CHAPTER 2
It’s my habit to wake up very early in the morning. I’m one of those ridiculous fellows who finds it almost impossible to sleep late. Whether I to go to bed at eight o’clock in the evening or two in the morning, I still get up by five or six. This morning being no exception, I was up and ready to go by six-thirty. I said good-bye to my family and drove the short distance to the office. A breathtaking morning it was, indeed. The rays of the sun streaming through the windows of the car warmed my very being and made me want to sing for joy. Actually, ‘sing’ is not the word to describe the sounds I make in the attempt, but in the car no one hears and there’s the feeling of safety in that private cubicle. Except on those rare occasions when a driver pulls up at a stop light, looks at me quizzically and drives away, I’m not even conscious of the quality of my singing. I pulled into the parking lot half expecting to see the red car of the night before. Of course, it wasn’t there. “What a strange man,” I thought. “I feel as if I know him or have seen him someplace before. Perhaps it was at a conference or a convention.” It wasn’t long, however, before I was caught up in the day’s activities. Things were not going too well for my business. We had designed and built a portable device that was of use to printers and photographers. It was an excellent machine, capable of recycling the valuable chemicals from their waste processing solutions. Although we’d received a large number of compliments about it, sales weren’t increasing as fast as we had expected and, as everyone knows, compliments don’t pay the bills. I had built an excellent management team and we were expanding our horizons. But still, at times I felt so alone in what I was doing. The sound of the ringing phone woke me from my reverie. It was our plant manager calling to inform me that an entire production line had to be shut down immediately. “Do whatever you can. I’ll be over shortly,” was all I could say. Another phone call. The voice of my secretary first answered the type of calls I would receive all day. “It’s Mr. James Aba,” she said. “Do you want me to tell him you’ll call him later?” “No, I’ll take it,” I replied. She switched the call to my line and for the next five minutes I explained to Mr. Aba the reason a past due bill remained unpaid. Phone calls for the purpose of collecting past due payments coupled with the company’s financial situation were enough to drive me to distraction. We had recently applied for a substantial loan from a local bank only to have the banker laugh at us. Whenever I feel like becoming depressed, there is a game I play with. It always seems to work. I stop doing everything and say to myself, “Now, Jason, since you like to do everything well, take the next ten or fifteen minutes and become as depressed as possible. Wallow in your misery. Think of how terrible things are and how the entire world is against you. Note how everyone you know goes out of his way to make your life unpleasant. Think of how very unfortunate you are. Now, as soon as the second hand on your watch reaches twelve, start.” When the second hand reaches twelve I try to become as miserable as possible. Within a few minutes I’m laughing so hard at the absurd nature of my thoughts that the depression vanishes. Somehow or other, I was able to make it through to lunch time. We were able to get the production line back on stream and Mr. Aba agreed to wait for another week. I don’t normally eat lunch. In fact, I could go without breakfast and lunch without ever feeling uncomfortable. Today was no exception. I had a strong urge, however, to leave the office and go for an invigorating walk. It would be refreshing, I thought, to get out of the office for a while. I’d gone quite a few blocks when I decided to return by an alternate route which would take me past a quaint little restaurant. So demanding was my morning that I’d taken a longer walk than usual. As I approached a corner, I had the persistent feeling that there was an appointment I may have forgotten. I’ve been known to forget appointments before so, instead of returning to the office, I figured I’d use the pay phone in the restaurant, call my office and check whether or not there was an appointment. I quickly walked up to the restaurant, opened the door and entered, looking for a phone. Although the restaurant bustled with lunch customers, I located one on the other side of the room, went over and dialed my office. I asked whether I had an afternoon appointment and was assured that I didn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief, but could not shake the strange, nagging feeling that I had to meet someone. Since I was already in the restaurant, I decided to have a quick lunch. I approached the hostess who looked at me, smiled sweetly and said, “Mr. H., please follow me.” As I followed her across the dining room, I thought how flattering it was that she recognized me. It’s a small northeastern town I live in. It’s an even smaller town that I work in. Almost everybody knows one another. She led me to a table over by the far corner near a window. I thanked her and even before I was properly seated, she said, “Your other party will be here soon.” “My other party?” I asked. I was surprised since no one, not even myself, knew I would be stopping at this restaurant. Noticing my surprise, she looked around and said, “Oh, here he is now. Enjoy your lunch.” Up to my table strode Charles. Ignoring my questioning gaze, he seated himself, smiled and said, “Fine day it is.” “Fine day it is, indeed! But what are you doing here?” I asked not rudely, but rather out of surprise. “Hope you don’t mind my joining you.” “Of course not. But I certainly didn’t think I was going to see you again so soon.” I was becoming somewhat confused. First the incident in the parking lot, then the strange urge to walk past the restaurant, followed by my decision to have lunch and, finally, meeting Charles again. “Did you make reservations or plan to be here for lunch today?” “Yes, I made the reservations for both of us.” “How did you know I’d be here? Even I didn’t know.” “Just had a feeling. You have these feelings at times, don’t you? The phone rings and you know who’s calling. You think of someone you haven’t heard from in years and you receive a letter from that person. Just had a hunch that you’d be here and I took the chance.” “I was thinking about you. I wondered whether I was ever going to see the bearded man whose car broke down in our parking lot. By the way, is everything fixed now? Does it run OK?” “Runs better than ever.” His eyes seemed even more