Two Lost Souls

by Scott D Wagner

A welcome return.

  Daniel:

  With the changing seasons, my Bubba schedule varied with each new equinox or solstice. The July schedule was early morning, before the overnight cool went warm to hot. This day’s lunchtime meal was taken consumed in thought. Having many times been where my mind was at this moment, I never fought letting my mind race around the track. My thoughts were interrupted by an unscheduled walk bark. “Great idea Bubba!” Walks wrote many a story.

  Bubba was always ready for a walk to anywhere. This where, took us through his park and a swim in the river. For him a near perfect adventure. We headed back home and were now close enough for me to see an unfamiliar car in the driveway. My stare tried to focus an unfamiliar vehicle. My left ear pulled in the rolling sound of a car. My mind’s focus was on focusing on the mystery car. A surround sound fade passed the same ear. “Daniel they got me.” The scream was muffled as if from within a wooden barrel. Looking to the passing large dark car, I saw a blurry face of terror in the back window. Actually, it was only half a face straining to look over a shoulder. The muffled voice, mixing with the blurry face, Michael’s lips were rapid with unheard shouts. I watched the car disappear. What the hell?

  I went back intent on the vehicle in my drive; its mystery suddenly had more meaning. My thought was months back on Michael’s warning words; ‘They’ll come for us.’ Looking for more signs that something cloak and dagger may be amiss, I found none. However, not wanting to be careless, I looked to the trees for snipers. There were none.

  As Michael wanted, we’d had no communication of any type. Since my late evening visit to his home, I had not seen or heard from him. Stopping at the end of our drive, I checked the car for signs of government. There was no back seat shielding screen, no mounted shotgun, and no decals. Of course, there would be none if this were the secret government.

  Trying for an insight through the front windows and around the curtained panes, the curtains did not allow a scouting report. Pamila chosen, thick and the color of rust, they weren’t showing any persons of interest. Thinking on it, I was most likely the person of interest.

  Stepping up on to the porch, the wooden door scrape slid inward. The screen door popped hard against its spring. “Daniel we have a visitor!” Pami using ‘Daniel’ did not get by me. Nor did I miss her punching of ‘visitor’. Looking into Pami’s face did not yield a warning nor settle concern. Her eyes were focused on me, her face was easy. Her lips were not in a smile but they weren’t gripping her gums either. Two long strides and I was in. A tall man lifted to a stand from the couch and stared at me. Bubba barked once as he fast walked to the man. Mervin pulled two quick sniffs and relaxed. His tail went into gentle wag mode. My buddy was fine with the man that I did not know. I profiled that this man was not government anything. Well maybe a social worker or some such, but he definitely did not have a weapon. Protection went to relax.

  His hair was military short. It was auburn, layered and feathered. Not military. His face was clean-shaven, except for thin and too long sideburns. He was trying for hip, New Age. He was neither. It wasn’t working for him.

  (I know New Age is old time, if it was ever anything, but that is all I got. Leave me alone.)

  His scalp hair did not seem to match his sideburns. His eyes were clean of glasses as well. He was fit but not thin. I thought him older than he was trying to look. My guess was mid to upper forties. “Are those Buster Brown tasseled Loafers?” I didn’t really ask that. Khaki pants, a brown leather belt, and a teal golf shirt finished his attire. He may have been a manager at The Gap, but not government.

  My cautious curiousness now had me just feet from him. Without a dedicated effort, he leaned slight and brushed by an attempt to pet Mervin. Pami had sidled me. Time seemed stopped, but the silence was not that long. The man seemed to be forcing a poker face. “Mount Rushmore,” he said flatly. Our eyes were fast on each other’s. His voice was so recognized that I didn’t. Nor did I try to profile it.

  Softly, probably because my brain was unaccepting, I said; “Excuse me. Mount Rushmore. I don’t-”

  “What has four upon that in time, are: one, three, sixteen, and twenty six?” My mind’s Starter spun without engaging. He paused one tick in time and continued; “Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt.” With this end, he shitty grinned. “Danny you told me to get back to you with that.” Pami giggled.

  “Holy shit what the hell happened to you?” I asked.

