“Theo? Are you OK?”
“Polly?”
“Yeah, I just had a feeling I should call you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
The Mustang rolled along I-95 to I-84. I had to confess I was a little sad not to see Morton sitting in my back seat. After I-84 I pulled onto the the Massachusetts Turnpike, then I headed east and toward my home.
When I got home I was surprised at how dark and depressing I found my apartment. The first thing I did was to open all the windows and to get some air into the place. It was mid-summer and Boston was beautiful.
I went to pick up Fibo from my neighbor, Mr. Giles. I was surprised and happy he still seemed to remember me. Mr. Giles seemed confused when I said “No more dice to pick our dinner, buddy” as I hugged the old dog.
“So you had some fun?” my neighbor asked.
It was a good question.
“Well, Mr. Giles, I’m not sure if I had much fun, but I may have fixed a few things with myself and a few other people.”
“Not bad,” he said, “now cut your grass.”
Later that day I started going through the tall stack of mail that had accumulated inside my door mail slot. I began sorting letters as Fibo ran around my feet. Near the top was a postcard with a picture of Elvis Presley on it. Its return address was Memphis from a street named after a tree. The postcard read:
“Just thought of you for some reason.
I hope you’ve remembered how to let
life surprise you, if you just give it time.
love,
Chloe”
Two months had passed since I had returned to Boston. I was sitting at my desk calculating postage on a package I was sending to Seattle. I had taped a few items to my wall near the desk, one was the Elvis postcard. Next to it was the letter I’d received from the Census Bureau indicated I’d been fired. I was considering having it framed. Next to the letter was a strange symbol written on a wrinkled piece of paper. When I looked at it, it reminded me to balance my way through life. So far it seemed to be working.
On the desk were applications to graduate schools. I was planning to complete my doctorate degree and now had a country full of cities to choose from.
I picked up an embroidered sweatshirt from my desk and held it up.
It read: “I ♥ Nerds.”
I placed into a shipping box and addressed it to Seattle. I knew it wouldn't measure up to one of the one's her mother had made, but I hoped Polly would still like it.
Getting up, I walked around the apartment as I placed a call on my new cell phone. For some reason the old pay-as-you-go phone had died the day I arrived home. I dialed Mr. Giles. I asked him if he might be able to watch Fibo for a few weeks starting in September.
“Yes, I was going to Las Vegas,” I said.
“Yes, I was meeting my special friend,” I said.
“No, I didn’t believe in luck,” I responded, but then added, “Well, some times.”
Then he went to say the next thing he had in mind, and I mouthed the words as he said them to me. “Win some for me.” He could be quite predictable.
Every now and then I think about calling Morton Petes to find out how he is doing, but something keeps me from looking him up. I don’t know if I ever will. Every time I think about it something gets in the way, something unpredictable. That seems to be the way things happen in a normal balanced life.
Just as I was considering looking him up last, for example, the phone rang and I answered it.
“Is this Theo Burnkey?”
“Yes,” I said.
“This is Barbara Arnoff from Cleveland,” the young woman’s voice said, “I wanted to thank you …”
The call was completely out of the blue, random and unexpected. Even though I am finally coming to peace with patterns and routine, I still enjoy moments like these. I think everyone does.
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