The Last Night

The Last Night




Chapter 1


The weather was getting fiercer and more violent as the departure time grew closer and closer. He looked out of a small glass window about head level that ran across the length of the wall, he could see the trees bending from the great force of the relentless gale and his visibility turned to near invisibility as the rain fell at a torrential rate. It was 8:27 and the boarding would begin at 8:30, this gave him a few minutes to calm his nerves and prepare himself mentally for the journey home while he sat within the vast emptiness of the large warehouse. He had always been afraid of flights even though he had flown many times before but every other time he had flown, the weather had never been so sever. In those last three minutes before he would set foot on the plane he thought about returning home and how happy he would be to finally see his family after three months of loneliness in this foreign land. He opened his leather wallet and pulled out a small photograph that was barley still in one piece. Its edges were turned up and the image was skewed and blurred with cracks and discolorations. It was a picture of himself along with his wife and their small and very young child. He felt a small sense of happiness and bravery as he looked upon that small photo, and while he was sitting he heard a loud noise coming from his right. It was a large speaker that started to ring sending a loud echo throughout the large segregated walls of the warehouse where he was waiting, that small sense of happiness vanished for he knew what was coming next. After the echo’s ceased to make any sound, a voice came over the P.A system, “Plane from Chile to New York is now ready for boarding and will be leaving in fifteen minutes,” 8:30 had arrived and it was time for the crew to board the plane.
He arose from the cement floor he had been sitting upon and placed the picture back in his wallet and his wallet back in his jacket pocket. He then began to walk though the empty warehouse hearing nothing but the sound of his shoes clicking and the gears grinding as the large green doors of the warehouse were opening. As the doors opened wider and wider it exposed more of the plane he was about to step on, it was the same plane that he had been on many times prior to tonight. It was a small white plane with a red pinstripe that ran along its side until it got to the nose of the plane where there was an overly small propeller. The plane had a sleek thin body with large carbon fiber wings, all of this contributed to its excellent aerodynamics. Also along its side was a sign that read “The Dream Flight,” this was the name of the plane that was given to it by its captain. It was written in large black letters that were on an angle as if they were in italics.
All of the small details became more visible as he got closer to the planes entrance. He did not know it yet but he was not simply walking towards a plane, every step he took he was a step closer to his demise and despite his fear of entering the Dream Flight, he began to run towards it as he stepped out of the warehouse and into the rain. The power of the storm was still escalating and the unforgiving rain was soaking him as if he had taken a shower with his clothes on. Then he reached the entrance of the plane and stepped inside, he was now safe from the weather but the conditions outside were far from safe. He sat near the window in the last seat on the left and placed his luggage in the seat next to him. In an attempt to drown out the sound of the rain that was pounding against the roof above him, he opened one of his bags and pulled out his laptop. He reached into his jacked once again and pulled out a steel flask. As he took a sip of whiskey from his flask he opened up his laptop and began to type. While he was typing he continually took sips form his flask until there was nothing left inside but air. This gave him a false sense of bravery but hindered his ability to type as well as was. His vision had become slightly blurred and his cheeks turned a bright red color. His fear and uncertainty had subsided and his eyes became heavy, then with his laptop still sitting on his legs he could no longer keep his eyes open and sleep came over him like sheet of darkness.
Shortly after he had fallen asleep the plane was cleared by inspectors and was ready for take off. The synchronized roaring of both engines grew louder with each passing second but he was not woken because with each passing second he fell into a deeper sleep. Then it came time for the plane to begin its flight, once the power of the engines grew to their full potential the pilot pushed forward on the accelerator and the plane began to move. Then it reached full speed as the end of the runway slowly became visible. The pilot pulled back on the wheel, the nose of the plane rose and it had begun its accent. With the plane in the air all that was left to do was to reach its destination and land on home soil but that would not be as easy it sounds for the weather was still uncooperative with the pilot.
After reaching its desired altitude a series of violent turbulences began to thrash on the plane, these turbulences plagued the plane for miles until a sudden lash of turbulence hit the plane with enough force to wake him out of his deep sleep with frightening intensity. A cold sweat started to run down his face so he poured himself a cup of ice water and placed it in the cup holder that sat next to the window. He took a large gulp of water and tried to calm himself down but the turbulences raged on. Then after what felt like an hour, the turbulences finally came to a stop and a trice of tranquility was returned. Even though the ferocity of the commotions had ceased it was still difficult for him to calm down because every time he looked out of his window he could see nothing but eternal darkness and could not even fathom the thought of the pilots flying blind. He closed the blind on his window and in turn closed the gaping hole of anxiety that had opened up inside of him. He leaned back in his seat and took another large gulp of water but this this time he could actually enjoy it. He then set it back into the cup holder and closed his eyes.
The Dream Flight was living up to its name as it had not experienced any abnormalities (other than the turbulences) despite the ferocity of the weather. The flight was soon to approach its fifth hour in the air and was nearing the halfway mark. The sun was slowly creeping above the horizon and the plane was soon engulfed in light and warmth. By now the weather that was once so fierce and violent became gentle and soothing, the pilots view looked as though it should have been put on a place card. The serenity of what he saw was unmistakably beautiful, so beautiful that he wished that he could fly into this light forever. The pilot fell into a sort of trance, he was hypnotized by the view before him and he soon started to loose track of space and time. Despite the amazing view, a certain darkness was creeping upon him, it became difficult for him to keep his eyes open and sleep was inevitable. With no warning he subconsciously closed his eyes and fell into a profound sleep leaving the plane to fly without direction.
