through the headset. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s heading back to Little Compton.”

“Why would he do that?” Dan asked, his voice reflecting the same confused puzzlement as James.

“Beats the hell out of me,” James said, attempting to recalculate Martin’s intentions. “Damn,” he cursed seconds later.

“What happened?”

“He’s heading for my mother’s house,” James practically shouted back.

“I’m on my way,” Dan replied and swung the truck around as soon as he could.

James pushed the throttle, knowing that even with the increased speed he wouldn’t make it to the house before Martin. He cursed himself for having underestimated the old man. He surmised it must have been when Martin had gone into the woods and emerged that he had been made. James knew he should have formed a wider circle to keep from being so obvious. He shook his head, letting go of the regrets and turned his attention back to the moment. He had to be completely focused so as not to make another mistake.

James watched with a sickening feeling in his stomach as Martin’s truck sped into his mother’s driveway. As he passed overhead, James spotted Martin running toward the house carrying the gun and cursed himself for having been so arrogantly confident thinking he had the old man figured out.

The plane hadn’t completely stopped rolling when James climbed from the cockpit onto the wing and jumped to the ground. He rolled a couple times and was up and making a mad dash for the house, hoping he would be in time to save his mother.

Nearing the house, James found shelter behind the hedges and made his way to the front of the house, guessing that it would be the last place Martin would expect him to enter. He edged his way to the front door, took a deep breath and slowly opened it. He listened a moment then pushed the door open enough to slip inside the house.

Martin was nowhere to be seen. James listened for voices but didn’t hear any and wondered if while he was landing the plan if Martin had killed his mother and then committed suicide. The gruesome thought made him shiver. In spite of wanting to dash from room to room, James cautiously and stealthily made his way toward the kitchen in the back of the house. Not seeing anyone, he moved inside the room to look out the back window, thinking Martin may have escaped that way.

James looked out window, scanning the perimeter for signs of a fleeing Martin, but didn’t spot him at all. He turned and flinched at the sight of Martin holding the gun at him chest high. At the same time he felt frightened, James marveled at the way Martin was able to move about so quietly.

“Where’s my mother?” James asked, finding his voice again.

Martin sneered at him. “So you weren’t looking for me, huh?”

“I wasn’t until I saw you here.”

“You’re a liar,” Martin said, the venom in his voice spewing danger.

“Look I know how……..”

“You don’t know anything,” Martin spat. “You’re just like your old man. You can’t be trusted.”

“And you can by coming back here with a gun?” James challenged. “Now where’s my mother?”

Martin knew that as long as he kept his mouth shut, he would stay alive. “You’ll know when I’m ready to let you know,” was all he offered.

James took a step forward.

Martin held the gun up firmly, his finger moving to the trigger. “Don’t be too hasty. I’ll kill you if I have to. Now step back.”

James did as he was told not wanting to risk calling Martin’s bluff. He took a step back and leaned against the counter. “You got no way out of here, you know.”

Martin stared at him for a long moment, realizing that what James had said was true. Sure there were roads he could take to get out of the area but he would be easily caught. The only thing he could do would be to tie James up in the hopes of having enough time to flee the area.

Dan parked his truck at the beginning of the driveway and made his way towards the house, not knowing what was going on inside. Noticing the front door still ajar, he made his way slowly into the house. Hearing the muffled voices coming from the kitchen, he slowly inched his way, trying to assess what was going on. When he was close enough, he peeked into the room and saw Martin holding the gun on James.

Just then, Martin noticed James’ eyes widen and before he could move to see the cause, he was grabbed from behind.

Dan lunged at Martin and wrestled the gun from his hands. He knocked Martin to the floor.

James was by his side in a flash. “Where’s my mother?” he demanded.

“I’m right here,” a soft voice came from behind them.

James turned to see his mother standing in the doorway holding a bag. “What’s going on?” she asked without knowing Martin was on the floor.

James and Dan turned sideways to allow Delia Bell a chance to see Martin’s sprawled body.

She dropped the bag on the floor, tomatoes and other vegetables spilling out. “What have you done to him?” she said, pushing both James and Dan aside so she could get to Martin.

“What have we done to him?” James replied. “He came here to kill you, that’s what he’s done.”

She stood up and looked up into James’ bewildered eyes. “He did no such thing you damn fool.”

