Terry Persun's Magical Realism Collection

by Persun, Terry

  That evening, Lew stopped off and picked up Chinese take-out on his way home. He sat in the living room chair and ate, absently staring into nothing, waiting for Joe to call. When the phone rang, he jumped, then reached over and picked it up, quickly swallowing the food in his mouth. “Joe,” he said.

  “It could have been Sharon,” Joe said.

  “We’re through.”

  “I’m sorry. Things are going pretty poorly for you, aren’t they?”

  “I feel better. Still…”

  “Something will happen,” Joe said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. When you get so bent up inside, it’s usually because your life is about to make a change. I don’t think it’s just this Sharon thing either. I’ve noticed you leading up to something. There’s a lot of movement in your life right now. It’s all there for a reason. It’s a sign.”

  “Are you psychic now, Joe, or are you trying to scare me?”

  Joe laughed. “Neither. Just observing.”

  “Things are changing all right. Work is shit and so is my personal life. Except today was a little interesting.” Lew wanted to tell someone about his lunch time adventure with Lynne, to brag a little, pump himself up.“

  What happened today?” Joe said.

  Lew told him briefly, but didn’t get the reaction he had hoped for, not that he should have expected it from Joe anyway.

  “I don’t believe you. Why would you get involved like that?”

  “Hey, it was her game. She came after me.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Wolf, you were in complete control. What an ass. This is your friend’s wife you’re talking about. What she needed was your help, a little consoling, but not you, you have to take advantage of her vulnerability. What kind of friend are you?”

  “He blew me off today!”

  “That’s an excuse to seduce his wife? What are you saying? You do worse things to him. Is he supposed to try to screw with your girlfriend? God help you, Wolf, you’d better be careful.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’m telling you that nothing happens accidentally. You had a choice between doing something right or doing something wrong. You chose wrong. Don’t you see? Look, I know you don’t have the same philosophy as I do, but you’ve got to admit things aren’t going well for you right now.”

  “So, it’s a temporary slump,” Lew was getting mad.

  “No, Lew,” Joe said softly, “you’re being given opportunity after opportunity to get your life straight, and all you do is call more negative circumstances to you by going down the wrong path.”

  “The wrong path? Are you going to get religious on me now? Is that what this is turning into, a sermon on morality? Don’t do it, Joe. I’ve been like this most of my life and it’s brought me nothing but respect and money.”

  “Don’t fool yourself. It has set you up for a fall. You lost your wife and your son. You’re losing clients, you’re losing your self-respect. We both know that even if Lynne was trying to see how far she’d go just to hurt Gary, that she’s not your type. Besides, all this shit happening lately, you didn’t used to be like this. You were aggressive, strong-willed, competitive, but not cruel, not vengeful. You’re getting in deep, Wolf, and you’d better watch it or you’ll call something really bad to you. You’d better start thinking about what’s right and start making a positive turn.”

  Lew clenched his teeth. “Don’t tell me what I’d better do, Joe, just don’t. I called for help today. Talk about being positive, all you do is slam me. You’re not helping. So, where do you come off? Well, I don’t have to take this shit, not from you or anyone!” Lew slammed down the phone before Joe could respond. He stood up quickly. He was so pissed that he wasn’t paying attention and dumped his Styrofoam takeout container. Rice flew everywhere and gravy began to soak into the carpet immediately.

  “Fuckin’ shit,” Lew said, bending to pick up the mess.

  CHAPTER 3

  LEW’S EMOTIONS remained in constant upheaval throughout the several weeks it took for his bruises to heal. Unable to sleep, he took to watching old movies in the early morning hours. His work suffered tremendously from his inability to concentrate for long periods of time.

  Over one particular weekend, Lew had made love with Lynne. She had come over crying and angry, and left crying and confused. Lew felt absolutely no regret, yet realized almost as soon as she left that he felt no pleasure either—not physically, and surely not emotionally. An involuntary trace of regret needled him; he told no one about the incident.

