Remember Me (30 page)

“And to the fortunes of men,” Tom added. He drained the

last of his glass and searched the room for the waiter. Catching our waiter’s eye, he gave him a stern look. The waiter hustled over to the table and asked if he could refill Tom’s glass. “Why don’t you just bring us a bottle, then I won’t be hunting for you when I’m out.”

“Yes sir, right away!” The waiter said in polished form and then turned with practiced patience and made his way to the bar. “You didn’t have to be so rude,” Amy chastised Tom.

“Rude, you want to talk about rude? What about the waiter putting his hand on your shoulder while he filled your water glass. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Tom, please don’t ruin the evening. He didn’t do anything out of line!” Amy pleaded with him.

I watched them, and I saw the start of what Amy would

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not realize until years later. Tom was jealous, controlling, and conceited. It was always about him and if it wasn’t, he made sure it turned out that way.

“If you hadn’t over-dressed, I’m sure he wouldn’t have

taken such notice of you,” Tom said as sarcastically as he could.

Amy recoiled as if she’d been hit by a slap. I could feel my blood rising. I didn’t know what to do or say. Amy spoke to us, “Excuse me while I go to the restroom.” She rose from the table and I could see the tears at the corner of her eyes. She turned her face away from me as she made her way past.

“Damn her anyway,” Tom mumbled.

I would have years of dealing with him in the future. I knew what not to say and what not to do. Silence was the optimum choice in this matter. I ignored him and drank from my wine glass while I looked over the menu. When the waiter stopped by the table with a new bottle of the house Merlot, I beat Tom to the draw and snagged the bottle from the waiter’s hand. I refilled my own glass and then tilting the top towards him, refilled his as he lifted his glass. I put the bottle down close to my plate. He would have to ask for me to pass it to him. It was another one of my, “I’m in control,” gestures.

When Amy came back, she had regained her smile and sat

down as if nothing had transpired. I knew her too well. She was easy going, almost to a fault. She had buried Tom’s comment, and now she was moving on like it had never been said.

She addressed us with an excited, “Anything look exciting on the menu?”

“The Veal Scaloppini Marsala caught my eye,” I responded.

“Ooh…I see they have Osso buco with risotto,” Amy perfectly hummed as she studied the menu. The mood at the table had eased, and even Tom turned his attention to the task at hand— deciphering all the delicacies to choose from.

The waiter appeared promptly after Tom closed his menu.

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He was good, and I knew a fortuitous tip would be forthcoming from me. We ordered more than we could possibly eat

comfortably, but given the celebratory nature of the dinner, why not? I could have kept Amy in conversation all by myself, but I knew it would be disastrous to her to do so. Knowing Tom and how he would see it, he was the reason she was here, and he alone deserved the attention. I doted on him the best I could, padding his ego. I tried to make my comments to Amy generic and polite. I never let my eyes linger too long on her or let my smile get out of hand.

When Tom excused himself to go to the bathroom, Amy

reached over and placed her hand on my arm, but only when she was sure Tom was out of eyesight. “Pete, I personally want to thank you for all you are doing for Tom and especially for this wonderful dinner.” Her eyes glimmered and the candle-light reflected in the pure blueness of them. “You really are one in a million.”

Silence was the only response I had. It was all I could do to hold it together. When Amy’s face took on a concerned look, I found a voice, not quite as strong as I hoped for, “For the dinner, you are most welcome. Thank you for your thoughtfulness and wonderful companionship.” I’d said it, plain as day, and I couldn’t take it back.

Amy let her hand rest a moment longer on my arm and

then with the sweet little smile I missed so much, she lifted it and reached for her wine glass. She took a small sip and after setting it down looked me directly in the eye and quietly said,

“Thank you.”

Tom returned and the rest of the evening went along without any other notable moments. After coffee and dessert, I paid the bill. The tip I left was twenty percent and well deserved. Tom’s ears were a nice shade of red, indicating his level of intoxication. He out drank Amy and me put together, S 225 S

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three-to-one. I watched as he passed her the car keys from his pocket without saying a word. He wouldn’t always be a conscientious drunk. He wouldn’t ever be classified as an alcoholic.

