I walked into the main lobby. “Good evening Mr. Higgins.” A large African man said. His accent was thick. He sounded so kind, so I walked over to him.
“It is, isn’t it?” I said smiling. I extended my hand. His white-gloved hand came around from his back. His handshake was painfully strong. Okay, that’s a once in a lifetime mistake if I ever want to use my right hand again.
“What’s your name, sir?” I asked.
“Eboue. Charles Eboue.” He flashed his white smile. It contrasted so brilliantly from his dark skin. He was quite a handsome man. I’m confident in my masculinity to say that right?
“Nice to meet you Mr. Eboue. Say, do you know where the piano player is? I fancy a meeting with him.” Fancy a meeting with him? Are you English now? This guy has to know you’re American. Who do you think you’re fooling?
“He should be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, Mr. Eboue.”
“There’s a complimentary sports bar over behind the piano around the corner if you’d like to wait. Between you and I, that’s were I go for my breaks. Everyone thinks I disappear. I’m just in watching football on the tele.” He smiled. I guess that was a scandal. To be kind I laughed along on the off chance that I was the one who didn’t get a funny joke. It was a new country after all.
“Thank you, Mr. Eboue.” I began to walk off, but I remembered something. “Wait, did you say football?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which team do you support?”
“Between you and me?”
“Absolutely.”
“I like the sport in general, but I’m a Liverpool man. Luis Suarez and Stevie G . . . can’t get too much better than that.” He smiled.
“Is football affiliation a secret around here?”
“Well we have a pool going, and we can only bet on the team we support.” Now that was funny. I laughed again.
“Have a good night Mr. Eboue!” I called as I walked into the main lobby center.
“You too, Tomas.” He called.
The sports bar was amazing. It was like a Buffalo Wild Wings with bigger screens, louder speakers, and better food. Manchester United versus Chelsea was replaying on the main screen.
I was sitting at the bar when the bartender approached me. “Bloody drunks . . . they don’t realize the game was played six months ago.” I turned around to see the people he was commenting on. Seven men sat in front of the main screen cheering over a Didier Drogba goal. One man even went so far as pulling his white-buttoned shirt over his head and doing the airplane celebration.
“Hey buddy! You may not remember this later, but I will. Put your blouse back on!” He called after him. I turned around to focus on my water.
“Stupid blighters.” I heard a whisper from beside me. Jackie was there on the stool next to me.
“What in the world? How’d you get there?”
“With my feet, like you did. Mr. Eboue told me he sent you in here about ten minutes ago.” She said. She sipped her coke. Little traitor! Oh well I suppose I did want to see her alone anyway. “How are you drinking the water here? It’s ghastly!” She said.
“Yeah, I noticed. Berny’s dealing with the drunks behind us, so I haven’t had a chance to get anything else.” She didn’t respond right away. The silence toned down our casual conversation. We both knew there were things we wanted to discuss, and neither of us wanted to do it.
“Why don’t I start by apologizing.” I said all of a sudden. I hadn’t really planned on doing so, but it didn’t seem like anything else could break the silence.
“For what?”
“How I reacted with Linx. I hope you faired okay at the dinner without me.”
“Actually, I didn’t go to the dinner for very long. It didn’t feel right without you there.” She said shyly. I don’t think she had really wanted to admit the emotions behind what she said, but her eyes betrayed her.
“Oh? Where’d you go?”
“Looking for you. Joseph told me you had come back here once he returned to the palace banquet.”
“Okay Sherlock Holmes. Remind me never to run again.” I said laughing between drinks. “You’re right this is terrible. How do you drink this stuff?”
“It is my favorite thing about America; good drinking water straight from the tap. Hence, the coke Tomas.” She tapped her drink and took another sip.
“Can we talk about what happened to your mother and brother sometime?” I asked. Apparently, no one had the nerve to approach her on the subject before because she seemed shock.
“You strike me as different, Tomas.”
“Oh? In a good way?”
