No U Turn. Michael TaylorЧитать онлайн книгу.
To gain some momentum, I exaggerated just slightly, “I think you have led an unusual life and want to capture all of your funny stories. The ones Hannah and I have heard for years, plus the ones we missed. I know most of the rough facts from the parts of your life when we weren’t in close contact, but not the details.”
Silence.
Before completely losing him, and hoping his ego was considering the offer, I made my final pitch. “It will only take about two—, to 4 hours a day—at the most.”
Boogie’s muffled groan was clearly audible.
Hoping that the demand for something in return (for a change), plus the not too subtle flattery was sufficient, I asked cheerfully, “How does that sound? Not too difficult in return for room and board, I hope? And we’ll spread the interview around depending on how each of us feels. Based on past experience, I find that either from boredom or fatigue, or just the need for food and bathroom breaks, most people can only go for about 60-90 minutes per session. So, what do you think?”
“We’ll work something out,” said Boogie, without making any specific commitment and devoid of much conviction or passion. Following another silence, he eventually and not unexpectedly gave me his practiced, “Let me go. I have a customer walking in. I’ll call you when I’ve made arrangements,” and quickly hung up.
Sitting there a few seconds, I decided that nothing was going to come of that conversation. Another failed attempt on my part for getting him to show any humanity or decency. Getting up, I went to Hannah to share the conversation, knowing after thirty plus years that she often saw through the smoke screens of people and would come up with something revealing that I had missed.
Retelling the brief call (one could not really call it a conversation), Hannah quickly decided, “He’s up to something! He just doesn’t call for the heck of it. Probably won’t call back unless he needs something. Besides, it’s only June and he’ll change his mind or make other plans or just won’t show up. Don’t worry about it.”
“And if he does?”
“So he’ll come for a few days. No big deal. We’re used to his BS for a long time. And maybe he’ll cooperate and you may get the interview you want, anyway. It’s worth a try.”
She hadn’t finished before my cell again vibrated and rang. It hadn’t been ten minutes.
“All set. I got a great deal on a rental car and a really cheap flight on Air Tran and will arrive from Florida on Thursday afternoon August 5th and leave Wednesday the 10th.”
Dumbfounded at the finality of his plans, it was me who was briefly silent.
After Hannah and I had said ‘Yes,’ I was expecting him to research the details and get back to me in a few days—not get a call back almost immediately! And I never expected him to change the dates or the length of stay. Too many changes from our conversation. Too many places to yell ‘What the hell is going on?’ It overwhelms me every time. I always am astounded and speechless when someone is a Dumb Ass and says something totally startling. I just don’t respond well, let alone immediately, to rude or unnecessarily aggressive people.
I eventually said, “I know money is tight and I could pick you up and drop you off just to save you a few bucks.”
“No, I got a rental. It will be fine. See you then.”
“OK, see you then,” as I closed the phone’s lid.
“H, you won’t believe this!” I called out to Hannah as I climbed the stairs and stood in the doorway of the front bedroom. Converted to a guest room 8 years ago—with the departure of our now 30-year-old married son, David, and the recent addition of a computer—it had become a semi-office/work space for paying the bills. “Hannah, just to be sure … what dates did Benjamin say he wanted to come here and visit?”
For some reason Hannah’s Southern refinement and upbringing doesn’t allow her to call him ‘Boogie,’ and she always uses his given name. I occasionally try to accommodate her.
“For four—, or 5 days, sometime at the end of July. Why?” Hannah’s face tensed sharply in anticipation of some unanticipated change. She is quicker than me when it comes to setting up defenses and preparing for bad news or unforeseen changes to her plans.
“Well, that was Ben. He called to confirm that he had just purchased non-refundable tickets starting the first week in …August. For six nights!”
“I knew it. He’s up to something. It was too convenient that he asked for one date and in a few minutes has a confirmed reservation that doesn’t match the original two-week window. I’ll bet he was sitting at a computer waiting ‘til we said OK then hit the purchase button based on price rather than dates. What a cheapskate! It’s always about money. I just know he has another agenda up his sleeve for wanting to come here.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Boogie called me three weeks later. “Meant to tell you, I’m still coming, but I will be staying at a motel the first two nights.”
Small shock, but not really surprised at another change in his story, I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Well, I just heard that someone was suing me, and that a Hearing is being held early Friday morning. So I’ll just stay out near the airport Thursday night.”
“What do you mean, ‘You just heard’?”
“Well I just changed stores again and moved and even though I haven’t received a subpoena, I figured I better show up to clear up things instead of asking for a postponement or be held in contempt.”
“Oh, that explains everything,” I said, trying to disguise my bad attitude with just a slight rise in voice. Asking a little louder, “Tell me again why you are being subpoenaed?”
“I’m being sued.”
“Well, are we going to play ‘Twenty-Questions’ or are we going to my friend the dentist and try and pull teeth to get some more information?” I asked acerbically.
Not missing a beat, or just oblivious to my intended insult, Boogie immediately answered, but in a shockingly straightforward and factual way, “He says I owe him $20,000.”
“Do you?”
A brief silence followed.
With no clear ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ Boogie just went on with his version of the truth, as if he never heard my question. “Before—when I left Maryland—the attorney told me to run up all my credit cards to the max, then declare Bankruptcy. The credit card companies have left me alone, but this guy wants his money.”
≈ It’s amazing how, when he gets caught in a lie—or a truth concealed—by someone asking the wrong question—or not wording the question just right—he answers in a normal tone of voice, never admitting his lie or mistake. He merely responds as if it’s just time to move on. Mystifying! ≈
“Does he have a Cousin Guido?” I kidded.
Laughing, “No, or he wouldn’t be taking me to Court. He’d be taking me for a ride.”
“And Friday night?”
“I have to check on my house in Bowie, so tell Hannah I won’t be needing a bed until Saturday.”
“I just want to remind you that I need time to interview you. I’ve spent about fifty—, to 60 hours researching and buying the right recorder and figuring out its compatibility with voice files and speech recognition software, microphones, headphones and Dragon Speak. Because my typing sucks, I thought it would be fun to record you then play it back slowly, while I repeated your words, letting DNS type my dictation. Easier for me to correct and edit after I get it roughed out.”
I knowingly used initials and