  “Oh nice! Very nice! I fly across the country and that is the welcome I get.”

  “You didn’t fly the plane did.” We both smiled large. I continued; “What the hell! Look at you. You look like you just stepped out of a Docker’s commercial.”

  Pami slapped my shoulder and said; “Rojer don’t listen to him you look great. He’s just jealous that’s all”

  “Jealous! Oh… it’s Kaitlin isn’t it! Your young chemist lady friend did this to you didn’t she?” I took a tick as well and followed up; “How is Miss Lewis?” I tried to say this with a stupid sexual innuendo. It was so badly done that neither of them picked it up.

  Rojer, in a far less than pig horny tone said; “She’s doing good.”

  Now… ‘She’s doing good’, that is not good. Looking up and down him, I shook my head. “Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm,” I noised disgust.

  “Pamila I’ll never understand what you see in him.”

  We all settled into a post-surprise visit. I was ecstatic with his surprise. Pami was as delighted as the word can be. His news that he had accepted a teaching position at Colorado State University was the best better kind of surprise. My friend had come to play with me. At least for now. He’d signed a two-year contract to teach 20th century American History. He had done it again; another great job. Another bounce back. Another job that I was jealous of. I was thrilled.

  The afternoon visit rolled through a meal into a twilight back porch relax. Today, Rojer, both one in the same, had re-energized me in a way that I knew I needed. Reenergizing that I could only get with a happening such as this. But as much as Rojer had inner strengthened a welcomed energy upon a taxed spirit, my Pamila was just as lifting. She made my heart sing with her young girl giddy-ness. A part of her that I so loved, and a part that she had been forcing fake at times of late. However, none of what she forced was truly light with her now happiness of heart. Right now, it was not forced. She danced all her movements as she silly’d away. I lost track of how many times she kissed Rojer’s cheek, how many times she hugged appreciation into him. For brief seconds, and without music, she danced Rojer into a blushing.

  During the Pami party, there had been several glasses of wine. Therefore, it may have been the courage of the grape that brought her to say; “So Kaitlin can’t be thrilled with your moving.” Even with her poured courage, she realized that she might be slipping down an icy slope. Her sentence was peppy loud at its start and concerned soft at its finish. Rojer’s expression was that of a schoolchild who had lost his lunch money and now had to tell his mother. Quick his chin dipped and then his eyes lifted toward me. Whatever it was that he was going to say, he wanted to say it to me.

  “Kaitlin and I… we kinda aren’t really… I mean it’s okay. We had a good time and all…”

  “That sweet little young thing was killing you wasn’t she Rojer!” Quick reader who said that? Nope not me. My lovely nectar swayed wife said a funny. I was jealous that she had beat me to a Perfect.

  Our porch time was much of the same light. All that really had any meaning was that Rojer was here now and would stay with us while he got settled in Fort Collins. I will add that Monticello never came up. I did not want it to. Pami never thought of it.

  “I read all of your articles Danny. They…” Rojer shook his head slight. “They were wonderful.” I quick went to whether I had ever heard Rojer say wonderful before. “I really don’t know wha
t else to say about them Danny.”

  I doubt if I can convince you of this reader, but compliments are unsettling to me at the time received. More believable to you, I am comfortable with them later. I would say; ‘An artist’s life is so little.’ But that just sounds stupid.

  This being the case, I deflected it. “William Keefe was a big help.”

  “Danny he didn’t write them you did.” Pami was loving supportive.

  ‘I really do not know what you see in him Pamila.’ I heard Rojer thinking that.

  Rojer ignored my unease and continued; “I’ve never read anything like that from you before Denny. I don’t even remember a conversation like that. If we did, it would blow me away. I know how well you write, that is not it, it was just so far from your normal writing. Kind of out there. It was awesome. I don’t know… I just didn’t recognize them as you. That’s all. The first article… Monticello, it was so elusively factual. Does that make any sense. It was so real. But if the readers believed it, they would have to be questioning their own sanity. They knew it to be true and yet they couldn’t believe it.” Rojer stopped for a second and looked at me. “I think that is what you were going for. Huh?”

