Future Writer Chapter 11 (8 pages)

Chapter 11

After a few months the job became routine. The stress level and sleepless nights were do-able, and this new found money was non-existent. It seemed that the more I made the more I had to invest into the job. Back on the rig a slob could make one pair of short and one T-shirt last for a six month tour. Nobody did, but nobody would mind either. Now clothing was a different issue. Functionality took a backseat to image. It didn't matter how much of an expert you were at a given field as long as you knew how to present it. That meant that appearance became everything. With appearance came a relatively large clothing, hair grooming, and other cosmetic, expenses.

One of my co-workers came to me and said that it would be in my better interest to attend and occasionally host a business party. It so happened that I had plans that evening to meet with somebody for a long, deserved, card game. I would much rather have gone to the card game, but I didn't understand how it would be in 'MY' better interest to be there.  After all, I didn't ask to go to the party. I took his advice and went to the party. A lot of bigwigs from a lot of bigwig companies were there playing hob nob with the snobs. I saw many people being somebody whose purpose is to get in good with the boss or to land a big money contract. This of course also took a toll on the pocket book. I never noticed how much of a financial strain this promotion was until I was paying bills and evening and I couldn't pay all of them off as I usually do. I began backtracking to find out

where the money went because I knew that I was very conservative with spending. I had checked and double checked my calculation and I could not tell where the money may have been wasted. Then I wrote a list of all my expenses that was related to my promotion, then right there in front of me was the truth about what my promotion was really worth. Financially I was better off working on the rig for less pay.

There, I had more time on my hands, I slept better at nights, my work had some spark of adventure, and I had more profit after all of the expenses were paid. What advantage did I gain by the promotion? Prestige. Big Deal!  I hated the idea of regressing back to my old position for failure sake but what could I do. To be eligible for advancement, I needed a college degree,

which I didn't have because it was never in the plan of events coming from a blue collar family. I decide to go back to school and earn my degree. Sure, I could always have had Clancy write me a degree, but this was something that I must earn. There was something in my ethics that told me if I am to hold a position of respect that I must earn it. There is nothing that I hate more than to have to give undue respect, as is the case with many junior military officers. So, to add to all of the expenses of my promotion were, tuition, other school fees, plus time spent for homework and classrooms.

There is one benefit which I have failed to mention and that is that I am on shore now as compared to being out to sea on the rig. Shore duty allows me more time with Alexia than I would otherwise have. That increased time is somehow also in the red due to the fact that I am going to school after work, and Alexia is doing the same for her MBA. And, of course, her schedule conflicts with mine. There is no winning for losing in this game.

After realizing my situation, I was seriously considering resigning from my position and going back to the way things were when it occurred to me that I could still make this work by having Clancy write my invested stock prices to a soaring level.

The next day I walked into the office. I was greeted by a co-worker named John.

"Hey Sam! Did you hear? Texmobil cashed in their chips. Do you understand? That makes us top dog around here. Our stock prices are in the clouds."

"That's great!" I told him.

I walked through the building to find a festive atmosphere. I knew whatever the work load was for today was no longer a priority. I walked into my office to find Jane, the company flirt, sitting in my chair with her legs propped upon my desk.

"Hi Jane," I told her.

"Hey big fella' what r' ya' doin' for lunch?"

"Well I don't know I really haven't given it too much thought." I told her.

"Being that our work day was shot, I was thinking that you and I could go to Casa Beninto for lunch. My treat."

"Sure I'll be there. What time?"

"Any time," she said.

"Noon?"

"That sounds good," she said before she walked out of the office.

I thought that to be very strange. She wouldn't give me the time of day before. I didn't know much about her except that she worked in the Human Resource department in the retirement account division. I tried to get some work done that day, but I didn't get very far because those that I were depending on were still living in a party mood. Just before noon I packed up work, placed it in my locking filing cabinet then went to meet with Jane. We sat down across from each other. The waiter came by and took our order while we talked.

"What is your passion?" she asked me.

"My passion?"

"Yea, What do you like doing? Some play golf, some fish, some read."

"I guess... I don't know, You might think this is really weird but I like to sit out during a storm and watch the lightning show. Is that weird or what?"

"That's so neat. I've never heard of anyone doing that before."

"What about you? What is your passion?"

"A big house that overlooks the ocean, a huge pool and a million friend that I could party with every day."

"I see."

I wanted to ask her why she had this sudden desire to know me better but I thought that that might be a personal question so I just let her expose herself.

After we ate and talked for awhile, she said something that caught my ears.

"What are you going to do with your share of the money?"

"What money?" I asked her.

"From you stocks," she told me.

"My stocks?"