“He had a gun,” Dan offered, holding the gun out so she could see.

“Well he doesn’t have it now, does he?”

She turned back to James. “Are you going to be like your father?”

Still stunned by her reaction, James stood with his mouth open. Finally he said, “He stole the money from Dad and I……”

“You what?” she questioned. “You went after him taking up where your father left off?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” James defended himself. “I’m not my father.”

“Then help him off the floor,” she commanded and watched as the two men lifted Martin to his feet.

“I’m so sorry Martin,” she apologized.

James and Dan looked at each other as though they had both been shot.

“All of you, sit down at the table and behave,” she said and proceeded to pick up the vegetables from the floor.

 The three men sheepishly made their way to the dining room table and sat down, none of them saying a word, but all looking like misbehaved school kids who were now being admonished.

When Delia had the coffee and pastry set on the table, she sat down. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

James told her everything from his emergency landing right up to the moment she came into the room.

Delia listened attentively and when he finished she said, “Martin never stole any money. Money was stolen. Yes. But it wasn’t Martin who stole it. I did.”

“You?” James started to protest, but she waved him off.

“Yes, I stole it because I was sick and tired of the way your father bullied and abused me. Everything was about money with him and it was the only way I knew I could hurt him. The night Martin and I were to run away, your father came home and almost caught us. That money was to help us start a new life. Instead, because I couldn’t get away after that, I sent the money to Martin to live on. But because your father was so brutal, Martin couldn’t get any good respectable jobs and the money ran out fast. Your father started to become suspicious of me and I had to stop sending money.  After that, I lost touch with Martin and thought I’d never see him again.”

James looked at Martin and shook his head realizing how wrong he had been. He now understood why Martin had acted as he had. He stuck his hand out. “I’m sorry.”

Martin shook his hand, a tear trickling down his cheeks. “Is it really over?” he asked looking from one face to another.

Delia got up and went over and embraced him, tears streaming from her own eyes. “It’s over Martin. It’s really over.”

   The End

    Chelle Munroe©

    October 30, 2014

 

The Flight

Part Eight

Martin caught sight of James running towards him and jammed his foot on the accelerator. The truck jumped forward sending gravel and dirt shooting out the back. His heart was beating fast and hard. The last thing he expected was to see James bounding toward him. He checked his rear-view mirror and felt a little relief when he didn’t see James’ figure. He had to think fast and plan on getting away from the area as fast as he could without drawing attention.

James didn’t waste time chasing Martin. He dashed into the house and seeing the startled look on his mother’s face, he knew she was all right. He spun around and ran out the door, his mother’s voice calling after him. James ran to the garage and jumped into his jeep. He immediately called Dan.

“Meet me at the field,” was all he commanded and sped out the driveway.

When he reached the field where he kept his other plane, he spotted Dan waiting for him. “Help me get her ready for take-off”, he yelled from the jeep.

Dan didn’t question and immediately hurried to release the cables holding the plane to the ground stakes. James unhooked the other side and was climbing in the plane when he noticed Dan staring at him.

“That……sob was at my mother’s house. I’m going to find out where he is.”

Dan held his hand up. “What good’s it going to do you?”

James waved him off. “What are you talking about?”

“You need someone on the ground. You spot him from the sky you let me know and I can track him from the ground. He won’t be expecting you to be in the sky or me coming for him.”

“Will take too long,” James objected.

“What are you going to do if you do find him? You going to ask him to wait while you find a parking space for the plane?”

James swore under his breath. In his anger he hadn’t thought about the plane once he found Martin. He glanced down at Dan. “Okay. I’ll circle till I locate him and let you know where he is.”

“Now you’re talking,” Dan replied and headed for his truck.

James started the plane, checked all his instruments and then taxied to the small runway in the field behind the barn made into a hangar. A moment later, he lifted into the sky and headed in the direction he last saw Martin going. He knew Martin would try to use every skill he had to evade being spotted. James hoped Martin wouldn’t expect to be seen from the sky. Fifteen minutes later, he spotted Martin’s green truck traveling on the back roads through Little Compton heading for Westport, Massachusetts; the complete opposite direction from Connecticut.

James put his headset on and turned on the Bluetooth on the phone. Within seconds, he was in touch with Dan. “He’s headed toward Westport, moving toward East Road.”