  Monday evening, a feeling of fear overwhelmed him. He was unable to pinpoint its source. He talked with Joe for over an hour, but when Lew hung up the phone, the apartment closed in immediately. He went out and walked aimlessly most of the night, frightened at every turn, every alleyway.

  Tuesday morning, Lew’s boss asked to see him at eleven. At ten to eleven, Lew sat at his desk, bags under his eyes, reviewing his client folders and most recent proposals, wondering what he could say to Frank about them. Unable to concentrate on any one folder for long, Lew closed his eyes and breathed in long, slow breaths. He hoped that his instincts would take over once he stood face to face with Frank. Even through all that had happened recently, his instincts came through often enough for him to maintain a better portfolio than most. If the meeting were only scheduled after lunch, he’d at least have time to take a quick nap, refresh himself a little.

  Lew checked his watch: three minutes of eleven. He wondered briefly at Frank’s true agenda. Well, he’d find out soon. He picked up his notepad where he had scrawled down a few very sketchy figures and ideas and he headed for Frank’s office. The door was open, but Frank was reading, so Lew knocked.

  “Wolf, thank you. It must be eleven. I’ve never known you to be late.” Frank’s smile put Lew somewhat at ease. “Please come in and shut the door. Have a seat.”

  Lew closed the door gingerly and sat in a chair Frank had placed to his right.

  “I’ve got a special job for you, Wolf.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Lew said jokingly. He noticed his hands shook from lack of sleep.

  Frank laughed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t, but it isn’t all bad either. You know we do a certain number of what I call volunteer jobs. We bid below what we’re likely to make. It creates good will, in a way. But we get so much publicity from doing these jobs that it always benefits us in the end. We look good.”

  “I’m aware of all this, Frank, but don’t you usually get one of the new people to do it?”

  “Yes, you remember when you first started here, that manufacturing consortium…?”

  “Bonner-Sykes,” Lew said.

  “And that worked out for them so well that they’re a permanent client of ours now. I don’t think they’ll ever leave us, Wolf. And I know that’s probably one reason you still have them, your past performance and this company’s original generosity. We lost our shirt on that campaign, but have tripled our earnings since, plus picked up new clients because of it.”

  Lew looked down at his notepad.

  “I’m doing you a favor, Wolf, believe me. These jobs usually don’t go that far, they’re not expected to. We do it for the visibility. Sometimes we win a long-time client, usually not.”

  Lew kept quiet and waited for Frank to go on—to get to it.

  “There is a group of Indians, Navajos I believe. They’ve been selling their crafts to tourists for years. Great businessmen, these Navajos. There’s a small group of them that just cropped up, doing their own thing, some sort of Indian spiritual stuff: Sacred items, vision quests, that sort of thing. I want to get them some national visibility. Bring some Hollywood types out there for spiritual redefinition, or whatever you might call it. The problem is, they claim that not just anyone can do their little quests, you’ve got to be chosen. And they don’t want the publicity. They’re not interested.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do?�
��

  “Convince them otherwise.”

  “Why would we get involved if they’re not interested anyway?”

  “I got a lead from an old friend. He heard that Stockton Advertising was going in.”

  “For what?” Lew asked, knowing the answer as soon as he asked the question.

  Frank cocked his head.

  “I know,” Lew said.

  “I want a more seasoned person out there. They’ve agreed to discuss it with you under one circumstance, that you spend some time with them, see what they’re about.”

  “Some time?”

  “A week or two. Look at it as a working vacation, expenses paid.”

  “Why not Craig?”

  “Because he’s picked up three clients in the last quarter. He doesn’t have the time.”

  “Craig has picked up that much business?”

  “He’s overtaken your lead.”

  “But this Indian thing isn’t very big, and it might not work, even at gross it can’t be...”

  “Hold on, Wolf.” Frank lifted his palm and set it back on the desk when Lew stopped talking. “I know you can make this work. And, I’m willing to let it count for twice the gross figure it comes in at on your proposal, regardless what the final job costs.” Frank raised his eyebrows, “It’ll give you a break.”