Sitting in the cabin, he had no realization of the fact that their plane was now flying without a pilot until he went to take another drink of his water. This time when he reached over to grab the glass he saw that the water was spilling over the brim and onto the floor even though it was still sitting strait up in the cup holder. He then looked out of the window and saw that the plane had taken a sudden dive to the right as if an anchor was pulling it down. He unbuckled his seat belt and ran forwards toward the cockpit to see why they had begun to fly wildly out of control. It was near impossible for him to reach without falling or stumbling, it gave him a unique sensation that he had never experienced before, it felt almost like he was floating. When he finally managed to reach the cockpit he found the pilot who had fallen asleep leaving the controls unmanned. He knew that it was too late to try to save the plane from plummeting into the unforgiving sea so he merely sat down and accepted that death was unavoidable. He did not try to wake the pilot nor did he try to stop the plane from crashing, he knew its demise was immanent. His life that he thought he knew so well was about to turn to ash.
The other passengers on the plane began to panic much like he did at the first realization of what was happening. He could hear their screams and he could hear them praying. Even the ones who had no religious beliefs were praying, hoping that some type of miraculous miracle would somehow save them from death. None of them came to the same realization that he had come to, they all filled themselves with a false hope but it would only result in more despair. He knew that believing in something that was would never happen could only result in more pain and disappointment.
Suddenly it seemed like time itself had slowed down to give him just enough time for one last thought. He closed his eyes for the last time and in that last moment he recollected everything that his mind could remember. He remembered the wind passing through his fingers as he ran when he was only a child, he remembered his father, all the dreams that he never accomplished and all the dreams he did, he remembered his family and friends and how he would never see their faces again. In that last moment he remembered life exactly as he had imagined it as a child. Then time began to return to normal and as he took his last breath and braced himself, he could feel the life leaving his body and then everything turned to black, the plane had crashed. It hit the water with enough force to make it feel as though they had hit a sea of concrete. The sound of water peeling metal back like a can opener resonated for miles over the vastness of the flat sheet of water. He did not know if he was alive or dead, he did not feel pain nor did he feel any sadness, all he knew was what lay in front of him. There were no flames, no bodies nothing left only the fuselage of the plane that floated on top of the water, everything else either broke off or was hanging on by a measly wire or two. It was a scene of pure death and grief, men and women with family and friends, dead. All that remained was a small flashing red light within the cockpit, this light caught his eye and made him question whether or not it was real. Then after a small sliver of time the flashing light faded to black along with every other soul aboard these tattered remains of the aircraft, life, as he knew it was now over.

Chapter 2

It is said that your life flashes before your eyes in the moments before you take your last breath, but the only way to truly find out if is true is to experience death first hand but death is not always as simple as its concept. It is sometimes deceiving, using illusion to trick us into believing that that we are indeed dead when in reality the world we are living in is nothing more than an illusion, a product of our imagination and where there is death there is also life.
Born in the lower class area of New York, Harlem to be exact, Tom Gibbons was brought into a world of uncertainty and technological advancements. Inventors from all corners of the earth were creating new and innovative gadgets in an attempt to make life easier for the rest of us. The computer made telecommunications possible for folks who didn’t have a phone, the calculator now made the average man a genius. These were the 1960’s and the world was transforming from a place of simplicity to a world filled with technology and science. People began to question religion now that we knew more about space its relativity in the galaxy. These new advancements in modern civilization were the authors of much chaos and fighting but these advancements performed miraculous wonders for the justice system. We could now prosecute men and women based upon hard evidence using their own DNA but with the increasing population the crime rate still rose and the lower area of New York saw more than its fair share of crime. No matter how severe of a punishment fugitives received, they continued to commit these crimes mindlessly and this put chills down Gary Gibbon’s spine. He wanted his son Tom to grow up in a world of security and safety but despite his efforts as a police officer, crime was being committed day in and day out. Amidst this criminal abyss there were still good people willing to stand up against these thugs.
Every morning Gary woke next to his wife Amy in a focused and prepared mindset to make this city a better place. His hair, slowly turning grey, his eyes filled with ambition, his philosophy was that no matter how big and intimidating a foe can be, someone who stood for something bigger would never lose, with this held firmly in the front of his mind he would put on his suit, hat, belt and badge and head out into the streets.
As he walked down the street he would first pass a sign that read “Lenox Ave.,” he would then pass the same homeless men who he had walked by many times before and every morning they would all greet him with a “Good morning,” and every night they would welcome him back with a “Good evening.” These homeless men were not like the others, although they had tattered clothing with dirty facial hair, they did not hound pedestrians for money only to spend it on alcohol and drugs and they did not lie or try to deceive people into believing outlandish stories about their lives. These men had honor and respect and despite their failure to achieve their ambitions, they were still cheery and joyful.
In this age no one knew how great someone could be without achieving greatness, in this age it was about the birth of new technology and the weasels who tried to steal them but these few great individuals were what gave Gary motivation everyday and he believed they would be the salvation for these slums.
Rat infested, crawling with crime and prostitutes, and with a veil of mist that covered the roads, the lower area of New York certainly doesn’t sound like the ideal place to raise a child but this is where Tom Gibbons calls home. It doesn’t sound like much of a home but Gary was able to provide the best he could for him and his wife Amy. It was a two-story home cramped in between two other houses that were practically identical. It had a slight azure color with all the siding perfectly in tact, this was how he could tell the different between his house and the others. It was the only house on the entire block that actually looked as if it was occupied. The others had boarded up windows and debris scattered about their front lawns along with a for sale sign, as if it was ever going to be sold.
Gary envisioned himself moving out of this foul blemish on the face of the earth into an area where the nicest folks were not homeless and neighbors who were sociable. Every pay he would put fifty dollars away into a savings account in the hope that someday he could afford to move but he did not want all of this for himself, he wanted it for Tom.
