Remember Me (26 page)

“Do I even have a say in the matter?” Stacy finally asked me.

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“No, not really, but I would like your support, none the less,” I replied, matching my tone to hers.

“Okay then, you have it, but with a preset bias. I believe it’s going to manifest in a disaster. So let me say it now…I told you so!”

“Good!” I said, ignoring her last statement. “Prepare the documents and then fax them to the number I gave you for the front desk of the hotel. How long do you think it will take you to have them ready?” I asked.

“I’m not a magician. I can give you a preliminary page that should suffice for what you are suggesting. It should suffice in invoking confidentiality until the final negotiations can be completed. It will be on the company letterhead and if you have it properly notarized, it should meet the necessary requirements to bind him legally.”

“Better send three copies, just to be on the safe side.”

“If you insist,” she said, and I could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

I knew my sister pretty well. It was easy to tell that she was hesitant and suspicious. She understood the dilemma and drama behind my decision. I’d shared more with her than with anybody. She also couldn’t deny the fundamental workings of the plan that I had laid out to her. “Can I have them by two?” I asked, this time with a little boy’s pleading in my voice.

She sighed and then said; “If I have, too.” Her voice told me more than I wanted to listen to. “Little brother, be careful.

What you are planning to do doesn’t just worry me—it scares me too.”

“Don’t worry. I have this uncanny feeling that I’m doing the right thing. I know the right thing doesn’t necessarily mean a happy ending for anyone. You have my promise; I’ll think everything through thoroughly before I act.”

After we’d said our goodbyes, I sat on the edge of the

bed. I already doubted some of my plan, but was now more S 193 S

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convinced about other parts of it. Only time would reveal the final outcome. I had three hours until the papers would be faxed from Stacy. It would give me ample time to head to the mall and hunt down a new suit. The best bet would be to go to either J.C. Penny’s or Younkers. By the time I grabbed something to eat, bought the suit, and returned back to the hotel, I should be able to eat up most of the time. I would otherwise be waiting idly for Stacy to prepare and fax the papers I needed. I didn’t want time to think, I only wanted to act.

Thinking back…or was it thinking forward? This mind set

was confusing—my past, this past. I was trying to remember if in any of my conversations with my Amy, had she ever mentioned what time she got back the weekend that she and Tom had become engaged. I couldn’t come up with anything from my memories. I had no doubts this was that weekend. My best guess would be that she would be back by five and wanting to spend time with Tom. Where? That was going to be the biggest question. It made me feel unclean to even try and think like Tom, but I swallowed my self-respect for a moment and tried to put myself in his shoes. After what I’d seen yesterday and what Amy had told me, I couldn’t see him wanting to have her at his place. On the other hand, knowing his extreme chauvinistic and superior take on himself, he just might get a thrill out of the whole situation. In the future he was definitely that cunning, but was he at that point now? I didn’t think so.

I knew how smart and perceptive Amy was. I didn’t think

he was going to take a chance on playing such a dangerous game. I would stop by his place first, and hopefully he would be there and Amy wouldn’t be. If she was, or he wasn’t, then it was on to Plan B and Plan C.

I grabbed the Blazer’s keys off the table by the window, tucked my wallet in my pants pocket, and secured the room key in my front pocket. Closing the door behind me, I twisted S 194 S

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the knob just to make sure it had locked. Satisfied it was, I unlocked the Blazer and started it. I headed north on Harris and took a left on twenty-eighth Avenue. The North Gate Mall was on my right, and I turned into the entrance closest to the front of the Younker’s store. The parking lot was almost empty and it didn’t dawn on me why until the outside door to Younker’s wouldn’t open. It wouldn’t for another thirty minutes. It was Sunday, and in the past the stores didn’t open until noon or later. I swore under my breath.