piercing than in our previous encounter. They seemed to probe the very depths of my mind, leaving me to feel that I could hide nothing from him. “Didn’t think you’d make it this time either,” he continued, as if speaking to himself. “Pardon me?” “Oh, nothing. I talk to myself sometimes.” “Well, since you’re here, I’ll say it’s good to see you, again. Let’s have a quick bite because I’ve got to be back at the office shortly.” “One of your problems, Jason, is that you hurry too much. Yesterday in the parking lot, you were in a rush. Today at lunch, you’re in a hurry again. Take some time to enjoy life. Everyone has the same measure of time, you know. Twenty-four hours a day. It’s what you do with your time that’s important.” I really didn’t think I needed to be preached to today, but I wanted to be as polite as possible. “It’s easy for you to say,” I replied. “I have responsibilities, you know. A business to run — things to do. Sometimes the burden of it all gets to me.” “Only if you let it. And everyone has responsibilities. Do you know that the word responsibility could mean ‘ability to respond’? Do you have a business to run or do you have a business that runs you?” For someone I was meeting for only the second time, he certainly had a lot of opinions about me. A good philosophical discussion, however, always brightens my day and besides, there was some truth in what he had said. “You seem to have things nice and easy,” I quipped. “Where do you work and what do you do, anyway?” A strange look came over those dark eyes. “Actually I’m a trouble shooter,” he said, “a jack-of-all-trades, if you will. What you’d probably call a consultant for my company, if you know what I mean.” “And your company?” “It’s called G & M Enterprises, Inc. It’s not the car company. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.” “Can’t say that I have. Is it a large corporation?” “To a certain extent — very diverse — in many countries. World headquarters in the Big City with branch offices throughout the country.” “What do they make or do?” “Somewhat of a service company, more or less.” Sensing his reluctance to offer more information and not wanting to be rude I asked, “Are you on vacation now?” “No. Actually, I’m on assignment. I’ll be in this area for a little while.” “Do you live around here?” “Not really. Just passing through. After completion of my current assignment, I’ll be on the road again.” “Well, I hope they give you a better car,” I said with a laugh, remembering his problems of the evening before. He smiled, and changed the conversation back to my work. “So things aren’t going too well with your business?” he asked. “We’ve been struggling for a long time, a real long time, Charles. There are times when we think we see light at the end of the tunnel, but more often than not it’s a freight train. It’s tough.” I was surprised to find myself speaking this way to a stranger. I normally don’t share my problems with those who aren’t close to me, but somehow this time seemed different. “Why struggle? A seasoned swimmer does not struggle against the water. He flows with it, using it as a means of reaching his goal. Don’t struggle, just follow the flow. Let the river of life carry you.” The restaurant was mostly empty now. In between our conversation we’d managed to finish our brief lunch. Only two tables across from us were occupied. I glanced at my watch. It was time to go. But my strange friend wasn’t ready to leave. He gave me the impression that he wanted to tell me something. Again, I had that sense of foreboding — not quite foreboding, but almost like I was getting involved in things for which I wasn’t ready nor prepared. I paid the bill and he offered to pay his share, but I refused. He thanked me and got up. “Do you have a business card?” I asked. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to me. “Thank you. I must say good-bye now and get back to that crazy job I have,” I said. “Be grateful that you have a job to go to,” he replied. We walked to the door and went outside. I hoped he wasn’t setting me up for something. I’m somewhat of a pushover when I like someone and I was beginning to take a liking to this stranger. As we said good-bye I told him I hoped we’d meet again soon. He nodded and said, “Who knows? It really is a small world.” He turned, waved and left. I walked back toward my office. All during lunch I felt an aura of kindness and, strangely enough, power around Charles. Now back in the sunlight, the apparent mystery seemed to vanish. The afternoon passed smoothly without as many difficulties as the morning. Several times I glanced through the window into the parking lot where I’d first seen Charles. Perhaps, we’d meet again. There was going to be a little dinner party at my house this evening. Just a few friends and neighbors getting together to enjoy each other’s company. It was beginning to get dark. Possibly a storm was on the way, I thought. You never can tell with the weather these days. I decided to leave early to reach home before the rain came. I was about to pull into my driveway when all the driveway lights went out. I thought, perhaps, the impending storm had something to do with it. Then the storm broke. Such fury of wind and rain I’ve rarely seen. The rain was a sheet of white water alternating with the reflection of brilliant flashes of lightning. The blasts of thunder reminded me of the legends of the gods on Mount Olympus hurling thunderbolts at their enemies. I could hardly see I drove up the driveway and, since the electricity was out, I couldn’t open the garage door either. After parking the car, I rushed into the house, getting drenched in the few seconds it took me to do so. All was dark inside except for the areas lit by the few candles Mary had found. Our dinner guests arrived and we made the best of a poor situation. We ate by candlelight and marveled at the many faces of nature. “It seems really strange to me, Jason,” one of the guests remarked. “What seems strange?” I asked. “The fury and nature of this storm. I just telephoned a neighbor down the street and he said that it didn’t rain there.” “Didn’t rain there? A few blocks away? How can that be?” “And all their lights are on,” he continued. It was strange to see a storm that occurred in only a few square blocks. For no apparent reason I thought of Charles. Immediately there was a blinding flash of lightning and all our lights came back on. We discussed the storm for a little while longer. Personally, I seemed to connect it with something having to do with Charles. Yet, that made no sense...
To be continued
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