Although Tom was still too young to understand the dangers of this neighborhood he knew something was wrong with it when he would talk to his friends at the local school. Most of the students who attended this school lived in poverty or had parents who were addicted to drugs and alcohol but there were some kids from nicer areas of New York who attended this school because most of the others had no room for more students. One of Toms select number of friends was from one of those nicer places, his name was Nick and he came from a wealthy family who lived near the outskirts of Harlem. Although Toms family had the money to support him and put nice clothes on his back, Nicks family had enough money to send him to school in dress pants with a collared shirt and tie. He dressed well and got good grades similar to Tom and during noon hours they would sit together with no company other than themselves and read. Tom had dreams of becoming a writer and Nick had dreams of becoming a publisher, it was the perfect friendship. They were overly mature for their age and they would talk about the future and how they were going to forge their own but like every lost dream their ambitions changed as they grew older. As they rose through the ranks of high school their friendship became more and more distant until finally after graduation, it faded away to nothing but a memory. As Tom was almost finished high school, he could now take off the fake face of conformity that he and most of the other students wore everyday to simply fit in and the ridiculous nicknames like “goldilocks” and “the lanky kid” were finally over.
Later that night, after the ceremonies and celebrations Tom came home and walked up the stairs into his room and fell down onto his bed. His room had two walls that were coved from the ceiling to the floor with bookshelves, and it was filled with hundreds of books, all of which Tom had read. His bed sat in one of the corners near the door and up against the pink painted walls. As he lay there staring at the ceiling he began to think about how happy he was to finish high school but how depressing it was to lose his best friend that he had known for years. Then Tom started to see a dim red light and as if it was getting closer to him, it began to grow and glow brighter like a burning fire. Tom had no idea what it was or where it had come from, at first he thought it was just an illusion created by his memory but this was something that he had never seen or experienced before. Then the red light started to move slowly towards his bedroom door, it stopped for a moment as if it was trying to get him to follow it. Tom rose from his bed and began to follow it but before he could get out of his room his father knocked on his door and asked to come in and talk to him. Of course Tom was not in the mood to talk rather than follow the red light but he could not ignore Gary. They both went back and sat on Tom’s bed and by that time the light was no longer in sight.
“Congratulations,” Gary said to Tom with a smirk or gratification on this face.
Tom replied appropriately by saying nothing but “Thanks,” he could not get the thought of the red light out of his head.
“I’m not going to give you a speech by any means seems how your mind is occupied by something else but I do feel like I need to talk to you about what you want to do with your life. It’s a hard decision and it is best to find out early.”
“Dad, I still have the same dream as I had as a small kid, I want to be a writer but since Nick is gone that dream seems a lot harder to achieve than before.”
“Why is that?” he asked Tom.
“Because he was going to be a publisher and now that he is gone I don’t know anyone who can publish, especially a book that will most likely be below par.”
“Finding a publisher will soon be as easy as tying your shoes son. In this new age of technology I’m sure they will create something that makes finding a publisher no problem at all. So what is it that compels you to be a writer? It no easy job and will be even harder if you keep underestimating yourself.”
“ I’m not entirely sure what compels me, maybe it’s the driving passion I have to get out of this place or maybe its just an unexplainable fire that burns inside of me, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
With that, Gary left his room leaving the overly mature adolescent alone. Tom was trying to think about writing and literature but no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the thought of the red light would somehow creep into his thoughts and block out the ability to think about anything else. Then finally after hours of staring at his ceiling trying to see what he had seen before, Tom closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The next day Tom woke later than usual and was under the impression that his father had already left for work, he then cleared the grit from his eyes and proceeded downstairs into his kitchen, his mother Amy was still downstairs and had already prepared coffee and was sitting down at the table with a cigarette in her mouth. Tom was confused, Amy had never smoked a day in her life in fact she was against it entirely. Tom then walked towards the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of coffee without questioning his mother’s sudden smoking habit. He took a sip from his black coffee and couldn’t help but to look at Amy with a bit of disbelief on his face. She looked back at him but kept looking away to break the eye contact.
“What?” she asked with certain sternness in her voice. “Why are you looking at me like I’m a stranger?”
“I have started to believe that you are a stranger,” Tom replied. “What’s with the cigarette?”
Before she could answer him she began to cough, “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Tom replied quickly with curiosity. “Why are you smoking a cigarette?” Tom asked again but this time with more firmness in his voice
“I’m trying it as a stress reliever, these have proven to be problematic.”
“Problematic?” he asked. “What has been so problematic?”
As she tried to answer the persistent barrage of questions her bottom lip began to tremble and she began to weep. It was an outburst of emotion that Tom was not at all expecting. He put down his coffee and proceeded over to the table and sat down giving her his full attention. She then explained to him that Gary had left that morning for work like every other day but was called to investigate suspicious gang activity. This was not out of the ordinary for him, most of the time these “gangs” were nothing but punks trying to stir up distress. This time when he arrived at the location he saw multiple men standing around in a circle next to a couple white Cadillac’s with a thin golden strip that surrounded the bottom of the car. They were parked in between to large brick buildings with a large L shaped alleyway that ran in between them. Gary ran down the alley and stopped at the bend, there he began to peak around it and noticed a bag filled with white powder being passed from one man to another, he realized that these people were no joke for they were exchanging drugs for money. As he was waiting for his backup to arrive he began to grow more impatient and he started to experience anxiety. He was out numbered by four fairly large men but he did not see them wielding any sort of weapons so he decided that he would attempt this takedown on his own.
Tom already knew what the next part of the story was going to be but he continued to listen anyways.
Gary wielded his gun, pointed it at the gangsters and started to walk towards them. He could feel the adrenaline in full force flowing throughout his veins and sweat started to run down his face. They were still oblivious to his presence so he yelled out “Get on the ground!” All four of them turned their heads towards him and did nothing. Gary yelled again but this time with more vivacity in his voice, “Get on the ground!” They all looked at each other as if they telepathically asking each other what they should do. Gary was moving in closer and was almost within reaching distance; he cocked his gun and said, “For the last time, get on the ground.” Just as it appeared as if they were going to lay down one of them pulled out a gun and shot Gary before he had time to react. Then they scurried into their white Cadillac’s and hurried away from the incident.