  Lew tried his last resort by saying, “What if Craig jumps ship while I’m gone? It’s happened before.”

  “You did a fine job when you trained Craig, but I can get a new Craig and train him myself if I have to.”

  “Fine,” Lew said.

  Frank handed him a thin folder containing what little information they had. “I know you don’t like to be out of the office. It makes you vulnerable. But you need to get away. Just read this over and get started. I’ll make sure your other clients are serviced.”

  Lew got up to leave. At the door, Frank said, “Wolf.”

  Lew turned around. “Yes?”

  “I may be doing you a favor, but I can hire another you, too.”

  Lew left without responding. Down the hall, an overwhelming tiredness dragged his shoulders down. He walked into his office and threw the folder onto his desk. Papers flew from it and landed on the floor. The folder itself teetered near the edge. Lew shut the door behind him and pushed the ‘do-not-disturb’ button on his telephone. He stretched out on the floor with his head on his briefcase and fell asleep in less than a minute.

  When he awoke an hour and a half later, his mouth felt dry and sticky. He could smell the carpet cleaner. His back cracked as he climbed to his feet. In three deep breaths, Lew felt consciousness returning. His head cleared. Although he hoped he had been dreaming, he knew better, and cursed Frank under his breath. Then he cursed Craig, Milly the secretary, Bob down the hall, and everyone else in the building, sending them all to Hell and back to pay for his pain. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his face.

  Sitting down at his desk, Lew picked up the phone and retrieved thirteen messages. Thirteen, he thought, How fucking appropriate. When he was through taking down names and numbers, he scooped up the paperwork from the tossed folder.

  “Sounds like some goddamn outcast fucking religious group to me,” he said under his breath. “Vision quest my ass.” The rest of the afternoon, Lew returned calls and organized his thoughts. The sleep had gotten him back on track, at least for the afternoon. And, as an added bonus, as he worked through to six o’clock, his anxiety began to subside a little for the first time in what seemed like months. When he left the building, Lew saw that Craig was still in his office working diligently at the computer. Lew made it a point to say goodnight.

  Even though he’d been instrumental in training Craig, since Craig’s first solo client, Lew had backed away from personal contact. He knew that his distance had hurt Craig’s feelings at first, but he didn’t care. On his own, Craig had become a competitor. Saying goodnight was about as nice as he’d been to anyone in months.

  That night, Frank’s final words in their conversation began to bother Lew. He turned, once again, to Joe, the only friend he felt he had left in the world.

  “Hello,” Joe answered.

  “Hey, I caught you at home.”

  “You’re lucky, Wolf, this is usually my night on duty,” he joked.

  “So, how’s it going?” Lew said.

  “I’m just sitting down to dinner, Wolf, so, without being too rude to an old friend, what can I do for you?”

  “Friend.” Lew repeated. “We have been, haven’t we? For some reason I’ve always been able to count on you being there.”

  “Gary, too,” Joe said, “no matter how rotten you two are to each other sometimes.”

  “He still blows me off when I call.”

  “He doesn’t know how to relate to you, but he still takes your calls. He tries, doesn’t he?”

  “I guess. But I didn’t call to discuss Gary.”

  “I know. So...”

  “They’re sending me to New Mexico.”

  “Who’s sending you?”

  “Work.”

  “Sounds great to me. Why do you sound so bummed about it?”

  “Charity job. And probably impossible to get. Some religious fanatics making idols. Probably guns, too, for all I know.”

  “What, some sort of mountain men, or something?”

  “No. Indians. I don’t know shit about Indians. How can I manipulate them into some New York contract? What do Indians like?” Lew waited, and when Joe didn’t respond, he said, “I don’t want to do this job. I feel like Frank is setting me up. He as much as said he was getting rid of me.”

  “Maybe you misinterpreted him. You haven’t been sleeping lately.”

  “I’m not misinterpreting this one.”

  “Then I think you should go. Show him up. If you do this, he’ll change his mind. You’re getting another chance to prove yourself.” Joe said.

  “A slim chance.”

  “You’ve got a chance, Wolf. It’s only slim if you make it that way.”