“We shall see . . . first off, most men are too intimidated by my looks to ever talk to me in the first place. That’s one reason why I just decided to sit next to the first handsome man I saw on the plan. Just so happened, you were the second because the first had a wife. Despite that, I think you were the better choice. Secondly, not even my closest friends have approached me about my family. Granted they did not know them or my family very well when the accident happened. My father was just getting his business empire started back then. I was a young child at the time of course.”
“I have a leg up on both your friends and family, Jackie.”
“You do? How’s that?” She seemed confident that I was over confident. She waited to catch me in my pride.
“I have lost someone equally as important and equally as painful as your mother and brother.”
She was lost for words. She sat back and whispered, “True.”
As I began to respond the piano outside banged its’ keys and jumped into Journey’s, “Don’t Stop Believing.”
“Excuse me for one moment.” I walked away from Jackie as she swiveled to see where I was going. The man behind the piano was dressed in a sports blazer and khaki pants. He was rather handsome, rugged you might say. He was clearly Slavic by appearance and the scowl on his face.
I didn’t want to interrupt him so I grabbed a pen and paper and wrote on it, “I would like to talk to you sometime. Room #1237 or in the bar. Name’s Tomas Higgins.”
I put it on the part of the piano where the songbooks go. He didn’t play with any. “Number 2” He called over the piano keys. Russian. I could tell by his accent. My brother in law is Russian and sounded just like him.
I walked back to Jackie. “I wanted to talk to the piano man, there.”
“Viktor? What do you want with him?”
“I want to talk to him about Tavistock Square.”
“Oh, I can't wait to see this.” She said, mockingly.
“I’m a very good listener.”
“I can see that, but he’s very Russian. What Russian do you know that tells their personal secrets to a stranger; an American stranger at that. No offense. Especially a memory so painful as his.”
“None taken, I assure you.” She was right. It had taken years for my brother-in-law to open up about even the most casual of conversations about his childhood. This maybe harder than I thought.
“Worth a try I suppose. I’ll take a punch to the jaw if it helps him feel better.” I winked at her and laughed. You sound like a lunatic doctor.
“You’re nuts. Even with one leg, he could out fight you. He was in the Spetznas. Do you know what that is?" She laughed at my misfortune. "He could kill you with a napkin in five different ways, I’m sure. You’re either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid. I guess we’ll find out which.”
We waited in the hotel bar for an hour, distantly singing along to the songs we know while watching the replay of the soccer game on the television. Jackie was the type of person that you never ran out of things to talk about with which helped casual time-passing.
When the piano stopped, Viktor walked in with the aid of his steel crutches. After six years, he was a master with them.
We sat down at a table. It would’ve been rude to stay at a bar stool with Viktor left standing.
“So Mr. . .?
“Tomas Higgins.”
“. . . Higgins, what did you want to meet me for?”
“I wanted to talk to you about two things.”
“And they are?” He didn’t like small talk, I could tell. His face was always studying me, trying to find a motive.
“The first is about your piano playing. The second . . . is Tavistock Square.” There was a blur of silver, and I was on my back, blood running down my cheek.
“That is all I have to say.” Viktor’s Russian accent was very intimidating. Especially because I did not even see the crutch before it struck me.
He walked away as Jackie helped me up. “That went well, I think.” Jackie said.
“Yeah . . . maybe the direct approach wasn’t the smartest thing I could do.” My face was on fire. “How deep is the cut?”
“I can’t tell. It’s bleeding too much.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s a good sign.”
“We should get you cleaned up though. It’s getting all over your white shirt.” She looked more concerned about the shirt than my face.
“What about the sports coat?”
“No that’s fine for now, but I’d take it off just in case.”
I did as she said, as we walked back through the main lobby. The looks from the staff were priceless.
“Mr. Tomas! What happened?” Mr. Eboue was waiting by the elevator as he had been before. “If I had known that this would happen, I never would have told Jackie where you were.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. He seemed concerned; possibly only for his job.
“No, Charles.” Jackie laughed. “This was not my doing.”
“Oh thank goodness. I’ll have extra towels sent up to your room. Also, Tomas, Mr. McCreary wanted to meet with you tonight.”
“Thank you.” I said taking the note from him. Jackie and I walked into the elevator.