Gary had been shot in the lower area of the chest and was losing blood rapidly, he laid there on that cold hard cement for ten minutes until finally his dreadfully late backup arrived. They found him lying on his back surrounded by liters of his own blood. There was still a faint heartbeat but before the ambulance could arrive Gary Gibbons died, he was only forty-nine. There were no last words or wishes, all that Gary had left behind was insurmountable grief and a bloodstain.
Tom sat at that table for an hour feeling little pain even with Amy sitting across from him weeping. He felt only a faint sorrow but it was not enough to make him cry or show any other emotion. It was as if something inside of him was concealing the pain, storing it away in some sort of black box deep within him.
He left the table without finishing his coffee and went back up to his room and shut the door behind him trying to block out his mother’s cries. He sat down at his desk and prepared his typewriter. He fed the paper into it and began to write. This was the first time in his life that he had attempted to write anything meaningful and he didn’t even know he was doing it. He was in a hypnotic state of mind and the words simply poured out of him like he was some sort of sieve. Then, after an hour he was left with a six-page eulogy, by this time he had snapped out of this trance and had no idea what it was about or how it had been written. He began to read and could not believe that he had created such an incredible piece of writing. He had created this with no indication or sign that he was actually writing, it was a remarkable occurrence that puzzled him to the point of lunacy but in that moment he did not care how he had written it, all that mattered was that he did indeed write it and it was that undeniable fact that gave him hope that his dream was not as distant as he previously thought.
After that sudden epiphany, Tom tried to write again, he fed more paper into the typewriter and started to write, but this time his words were dull and unsatisfying. It was as if he had forgotten how to write and his now great expectations were not fulfilled. Tom started to develop an increasing amount of displeasure and anger, he began to question himself and if he had actually wrote the incredible eulogy. It may have come from his hands but was it created by his own consciousness? Was there some untouchable alter ego that had taken control of him for that brief hour? Tom then became emotionally and mentally drained, he stood up but could hardly keep himself standing. He collapsed onto his bed and within seconds was sleeping like a rock.
When Tom woke he did not what time it was or how long he had been asleep, he went down to his kitchen and looked at the clock that hung above the window. He then realized that he had been asleep for over sixteen hours. As he pondered the thought of his brains odd activity Amy walked into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she said, this time without a cigarette.
“Is it morning?” He looked at the clock again. “I see you have given up your one day habit of smoking.”
“Yes, I have found that it is better to deal with the reality head on rather than trying to mask it by using false techniques.”
“That’s good, when is dad’s funeral going to be?”
“The funeral is in a month. It has a large price tag but with the money we received from his pension it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Ok, I have a eulogy I wrote that I would like to read if that’s okay with you.” He almost regretted saying it the second after it came out of his mouth. As good as the eulogy was it still did not cover the fear of Toms stage fright. “How many people are going to be there and where exactly is it going to be?”
“It is in Jackie Robinson Park and I’m not entirely sure yet but at least fifty. His fellow officers from the station are going to be there and of course you can read your eulogy. There’s nothing more in the world that your father would want more.”
Tom took a large gulp as his mouth ran dry but as frightful as it was Tom felt compelled to do it, and it did not matter how bad he regretted saying that for it was already to late to go back and say no, after all it would be a shame for that amazing piece of literature to go to waste.
He did not know it yet but his father’s death had set in motion a series of perpetual events and it was these events that would forge his own being and send him on an improbable path of life that he could not avoid. Tom would soon realize that this world that he lived in was much smaller than it appeared and that its limits were only the limits of his imagination. This amazing path would soon lead him into the unknown and all of his unusual activities would soon be clear and be anything but unusual. The light that consumed his thoughts had become his North Star and contained uncontrollable power and wisdom and stood for something more, something bigger than Tom or anyone else could imagine.



Chapter 3

It had been three weeks since the strange occurrences plagued Tom and he had not experienced anything strange since then. There were two days left until Gary’s funeral and as it neared Toms fear of public speaking began to fade. It was like the time that passed by him was slowly corroding the fear until it was reduced to nothing. He started to gain confidence and in an odd way was looking forward to the funeral. This sense of pleasure made Tom wonder about his well being, it made him question whether or not he was becoming flawed in an untreatable manor. All this matter that flooded his head made him all but forget about that red light he had seen shortly before his fathers death. Although he could not see the light it was constantly with him, like a chip on his shoulder. He could not escape its presence for even a millisecond, he had yet to realize this but one day soon it would make its presence known.
The following day Tom woke up and like every other day proceeded to the downstairs area of his house and walked into the kitchen grabbing himself a fresh cup of coffee. This continuous routine had begun to give him a certain feeling of monotony, he wondered if it was this monotony that was the author of his experiences. This was giving him more reason to look forward to the day in which he would be forever entombing his father and then after this daily addition to his monotonous lifestyle the routine would finally be broken.