  I was not sure if he wanted an answer. Still looking at me he went on. “They had to be thinking that Rengaw believes this in every fabric of his being. He knows it happened yet he knows it did not. The readers wanted to believe that it happened. In some sort of actualized happening.” ‘Actualized happening’?

  Now I wondered if I had ever heard Rojer speak like this before. He rarely expressed what was rumbling around in him. He sounded as if he had philosophically been enlightened. That sweet little young thing was killing him. However, I was pleasingly impressed with his interpretation, and I did know what he meant. It was not because I had written them; it was because he and I had read it together.

  I was beginning to warm to his compliment as he continued. “The next ten articles, you know, describing the things that our country needs to accomplish, all were perfect simple. So un-politically common sense.” Those words placed me inside our Monticello.

  “Danny your words… your thoughts were right there. Goals, aspirations, where we are, where we need to be, they were easy and real. Not crap, not promises. Real tangible things that people can touch. Not shit that seemed unattainable.” That is our Rojer. “Danny your goals weren’t even goals. It was as if you were saying; ‘They are lying around on the ground and we just need to pick them up. So obvious that we must be blind not to see them.’ s” Rojer sat backward swiftly with a startled gasp. “Danny I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that.” Pami laughed brief and hard. Rojer smiled at what Pami told him he had not said wrong. It took me a moment to see any of it.

  The house phone rang from inside. Pami maybe wanting a brief out, stood quickly and went to answer it. Chuckling slightly as she did.

  I will admit that now I was very flattered. I respected his opinion more than most. Not expecting him to, Rojer began anew. “The twelfth article, the last one, all I got from it was easy. It was so easy, so right there, so do-able. I understand that you were summarizing, but that is not what I got from it. Easy, easy is all I got. I’ve heard others say the same. People I respect, well-read people.” Rojer was most comfortable with those that could talk on the same level as he. There were not a lot of them.

  I had not thought of Michael’s demise for hours. It was either Albert Einstein or Homer Simpson that said; ‘When things happen at the same time, they are never simultaneous.’ What happened next was one of those.

  There was a metallic click and rattle, a loud bark, light from the streetlight poured through a swung open gate, and a Bubba dash to that light. Up and heading to the corner, I heard; “Danny I was hoping I would find you outside alone.” Back over my shoulder, the screen door was sliding open.

  “That was Liz. She was telling me about Michael.” So much for that. “Billy?” Pami asked.

  Rojer was now standing. A surprised Pamila was looking at a surprised Billy. There were several questions of him in her gaze. A tennis match on, I went back to Billy. My read; Billy wished he were elsewhere.

  I asked; “Billy what’s going on?” My attempt at a lightening didn’t help him.

  “He’s missing.” Billy’s sentence was soft and tailed to silent. He did not mean to say it amongst a guest. Nervous, no, more than nervous, he did the imaginary hat held over the heart thing. “I’m sorry Miss Pamila for showing up this way. This late. Please excuse me. But-” Pami was on Billy. She kissed his cheek and gently pulled him toward our chairs.

  She said; “Billy please come join us. We are enjoying the beautiful evening. Please have a seat William.” He walked to our circle led by Miss Pamila but did not sit.

  “No I really can not stay. I was hoping that I could get just a few moments of your time.” Billy fixed on Rojer. He waited for what I had not given.

  “I am Rojer Ousten and you must be the family famous William Keefe.” Rojer extended his hand. For the first time, William Keefe found Billy.

  “Oh me new friend, I am surely more than family famous. Still… your words are of the most kind indeed.” Billy left. He again slipped back into whatever quandary he had come with. “Daniel, Pamila, can we talk?” His eyes flashed to Rojer. “Alone please?” I sat hoping my ease would do the same for him. William Keefe, or who I thought was Billy, was without words. He gathered himself, forged a stance, and said; “I think we should talk privately.” Rojer did not wait for Billy to again visually ask him to leave.

  Rojer cleared his throat. “Pami I will go put my stuff upstairs.”

  I jerked forward and spat the word; “No!” Pami snapped to me. With less projection, but still a good pace, I followed up. “No Rojer sit down please.” Billy did not react. Rojer’s head slid backward with an asking.

  Pamila; “Daniel?” Quick I need a save.

