The re-count.
For those of you that Rush’d with Tibbons to Monticello, your story began a volume ago; historically, it began centuries ago. (I smile, thinking myself clever. Rush’d, Rush, Benjamin Rush, get it? Well maybe not.) For those of you on your first excursion with me, you need to travel to a place of understanding. Those of you continuing your travel, your patience is briefly asked for. Relax, have a cup of coffee; I will get back to you shortly.
Your understanding of what follows should begin with introductions. You have met Pamila and the dwellers of a unique world. My second child is Sarina, whose birthday I so rudely did not participate in; at least not with undivided attention. The attention that Sari always demands. Always cannot be punched hard enough here. Sari… well, let’s just say she is a little high maintenance. Sari is a sweetheart, but there are times. Time that her fiancé Kent (Stick) has surely gotten too close to.
Briefly, a story to define my previous thoughts. Please, be aware that Stick and I have a relationship that makes what follows happen without much damage. A strong enough understanding of each other for me to pull this off. Pull it off? You decide the answer.
Months ago now, I started to believe that Kent was going to ask Sarina to marry him. Also as believing, I knew he would first ask me for her Hand in Marriage; eventually that moment came. Stick called me and asked me to lunch. Not Pamila and I, not Sarina he and I, just the two of us. Having prepared for this moment, I was ready. Yada, Yada, Yada… We enjoyed our meal amongst fluid conversation. Of course because what surely was a unique father situation, I took it all in and hid it deep. Yet I put it somewhere that I could easily recall it. My plate more empty than I should have left it, I sat back. My chair seemed hard against my back. I tried not to stare into his eyes. But I’m sure that I did and I was sure that he knew that I knew. I waited, all the time working it. Mentally replenishing my planned response. It had to be perfect. I knew that if I did not nail it, it would slip away from a one-time perfect moment.
His words that I knew I would hear I did. I cannot tell you exactly what they were; ‘Main engine was a go.’
I let the request hang heavy. His brow glossed as I let his words build Florida humidity. He sat rigid. His eyes searched my face. He squirmed a little. That was it! The squirm was what I was looking for. My gullet snatched a sudden urge to laugh. The choked urge told me I was in trouble. I had to lay down my cards.
Leaning forward, I placed my hands into prayer position and slowly flicked my fingertips toward him. “Kent…” I let his name make the desired pause. “Look Stick, I think of you as a friend.” I sat back and stopped flicking; this another pause.
All public speakers feel this warming moment. That moment during the early part of a speech when you instantly calm. A moment when you are into it and the rest will be an easy perfect. I felt warmed.
I finished the rehearsed moment. “Because I do think of you as a friend, I have only one question for you.” I leaned forward with my arms tight on the top of the table. Looking as serious as I could, I asked; “Are you sure you want to do that?”
I did not get the response I had played over in my little mind. He froze, no response, the ultimate poker face. His ‘no Tell’ lasted agonizingly too long. My reply, he had not rehearsed in his mind. Kent stunned, I could see his anticipated laughter was not going to happen. This poor kid was drowning in the deluge that I had swamped on him. I had to save him. I tossed him a life-preserver awkward chuckle. Trapped air rushed from him. He laughed way more awkwardly than I.
This moment, this once in a lifetime moment, had left me deep in disappointment. What I had played over and over was raucous laughter, not a brutal stunning. Maybe our relationship was not as understood as I thought.
As my planned self-indulgence spiraled slowly downward, I did not know it, but the worst was to come thirty minutes after Stick and I parted. It came in the form of a call from Sarina. I had poked the bear. A plan gone horribly awry.
Continuing the introductions, my son Derron. Derron is currently serving in Afghanistan. He is proud to be a United States Marine. As I do for all of my children, I have plenty of fables for him as well. However, I will save those for family gatherings. Trust me, that is, best for you.
Lastly, my name is Daniel Rengaw. Some call me Doctor Rengaw, some do not, some refuse to. I like to write things.
Two Lost Souls Page 2
