When You Can Walk on Water, Take The Boat 1

When You Can Walk on Water,  Take the Boat 1

My office was at the end of the building, overlooking the car park. The lot was empty save for my little car which appeared to be waiting so patiently. Always it seemed to be waiting for me, never complaining, always nearby. “Time to leave,” I thought. “I’m already late.” If there’s one consolation, it was that there wouldn’t be any traffic at this hour.

Glancing through the window as I reached for my briefcase, I noticed a red car a few spaces removed from mine. The hood was raised and it seemed as if someone was trying to fix something. It wasn’t unusual for cars to limp into our parking lot with some problem or other. I descended the stairs to the main door, set the night alarm and walked out of the building.

The red car was still there with its hood pried open.
With the idea of seeing whether I could be of help, I cautiously approached. Through the window in the dim light, I saw a bearded face smiling back at me. “What took you so long? I thought you might have changed your mind,” he said. The nerve of the guy, I thought. A total stranger, and he wanted to know what took me so long.
Ingratitude really bothers me. It struck me as somewhat strange, however, that he seemed to have been expecting me. A totally improbable assumption I felt, as I quickly shrugged off the thought.

Peering under the hood I shouted, “Try the motor once more.” He did, and it immediately sprang to life and continued running with a beautiful purr as if nothing ever had been the matter with it. The bearded one got out of his car, walked up to me, thrust out his hand and said, “Hi! It’s good to see you again for the first time. My name is Charles.”

“Hello, Mr. Charles it’s nice to meet you,” I stammered, shaking his outstretched hand. “My name is Jason.”

“Yes, I know,” he said. This took me by surprise. I had never seen the man before. He wore brown pants and a starched black shirt and appeared to be somewhere in his mid-fifties. He wasn’t tall. His hair was black and neatly combed. The beard which was as black as his hair was full and trimmed, but his eyes were his most noticeable feature. Even in the dim light of the street lamp, one could see those piercing orbs and know they had lived a legend. Such determination in those eyes, and yet, such kindness as well. Although I noticed all these things in a split second, I kept staring at him all the while.

He smiled. “Beautiful weather we’re having,” he said.

I nodded indifferently. I couldn’t have cared less about the weather at that moment. “How do you know my name?” I quickly snapped.

“Oh, I guessed. You looked like that was your name” He said it matter-of-factly, but there was something in his voice that seemed to suggest that he really knew my name. Maybe this was one of those set-ups I’d heard so much about recently. Perhaps he was intent on doing me harm — stealing or something. I had the overwhelming urge to leave that spot and remove myself from his presence as fast as possible, but those eyes held me there.

“I see that you’re alarmed — concerned about your safety,” he said, seeming to pull the very thoughts out of my head. “No need to fear. Thanks for helping me with the car. I thought no one would come at this hour, but there you were! People these days are so afraid of everything, of each other, of the dark, yes, even of themselves.
My gratitude to you, Jason.”
I figured that he had to be lying since I hardly did anything to help him start his car. It just appeared to me that the motor started the second I told him to try it again.
“Anyway,” I said, “I didn’t do anything, but you’re welcome nevertheless.”

“Perhaps we’ll meet again soon,” he said as I moved toward my car.

“Perhaps,” I muttered, thinking how unlikely that would be. He waved as I stepped into my car and drove out of the parking lot.

By now it was very dark, and my wife and children would be wondering where I was or whether I was stranded on the road. It was the normal, short drive, no more than 15 minutes or so before I pulled up to the mailbox at the bottom of our driveway. As is my custom everyday, I collected the mail and started driving up to the garage. The driveway is long and curving and the thought occurred to me to make arrangements for snow removal for the winter. It was far from winter and, yet, my tired mind was already getting prepared.

I wondered about Charles but brushed the thought away, having felt I’d done my good deed for the day and probably would never see him again. There were more important things to do now, like dinner, walking the dog and finally taking out the garbage. Dinner and then walking the dog would be pleasant. “Raj,” my Rottweiler, was a spirited, friendly animal, and a little run with him would do both of us some good.

As I walked into the house, mail in one hand and briefcase in the other, my son, John, was waiting for me.
Only three years old, he had no concept of time and so was not too surprised to see me at that late hour.
Laying aside the mail and briefcase, I picked up John and proceeded into the kitchen. My wife, Mary, and daughter, Marci, greeted me warmly. The aroma of slowly simmering chicken stew made me realize how hungry I was.

“What kept you so late today, Jason?” Mary asked as we sat down to dinner.

“Oh, nothing much. Just helped a fellow get his car started.” Dinner over, I took care of the remaining chores, helped put the children to bed and discussed some of the day’s activities with Mary. Finally, we watched a short TV show and then I read for a little while. I love to read, but there never seems to be enough time. Generally I’m reading at least five books at different stages, going from one to the other until I complete them all. It’s certainly not the best way to read books, but this way, I do manage to get through them.

We decided to go to bed, and only then did I feel the fatigue of the day. Reflecting on my strange meeting with Charles, I fell asleep.