  “No it’s okay Rojer you can stay. It’s all right Billy. Rojer is family. He is okay! He is cool!” The save was forced and retro sloppy. Nonetheless, it seemed effective. I mentally slowed down. “Billy, please feel free to speak.” I could feel Pami’s eyes on me.

  William’s look to Pami was brief and he settled on me. “It is Mister Winster.”

  “William Keefe!” Pami scolded Billy.

  “I’m sorry Pami. Winster.” Billy paused to see if that was acceptable. Pami was silent. Billy stayed on her and continued; “Winster! He seems to be missing. For several weeks now. The police have opened a file on him and actively are searching for him. My sources tell me that they are not spending a lot of man-hours on him. But they are looking.” I could see that she was getting there. Pami’s head tilted down and slightly to the side. Her eyes stayed up and on Billy. She was there.

  “Who the hell would report that piece of shit missing?” Billy seemed to be pondering whether he should, or how he should answer her.

  Billy; “I guess it was his mother.” Pami lifted her eyes to the sky and exhaled disgust.

  “I just thought you should know. Again, I apologize for disturbing you. I just thought you should know. You know… because of what-”

  “Thanks Billy.” Pami was quick to thank. She said it calmly and sounding sincere.

  “I guess I will be heading out now.” Billy spun toward the direction that he’d come from and started off. None of us moved. For seconds we rudely reflected. Each of us reflecting differently. Pami left rude behind as she dashed to Billy. The two of them turned the corner arms around each other. Billy was again back in Billy character.

  Rojer and I had a moment. It was neither rude nor deep. Just time. However, it was the time that I needed. “Where are you going Danny?” Rojer called to me as I fled through the house and up the stairs. Minutes later I returned. The two of them were in a scientific sounding conversation about farm animals.

  Our even
ing ended shortly and I helped Rojer to get settled in our guest room. Now to be Rojer’s room. As I headed out of his room, he called to me with a serious Rojer tone. “Danny?” He wanted his face sincere. “Your articles… did you do what you needed to. Did they help you to settle it all?” My eyes fell from his and I gently shook my head.

  “I did. They helped. But I don’t think I’m done.” He smiled in thought.

  “I’m here for you Danny.”

  “Yeah I know buddy.”

  “Good night Danny.”

  “Sleep well Rojer.” He looked into my eyes; he picked up something unsettled in my tone. I smiled. He noticed that as well.

  Next morning, 6:00 a.m. (Around)

 

  From the end table on my left, the alarm from my watch rings me awake. I’m up and out. Down the hallway and now listening at Rojer’s door. Counting seconds, I can’t stand it.

  What happened next was not the first thing to happen. There are two six-foot-tall thuds of sleep heavy feet hitting the floor. Three scattered steps are immediately followed by the dull thump of a two hundred pound bag of cement hitting a carpeted floor.

  What happened first happened first. Unseen, from under a startled awake Rojer, came 140 decibels of screeching farm animal. The cringing sound of a chest-exploding rooster. It would not stop and Rojer wanted it to. Barely heard above the cock’s crow, but distinguishable because my ears are intently focused, I hear words of… shall I say, dissatisfaction. Mixed amongst are multiple Dannys and many other words unspeakable in church. From behind me I hear; “Daniel!” Then a pause. With the moment taken softly in, Pami reconsiders. “Danny.” It ended in a chuckle.

  Pushing the door open into the still dark room, I flick on the light. The crowing continues louder. Rojer’s head, shoulder, and arm, are hidden beneath the bed. To his ears, the sound had to be painful. Like a successful bare-handed-catfish-hunter, Rojer yanks the clock from beneath the beds bank. Holding it but not quieting it, he looks to me. I am having a very good time. With a long waist turn and a quick swing of the holding arm, he yanks the cord from the outlet. The barnyard that I have set goes silent.

  “You are an ass!” he yells.

  “How you like your Howler Monkeys now!” He understands why. Pami is in the doorway with hand over mouth giggling. The play to me was over. In no particular order, I laugh and leave. Passing Pami, she says; “You are an ass.”

  “I know.” My huge smile hurts.

  “Danny?” I turn to her.

  “Yeah.”

  “Perfect!”