There was never an obsession that way, but in the throes of a party he rarely was able to stop.

Amy took a moment to thank me again. As she stood facing me, I could sense the uncertainty of her thoughts. In the end she reached out and shook my hand. I was reasonably sure she had wanted to give me a hug. I was betting that she already understood what her role with Tom was going to be. We said our goodnights, and they left. My night could not end soon enough, I was emotionally drained!

I headed back to the motel. I knew better than to try and drive back to Des Moines after a night of modest drinking. I would get some sleep and drive back late tomorrow morning.

Knowing this ahead of time, I had set up a meeting with Jasper Thurington for breakfast. I was paying of course, I would always be paying. My ability to fall asleep was disruptive at best.

The room was either too hot or too cold, depending on the cycle of the air conditioner. It was also reflective of my personal emotions. One moment I wanted to chuck it all and make a plea to Amy, “Run away with me. I promise to make you happy for as long as I live.” Even I had to laugh at that thought…

“Cradle robber.” She only saw me as a fatherly figure and nothing more. She might be Amy, nearly my Amy on the inside, but she wasn’t yet her on the outside.

The pain I felt for her was real and intolerable—I loved her! God I missed and needed her more than my exhausted

brain could handle. Having her so close to me was like eating chicken soup when you didn’t feel good. It was a bright spot, but what you needed most was a good shot of penicillin.

I needed her! My mind fought with the reality of my situation.

This Amy wouldn’t ever be mine; so what was I going to do for S 226 S

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the rest of my life? I still had the need and desire to be close with someone. That someone was Amy and it always would be.

Knowing I couldn’t have her could I make it all alone by myself?

My heart would forever belong to Amy, and I would never be able to give it to anyone else. Having her near me, like tonight, intensified the need within me. If I didn’t find a way to control it—it would eventually consume me. I was confused within my heart and my soul. My Amy was alive, not dead, not divorced, not abandoned. She lived in the future. This Amy wasn’t mine, and it was time for me to acknowledge it.

I should never have let myself get into this position, Stacy was right. There was no going back now. I tossed and turned, beat the pillows, and when sleep finally came, it tackled me on the one yard line. I was just starting to wrap my thoughts around a notion when I fell asleep. I lost it to the dream world and the pleasures of being reunited with the one I so dearly loved.

The next morning Jasper was himself and then some. We

shared a breakfast at Perkins. I was only able to order some fruit and toast. I was still feeling the weight of the food from the night before. What I lacked in appetite, Thurington more than made up for. We talked over coffee for nearly an hour after our breakfast dishes had been cleared away. I filled him in on the warehouse and the current stock of things.

Like Tom, his questions were more on the “me” side.

“When do you think you will see any money coming in from production?” Not, “When do you think you will be ready for production?” Thurington I could handle, but I was seriously beginning to wonder about my ability to surround myself with quality individuals. All-in-all, the time with Jasper was well spent for a change. Thurington gave me the name of several colleagues I could call in my search for technical experts.

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notebook paper. Ever the professional, he also listed their telephone number and area of expertise next to their names. To top it off, he added their crowning achievements and where they taught or worked.

I couldn’t resist. I patted my pockets like I’d forgotten my wallet. I even gave him my best sorrowful face— complete with an open handed gesture of my sorry failure. Thurington didn’t even bite. He promptly headed to the bathroom, which was conveniently placed on the other side of the cash register. I smiled to myself as I paid the bill. I went outside before Thurington left the bathroom. Without waiting for him I got in my car and made the short trip back to the motel. After checking out I climbed into My Blazer and headed back to Des Moines.

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In search of a “geek.”

