by Guy Rosmarin
“Doctor Spencer,” Gottlieb’s voice pulled him out of his daydream. “I believe you know Mr. Griffin…and this young gentleman is Mr. Williams.”
Startled, Andy quickly got to his feet. “Andy Spencer,” he offered his hand in a pretense of a friendly gesture. The younger of the two reached for it with an unexpected spark of enthusiasm.
“Luke Williams. It’s a great pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Andy said and turned to the other. “John,” he said, keeping his smile intact.
“Mr. Spencer.”
“Shall we…” Gottlieb directed the men to their seats, trying to break the apparent tension. Andy moved from the corner and sat next to the dean across from the other two.
“There’s no question that everyone at Gilford and Edwards appreciate Mr. Spencer’s unprecedented contribution and will value it for years to come,” Griffin fired the first shot, “but you must understand that G&E is a place of business, and with all the good intentions invested in this, our support for a fruitless project cannot continue.”
“Fruitless project?” Gottlieb barged in as Andy pulled out the pile of documents from his folder. “The book is practically finished. You are well aware that Doctor Spencer is at his final research stage…”
“Doctor Gottlieb, we’ve been hearing that for the past three years and the book is still not finished.”
“That’s only because you’re dealing with a historian who finds outlet in nothing short of perfection, the best researcher in the field who would not dare attempt to conclude his work before getting his facts straight. Believe me, the reason why this is taking so long is certainly not because Doctor Spencer is taking his time.” Gottlieb snatched the pile from Andy’s hands and placed it in the center of the table. “Here, this will give you insight into what it takes to be Anderson Spencer.”
“What am I looking at? An itinerary?”
“Only the last three years of it,” Gottlieb answered.
“How does this help us?” Griffin took a quick glance and passed the document over to his apprentice.
“Well, if you’d look closely, you’ll see that since early 1998, not a single month went by without at least two trips abroad. That means that when Doctor Spencer is not teaching, he is scouting information. He doesn’t take sick days or vacations.”
“Very impressive, but I’m afraid that’s not going to push the deadline. Not this time.” Griffin straightened up the pile and handed it back to Andy. “If you’re not able to back your conclusion with facts, I suggest you make something up.”
“What? You’re joking, right?” Andy forced a chuckle.
“No. I’m dead serious. If that’s what it takes.”
Andy rolled his eyes. “John…”
“Look, you’re a writer.” Griffin cut him short. “You’re good with words, as we all know. I trust you can produce a valid conclusion that will convince your readers to make this another best seller.”
“Let me give you a little insight about the genre of literature I am associated with, if you don’t already know. Maybe you were not properly informed, but one fact you cannot dispute is that I am a historian.”
“I am well aware of that, Mr. Spencer…”
“Doctor Spencer.” Andy silenced the interruption with aggression that surprised everyone in the room including the dean. “PhD in history, to be precise, which means I write historical books. Not fiction.”
“I’m not asking you to write a novel…Doctor Spencer,” Griffin pronounced slowly and clearly the last two words. “All I’m asking you is to consider summing up your work with a speculative argument as an alternative solution if you fail to gather the evidence that is so… impossible to find.”
“Look John, I don’t write history. I write about history, and that is the sole reason why it is essential for me to gather accurate historical evidence before I come to conclusions. Otherwise, I would have nothing to write about.”
Andy’s voice echoed in the conference room. Griffin rubbed his chin with a tense thumb. “That was very convincing.” His delayed response broke the silence. He grabbed his briefcase, rose from the chair, and signaled his assistant to do the same. “You made a good point, and there’s nothing I could say to counter that,” he said as the two began to walk away from the table. “Unfortunately, I did not come here to renegotiate the terms of your contract.”
“So why are you here?”
“To inform you personally that a complete manuscript is due by the tenth of October. If you fail to meet that deadline, the project will be dropped.”
“So that’s that?”
“I’m sorry Andy.” Griffin put on an apologetic face. “This was called from above.” He bit his lower lip and followed his assistant to the door.
“Sorry my ass.” Andy slipped an irritated whisper while chewing on his thumbnail. “I’ve never seen a bigger smile on his preppy face. Do you really think he had no authority to extend a deadline?”
“Maybe we pushed him too far this time.” Gottlieb gently patted Andy’s shoulder. “To be perfectly honest, I was more surprised to see you losing your temper.”
“Maybe Griffin’s right. I mean, I’d do us both a huge favor if I’d finish the damn book, even if it means an ‘inconclusive ending’ or risking the integrity of the research.”
Gottlieb shook his head. “Let’s not lose ourselves in desperation over this. We still have another six months. I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.” He turned off the lights and followed Andy into the empty hallway. “No, no, the other way. We’re going to my office…lunch.”
Andy hesitated for a moment, not sure if had the appetite. “I guess I can use a bite,” he finally said.
“Turkey, pastrami, and roast beef,” Gottlieb identified the three trays of subs set on his desk.