"Yes, didn't you know? The board members have been anticipating Texmobil cashing out and for the past year and they have been buying back all of their shares of stock. They didn't feel the stocks that the employees owned were that big of a deal because as a whole it didn't amount to much among a hundred corporate employees. What they didn't realize is that all of the stock owned by the employees were owned by one employee, you."

"What?"

"Yes. Nobody in the company felt that this was as sound as a bond market for retirement sake so they opted to play it safe with bonds."

"Really?"

"So how does it feel to be a millionaire."

"You putting me on? I mean this is some sort of a joke?"

"No, you really are a major stockholder in South Texas Oil Company."

"Wow! I guess I should offer to pay for lunch knowing that."

"Oh no, I insist," she said.

Warning flags arose in my mind when she offered her gratuity and money in the same breath. I began to see her angle. She's a gold digger, and right now she wants my gold. She offered me dinner that night as well, which I declined. I found out just how fast the word travels when money is involved. I had eighteen Voicemails that day regarding people with advice as to where I should invest my money.

I haven't heard from Alexia in a while, so I called her up. We talked for a while on the phone.

"So, how is your job treating you?" she asked.

"Fine and yours?"

"I am small bit frustrated because... I like my job. I feel like we're family, you know? Close together? and I feel like people there need what I do, but there is one problem and that is, I am, you know? not one of them. I will not go higher in company... no promotion. It's not that I do not do the work, it's because in Japanese company they... they promote their own people. But I do feel good about it because I am needed and I think that people need that, you know?"

"Do you plan to stay there for a long time?"

"I ...I don't know. It's kind of, you know, difficult to say. That is why I am back in school, so when the time comes I will have the choice which I want to do."

There is a pause.

"What about you? she asked, " Do you plan on more promotions?"

"Not in the near future. This promotion is nothing like I thought it would be.  I make more money but I have to spend that much, if not more, to keep up with it. Sometimes I wish that I were back on the rig..."

I stopped in the middle of my sentence when I realized what I had said. I hoped that Alexia didn't take that the wrong way. If I were back on the rig that would mean that I would not see her as often, not that we're seeing a lot of each other anyway.

"Well maybe you can do that."

"Do what?"

"Like you said, go back on the rig."

"Well... What would you think of that?"

"I don't understand. What does it matter what I think of where you go?"

That statement hit me like a slap in the face. It doesn't matter one way or another with her if I were to stay or go. After the phone conversation I felt like jumping off a bridge. It struck me that I did not mean to her what she meant to me. I know that we're not really going steady or anything, but to say that it doesn't matter one way or the other. Wow! I guess it could have been a lot worse. She could have told me to go to the rig and not to bother coming back. I walked back to the couch, sat down and opened the ledger so that I may update it to the present. When I opened up the ledger I had a glance of my grandfather's writings. His penmanship was very close to my own. I began reading about 'HIS' Daniel:

"Land Ho!"

Daniel's ship traveled until they reached the St. Martin. The locals race to greet them. Daniel was on the forward jibboom to heave the monkey's fist to the shoreman standing at the dock. As the bow reaches the dock the helmsman steers hard to starboard queuing Daniel to heave the line. He rears back and throws with all of him might. The monkey's fist (weighted rope) was received by the shoremen who pulls the mooring line over to the ballard.

Once the ship is moored and the gangway is in place, Daniel goes onto the dock. Hordes of locals gather around him so that he would buy their trinkets. Once away from the dock he is able to see the sights. It has been close to six months since the last time he has set foot on land. Walking towards the town he feels as though the ground below his feet is swaying from side to side. His

sense of balance is not accustomed to standing on a stationary object. He looks to the palm trees along the beach in wonderment as the sun in the distance sets over the horizon. The salty sea breeze is gently blowing the palms against the orange twilight sky. Rather than walk along the path to center of town, Daniel decides to walk along the beach. The serenity of his evening walk is interrupted by the sound of a woman screaming. Daniel rushes to where the screams are coming from. In the bushes along the beach two French soldiers are attempting to take advantage of one of the local women. Daniel picks up a length of driftwood from the white sand and smashed it hard to the back Frenchmen's head. He fell to the ground and did not move. The other Frenchman scurries away from the woman and onto his feet. He pulls out a knife and lunges at Daniel.

"Tu fais grande erruer m'siur, [You made a big mistake mister]," said the Frenchman.

Daniel moves in a backward motion to escape the man with the knife. In doing so he trips backwards over the unconscious Frenchman. Daniel loosed the driftwood in the fall. The man with the knife lunges again at Daniel. He rolls to the side as the knife plunges into the sand. Before Daniel could get up the Frenchmen drives his foot square into Daniel's face. The man lifts the knife over his head as if to drive it hard into Daniel's chest when "Crrrrack!!!" The woman lands the driftwood in to the face of the Frenchman. He falls backwards to the ground. The woman in her rage swings several more time into his unconscious head. Daniel rises to his feet to gain control of the raging woman.