November 24th 1987

Life goes on…sometimes.
For me, life had become an obsession of denial. I both hated and loved what I was doing. If God truly gives you a second chance to redeem yourself, then I was in the midst of a renaissance. In many ways I had become closer to people who mattered. I was focused on trying to make it a better world. I was still outmanned, outnumbered, and one card shy of a straight-flush. Even so, I was still in the game and playing to win.

I called my broker in the middle of August and told him

to liquidate all of my stock holdings. I instructed him to put the proceeds into short-term government bonds. He did every song and dance there was to get me to stay in the market.

Since the beginning of the year, the Dow had risen from 1897

to over 2700. Chance, my current broker, and a perfect name for someone dealing in equities, was insistent that the Dow would continue to increase throughout the next millennium.

In the end and with deep regret, he complied with my wishes.

CJ on the other hand was grateful for the tip and said, “I’ll pass it on.”

I knew what none of them did. October 19, 1987 would

forever be known as “Black Monday.” The Dow, following in line with the dismantling of stock markets around the world, would drop over 508 points or 22.6% in one day. By the end of the year the DOW would still be positive for the year. It S 229 S

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would take two more years before it would once again reach the heights in did in August.

I hated profiting on the misery of others. I was going to need some major cash infusion over the next few years, and the crash gave me an opportunity. I really had no idea which stocks to purchase once the market tanked. I couldn’t remember anything other than “Black Monday.” It didn’t matter; the old truism seemed to work out in the end. You should buy on the “turmoil” and sell on the “exuberance” in the markets. It really helps to know which is which.

The timing couldn’t be any worse, as CJ informed me

that my bets would need to be smaller. The whole “Family”

had become
persona non gratis
in the betting arenas of the sports world. Their current winning streak…over two years and counting had made them poor odds for other bettors. I couldn’t help but laugh when CJ shared that little tidbit with me. He suggested I fly to Vegas and make my bets legitimately.

Again I laughed, and this time he did too. The odds wouldn’t be quite as good in Las Vegas, but I should be able to more than double the amounts of my bets.

It just so happened that this year the World Series and the stock market crash were going to coincide. I made sure to let everyone, (everyone who meant anything to me,) know

about the impending doom on the horizon, albeit, except

one…okay two people. I didn’t tell Thurston or Tom. Nothing would make me happier than to watch them lose a bundle. I had mixed feelings for not telling Tom because of Amy, but in the end I kept the news to myself. I knew Tom had taken a huge portion of his signing bonus and purchased a stock portfolio with it. Tom would always leave me with a nagging suspicion about his integrity. I made a mental note to make sure that one of the first hires I made would be a top-notch security advisor.

I didn’t trust Tom as far as I could spit him!

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September was relatively calm as it pertained to business.

Tom and I continued to lay out the plans for the E.M.J. I had also been in contact with several of the names on Thurington’s list of experts. By talking with them I had garnered three potential candidates to contact. There was one name on the list that stood out to me, and I couldn’t put my finger on it as to why. It wasn’t a feeling of negativity, just the opposite. Some forgotten tidbit from deep in my memory caused me to think that I should take a closer look at him. His name was Stebben Burkle. My first passing thought was of the similarity to Steven Urkle, the character on “Family Matters.” I wondered if his name wasn’t the same name of Steven Urkle’s alter-ego during the later episodes. It didn’t feel right, so I let it slide. I flew to New York one weekend and to Los Angeles the following weekend. I met with and interviewed both of the other two candidates. While they showed promise, intelligence and enthusiasm, for whatever reason they just didn’t click with me. I never felt the desire to share more than just cursory information.

Stebben Burkle was a lot harder to pin down. He was attending the University of Oklahoma and was working on his PhD in Applied Sciences, emphasis in Engineering Science. I spoke to his mentor, Chuck Drolet, pronounced “Drah-let,”

which he ceremoniously corrected me on during our first contact. Chuck was full of questions, and by the way he asked them I got the impression he’d like me to bother someone else. Even with Thurington’s name tossed in, he was less than cooperative, or then again it might have been the reason for his indifference.