“Oh and Mr. Higgins?”
“Yes, Charles?”
“You’re going to need stitches for that unless you want a nasty looking scar.”
“Fantastic.” The doors slid closed. “I haven’t been blind-sided like that in a very long time.”
***
The trunk slammed shut. Bill, Gary, and several of their friends had taken forever to get it closed. Twelve hundred rolls of toilet paper were separated in four different cars. We had bought out the local Kroger, Wal-mart, and Target of their cheapest toilet paper.
This was supposed to be one of the greatest adventures of my young life. I was fifteen. It had been planned for months. The target was the local high school’s volleyball coach. Thirty-two of us were going to park at an elementary school nearby and run to the house where the cars with the toilet paper would meet us.
I was in the first car to arrive at the school along with four others who I barely recognized. They were all somehow tied to my brothers or friends of their friends.
“Tomas can you keep up with us?” Stanley asked. He was the only one I vaguely knew in the car.
“I’ll do my best.” I was nervous but extremely excited.
After a quick three-minute run we rounded a corner and found a large group of people being shushed by someone standing in the bed of a pick-up. It was Bill.
“Shh! Everyone keep quiet.” The group hushed up and turned their attention to Bill. He had that kind of leadership quality that drew attention to him, even though he did not want it. “Okay here’s the plan. We have two very long ropes. We will use them to tie the front and back doors shut, just in case they hear us. We have a bag of instant cement that Trevor will be using on the garage door, he’ll need some help with that. If you are not asked to do any of those three things, grab as many rolls as you can, and get tossing!”
He hopped down and grabbed one of the ropes. I watched as Bill and Gary raced towards the front door. Gary tied the rope to a single small tree in the front yard, and Bill worked his Eagle Scout skills on the door knob.
Off to the right, on the driveway, Trevor and several girls were doing their best to seal the garage door down. While just behind them, I could make out several black silhouettes hopping the back fence with the second rope.
I envied them. I was eager to get into the work. A girl in front of me muttered, “Did someone do some serious reconnaissance work on this place or what?”
A boy in the front of the line overheard. “We brought her some birthday cake and did it then. We liked her back then . . . she shouldn’t have taken the job at Cathedral!” We all agreed. Private school nut jobs!
The line moved quickly. We were all eager to get redecorating. Gary came running up.
“The doors are tied, and the garage is down. Let’s go.” Gary took an armful of ammunition and sprinted off to the backyard.
All thirty-two of us fanned out and began throwing. Within minutes the spring evening turned into a lavishly decorated winter wonderland. Roll after roll were launched over the house by the older boys. The two incredibly large pine trees in the front looked like they were draped in white curtains; not even the mailbox was spared. The cars in the driveway were being saran-wrapped by a group of giggling girls. We were all being too loud for my liking, but I knew no one would listen to me.
Thirty-five minutes later, eight hundred and fifty-two rolls of toilet paper were now completely covering the house. The longer this went on, the more comfortable we became. We pulled our ‘sentry’ from his vantage point down to help continue the barrage of launching rolls over the house into the backyard.
“Lawrence! Come down and help me.” I hollered up to him. A few seconds later, he landed on his feet like a trained cat. “Impressive.” I remarked. I could see the flash of his bright white teeth in the moonlight.
“What do you need, Tomas?” His accent swooned all the ladies off their feet. He had moved in about three months prior from Scotland.
“We need another arm for the over-the-house throws. Can you do it?”
“Of course! Let’s get throwing.” He took the roll from my hand and raced off. His blonde hair blew in the breeze behind him.
Lawrence pulled a two feet stretch of toilet paper down and fired his roll over the house. The roll flew higher and higher until it finally cleared the top of the house, expertly displaying its long tail along the shingles as it flew past.
Being much pleased with himself, Lawrence put his arms up in celebration. Just as it appeared he would begin jumping for joy, a large crash came from the backyard. His hands shot to his mouth as he gaped around.
Everyone was still. Not a sound could be heard in the yard. A light turned on in the kitchen. A sharp bark of a German Sheppard could be heard from inside. Boys came climbing back over the fence.