I caught sight of a Taco Bell down at the far end of the mall—just off the main drag. I hopped back into the Blazer and drove across the mall’s parking lot and into a back entrance to the Taco Bell. I shut off the Blazer and made my way into the restaurant. After placing my order at the counter, I stepped off to the side to wait for it to be prepared. I noticed a messy pile of newspapers on the condiment station and gathered up what I could of Sunday’s Des Moines Register. I had just started to read the sports page when the counterperson called out my number.

I took the tray and the paper to an open booth. I read the paper as I ate my food, both were bland. I wasn’t in the mood for either one of them. My mind raced with thoughts of what my upcoming encounter might be like, and more importantly—what my potential for disaster could be. God was the only one who knew! I sometimes wondered if he was shaking his head at the predicament I found myself in. If this was a part of his master plan, then God help us all—no pun intended.

I left the paper on the table and carried my tray to the garbage receptacle. I made a quick stop in the bathroom and then left the smells of spices and fried potatoes behind me. I drove back the same way I came and parked in the same spot I had earlier. This time the door was unlocked. I made my way down the center aisle of the store until I came to the Men’s section.

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A large, “Sale 50% Off ” sign was posted on a rack of men’s suits. Old habits die hard. I started browsing through the suits.

I abruptly laughed out loud at my frugality. Here I was, a mil-lionaire, trying to score a suit at fifty-percent off.

It was time to play the part. I headed over to the name—

brand section and instantly a salesperson was on my tail. I withstood his initial onslaught of questions with steadfast politeness. I finally relented and let him pick out two suits, complete with matching ties, socks and shirts. I had to hand it to him; he had my size figured perfectly—just by visually examining me. I tried on everything and liked all of them. When I exited the dressing room, I had both suits and accessories in tow. I laid them on the counter and asked Mark, the ever-attentive salesperson, whose name I thankfully remembered from his nametag, to pick out five more shirts and matching ties. I thought for a minute and then told him to grab a couple of new belts too. He was beginning to grin from ear-to-ear and I was starting to feel better. As I watched him register the potential commission with invisible dollar signs in his eyes, it made my experience even more enjoyable.

He was ringing up my purchases, smiling all the while.

As the total continued to climb, I couldn’t resist, “Oh, I almost forgot. I need two new pairs of shoes!” It nearly sent him overboard.

His face flushed and he responded with, “Yes, sir,” in a true stately manner.

By the time I finally left, I had also added a new wallet, a beautiful tie clasp and a new watch. Each item had been picked out with the impeccable taste and recommendations from

Mark. I used my new corporate credit card for the first time.

On the front was the business name, “E.M.J.” followed by my name and the distinction of President. Mark took it all in as he ran my credit card through the imprint machine. He never S 196 S

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said a word, but his hand shook ever so slightly as he handed it back to me. He offered to carry all of my purchases out to the car for me and I obliged his hospitality. After he secured the suits and shirts on the hook behind the driver’s side, I asked if he had a business card. I didn’t believe his smile could get any broader, but it managed to somehow.

He opened his wallet the same time as I did mine. He was not prepared for the exchange that took place. I slipped him a hundred dollar bill as he handed me his card. He instinctively took it from me, but didn’t quite know how to respond to it.

“Thanks for all of your help, I couldn’t have done it without all of your wonderful recommendations,” I told him. He still had the smile fixed to his face and was only able to nod as he stood rooted to his spot. I got in and closed the door of the Blazer. Mark stepped back two paces, and I started the engine. I backed out of my parking spot and headed away from Younkers and Mark. In my rearview mirror I could see him running back towards the store. I had to smile—a good deed done, indeed.

I stopped at the lobby entrance to the hotel, hopeful that my fax had arrived early. No such luck. I unlocked the door to my room and carried in all of my new purchases. I laid out on the bed the suit and shirt combination that I wanted to wear today. The rest of my new purchases, I hung up on the hangers in the motel room’s small closet. I grabbed the Iowa State University introductory kit in its glossy folder. I had procured it earlier in the week from the campus administration building.