The next morning he did not get up and get himself a cup of coffee, today he got up cleaned himself and put on his finest black suit and tie. It was his only suit and it barely fit him for he had gotten it a few years sooner when his now deceased dad had been promoted in his law occupation. After he put on the suit he gabbed his beloved piece of writing and left the house with his mother. They both got in their sad excuse for a car and Tom sat in the driver’s seat rather than Amy. He drove as she was not fit to drive, she was not in the ideal emotional state of mind. When they arrived at the park they were slightly late, everyone who was invited had already arrived and a crowd of fifty people never looked so big. Tom stepped out of the car and walked up a narrow path that split in between the mass of people, he took a seat near the front with his paper neatly folded inside of his jacket pocket. The ceremony then began and before Tom knew it, the man standing at the front on top of the small stage had already read a small prayer and gave the family his blessings, he then called for Tom to step up to the stage. The ceremony began and ended faster than Tom had realized. The feeling of stage fright had returned but was not as apparent as before. He rose from his seat without making a noise and walked upon the stage. His body felt hotter than he had ever felt and his sweat much colder. Tom looked out at the crowd of people and although they did not mutter one word, the sound of silence seemed to be the loudest sound of all. Then, as the sun shined in Tom’s eyes he broke the silence and began to read. The rhythmic flow of the eulogy was unmatchable, it easily took the attention and the love of everyone in the crowd but not by using rhetoric, but by truth for it held more power than any exaggeration could ever entail.
As Tom was reading he looked up and saw someone standing far behind everyone at the funeral. He was sheltered from the harsh sunlight by a tree and was wearing a slightly tattered trench coat with jeans and a dark brown beard that covered his neck. It was hard for Tom to see him clearly as the sun continued to shine but it appeared as if he was carrying a book. The man looked at Tom without moving an inch and the crowd in front of the stage became anxious. Suddenly Tom realized that he had not been reading for upwards of thirty seconds and started up again. He quickly glanced up again but this time he did not see the man standing there. When he finished he walked off of the stage with an uproar of applause and congratulatory comments from the audience, this flattered him but they did not grab his attention as much as the mysterious man who watched him as he read. Tom walked through the impressed audience not stopping to talk to anyone including Amy, he kept walking forward towards the tree where the man was once standing. When he arrived at the tree he looked left, right, up and down but saw no sign of him in any direction. Although he did not see any sign of the man he did see something familiar, the red light.
It was floating above Tom’s head but was not close enough for him to touch. The light then started to move like it had done before, this time it lead him across the street and into the city. It led him past buildings and various stores for what felt like miles until it ceased to move. The light had led him to a grimy looking bar with no name located in some part of the city that Tom had never seen before. He did not know whether it wanted him to go into the bar or not, he was still only eighteen and was not above the legal drinking age but he looked it.
Tom walked into the bar and took a seat at the bar table that stretched across the length of the bar, he sat next to one of the wash-ups who was also sitting at the table. He took a look at his surroundings seeing nothing but shear desolation, it looked as if this bar had been here for a century and got no attention or renovations. The wood paneling that surrounded the bottom of the walls were falling off, the trim around the door and ceiling was practically all gone and the bar tabletop was rough and ready to deliver splinters to whoever slid this hand across it.
The bartender had short light brown hair with a small goatee. He wore a plaid long sleeve shirt but had the sleeves rolled up halfway, he turned toward Tom and took a quick glance at him. Tom was scared that he would realize that he was underage but the bartender did not seem to notice. He threw a rag over his shoulder and asked Tom “What do you like?”
Tom had never drank before in his life so he responded the only way he knew how, “A beer please.”
The bartender turned around and grabbed a beer off the shelf against the back wall, he cracked it open for Tom and placed in front of him. Tom took a sip not knowing what to expect and acted as if he had drank many times before but he certainly did not enjoy the taste. He continued to sip away hoping for it to end soon and as he drank he wondered why he was here. The red light had led him to an untitled bar with wash ups looking for solitude at the bottom of beer bottles, of course they would not find anything other than wet glass.
He continued to look around for some sort of clue but found nothing. Tom then finished his undesirable drink and was getting ready to leave but as Tom started to rise from his seat he heard a voice.
“That was quite a piece of writing,” the voice said.
Tom looked for the source of the voice and saw that it was coming from the man who was sitting next to him. He sat back down in his seat and looked at the man with a confused look on his face. The man looked as if he was quite old but kept his face slightly sheltered by the large collar on his light brown trench coat.
“You were the man standing underneath the tree at the funeral?” Tom asked the old man.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes I am. Your speech certainly changed the mood, it was quite a bizarre funeral if you ask me,” his words were muffled by the hair that hung over his top lip.
“Who are you?” Tom asked the man. “And why did you attend my fathers funeral? Did you know him?”
“Who am I?” The man repeated. “It seems you do not recognize me, you have known me your entire life and yet you still don’t recognize me.” The man said this without giving him a name or any other indication of who he really was. “I knew your father well,” he said with a smile. “He was one of my best friends, I grew up with him and graduated with him by my side. He was a wonderful fellow and it’s a shame to see him gone.” It seemed that his father’s death had touched a sensitive nerve in the man causing him to get choked up. “But despite that fact, we cannot live our lives dwelling upon the past.”
Tom was still confused as to who this shady character was and why the red light had lead Tom to him.
“So,” the man said. “What brings you to a place like this? You can’t be anymore than oh, nineteen years old.”
“I’m eighteen actually,” Tom replied sneeringly. “And I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, in fact this is the first bar I have ever been in.”
“Well your secret is safe with me. Here have another beer on me.” The man then signaled the bartender to come over and serve another round of beers. Although Tom despised to taste he could not say no to the mans generosity. Tom took a sip and the man could tell by the look on his face he was not enjoying it. “You don’t like beer? Hmm, then that really makes me question why you are here.”
“Like I said, I don’t know why I am here, I simply followed…” Tom stopped himself, he knew if he finished that sentence the man would assume that Tom was delusional.
“Followed…” The old man said with hand gestures asking Tom to continue.
Tom looked the man directly into his eyes and could not think anything to say that would free him form this uneasy conversation. “Well,” Tom said. “I guess it doesn’t really matter now that I am here.” The man nodded him head and took another sip from his beer. “But I guess there is nothing here for me to see.” Then Tom stood up and said, “It’s time for me to leave but you can finish my beer if you want.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” The man said. “I will also pick up the check from your first beer.”