“Gotcha,” Dan answered. “I’m on my way. Do you think he’ll stay on that route?”

“My guess,” James said into the mouthpiece, “is that he’ll try to get to the highway. He’s got to be familiar with all the roads around here so I don’t expect him to stay in a straight line.”

After five minutes, James spoke up. “That sly little bugger.”

“What’s he doing,” Dan’s voice piped through the earpiece.

“He made a u-turn and is heading back to you.”

“I’m on East Road now just past the Equestrian Farm, so how much distance between us?” Dan asked.

“You’re about three……hold on……he’s turning again. I know what he’s doing. Good move.”

“What’s a good move? Where is he?” Dan said, frustrated James wasn’t filling him in.

“I know where he’s going,” James responded.

“Would it be too much to fill me in so I know where I’m going?” Dan pressed.

“Sorry,” James apologized; a little more relaxed now that he felt he knew what Martin was doing. “He’s zigzagging heading for Crandall Road”

“Crandall Road?” Dan questioned. “Why go there?”

“He’s going to head straight out to Stafford Road and then onto the highway and back to Connecticut,” James answered with strength and confidence in his voice. “Don’t bother following him now. I want you to head for the Stafford Road Junction. I’ll stay with him from up here.”

Hearing the conviction in James’ voice, Dan simply said, “Done.”

  (continued)

  Chelle Munroe©

  October 30, 2014

 

The Flight

Part Seven

When James finished, Dan smiled. “So the old guy’s been hiding out ever since then?  What do you think he’ll do?”

James looked out the side window, and then turned to Dan. “He’ll probably rabbit like he did before. He knows I’ll be coming back for the plane so he won’t go back to the house.”

“You gonna go looking for him?”

“What for? That was my father’s way of doing things, not mine.”

When they reached home, James said, “Do me a favor and drop me off at my Uncle’s house so I can give him the money for the phone before he decides to vig me?”

Dan laughed. “Your uncle’s going to charge you interest?”

James chuckled. “Yeah, he threatened to vig me if I didn’t pay for the phone bill right away.”

Dan laughed again. “I know it’s not your lifestyle, but you have to admit, your family had some colorful characters in it.”

James looked at him. “Colorful is not a word I would use to describe them. You’re lucky you didn’t have to grow up with that crap.”

The tone of James’ voice let Dan know to let the subject drop. “You want me to wait for you?”

“No, I’m going to stop in at my Mother’s house and then I’ll walk home.”

“That’s over two miles.”

“I need to get it out.”

Dan dropped James off at his uncle’s house. “If you change your mind call me.”

James rang the doorbell and waited. Two minutes later, his uncle opened the door.

Uncle Charles stared at him. “Whatta ya doing here? You told me you were in Colorado.”

“I was in Connecticut,” James corrected him. “Don’t you remember?”

“You think I don’t remember? You think I’m stupid? Connecticut, Colorado, I know the difference you know. You think I don’t? You think I’m stupid?”

“Uncle Charles, I don’t think you’re stupid. I know you know the difference. I came to give you the money for the phone bill for the collect call I made to you earlier.”

Uncle Charles nodded. “Yeah I remember that call. I’m not stupid. What were you doing in Colorado anyway?”

James opened his mouth to correct him, thought better of it and said, “I had business to take care of.”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with the family business?” Uncle Charles asked at the same time scanning the yard to be sure they were alone.

“It was personal business, not family,” James said hoping that would put an end to the questioning.

“Smart answer,” Uncle Charles replied. “I like that.” He pointed a finger at James. “You’re gonna do good for the family. I know when someone’s got what it takes. I’m not stupid you know.”

James removed a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to Uncle Charles.

“What’s this?  You giving me a payoff?” Uncles Charles said without taking the money. I’m not stupid you know? I know what a payoff is. You settin’ me up James? I know what a set up is. I’m not stupid you know.”

James shoved the money into Uncle Charles’ hand. “It’s not a payoff. It’s for the damn phone bill for the call I made this morning.”

In a quick movement that caught James by surprise, Uncle Charles gave him a swat on the side of the head. “Get smart with me and I’ll take you downstairs and teach you a lesson. You think I can’t do it? You think I’m stupid? Try me.”