In it was a course outline for all of the majors along with profiles of the different department heads. Milton Harrington was the Dean of Engineering at the college. I scanned the course book on mechanical engineering and noted that he also taught several of the graduate level classes. There was also someone named Piper Greenberg whose name showed up regularly in

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the class listings. I had no idea if Piper was male or female so I decided to stay with Harrington as my unknowing benefactor.

I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. I tried to envision my meeting with Tom. I could see it with and without Amy being present. I did my best to let the voices in my head do the talking and remain a casual observer. It was a trick that my high school speech teacher had taught me, and it had served me well in my life. I had no fear of talking before an audience, and it helped me to see more than what was in front of my face. “Stepping back,” is what he called it. You begin the encounter in your mind, and then step back from yourself to watch it unfold. It helps you to see your own reactions and movements. You become more of an observer. It was more

about preparing yourself, not about how to manipulate the situation, though in reality that was exactly what it was.

Every time Amy entered the picture—she was my Amy,

beautiful and in love with me. I would save her from Tom, and together we would drive off into the sunset. It was a cliché, and I still couldn’t stop myself from thinking it into my daydream. The best I could do was hope she wasn’t there, so I would only need to focus on Tom. I had his image in my mind, from our encounter at the bar. I took many deep breaths and tried to suppress my anger. I was going to have to bury my hatred in order to play my part perfectly. I needed to be on top of my game if things were going to work out the way I wanted. I might have a general idea of the direction of the future, definitely better than anyone else did on the planet, but I still didn’t know what was going to happen in just a few short hours from now.

I glanced at my watch, two-fifteen. I rose from the bed

and headed out the door. I engaged the slide-bolt protector so the door couldn’t completely close. I was only going to be gone a minute. The hotel parking lot was mostly empty. I S 198 S

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walked outside, along the other rooms, to the lobby. Before I even asked the person behind the counter she handed me four sheets of paper. I nodded appreciatively and scooted back out the door. Safely in my room, I sat in the chair by the window and read the faxes from Stacy. It would be many years before fax quality would improve, but as it was, these weren’t too bad. They would have to do.

I watched some of the Cub’s baseball game on television; it just wasn’t the same for me anymore. It was like watching a re-run of a popular television series. Even though you missed this one particular episode, you already knew the outcome for the entire season. If you happened to watch the one you missed, you still knew what was going on. I wondered if CJ would take a twenty-five year bet on the Cub’s not making the World Series. I’m sure my mere mentioning it would cause him and the “Family” to have severe bouts of depression. Then again, they might be White Sox fans.

The only thing that brought me any satisfaction from watching television was the commercials for products that never lasted, even though they were promoted as lasting a lifetime.

If I ever lost my way in this past, I could definitely make it as an advertising executive. I knew which products to stand behind and which ones to avoid. The advertising market was only going to grow in intensity. Most things in nineteen eighty-seven were still pushed at the adults of the family. I could already see the shift beginning in the commercial content of this present as it began to steer more towards the young adults and children.

Soon advertisers would take over television. Programs would cut run-time to allow more and more advertising revenue dollars to be spent by companies. We could be more efficiently bombarded by ads demonstrating the ultimate need for our self-indulgence. It made me shake my head. My world had become one of insatiable wants, courtesy of the opulent product S 199 S

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marketing director. I had to admit that I did enjoy watching the old beer commercials again. They were always humorous and never about the product itself.

I started getting dressed around four p.m. I dressed in the dark blue suit and picked a white shirt with a tie that had lots of red in it. I remember reading somewhere that red was a power color. I switched all of the contents out of my old wallet into the new one. It would take several weeks before the new wallet felt like it was “broken-in.” It didn’t feel comfortable in my back pocket. I set my new gold wristwatch to the correct time and slipped it over my left hand. I closed the clasp and shook my hand to see how far it would slide up and down on my wrist. It fit snug and barely moved. It was another gold star for the ever-helpful salesman, Mark.