As Tom walked out of the bar he still did not know where he was, he was lost and there was no red light to guide him home. It was now nearing dark and this is when the streets are most dangerous. He looked for anything to point him in the right direction but there was nothing, no signs directing him to Lenox Ave. or any of its neighboring streets. While Tom walked the streets senselessly he eventually found his way back to Jackie Robinson Park, from there he soon remembered his way home but everyone who was at the funeral were now gone, including his mother. Tom was forced to walk home all alone and this reality scared Tom, maybe this was what the light wanted him to see.
He wondered if he should take the direct and more dangerous route or take the long route along the river. After a short thought he decided that the long route would be just as dangerous so he hose the direct path.
The large lights atop tall poles lighted up the streets but the ally’s were immersed in darkness. With every ally Tom passed he became more stable and ensured that he would arrive home untouched. Then he could see his house, he was almost home but that last half-mile was the most terrifying of all. There seemed to be more ally’s and the street appeared to be darker than the others. Once he finally reached his home he gained a new level of respect for his dad, Tom never knew how frightening the streets of lower New York really were.
Tom walked inside and saw Amy sitting in the kitchen looking like she had been waiting for him for a while. She had a look of extreme anger and nervousness on her face and her nails were severely bitten and had jagged edges. Tom knew he was about to be given a torturous tongue-lashing.
At first, she did not say anything, she just looked at him as if she was expecting him to say something but Tom wanted to avoid the conversation completely.
“Where the hell have you been?” Amy yelled while staring him down. “It’s eight o’clock and I have been sitting here for hours waiting for you and that’s after I searched all over town. After you read your story you just vanished, walked off like you were a zombie.”
Tom did not answer any of her questions, there was no reason to try to explain to her the unexplainable. The only thing Tom replied with was “Did you like it?”
“Of course I did,” she replied snobbishly. “But even if it was written horribly I would have liked it. It’s no so much about the context that matters, it’s more about the fact that you read it but none of this matters at the moment, all I want to know is where you went and why.”
“I wish I could answer that mom. I can honestly tell you that I did indeed go to a bar and if I told how and why I went there you would think that I am truly crazy and although I am not crazy I am certainly not ordinary since dads death.”
Amy then felt a feeling of remorse for him even though he did just admit to going to a bar. “So,” she said in a more quiet and monotone voice. “You wrote that speech?”
“Yes, every word.”
“Well, then your future looks good if you can continue to write like that.”
That was the question; can he continue to write like that? Tom asked himself this very question numerous times before and every time he came to the same conclusion. He could not write well enough to become massively successful without the help of the light. He believed that it was the reason he went into that entrancing state and without it he would never be able to even put a pen to paper or string together words onto a typewriter. Tom nodded at Amy and continued pass her up into his room. He wanted to write but had nothing to write about, he began to wonder how the greats went about writing stories. Maybe he had been trying too hard and maybe if he were patient and simply let time take over his masterpiece would reveal itself. So instead of trying to write he went to bed with the thought that time would help solve his dilemma.
Time started to pass by quicker than he expected, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and then two years had passed by and he might as well have been asleep the entire time. He still did not have a masterpiece of literature, he still did not have a job and he still lived in the same house with only his mother. The only thing that had changed was the amount of money they had inherited from Gary’s inheritance. What once seemed like an astronomical amount of money (to them at least) was not dwindled down to almost nothing and no matter how much Tom despised it he was forced to get a job.
Tom looked for work wherever he could find it. He applied at fast food restaurants, local grocery stores, gas stations and car washes but never heard anything back. It was as if the employers were giving him interest without actually being interested. Tom began to lose hope but he could not give up, he arrived at a building on the more northern area of town. Outside of the building there was a large sign with red letters that read “Now Hiring.” This gave Tom a sense of hope but with hope sometimes comes despair. There was also another sign that read “Bricks Journalism,” Tom realized that this was a journalism job he would be applying for. When he walked inside he felt a different sense of welcome that the other places he applied for did not give him. On the bottom floor he saw only a desk that stretched from one wall to the other with an elevator one the opposing walls. There was a lady sitting behind the front desk with a television that hung above her head on a brace of some sort. The lady appeared to be fairly young, probably around thirty but was dressed in old-fashioned clothes that made her look much older. She had long red hair with a somewhat flat face and a small patch of freckles on each of her cheeks. Tom walked up to the counter and asked her about the now hiring sign out in front of the building. “Are you guys still hiring?” He asked her.
“Yes,” she replied with a welcoming grin on her face. “In fact we are still looking for a few people to fill in some empty spots.”
“Well, I’m sure I can fill at least one of them,” Tom said jokingly.
“Alright then, I will schedule an appointment for an interview with the boss.”
“The boss,” he said in a sarcastically frightened tone. “Sounds menacing.”
Before she responded she could not help but to let out a little chuckle. “I can assure you that he is no menace. He is one of the nicest bosses I have ever had but that being said he still expects work to be done efficiently by all his employees.”
“Of course, why else would he hire them unless they are driven to work? May I ask, what is the bosses name?”
“His name is Marcus Brick, or Mark for short. His family bought this building about thirty years ago and started the Brick journalism company. Now may I ask what your name is, I need to let him know who he will be talking to.”
“I’m Tom, Tom Gibbons, if you could let him know that I am interested in a job as soon as possible it would be greatly appreciated, I kind of need the money.”
“I’m sure we can all relate to that feeling. I will page his office right now if it is that important to you.” She then picked up the phone and called him, luckily he was in his office and accepted Tom’s request for an interview. She then hung up the phone and wished Tom good luck and told him where he needed to go to find his office. As Tom walked away towards the elevator he forgot to ask the lady what her name was but caught a glimpse of a name tag on her shirt as the elevator doors closed. Hailey, he thought he had heard of that name before but could not remember when. It mustn’t have mattered much because by the time he reached the top floor of the building he had almost forgotten the name again.
