Jack (chapter 3)

                “You may as well stay asleep, son.”

                I hear the voice but am uncertain who it belongs to.  I yawn and look to my left.  There’s a grinning man in his eighties sitting next to me holding a cup of coffee.

                “Hi. I’m Jack.”

                “Hi Jack. I’m Ed.”

Ed has sincere eyes hidden beneath a mass of wrinkles and sunspots.  And I’m quite certain that each one has been earned with an experience that I will never know or understand.  I wish I could.  There is also a large scar under his left eye which makes it look somewhat droopy.

He speaks again in his raspy voice, “Where are you no longer heading, Jack?”

“Miami.  Although I’m certain my boss will try to find a way for me to make it.”

“Miami.  I’ve never been there.  My daughter tried to convince me to retire there.  I think she just wanted an excuse to visit. I decided to retire here instead.”  He grins.

“She hasn’t visited, has she?”

His grin broadens as he shakes his head.

“Is that where you were heading?”

“To see her?  Yes.”  His smile fades slightly.

“Where does she live? “

“Washington D.C.  Her first grandchild was born last week.  My first great-grandkid.”  He stops and pulls out his phone which he fumbles with.  His hands are incredibly arthritic and his fingers can barely hold the phone and the cup of coffee at the same time.  He pokes around and his chunky fingers press on the wrong buttons.  I imagine he spent his working years as a carpenter.  There are as many sunspots on his hands as there are on his face.

“Confounded phone.  I still can’t figure these things out.”

“Want me to try?”

He hands me the phone but with so little grace that his coffee spills all over the floor.

“Oh dear, let me go grab some napkins for you.”  The voice is high pitched and so quick it was like she was waiting for the coffee to spill.  It belongs to the plain girl from the coffee shop with the embroidered bag.  In a flash she’s gone.

Ed smiles again, “She likes you.”  I stare in disbelief, without a reaction.  “She’s been staring at you all morning.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I have the feeling he’s getting ready to lecture me on the value of love in life.  It’s a shame really because I’ve like Ed up until now.

“I have a lot of regrets in my life, Jack.  The one thing that I don’t regret is marrying my wife and remaining absolutely faithful to her.  I’m not saying this girl is the one for you or anything.  I’m just saying, don’t let it get away from you.”

He did it.  He lost my interest.  I just nod my head trying to respect his age and experience.  He takes the hint and gets really quiet.  I wait a few minutes and wonder what he’s thinking enough to turn and look at him.  There are tears rolling down his cheeks, getting lost between the cracks of his wrinkles.  I feel my own tears begin form, although I’m not certain why.  But before they fully form, I hear the sharp screech of the girl’s voice.

“Here.  Some napkins and another cup of coffee.”  She’s talking to Ed, but looking at me.  It makes me uncomfortable and I look at the ground.

“Thank you dear.  Oh and honey, don’t bother with him.  He isn’t interested.  Your time, energy and youth are much better suited to someone else.”

Her jaw drops and my respect for him restores.

She just whispers, “You’re welcome” and wanders to the other side of the gate.  Her eyes are downcast and it looks like her hair has begun to droop ever so slightly.

I hear the obnoxious tune of a phone.  I know it isn’t mine because I would throw my phone against the wall every time it rang if it had that tune.  It continues in its irritating tone.  All the eyes around me start to turn toward me and I realize I’m still holding Ed’s phone.

“Oh sorry.”

Ed answers and has a conversation about the changes that are being made to his travel.  He ends the call and stands up with some difficulty.  Before he leaves, he turns to me. “Jack,” he stops for a minute, “This scar, under my eye, is from the car accident that killed my wife… sixty years ago.  My greatest regret of all the ones I’ve made is that I was driving.  Don’t be that stupid, son.”

For the first time, I feel badly about making that poor girl in the corner suffer.  Ed’s gone before I can really think twice.  The girl in the corner peeks up at me and I manage a half smile which I definitely regret, immediately.  What is it about old people that makes us trust them?  Makes us think that they are wise and all-knowing.  I wish I could just fall back to sleep instead.  In fact, why did I even wake up this morning?  At least she’s on the phone now.

I look at my own phone.  There are a dozen missed calls from my boss and I’m sure there are as many voicemails cussing me out in various flavors of candy.  I ignore them and try to determine my next step.  People are slowly beginning to thin out of the gates.  The lines have been cut in half.  There are still no planes leaving the ground.  I’m stare back down at my phone, debating calling someone or looking up options on the internet.  I really don’t feel like doing any of it.

I open my computer instead, remembering that I am supposed to be working on the case.  I don’t know that I’ll be able to pull much else out of the information that has been sent to me.

Pictures, official documents, arrest records, mug shots, pictures of drugs, pictures of guns, birth certificates, etc.  Nothing is fascinating except the girl in the pictures.  She mesmerizes me.  Well not her so much but the way she relates to the guy on her arm.  She, on her own, is not all that spectacular, but with him she shines.  It’s almost like she was always meant to be in that place with him.  I wonder if that’s how Ed’s wife looked at him, before her life was cut too short as well.  I try to picture the guy in the picture as an old man and he looks a lot like Ed.

I feel a shadow over me.

“Hey.”

I don’t say anything, hoping she’ll go away.  I most definitely regret the smile.

“Um, hi.  My name is Valerie.  I, uh, got the coffee for the older gentleman that you were talking to earlier.”  She waits for a response.  I refuse to give her one.  So, naturally, she continues, “Listen, I think you were on the same flight as me, going to Miami.  I know someone who has a van rented and says we can ride with him.  A friend’s uncle.  He’s a nice guy.  Just thought, you know, we could help each other out.  Maybe.”

I slowly follow her hands up her arms to her face.  I catch her eyes and know she’s serious.  So I weigh the options.  I could go with her and deal with those hopeless eyes for several days on the road, or I could go back to my apartment and deal with the candy spewing boss who is likely ready to rip my head off and demand that I fly to Miami using a jet pack that I build myself.  It’s one of those rock and hard place conundrums, but I believe I can safely say that a woman will always beat out my boss.  I close my laptop and shove it into my bag.  I think I’m going to get tired of her jaw dropping all the time.