James just shook his and turned to leave. Then looking back at Uncle Charles he said, “I’m going to see my mother and then I’m going home.”

Uncle Charles looked at the money in his hand. “This better cover the call from Colorado cuz if it’s not, I’ll vig you for trying to stiff me. I’m not stupid you know.”

“It’s enough,” James called over his shoulder and kept walking.

Just as James rounded a curve in the road, he spotted Martin’s truck coming from his mother’s driveway and started running.

  (continued)

  Chelle Munroe©

  October 30, 2014

The Flight

Part Six

He cussed himself for having been so careless. Why he ever thought Martin would just stay there was totally stupid.  James gave the operator the number and listened while she explained to his uncle that it was a collect call and waited. He looked around for Martin knowing he should go looking for him. Just then, his uncle’s gruff voice came through the earpiece.

“Hello.”

“Uncle Charles it’s James and…..”

“I know who the hell it is. The operator just told me. You think I’m stupid?”

“No. No I don’t think you’re stupid, I just said it that’s all. I need a favor.”

“What is it? You need money?”

“No, I don’t need any money.”

“Then why the hell you calling collect? I’m not stupid. I’m old, but I’m not stupid.”

“I’m at a pay phone and ran out of change.”

“A pay phone!” Uncle Charles interrupted. “They don’t have pay phones anymore. You think I’m stupid? Where’s your celibate phone or whatever the hell you call it?”

“It’s a cell phone,” James heard himself yelling back. He lowered his voice. “Please, just listen a moment. I need you to go to Dan’s house and tell him to come pick me up. I’m in….” he paused realizing he didn’t know where he was. “Hold on a moment Uncle Charles.”

“Don’t take all damn day.  I’m paying for this call. You think I forgot? You think I’m stupid?”

James spotted a woman coming out of the small convenience store. “Excuse me,” he asked politely. “Could you tell me the name of this town? I broke down and I’m trying to get my family to come pick me up.” He pointed to the receiver in his hand as proof.

“You’re in Collett,” she answered. Then seeing the puzzled look on his face, continued saying, “Collett, Connecticut.”

James smiled. “Thank you I appreciate your help.”

He turned his attention back to the phone. “Uncles Charles it’s Collett, Connecticut.” Not getting any response, James spoke much louder into the receiver. “Uncle Charles, are you listening to me?”

James heard a snort and then his Uncle said, “Who is it?”

“Uncle Charles it’s James. Tell Dan to come get me in Collett, Connecticut. Can you remember that or you want me to wait till you get a paper and pencil?”

“Don’t get smart with me James or I’ll clip you up side the head when I see you. I know what you said. You think I’m stupid?”

“Could you please repeat the name for me?” James asked, his voice softer to calm his uncle down before the conversation got totally lost.”

“What do I gotta repeat it for? This is costing me money. You think I forgot? You think I’m stupid?”

James had all he could do to keep his temper. He remained silent.

“It’s Collett, Connecticut. I know where that is you know. You think I don’t know? You think I’m stupid?”

Out of respect for his uncle, James remained silent, all the while thinking to himself that he was the stupid one for having called his uncle in the first place. As soon as he was calm enough, he said, “Thank you Uncle Charles. I appreciate you doing this for me and I’ll give you the money for the phone bill when I get home.”

“You better give it to me. And don’t make me wait for it either or I’ll have a good mind to vig you for it.”

James hung up the phone and walked back to the truck. The gun was where he had left it but the keys were not in the ignition. Another mistake he’d made. He shook his head and closed the door. His stomach gurgled in protest. He was hungry. Figuring he had time, he looked around and spotted a diner not too far from the truck and headed for it.

Almost two hours and three cups of coffee later, James glanced up in time to see Dan come walking into the diner.

“Kind of figured when I rolled into town and looked around that you’d be here,” Dan said cheerfully.

“You want something to eat or a coffee?” James offered before he stood up.

“I’m all set.”

James left some bills on the table and left the restaurant. Looking to his left, James noticed the green truck was gone. “So the old guy doubled back,” he said softly.

“What’s that?” Dan asked.

“I’ll fill you in on the way,” James replied and they got into Dan’s truck and headed for home.

  (continued)

  Chelle Munroe©

  October 30, 2014