"Easy... Easy noo Lass. I don't e.. think he's getin' oop anyteme soon."

She falls to her knees in the sand and cries. Daniel remove his P-coat and stretches it over her shoulders.

"Would ye' care fer an escort home, Miss?"

She nods her head and Daniel helps her to her feet.

Daniel tells her as they walk along the beach away from the town, "I want ta' thank ya' miss fer stopin' the fella' with the knife."

"No,"  she responds, "I should be dankin' joo' man."

She is a petite black woman with soft features and a gentle voice.

"She's a beaut," Daniel thinks to himself.

"How much further miss? ... to you home that is?"

She points to a fire on the beach. As they approach the fire a wrinkle skinned black man rises to his feet to greet them. He becomes outraged when he sees his daughter this way. Thinking that Daniel was responsible, the man comes at him with a burning piece of driftwood from the fire.

"Non Papa," said woman, "Il nel'a pas fait, [No Papa. He didn't do it]."

The man stops in mid swing. He turns to his daughter to comfort her. He yells to the shack that is opposite the fire on the beach. "Shari, viens ici![Shari, come out here!]."

A portly black woman rushes to the aid of her daughter.

"Viens assieds-toi pres du feu, [Come sit down by the fire]." the man says while motioning Daniel to sit by the fire.

Daniel sits by the fire for over an hour as the daughter regains her composure. The mother sits next to Daniel.

"In gratitude for what you have done for my daughter I would like to give you a gift. Come inside please."

Inside, burning candles give a mysterious luminescence across the room. Across the back of the room a tropical print cloth is draped. Along the wall are palm bark carvings painted in the shape of faces with hole cut out for the eyes and mouth. Circular nets with feathers woven through them are hanging from the ceiling. Tropical flowers, fruit and candles crowd the table that is in the center of the room. The father is sitting in the corner with a knife carving a design into an item that resembles a book. When the father is done he comes to the table. At that time Daniel can see that it is indeed a book of some kind. From behind the cloth which draped across the back of the room comes the daughter. Her face is decorated with red, green and white paint. Charcoal smudges around her eyes. Feather are laced through her hair and in her arms she carries a chicken with a leash around its foot. She looks to be in some sort of a trance dancing and twirling around the room. The father beats rhythmically on a hollow log in different spots to produce different sounds.

Soon the dancing and the drumming stopped. The daughter motions for Daniel to sit on a stool which is nothing more than a section of a tree trunk. Once seated the book is placed in front of Daniel on the table. Daniel is told to hold out his hand. With a flash of a knife Daniel's finger is cut and bleeding. The father holds Daniel's hand so the blood would drip into the bottom of a broken

glass bottle. Once that is done the mother comes from behind the cloth in similar fashion as the daughter. The mother, however, is chanting in a voodoo tongue. To Daniel surprise the mother picks up the knife from the table and with a quick swish, she lobs off the head of the chicken. The blood squirts from its neck as its life force is drained into the same broken bottle which hold Daniel's blood. The glass bottle is held over the fire from a candle until it boils. The mother removes a vial from a box and sprinkles a powder like dust into the blood. A talon is removed from the dead chicken then dipped into the boiling blood solution. While still chanting, the mother takes the blood dripped talon and paints marking across the cover of the book. The book is held upside down while a candle is waved across the blood markings. The book is placed in front of Daniel while the broken bottle of blood is passed around for the member to drink. Daniel is hesitant at first but he sees that the others are doing it so he follows suit. The next morning Daniel awakens on the beach near the spot where he took on the two French men. The book was clutched tight in his hands. He doesn't remember how he got there but he does remember that it had something to do with the shack where he took the daughter. He became dumbfounded to find that the shack wasn't there. In the sand he found chicken feathers and the broken bottle, but nothing else. All other evidence of last night was gone.

Narrator: It was well into the morning hours when I finished reading what my grandfather had Clancy write about Daniel. Unlike reading anything else, I feel as though I'm reflecting on my own experiences when I read what he had written. It’s almost like reading about yourself. The words are there but what really happens is that the words trigger memory impulses which are re-lived in your mind.

For the next couple of weeks gold diggers began hounding me with lawsuits and propositions. Every mortgage company between here and Pluto wanted to give me a mortgage on a home. Life insurance companies also came at me with every trick in the book. I spentost of my time dodging those after my money.

At the home front I noticed that Alexia seemed distant even though we routinely went out to dinner or a movie once or twice a month. I needed to know if I meant anything to her, but how?  Then the idea came to me...