by Inmon, Shawn
“Good afternoon, cadets, parents and loved ones, and of course, Turtles.”
“Welcome to another graduation ceremony at Hartfield Academy. This is always a proud, yet sad moment. Over the last decade, I’ve had the privilege of watching these boys grow and mature, to become splendid young men, and wonderful examples of the brotherhood we hope will develop with each new class. Every class is special, of course, but the Turtles are unique. In the entire history of the Academy, they are the only class to ever win the Hartfield Game the first year they played.”
A cheer erupted from the Turtles, along with smiles and pats on the back.
Nice to hear our honor has been restored.
“Enough from me, though. Before we begin handing out diplomas, I’d like to bring up our valedictorian, Will Summer. Will?
A tall, sandy-haired boy in an immaculate dress uniform stood straight and tall and stepped up to the microphone.
Holy heck, maybe Mom and Dad were right. I don’t think I’d have recognized Will. He grew up a lot. Dominick lifted up off his seat an inch or two and craned his neck to see if he could spot Michael, too.
“Thank you, Commander Hartfield, and thank you to the Hartfield Academy instructors and staff who have put up with us all these years. I suppose I should also apologize to Lieutenant Pusser and the string of prefects who followed him for all the terrible things we did to them.” He looked back at the Turtles with a huge smile.
The Turtles cheered. A squat, heavyset man in his late twenties, dressed in a US Army uniform and sitting a few rows in front of Dominick stood and waved in acknowledgment.
That’s gotta be him. Hello, Pusser. Dominick smiled to himself at the thought of the many ways they had tortured him.
“Seriously, though, every Turtle and every instructor knows that I’m not who should be standing up here, representing our class. Michael Hollister should be.”
Dominick craned his neck again and saw a blond crew cut in the front row shaking back and forth.
“Michael was so far ahead of us, he ended up teaching us almost as much as our instructors did. When we were just scared, homesick First Years, Michael was the calming force that held the Turtles together. The only reason I’m up here instead of Michael is because that’s the way he wanted it. And that says a lot about him too, doesn’t it? Every Turtle could stand up here and tell a story of how Michael helped them out, but we don’t have that much time, so here’s mine. There used to be a tradition at Hartfield that if you wet your bed, you had to carry your sheets with you all day as a public humiliation.”
Dominick’s eyes glazed over as he became lost in the memory of that early day in the barracks where he and a few others had stood up for Will.
“I was the first Turtle to do so, and I was assigned to carry my soaking sheets around the grounds that day. First, Dominick Davidner, our brother who is not here, stood up for me; then Michael peed on his own sheets and carried them with him, so I wouldn’t be alone.”
Dominick jumped a little at hearing his own name. They haven’t forgotten me.
“Think about that for a minute,” Will continued. “How easy is it to stand by and watch someone else be punished when you are innocent? How difficult is it to put yourself in the line of fire? That’s what Michael did for me, and I know he did things just like that for every single Turtle. He did that nine years ago. I’ll never forget it.”
Will took one step back from the podium and, in a voice that carried to every corner of the Academy, said, “Turtles! Attention!” All the Turtles jumped to attention. They all faced Michael. “Salute.”
Without a thought, Dominick stood in place and snapped off a perfect salute toward Michael, as well. A few people in the crowd turned to look at him, but none of the Turtles saw him.
With his back to the rest of the audience, Michael stood and saluted back.
Applause broke out throughout the crowd.
Dominick sat back down, surprised to find a lump in his throat and his eyes wet.
Before the applause died down, Will walked back to his seat and Hartfield began calling out names to come and accept their diplomas. It took Dominick a few names to adjust to the new reality in front of him. Twelve year old boys had suddenly transformed into eighteen-year-old young men - but he got the hang of it and started recognizing Turtles before their names were called.
Hartfield Academy did its job. It turned this group of boys into men, and now they are ready to be soldiers, if they want to be.
Once the ceremony was complete, the crowd broke up into smaller groups, each celebrating their own graduate. Dominick spotted Michael, standing off by himself, watching the proceedings.
Dominick walked over and stood right in front of him, a small smile on his lips. “Hello, Genius.”
Michael’s mouth fell slightly open and his eyebrows shot up. “Dom? Dominick, is that you?”
Dominick nodded, his smile growing. Michael opened his arms and embraced him.
Pretty different for the kid that didn’t like to be touched by anybody.
“I’m so glad you made it. The guys will be really happy to see you. It didn’t feel right doing this without you. So, how are you?”
“All is good. Graduated from high school last week, set free on the world now.”
Michael shook his head. “Damnit, you should have been here with us today. Hey, did you drive all the way up from New Mexico? Commander Hartfield said that was part of the reason you couldn’t come back, because you were moving.”
“No, that was just something my Dad made up, because he was pissed at Hartfield. He just wouldn’t let me come back. I think the whole thing hurt his pride. I wanted to come back, but they wouldn’t let me.”
Michael shook his head. “What a waste. It would have been so great to have you here all this time.” He put his arm around Dominick’s shoulder and said, “Come on, the rest of the guys are going to flip when they see you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bertella reached out and touched Carrie’s Pyxis. “Well?”
