I’m amazed and have been so for at least a day. I’ve lost track of time. I do know that I have spent at least one night here so, yes. I’ve been amazed for a day on several levels. First, the ease to which I’ve consented to this. Second, my last conversation with le Enchanteur. It continues to haunt my imagination. From ear to ear it reverberates, distracting my attention from the disappearing greenery that is slowly transforming to arid dusty pathway. Many things amazed me as a child, but fewer and fewer things have managed to do so as an adult.
“We were pleased to learn you were in agreement with the conditions of our contract. Captain Rollins informed me that you had no questions about what is required of you?”
Before I knew it I’d taken a swig. le Enchanteur’s eyes didn’t flinch from mine. That bothered me more than anything. I guess the Captain must have informed le Enchanteur that Jorole was alcoholic. Great. I was having a bizarro world, Rod Sterling moment. A realization that required, well, another swig. My role may required lucidity that only single malt could support.
“Listen. You didn’t request my services because you heard I can ask a good question or two”.
I paused, took a deep breath and kept eye contact. Talked with my hands.
“I heard everything correct the first time. Simple enough. It will be handled”.
I was walking a narrow, tight line and I knew it.
“Now, if you will give me the upfront monies as agreed upon…”
A gamble there.
“…Ill be on my way.”
The bottle rose to my lips as easy as the breeze is flowing through the nearby trees. My cahonies were hanging a little lower now and I felt a slight Eastwood squint in my eyes, dead on his. I felt like the man I’d always wanted to be. The Richard that enters a bar and steps out like Clark Kent from telephone booths from long ago. No ”S” on my chest, just an “R”, or “L” for Laphroaig.
“As agreed upon, Jorole, here is the Oanga Bag. Prepared, of course to your specifications to assist you on the journey.”
I took swig, then another to mask surprise.
At that point I wasn’t liking the extra emphasis le Enchanteur was placing on my name….crap. I mean the old mans name. It’s like an inside joke that he knows, that I know, that he knows sort of thing. Patience, I told myself. Every agreement or contract I’ve been aware of has money attached to it. Patience.
“Yes, of course. I was testing you. Just making sure you are who you said you were. Ill take that bag now if you don’t mind. I have to get started.”
I took the Oanga bag from le Enchanteur. It was light and heavy at the same time, an evaluation I attributed more to my high than any real physical characteristics of the bag. It was made of leather, painted with some dye that seemed to blend in with the scenery with beads running along its strap. I instinctively slid what was left of the Laphroaig into the bag.
le Enchanteur smiled, his eyes never leaving mine. Yep, that bothered me. I no longer felt like the man with an “R” on his chest. I was feeling more like the man sitting on the floor next to an empty bottle in a dark living room as Kim loaded her bags in the car and pulled out of the driveway for the last time. See, she handled the miscarriages much better than I did.
“The map was made to your specifications. Since you have no questions, there’s no need to inform you of the dangers that may present themselves to you. I trust that you will deal with them, discretely. You must remain undetected. We have gone to great lengths to, shall we say, cover your arrival here. I must inform you that the Council was not unanimous in its decision to address Lemaure’s precarious situation with your assistance”.
Le Enchanteur paused for a second then, eyeing the sky for clouds that didn’t exist.
His next words are the ones haunting me now, reverberating:
“A wise woman once said my friend, ‘When someone shows you who they are….believe them’.
I shall be going, Jarole. We shall meet again, at the agreed upon location at the agreed upon hour. Farewell”.
I didn’t extend my hand because it was behind my back, shaking. He didn’t extend his and I’m glad, insulted a bit, but glad.
That was yesterday. I still can’t connect the dots of his farewell speech. My cape is gone, cahonies regular and Kim is on my mind, distracting me from any pertinent information that he was trying to give me. I reach into the bag, the first time since yesterday. The thought of Kim usually has this effect, a reaching effect for self medication. I pull out the bottle and I’m amazed once again, it’s full.
How the hell is this bottle full?
