THE SOJOURNER PART 9

The little boy dragged himself in.
It was obvious he'd been crying.
He wiped his face with the back of his hands...
With some effort, he controls the heaving of his chest.
"Today, we want to start winding down. You have all been wonderful sports. Thank you.
Do READ, REACT AND RECOMMEND.
See you in a little while."

---

It was his first day at the eatery. Determined to learn the ropes quickly, he watched closely as the staff went about their work. He asked questions, and even took notes. For someone who had an MBA, this was a far cry from what he’d envisaged. His dream had involved a huge desk in an air-conditioned office the size of a hotel suite, an official car and a secretary to boot. Instead, here he was watching people eat and contemplating how to improve their processes.

He was just about to head to his office when the door swung open. He made a mental note, a doorman was needed. That information had not really been filed when it was replaced by another. 'Blistering damn! The girl was hot!' He would attend to this one himself. Before that decision concretized he was already halfway across the room. One factor was in his favour, it was lunch period and the attendants had their hands full. Still, they noticed the fervor with which the new manager went to wait on 'that' pretty lady.

“Welcome. I’m hoping we can be of assistance.” He flashed his best lop-sided smile.
“Thank you. The thing is I am not sure what is on the menu. So...” She trailed off.
“—Not an issue; I will recommend our Beautiful Woman Treat.”
“What?”

“Just something special: reserved for those whom God put extra time into creating.”
The smile that succeeded that statement turned his insides to jelly. At that very moment, he knew he was smitten.

He had them bring her a local delicacy. It took all of his willpower not to sit and chat with her. But he hovered. When she was done, he walked up to her.

“I’d like that the next time, we would do this together.”
“I will have to give that some thought.” She replied.
“Then I will call you to know what you decided.”
She gave him her call card.

It was 20 hours before he called her. He had left the business card in his drawer. He’d berated himself non-stop for the error. No sooner had he arrived the next morning than he called her. She picked at the second attempt. Her little laugh when he introduced himself told him she had been expecting his call. He was not wrong.

Over the next few weeks, he had gotten to know Claire. She was a sweet person whom ‘unpretentious’ fitted to a T. The second child and only daughter of a retired civil servant, she had qualified as a lawyer but was doing her own thing as an entrepreneur. The clothes she made and marketed kept her busy and in bread. She did not seem to care that he was yet to find his feet. She took to him the way roaches do darkness.

The beauty of the whole thing was he caught the bug too. He became butter in the face of heat at the thought or sight of her. They would talk endlessly on the phone and beg one the other to hang up without success. Running out of air time mid-conversation became norm. Seeing in person? Well, that was something else. Being in love didn't begin to describe it. One thing baffled him though; she never publicly exhibited fondness. None of that hugging, hand-holding business for Claire!

But once they’d gotten married, boy was she a different person? She was even more American than the Americans in her show of affections. Time, place or company was inconsequential. He’d found this immensely fascinating. It had brought them closer.

And then he’d gone and messed it all up. Now she was never coming back. He raised tear reddened eyes to the desk phone that had been shrilly demanding attention for some time. He stared at it till it went silent. His head was three-quarters of the way back to the table top when it resumed ringing. He picked up the receiver.
“We've found your wife.” A flat voice, devoid of nuance, informed him.

“We are going to open her up to see if we can save the baby. Its heartbeat is getting fainter.” He was trying to process the information. It was proving to be hard.

“Hello sir?” The voice sounded human for the first time. His silence must have given the impression he had not heard. His sobs however told a different story. He tried to respond, they got in the way. The person at the other end of the line hung up. The sobs got louder and more tears flowed. Pretty soon it was pouring in torrents and began to pool at his feet. Presently it began to rise. Then it started to spin, faster and faster... The vortex’s motion was accompanied by cadenced booming explosions that shook everywhere.

“Hey buddy, wake up.”
The voice pierced through the blanket of sleep he was cocooned in. Woozy, he lifted his head from the steering wheel; blood-shot eyes took a while to focus on a vagrant. The man spoke again.

“You got a death wish? You’re gon’ freeze to death man! It’s 10 friggin degrees; the sky’s pouring more rain than fireworks on Guy Fawkes Night, and you…” He stabbed the air with a gloved finger, “—left your window down.”

He examined the dream. Save for some slight variations, it was the same every time—a re-enactment of her last moments. When he violently came out of coma after twenty three days screaming ‘Claire’, the doctor had had to tell him. In a few words, he had outlined what had transpired. He looked at the window and the pool of water on the floor. He was sure he’d been crying in his sleep—again. That left only one thing.

“Were you banging on the roof of the car?” He asked the homeless man.
“What if I was?” The transformation was astonishing. The man had gone from concerned to hostile within the space of that question.

He chose not to pursue the matter. The man finally took the confrontational gaze off him. He turned away muttering about ingrates. A long string of Spanish followed in his foul-smelling, several-clothes wake. He caught two words 'cabrón' and 'pendejo.' No way! It couldn't be. He did not know the first word but only one person made dumbass sound so vile. Juan.

He started the car. He needed to find out. He drove slowly toward the figure shuffling away.
“Juan?” He called out softly. The figure spun around quickly, the shock in the eyes was all the confirmation he needed. The man turned and ran. He remained stationary and gunned the engine till there were a number of metres between them. With a shift of gears the car lurched forward, it closed in on the fleeing form at 35mph until there was a metal-on-flesh thud. The body traced an arc in the air before hitting the ground, sprawling at an unnatural angle.