“Who’s gonna eat all of that?”
“It was meant for four, but these two clowns did not deserve it. Whatever we don’t finish, you take home with you!”
“How about we split it.”
“No, no. There’s no negotiation here. You don’t have a Mrs. to get you fat with good home cooking. I do.”
During lunch the two discussed very little of the bad tiding, but the elephant kept lingering in the room. When Andy gathered his briefcase and showed himself to the door, the bitter aftertaste of reality pinched his gland. Gottlieb could see the anguish in his eyes.
“I’m really sorry about the way things turned out this morning, Andy.”
“Oh no, no. You did a fantastic job. I’m the one who blew it. I don’t buy Griffin’s ‘incompetence’ argument,” Andy forced himself to look up and smile. “Seems to me like a lousy excuse to get even with me for proving him wrong last time.”
“Don’t blame it all on yourself, son. It was a lost cause from the start. I knew it when I spoke to Griffin on the phone last week. I didn’t mention any of it to you only because I had a spark of hope that together we would be able to convince him to drop the issue.”
Andy let out a smile, a real sincere smile. “I can’t thank you enough for all your efforts and dedication in this never-ending project.”
“Hey, hey, we are in this together…and it’s not over yet!”
“Of course not. This research is on until something comes up. And if nothing comes up, we’ll figure something out.”
“That we will. That we will,” Gottlieb nodded. “Don’t forget this.” He handed Andy a large paper bag with the remaining lunch subs.
Andy’s feet betrayed his original plan to go straight home and dragged him to his office instead. He sat by his untidy desk and buried his face in his hands. Before long, the sheer disappointment from the meeting’s aftermath turned to indifference. An hour or two passed before he realized he was wasting precious time idling by his desk. He grabbed his briefcase and jolted out. On the ride home h
e managed to switch his focus to the work still left to be done. Only after he was two-thirds of the way in, he realized he had completely forgotten it was Tuesday. The first chance he had, he pulled by the side of the road and dialed Nate, but there was no signal, so he made a quick U-turn and headed downtown.
Chapter 21
“You boys switched roles?” Pat hollered across the busy bar when he caught sight of Andy stretching his neck above the crowd.
“You know where he is?” Andy shouted back.
Pat pointed towards the back. Andy turned to look and nodded when he spotted Nate sitting by a small table in a shady corner right next to the bathroom. “Great,” he moaned. “Picking proper real estate was never his strong suit.”
Andy pushed his way through, watching Nate repeatedly checking his wristwatch. When he made it to his table, Nate was still searching for him in the crowd. “Hey there,” Andy said with an apologetic smile.
“Oh, here he is. Not only is he half an hour late, he doesn’t even answer my calls,” Nate wiggled his cellphone in the air. “Seriously man, the only reason why I’m still here is because I was worried about you.”
“I’m really, really sorry. I had such a crazy day. I was going to call this off, but…”
“Call this off?” Nate slammed his beer glass on the table “You don’t call this off. This is a sacred ritual. You can call to say that you’re late, but you don’t have the authority to call it off!”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Andy smiled. “I really need to talk.” he glanced at an empty glass that stood on the little round table while Nate was getting the last sip from the one he had in his hand.
“Oh….” Nate wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I had to dig into yours. What did you expect me to do? You never showed up. I got lonely. We can get another round, though. On you, of course.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I was thinking maybe we should be taking this somewhere else, it’s too crowded here, too loud.”
“What did you have in mind—romantic atmosphere, somewhere where we can whisper and hold hands?”
Andy smiled. “Actually, there’s a new place I got my eyes on. It’s right down the block.”
“Do they serve alcohol?”
“Not as far as I know, but I heard they’ve got some really good espressos, and right now, a good espresso is exactly what I need.”
“But what about me, and more importantly, what about Pat? Don’t you think he’s gonna feel betrayed?”
“You had enough for one evening, and I’m sure Pat will be fine.” Andy pulled a couple of tens from his wallet and dropped them on the table.
“Well…if you think you can buy me, I guess I’m for sale.” Nate got up and extended his arm in a gesture of submission.
The interior was lit by reddish, dim light from flickering candles. Except for the two waitresses chatting with the man tending the espresso bar, Nate and Andy were the only ones there. Andy was pleased. It was what he had hoped for.
“Anybody home?” Nate hollered. “This place is like a ghost town. Are you sure they serve anything good in here?”
“Just give it a try. One espresso. If it’s not as good as they say, we’ll go somewhere else.”
One of the waitresses approached and showed them to a table. “One espresso?” she echoed Andy with a smile.
“Make that a double.”
“And for you?”
“I’ll have a cappuccino.” The waitress nodded.
“You owe me big time. This is not what I had in mind.” Nate pointed at the flickering red candle. “Is this about your dreams?”
Andy smiled. “Just the one dream. I keep coming back to it every night.” Nate shook his head. “What?”
“We had another look at that photo Saturday night?”
“What photo?”