“What do I do, if I think things are going to turn out disastrously for them?”
“That was my question, yes,” Bertellia said, patiently.
Might as well bite the bullet. She never asks a question she doesn’t already know the answer to, anyway.
“I help them.”
Bertella’s serene expression didn’t change. “How exactly do you help them?”
“I ... move time back and forth. Give them a chance to do things slightly differently.”
“Does that work? Does it present the desired result for you?”
“Sometimes.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
In for a penny ...
“I pull strands of the image away and manipulate what happens, until it turns out better for everyone.” Carrie paused, then rushed on, “I don’t ever do it if it’s going to hurt someone else. That’s not fair.” She realized she had used that word—fair—and winced.
“How did you learn how to do this? To manipulate events like this?”
“I don’t know. It just seemed natural. Doesn’t everyone do that?”
“Have you seen anyone else doing that?”
“Well, no, but I don’t think they saw me do it either.”
“Perhaps they didn’t, but here, someone is always watching.”
“Are you forbidding me to do this? To help my people?”
Bertellia smiled at Carrie’s use of the phrase “my people.” “’Forbid’ is such a strong word. No, I never forbid anything. However, I can tell you that it will be better for you if you stop doing this, and simply focus on feeding the Machine.”
“Better for me?” Carrie laughed, and there was a bitter, ironic tone to it. “What can be done to me? As you have said, I am perfect, and invulnerable. I cannot ever be truly hurt.”
“True enough. You cannot. Your circumstances can be changed, though, so that life itself feels painful.”
Chapter Tw
enty-Eight
Joe and Laura wanted Dominick to keep Davidner and Son Small Engine Repair going over the summer, to help him with his college tuition, but Dominick had other plans. After waiting through what felt like the eternity of ten years, Dominick knew it was finally the right time to go and find Emily.
He had actually enjoyed being in high school again, as he allowed himself to excel enough to get into the Honors program, which brought him more challenging work. It also looked good on his school record which, along with his 3.90 grade point average, would allow him to get into any college in the region shy of Stanford. The problem was, he didn’t want to go.
Once I’ve found Emily, and we’re together again, then it will feel right to think about college, and our future. But I can’t focus on anything but her until I find her.
Dominick’s initial plan was to take the money he had saved from repairing engines and head for the Midwest as soon as possible. The day after graduation, once again eating hamburger hash with the entire family, Dominick broke the idea of leaving.
“So, I know you guys want me to head off to college in the fall—“
“—With those grades, you better,” Joe interrupted.
“—but, I don’t think I’m quite ready.”
“Oh, no, none of this, ‘I’m gonna go backpack around Europe and find myself’ nonsense for you, Nicky. You’re going to school. You’ve worked too hard to give this up.”
Dominick bit his lip. He had anticipated resistance, but not quite this strong.
“Listen, Dad, I’m not saying I don’t want to go to college. I do. I just want to go see the country first. Other than one trip to Idaho to see Uncle Frank two summers ago, I haven’t seen anything yet.”
“There’s plenty of time for that later.”
“But there isn’t, not really. Think about it, Dad. First I’m in college, then fall in love, and then I’ve got a job and I’ll have a couple of rugrats of my own to support. Maybe, if I’m lucky, two weeks of vacation every year. And, those two weeks are probably spent putting up a new fence, or painting the house, just like you did.”
Joe put his fork down and looked at Laura first, then back at Dominick. He said quietly, “That’s not such a bad life.” He swept his hand around the table, at Sam, still in his work overalls, Connie, just turned thirteen, and wearing braces, and Dominick himself. “It hasn’t been the most exciting life in the world, but it’s been a rewarding one all the same.”
Dominick dropped his head. I didn’t mean to denigrate what you did, or how you lived your life, Dad.
He looked up and made eye contact with Joe and then his mother. “I love you, Dad, Mom. I am thankful for what you’ve done for me. For all of us. I know you only want what’s best for me, and I appreciate your perspective. But, I’m going to do this. I’m going to go out into the world and see what’s out there.”
And see where Emily is.
Joe nodded. “Well, I can’t stop you, I suppose. But...”
There’s always a ‘but’, isn’t there?
“Have you looked at our shop out there? Have you seen all the lawn mowers, boat engines, and rototillers lined up alongside and behind the shed? There’s a few month’s work out there, even if we’re both working on them. If I have to do them all by myself ...” Joe let the thought hang in the air.
I know when I’m beaten. It’s just check, though, Dad, not check-mate.
“You’re right. It’s not fair for me to just take off and leave you with all that work.” Dominick pushed his food around. “How about this, then? How about if we work on all those motors together until they’re all done, but we stop accepting new work? Is that fair?”
“That’s fair,” Joe said, and took a long pull on his Budweiser. “I don’t like it, but it’s fair.”
DOMINICK ESTIMATED that if he really applied himself, he could wade through the backload of small engines in two or three weeks, a month tops, then he could be on his way. What he failed to count in his estimation was his own ability to say ‘No.’”
