One
of the other two people who had hung in his memory as a possible unresolved
issue for far too long lived in the same town. Avery Clewson, he would see
first; there was a preparation necessary prior to that meeting, and, he knew,
it might not turn out to be as amicable as the Nancy-interlude had been; still,
he resolved to make the effort, if for no other reason than his own personal
mental satisfaction at putting to rest possible “un-resolved” issues.
The
second, and, final matter would not be so straightforward and easy, requiring
quite some preparation including clandestine investigations cautiously
surreptitiously conducted at quite some distance. And, too, there would be
financial considerations with costs to be calculated
With
positive reinforcement from his delightful meeting with Nancy and its amicable
outcome, Jim slipped into his old self-reliant, self-assured mode of getting to
the issue-at-hand and making things happen by setting the wheels in motion.
Trepidation
abandoned him---Damn! The torpedoes! Full speed ahead!
His
long-ago high school friend, Avery Clewson, now some five decades faded to pale
memories in history of another life, Jim decided to approach in a less abrasive
manner than a cold phone call out of the blue from a distant acquaintance. He
purchased a “Friend”-type notecard to
employ in the hope of gaining an invitation offering him access to the man who
had always been of a private nature, not unlike, Jim, himself, and not
particularly extroverted, another trait they held in common, maybe that was why
they had once been close friends. Ouch!
Jim
winced at that appraisal; he had been
a true friend to Avery, always; such feeling was not mutual in any real meaning
of the term as his comrade failed to reciprocate the affection. Oh! Not in any
pernicious punctuation; only as a manifestation of his distant and shy
personality. Jim had not held his buddy’s cool demeanor against him, he tended
to accept people for what, and, whom, they were; it was just Avery’s way, as it
were, and, so, just, let it be. The man had always liked his space, his
privacy; playing his hand “close-to-the-vest”---always! He could be outwardly friendly when the need presented
itself, and, Avery was well-liked; if he considered someone to be important of stature in the community as
one holding an official title or being of the elite-class, he could appear charming. An “actor" might have been his appointed calling.
To
say that Jim had been “wild” in his
exuberant youth with a distinct and pointed irreverence for the haughty
“royal-elite” faux-celebrity of fame and “claimed”-fortune would have nailed
his personality and blatant disrespect for “glorified” self-aggrandizement, on
the head. Un-truth set him off with a vengeance; he simply would not tolerate
lying. Hypocrisy being the biggest
lie of all. Avery would easily get his prim and proper “pristine” feathers
ruffled when his friend “Jim” would call out some obvious inadequacy of the
“Royal”-class, Avery deriding Jim as purposely offensively jealous to which the
accused would reply with his habitual quip which sent Avery into a tirade at
the irreverence toward the “Right people”. To Jim, it proved his point.
“No
matter how many people you get to ascribe to a lie, in the end, it
is---still…just a lie!
Such
“logic” angered Avery; he would then give Jim “the silent treatment”,
un-befriending him by refusing to talk or by purposely keeping his distance. In
a while, they would reconcile. Then, inevitably, the matter would flair as Jim
pointed out some delinquency, and---war…again!
That
Jim dis-respected the boundaries of “friendship” with his barbs added to the
fray. Their uneasy “comradery” was tenuous, at best, and, in Jim’s
opinion---truly “one-sided”. Still, he did like the guy, more so than most
other contemporaries, so they struggled along, like many adolescent youngsters,
somewhere in that inevitable chasm abyss of “growing up” between “too” naïve
and “not” old enough. C’est la vie!
On
the inside of the “Friend” notecard, Jim penned: For old times’ sake, call me to meet.
Sweet
and to-the-point! No gloss! He signed: Jimmy-boy,
adding his phone number.
Three
days later, Avery called; he had not changed, at all, in a long half century.
Jim’s
polite “Hello!” into the answered phone did not dissuade his “once”-friend from
his intent; Avery got right down to business.
“Jimmy-boy?” He snarled in a challenging
surly tone bordering adverse altercation. “Really!? Aren’t we just a tiny bit
elderly for such none sense? What’s up? Ole buddy?” It seemed a taunt.
“Hey!
Avery!” Jim intoned, trying to insert a lighthearted humor into the testy
address of his childhood acquaintance of fifty long years ago. “Same ole
‘Avery’, I see.” He offered.
“Yeah,”
came the terse reply icy-fashion. “I’m still the same guy. What can I do you
for?”
“Well,”
Jim replied in an effort to beat Avery at his own game, “I wondered if we could
possibly get together sometime soon; like next Monday or Tuesday?” Jim waited
to silence.
Then,
simply, “Why?” After fifty years, such insolence. What a guy!? Jeez!
“Avery,”
Jim tried another tack, “Maybe this is a mistake; my mistake.”
“Yeah.
Well.” Avery replied coldly. “That just might well be.”
“If
you prefer not to meet with me, fine,” Jim offered a conclusion. “Just say so.”
Silence.
Then,
“Don’t be shy, Avery,” Jim said, dismissively. “I have a gift for you; I can
just mail it.”
“A
gift?” Avery laughed, slightly; actually, Jim thought of it as more of a
derisive “snort”.
“Yeah.
A gift. But, like I said, ‘I can just mail it’. Hope you enjoy it. Nice talking
with you.”
Politely,
Jim waited for some retort; he got a “Yeah!?” in his ear for his trouble and a
dial tone after a definitive “click” as Avery hung up. Well! So much for “Good”
intentions; the entire episode might have gone much worse. No! It could not
have gone very much worse. Oh! Well!
Jim
gave the phone device held in his hand a confused look intended for Avery.
Then, as he laid the instrument on a table he got a start---it rang!
Surprised,
Jim jerked his hand back, away from it as if it was a striking rattle snake.
The
I.D. announced: Avery Clewson!
Jim
let it ring four times before he pressed the “on” button. “Hello!” He said,
innocently.
“Jimmy-boy!” Came Avery’s apologetic
voice. “Jim! It’s Avery. Can we talk?”
“Sure,”
Jim replied, blandly, “if you now
have the time and are so inclined. Go…”
Laughter
reverberated from the other end. “Jim. Jim. Always so impetuous. Take it easy,
man.” Jim waited; he could play Avery like a cheap violin. “Uh. What kind of gift?” He asked.
Now,
Jim gave a genuine laugh; it was not like ole Avery to look a “gift horse” in
the mouth; even an “unknown” offering. “You’ll see when we meet. Was that
‘Monday’ or ‘Tuesday’?”
Jim
was a good salesman; he did not appreciate asinine games, either.
“Okay!
Jimmy-boy!” Avery acquiesced. “No need to get testy. Monday afternoon, I’ll
expect you at my place around two. That alright with you?” Jim confirmed with
“I’ll be there.”
To review Horizon-Dawn and six additional books:
visit: Amazon books; search: Carl Schuler
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