On the top floor there were what looked like twenty or twenty-five small offices all distributed neatly across the floor. Each one was occupied by a journalist who was typing on one of those new fancy computers, the Macintosh. Then strait across the large room from the elevator was the boss’s office. As Tom walked by all the small cubicles he felt out of place due the fact that everyone except him was wearing a dress shirt and tie with a small cloud of smoke around their heads from the cigarettes they were smoking. He was nervous and felt that he would be rejected because he was not properly prepared for the interview. He was wearing a slightly dirty windbreaker and jeans that he had worn the day before. He had not showered or brushed his teeth that morning either but it was too late for him to turn back.
He knocked on boss’s door and took a deep breath trying to keep calm and collective. Then the door was opened and a tall well dressed man stood before Tom with his hand held out asking for a shake. He had a thick mustache and short combed hair that was a deep brown. Tom looked him in the eyes through the large glasses that he wore and noticed that he had a large scare on the side of his neck. “Hello,” Tom said trying to mask his nervousness as much as possible. “My name is Tom Gibbons and I’m looking for a job and I noticed your hiring sign out front.”
“Yeah were hiring but surprisingly we haven’t had too many people coming in looking for work, I’m telling ya, everyone is working in those fancy new factory’s making everything form color televisions to whatever else is new these days. Which reminds me, did you know that they are making this new thing called a contact? Apparently I wont need these foolish looking glasses for much longer.”
Mr. Brick was quite the character; he spoke about a thousand words a minute and could barely stick to one topic for more than a sentence. Also he was very fidgety, he couldn’t keep his hands still nor could he sit down for any length of time. It was as if he was on a continuous sugar high.
“Yes sir, the technology is escalating quick, too quick for me to keep track,” said Tom.
“So Tom enough with the small talk lets get right to the point. Have you ever worked in journalism before?”
“No.”
“Okay, have you ever sustained a job for any length of time before?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had a job before?”
As much as it pained Tom to say he could not lie. Once again Tom replied with “No.”
“How old are you Tom?”
“I’m twenty sir.”
Tom could barely get his response out of his mouth before Mr. Brick continued. “Twenty years old and never had a job my goodness what is this world coming to? Tell ya what Tom, you give me one good reason why I should hire you and I will,” he said this with a certain certainty in his voice that Tom would not be able to answer.
“Well Mr. Brick even though I have not had a job before it does not dismiss the fact that I am a hard worker, a certain attribute to any company that would be so privileged to have me as an employee. And not only am I a hard worker but a good worker willing to do any type of work that is assigned to me so, you can tell me to get lost and still be left with no more new employees or you can hire me and let me at least try to show you what it is that I am capable of.” This sudden outburst of persuasive boastfulness not only impressed Mr. Brick but also impressed Tom. He had said it with no hesitation almost as if he had rehearsed it looking into a mirror.
“That was very well said,” Mr. Brick announced while practically clapping his hands. “You must have been practicing that for a while now, but as impressive as it was it still doesn’t matter. For gods sakes you could have said absolutely nothing and I still would have hired you, I’m getting more desperate as time goes on and you are just what I need to help keep this business alive.”
Tom was thrilled that he was now a working citizen contributing to this city, for once he actually looked forwards to the mornings. “So sir, when do I start?”
“Well I’m going to start you off at the bottom of the ladder doing jobs that frankly anyone with an IQ over thirty could do. The quicker you start the quicker you climb the ladder and the quicker you climb the ladder the quicker you become a full on journalist, so Tom, I guess I will redirect the question back at you. When do you want to start?”
“As soon as possible sir.”
“Great,” Mr. Brick discreetly said with joy. “You’ll start in…” He looked at his watch. “… Twenty minutes.” He then walked over to a cabinet in the corner of his office and grabbed a uniform. He handed it to Tom and said, “You will begin by sorting out the mail that is received.” Mr. Brick lead Tom down to the basement and showed him the ropes of being a mail sorter. The basement had unpainted cement walls that made Tom question the buildings foundation. Amongst the abundance of mail bags and tables there was a large beam located in the middle of the room. The lights were dim and had turned to yellow. It wasn’t the nicest place to work but it was a start, even if it did look like a place where someone would be held hostage hidden away from sunlight.
Tom saw two others working down there but was too shy to introduce himself to them. They were both fairly short and stout men with dirty hands and grease on their faces. They were wearing the same clothes as Tom but certainly in a larger size. Tom may have only had an hour of work under his belt but he could already tell that this job was going to be very dull. He had little to no mail that needed to be sorted and after all, who sends mail to a journalist company? He had nothing to do but think and he had lots of time. Tom was scheduled to get off work at eight pm but it was only three.
After thinking for as long as he could Tom had one last thought. He thought about why he had tried so hard to get a job only to hate it after a few hours of work, and it certainly wasn’t worth the measly three bucks an hour he was working for. Then suddenly a loud bell rang and the other two silent workers took off their overalls and proceeded out of the basement. “That bell must signify that the day was over,” Tom thought but how could it? It felt like he had only been down there for a few hours but it turned out that it was indeed eight o’clock. “Wow,” he thought to himself again. “ I must have zoned out.” But in reality Tom didn’t really care what made the time pass, all he cared about was the time.
The Bricks Journalism building was a short walk away from where Tom lived so walking back and forth posed no danger. The route Tom walked was almost identical to the route his father used to take. On his way home that night he walked past the local McDonalds, over the bridge that took him over the Harlem River and along the street with all those humble homeless that his father spoke so highly of.