“The one from Jan’s Granny’s house.”
“And?”
“Everyone agreed that the resemblance was absolutely astounding.”
“Oh. That photo. And what did you think?”
“I said the guy in the picture didn’t look like you. He was you.”
“And then what?”
Nate sighed. “Then Jan got very upset at me for making fun of her nana, which I wasn’t. Honest, I wasn’t. And now…now I’m officially in the doghouse until further notice.” Andy laughed. “See what you got me into?”
The waitress arrived with drinks. “Cappuccino,” she lifted an oversized mug with a star shape carved in the foam.
“That’ll be me,” Nate raised his hand high up in the air.
“And…a double espresso.”
Andy nodded, and then closed his eyes and breathed in the strong aroma.
“Looks like a piece of art,” Nate said, “and smells like…ummm. Too bad I’m too intoxicated to enjoy the taste of it.”
“Wait until you try it.”
Nate took a little sip and gaped at his mug with admiration. “Wow,” he said. “I think Pat is in danger of losing us to cappuccinos.”
“Maybe just for tonight.”
Nate took a deep breath and stretched in his seat. “I’ve been thinking about it, you know,” he said. “I even lost some sleep over it, if it makes you feel any better. It may sound a little strange coming from me, but I think there’s more to it than a mere coincidence.”
“If you’re trying to pull my chops, it’s not working.”
“No bud, I’m serious. It’s that Harvard sweatshirt you…I mean that guy was wearing in the old photo.”
“What about it?”
“I looked into it…just out of curiosity. And guess what, they only started making sweatshirts carrying universities logos somewhere in the mid-fifties.”
“And…?”
“That photo was taken somewhere in the early forties.”
“Yeah.” Andy stared at golden foam atop the black espresso.
“No need to get so excited,” Nate raised his brow.
“You should not encourage me to delve deeper into this mystery. I know it’s just a dream.”
“What else could it be?”
“Well, I hope I’m wrong, but I think I’m becoming delusional and it’s starting to affect my life in a very bad way.”
“What way?”
“I don’t know, maybe I am in need of some serious therapy.” Andy looked up. “What do you say, any good recommendations?”
“Wow, wow. At least give me the courtesy of being the judge of that.”
“I failed to get an extension for the deadline on my book earlier today, not to mention being very close to losing the contract the way I talked to that pretentious son of a bitch. But what I’m really concerned about now,” Andy raised his voice preventing Nate from interrupting, “is that ever since that meeting ended, I was completely oblivious to its outcomes.” Nate stared at him with a crooked gaze. “Seriously, man, all I can think about is what I’m going to do the moment I fall asleep. It’s like I’m living in parallel realities, and the one that is supposedly not real is taking top priority. I’m telling you, if it’s going to continue like this I’ll end up putting seven years of hard work to waste.” He slipped a bitter smile and let his eyes sink in the dark remains of the espresso in his cup.
“You said it was just a dream,” Nate said, breaking the silence, “with more conviction this time, I must add,” he paused. “So what made you so sure this time?”
“Well,” Andy took a deep breath, “I uh…I killed a top Gestapo officer.”
“You did what now?” Nate put his mug down, chuckling. “I didn’t know you had it in you, killer.”
“I didn’t mean to, it’s just that…anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that when I looked him up last night…”
“You mean this guy is real too?”
“Oh yes, he’
s real alright. He was one of those notorious sadists spawned in hell to climb up the Nazi ranks.”
“Well, who…”
“What matters is not who he is, but the fact that he died about six months after I killed him in my dream.”
Nate gave another one of his crooked looks. “So how does this make it more of a dream than before?”
“It’s a proof that my actions do not affect reality. In other words, all that madness is in my head.” He fell silent and let his eyes wander aimlessly. “Does this make any sense to you?”
Nate slowly shook his head. “Let me get this straight, you’re saying that based on this one instance, you’re ruling out all your previous convictions?”
“I didn’t have any previous convictions,” Andy said. I only speculated, and this one instance is enough to rule out any speculations.”
“Careful there, pal. This Cartesian reasoning may lead you to prove that God exists.”
Andy let out half a smile that quickly faded.
Nate sighed. “I don’t wish to encourage you to consume yourself with ludicrous speculations, but I think you should not be so quick to dismiss what only a few days ago you regarded with such high esteem.”
“So now you don’t think there’s a scientific explanation to all of this?”
“Oh, there must be, and we will find it. But that does not undermine the fact that ever since you left for Costa Rica last week, you’ve been experiencing a series of undeniably abnormal, if not paranormal, occurrences that may or may not be related to this ongoing dream that registers so clearly in your head.”
“But that does not contradict the possibility that all of this is still in my head.”
“Well, some of the things you’ve experienced were obviously not just in your head. Like the reaction of the old man when he saw you, or the way that Jan’s grandma behaved. And…” Nate paused, “there’s that photo, which is definitely not a figment of your imagination, or mine.”