Bill and Gary were among them. “Everyone, Go! Go! Go!” Bill screamed. Discretion was completely forgotten.
From the backyard an unknown voice rang out, “Go get them boys!” Two blood chilling barks filled the night.
“Tomas, Run!” Gary yelled. He was already past me, running into an unknown backyard.
Trunks were shut, cars were started, girls screamed, and I took off. There were not enough cars at the house for everyone to get a seat to the school. Knowing that the likelihood of me being the occupant of one of those precious seats was unlikely, I sprinted through backyard after backyard, not looking back. Several people were running with me, apparently had the same idea.
We wound our way through the maze of the neighborhood. The dog barks were still ringing between the houses. It was impossible to tell where they were coming from.
“They must be following someone else.” One boy said. We had all stopped to catch our breath when we hit a dead end. I’ll admit, in hindsight, not the brightest of moves.
“I don’t want to stay here too long and find out though.” Another girl said.
“I don’t want to be left behind, and have all the cars leave us.” I spoke up.
A pair of twinkling eyes poked themselves out behind a fence, down a little make shift alley, only a few hundred feet off.
“Guys. Guys!” A girl was pointing towards the eyes.
“Is that one of the dogs?” Several people asked simultaneously.
“Yes, go! Go!” The first boy said.
We started climbing over a fence as quickly as possible. Everyone could make it, except for me. I was too short to make the steps.
I looked back at the dog. He was sprinting towards me. I tried climbing anyway. We were at a dead end, there was nowhere to go but up. The German Sheppard had cut the distance in half, when I fell to the ground.
I had to try again. Who knew what that dog would do to me? I began climbing. The dog was so close now I could hear his snarls and grunts as he ran.
As the dog stopped right below me, appearing to snap at my heels to torture me, I was sure I had met my demise. I was certain that my time had come, and I was getting my delinquent reward for tee-peeing.
As the beast prepared to lunge, an unknown hand shot over the fence and grabbed my own and yanked me over the fence. Before I knew it, I was flying face first into a gravel pit.
I stood up and looked toward my savior. It was Gary.
“Sweet Moses, Tomas! Did the dog get your face?” He looked worried.
“What’s wrong with it?” I reached up and touched my face. My hand was instantly wet. Upon hitting the gravel bed, my face had decided to split open like a watermelon, directly under my right eye. “It was probably my expert face plant into some rocks, Gary. Do I look like a boxer?” I jokingly posed with my hands up.
“Come on, little brother. We need to make it back to the school. Steve is waiting for us with his truck, or should be. Knowing that tool, he probably left.”
“Wait, Gary, be quiet.” I said. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Sirens.” Gary looked at me, surprised.
“You don’t think she called the cops do you?” Gary asked.
“It’s Stacey . . . of course she did.”
“We need to get out of here. I never thought about cops. Silly me.” We sprinted off through three more houses, two cul-de-sacs, and on reaching the third street, the school was in view. To our relief, Steve was still there, parked in the blackness between two trees.
“Gary how did you know I was back there?” I asked, as we walked across the main road in this part of our town.
“I saw a group come from the trees, and I was asking around where you were. They said you had been right behind them when the dog came. I went back to either save you, or revenge my brother on a rather unfortunate dog.” We both laughed at the macho statement. Gary was strong, but bites hurt strong people too.
Interrupting our respite, two squad cars came zooming around the corner, clearly headed for Stacey’s house.
“Into the bushes!” Gary said. We had been walking in the shadows, so we had not been spotted, yet. “Please, don’t see Steve. Please don’t see Steve!” A third squad car was driving slowly through the neighborhood, looking for the teenagers responsible. He pulled into the school parking lot, and sure enough caught Steve and his vehicle full of teenage villains. That is about as terrible as my criminality ever became.
“What time is it, Gary?” He looked at his watch.
“1:39. We should start heading home.” We took several shortcuts, and an hour and half later, I was in my bed, with a freshly cleaned wound.
The scar I earned from that night is still right where it has been for more than a decade; directly below my right eye.
Good job!
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