  “I hear you.” Lew sighed.

  “You know what I think?”

  “No, Joe, what?”

  “Think of it as a vacation, a learning vacation. Take extra days to relax. I’ve been telling you to do that anyway.”

  “That’s what Frank said.”

  “There you go,” Joe said immediately.

  Lew signed again. “You know, maybe you’re both right.”

  “You sound better already.”

  “Oddly enough, the closer I get to it, the better I do feel.”

  “You’re getting another chance, I can feel it. Don’t blow this one.”

  Lew recognized the sound of chewing. “Dinner time,” Lew said, “I’ll let you go.”

  “Call if you need to talk. I mean it, Wolf. Anytime.”

  “I know. And I will.”

  “Great. See you later.”

  Lew placed the handset into its cradle and leaned back onto the sofa. He breathed deeply several times and allowed his body to relax into a feeling of complete fatigue. For thirty minutes he sat, enervated, and stared blankly with nothing in his thoughts. He scooted over on the sofa and, using one of the back cushions as a pillow, put his head down and drew his feet up. He drifted off.

  At 2:00 a.m., Lew awoke with a terribly stiff neck. He stood up and stretched his limbs. He had slept soundly, yet needed more. After getting a tall glass of water and slugging it straight down, he undressed and crawled into bed. The cool sheets felt inviting; his pillow was a blessing after the sofa cushion. He rolled onto his back and folded his hands over his chest. He thought about his new assignment for a little while. He hadn’t even reviewed the folder Frank had given him. First thing in the morning, he promised himself. First thing.

  By the time six o’clock rolled around, Lew couldn’t have slept any longer if he had wanted to. He had slept nearly eleven hours as it was, between the sofa and his bed. Sitting up, he felt more alive than he had for days. He rotated his neck
from side to side, up and down, trying to stretch and loosen the stiffness that had set in. Light from outside shot through the window in great rays, sparking dust motes. The air took on a new liveliness and vibrancy. Lew exhaled completely, until his lungs were empty, then inhaled as though he’d been deep in the ocean and had just come up for air. Amazing, he thought, what a good night’s sleep could do.

  He showered, shaved and brushed his teeth, then dressed in a dark suit with faded violet and wine colored pin stripes, a white shirt, and boldly artistic tie with swatches of color randomly splashed over it. On his way out the door, he grabbed the job folder Frank had given him, and tucked it under his arm.

  The cool morning air refreshed him, humidity was low, the sun out, and the sky clear. Lew headed straight for the subway, planning to hit the Marriot Hotel restaurant for breakfast. At a table in an out-of the-way corner, he looked over the contents of the folder.

  Not much to go on, he thought. He scanned a list of names with question marks after them, a brief explanation as to what they were doing—vague and inconclusive for the most part—and copies of some private notes and letters to Frank from his informant. The informant’s name had been cut from the letters, and parts of the notes had been covered before copying. Dark lines and large white spaces gave away the areas of exclusion. It all seemed very secretive and vague to Lew, oddly mysterious. But, as intriguing as it was, he still felt cheated in being handed the assignment at all. Frank had not actually asserted himself in such a manner for years. Lew had usually gone after clients he felt he could get, or volunteered to produce proposals for companies that he knew had approached the firm.

  As Joe had said, if he could prove his abilities to negotiate and manipulate in this type of situation, Frank would have to turn around. Lew knew that this one assignment would not be the deciding factor for his permanent employment; but it would go a long way in holding Frank in check until Lew could regain his footing. He’d have to work hard for a while.

  Lew ate waffles and yogurt over fruit while he read through the material, then got up, paid his tab and left. The walk to the office cleared his mind, and he noticed a sharpness to his concentration that had not been there for a long while. He reviewed what he had read that morning, over and over, in his mind. His eyes glazed over. He stared straight ahead, unfocused. He bumped into a solid young man with long black hair and dark eyes. The folder flew from his hand and onto the sidewalk. When he bent to retrieve the papers, Lew found himself face to face with the man.