It started the very next morning. Joe was at work, but Dominick got up early and took down the small sign out front that read “Davidner and Son.” He had gone straight to fixing Mr. Hansen’s mower. Very few of the jobs were challenging, just time-consuming, if he wanted to do them right. He was rolling the mower out to the front of the yard where Mr. Hansen could collect it that afternoon, when Mr. Bratski appeared from across the street, pushing the same old mower that Joe and Dominick had been fixing for six years.
“It’s been a few years, young Dominick. Time to tune her up. She never runs as good as that first day you bring her back.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Bratski. I’m getting ready to leave town, so we’re not taking any more jobs. I’m just trying to finish up with the ones we’ve got.”
Mr. Bratski muttered, ”Oh, I see.” Then he sucked on his false teeth and looked pained. “I don’t have a truck. I don’t even know how I can get the mower to those thieves at Wilson’s repair.” More teeth sucking. “I hate to pay what they charge, after doing business with you all these years. I think I was your very first customer, wasn’t I?”
Dominick knew when he was being hustled, but he still couldn’t take it. “Okay, okay, leave it here. I’ll get it tuned up for you. But, please promise me, you won’t tell anyone.”
“Not a word,” Mr. Bratski promised.
Later that afternoon, widowed Mrs. Lemkins appeared in the shadows of the garage door. “Mr. Bratski tells me that I had better get this old mower over to you pronto, because you’re closing up shop soon.”
Dominick knew when he was beaten. “Just put it there next to Mr. Bratski’s, Mrs. Lemkins. I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”
The fact that he wouldn’t accept any more business was the best advertising he could have done. Everyone wanted to take advantage of quality work at cheap prices.
That night, after supper, Dominick went back out to the shop to try to get ahead of the backlog. Shortly after he tore into a mower, Joe wandered into the shop. “Need any help with that?”
Things had been tense since Dominick had announced he was leaving, and not planning on going on to college right away. Dominick shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got this, Dad.” He looked up from the carburetor he was working on. Joe stood in the doorway with his back to him, looking out into the setting sun.
“But,” Dominick said, “I do have that Evinrude motor torn apart and I was having a hard time figuring out what the problem was. Would you mind looking it over for me?”
Joe turned and looked at Dominick and smiled.
He knows that’s bullshit, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the way men are.
“Sure, I’ll take a look at it, see what I can see.” He sauntered over to the engine and looked down his nose at it, poking here and there. He began to whistle along to the old country song playing softly on the radio hanging on a nail in the corner.
Just like that, the summer melted away—Dominick working and sweating alone during the daytime, but sharing long hours with his Dad at night. They both knew they were on the cusp of a major sea change in their life. They also both recognized that this experience, working elbow to elbow, cussing a little and laughing a lot, was one that would likely never be repeated.
Eventually, September rolled around and the flow of repair jobs slowed, then stopped altogether.
Good thing we don’t live in the mountains, or the snowmobile repair jobs would start, and I’d never get out of here.
On September 3rd, Joe and Dominick both finished off the last jobs they had, and looked around the bare shop. They cleaned and put away their tools. A place for everything and everything in its place was Joe’s lifelong motto, and he had passed it on to Dominick. As Dominick was putting away the last of the tools, Joe said, “Just a minute,” and walked out of the garage.
He reappeared a few minutes later, with two cans of Budweiser. “Probably won’t make your mother very happy, but I think it’s called fo
r.” He handed one to Dominick and popped the tab on the other. “I know you’ve been itching to get out of here for months now, but you stuck around and did the right thing. The world needs more people who are willing to put off what they want in order to do what’s needed. I’m proud of you.”
Dominick’s eyes glistened. He looked down at the can of beer so his dad wouldn’t see the tears. He opened his can and took a tentative swallow.
Been more than ten years since I’ve had a beer. It’s still good.
“Thanks, Dad. I ... I think I’m gonna get packed up and take off tomorrow.”
“I know,” was all Joe said.
They drank the rest of their beers in silence, then went into the house.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When Dominick set about packing the next morning, he realized that he had carried over at least some of the habits he had picked up at Hartfield Academy, in that he still didn’t like too many possessions. He had enough clothes to fill his duffel, and he packed his essential tools into the tool kit his parents had bought him the previous Christmas, but there wasn’t much else he felt compelled to take.
When Joe had told Laura that Dominick was leaving the next morning, she had bustled around the kitchen making him a care package of food—meatloaf sandwiches, Tupperware with leftover lasagna, half a loaf of homemade bread—to get him through the first few days on the road.
Dominick was up early and had a chance to say goodbye to both Laura and Joe before they left for work. Joe’s goodbye was quick—a wave, a nod, and a “be good, son” as he hurried out the door.
Laura would have none of that. She held him close for a long minute, then reached up to hold his face in both her hands, turning it from side to side, memorizing who he was at that moment. Finally, she laid her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She said, simply, “I love you, Nicky,” then turned and hurried out the door.
Dominick turned to see that Connie, now a beautiful young woman, and a freshman in high school, was standing behind him, watching the goodbyes and laughing a little.