That night when Tom arrived back home his mom promptly met him before he could fit himself through the door. She was anxious to hear whether or not Tom had gotten a job and Tom was excited to tell her he was employed. Without saying a word Tom showed her his uniform and she made a small squeal of glee. Despite his boring day at work he was happy as long as Amy was.
The next day Tom got ready for work and walked the same path to work that he walked the night before. For the next month and a half he walked this route almost everyday and almost every morning was greeted by a “Good morning,” from the homeless men just like they used to say to his father. Tom still worked as a mail sorter but when he arrived at work this day the first man she saw was not one of his fellow mail sorters, it was Mr. Brick who greeted him at the door with an overly large smile on his face.
“Good morning Tom, great day today isn’t it?”
Tom was almost sick of hearing good morning but replied with the upmost amount of joy. “Yes I suppose it’s a wonderful day. Now sir may I ask why it is you are so happy to see me?”
“Tom,” he said with a more serious look on his face. “It’s been years since I have hired someone who actually comes to work everyday like he is supposed to and does the all the work he is supposed to and I would like to thank you.”
Tom replied only by smiling and nodding his head.
“But not only would I like to thank you but I am also ready to promote you. You have proven to me that you are committed so I think I am confident to say that you are ready to work as a local journalist. You have officially begun your climb of the ladder.”
Tom’s hatred toward his job was now happiness even though he had no idea what being a journalist would entail. All that mattered to him at that point was that he would never have to go down that dirty basement again. He then shook Mr. Bricks hand and gave him a sincere “Thank you Mr. Brick.”
“Please Tom, no more of that Mr. Brick nonsense. Call me Marcus, or Mark, which ever you prefer. Both are fine with me.”
For work that day Tom was assigned to write up a journal on a mock issue that Marcus had given him. Tom was afraid that he would not be able to write but when he started to write he did not stop until he had reached two thousand words. It seemed much easier to write when he had something to write about and he did not feel the need to get a stamp of approval from himself, just Marcus.
As Marcus was reading it Tom tried his best to study his facial expressions and see if he could tell whether or not he was enjoying it but by the time he thought he had him figured out, Marcus had already finished.
“Great work Tom, especially for your unofficial first journal.”
“Thanks Mr. Brick, I mean Marcus,” he stuttered.
“That’s a nasty habit we’ll have to break. Being called Mr. makes feel disconnected from everyone else. It is imperative that you call me by my first name, same way I call you Tom, not Mr. Gibbons.”
“Understood Marcus.”
“Good, now get outta here. You’ve finished your work for today.’
“But I have only been here for three hours sir.”
“Marcus, call me Marcus,” he repeated in an attempt to drive it further into Tom’s brain. “As a journalist your pay is based upon how much work you do, not how long it takes you, but of course you still have a deadline. Now, your first real assignment will start tomorrow. I need you to write about the construction of a new stadium that will be the new home to our beloved Red Socks. Wait no, that’s not right. We hate the Red Socks, yeah that’s right. The Yankees! It will house the Yankees, anyways good luck, I can’t wait to see it”
Tom left the building feeling as though his day just simply could not get any better. Then on Tom’s walk home he was surprised to see that there were more homeless men on the sidewalk than usual. This was the first time he had walked this street mid-day so just proceeded along as usual. Then as he neared the entrance of his house he heard a voice. “Tom,” the voice called. It was a voice that Tom could have sworn he heard before. It came from behind him and as he turned he heard the voice again, “Tom.” This time he saw where the voice had come from and as he looked at the man he could not believe his eyes. The voice that was calling him was his lost but never forgotten friend Nick.







Chapter 4

How was it possible that this once intelligent promising young student that came from a home of riches had fallen this far? His appearance had barely changed other than his now long hair and unshaven face. He was the only homeless man Tom had ever seen that wear a tailored suit, the irony was almost laughable.
“Nick?” Tom questioned. “Is that really you?”
Nick looked up at Tom with shame in his eyes and unwillingly responded with a somber “Yes.”
As much as Tom did not want to hear him say “yes” he could deny that it was indeed Nick. Tom asked him to get up and then invited him inside of his house. Tom then welcomed him to take a shower as he would clean his suit. Nick gave Tom a very humble “Thank you” and proceeded into the bathroom. At the time Amy was away in the city somewhere buying groceries. She would not be home for a few hours and Tom did not know what to do with Nick. He did not know if his mother would let him stay with them and if that was how she felt then he did not know how to kick his best friend back onto the curb.
When Nick was finished in the shower his clothes were still in the washing machine so Tom lent him some of his clothes. Nick was lucky to have a friend as good as Tom and he knew it, Nick must have thanked him about fifteen times. When his clothes were finally done in the washing machine they sat down at the table in the kitchen and Tom now had the opportunity to ask how his life had suddenly gone so badly. He responded by saying, “Greed got the better of my parents, as if they had not had enough money already. Now that I have been on both sides of the spectrum, I can confidently say that the rich get richer and poor get poorer.”
Tom did not ask him to go any deeper than that, he thought that the past cannot be changed but the future can. “So I assume that you have yet to become a publisher?” Tom asked almost jokingly.
Nick put his head down slightly and said “No, and I fear that by the time I recover from this drought it may be too late.”
“Well, if you’re looking for a job I know a place that will hire you in a heartbeat. It’s a journalism job and that’s where I work now, in fact I have a paper that I need to complete tomorrow about the new stadium their building. I should probably get over there pretty soon now that I mention it.”
“Before I get a job I need a place to stay first,” Nick said hinting towards Tom.
“I have no problem letting you stay here but it’s my mom who has the final say. She should be home in a few hours but I need to leave right now.” Tom rose from his seat and was on his way out when he stopped and said, “Make yourself at home and if my mom arrives back before me don’t get scared, just tell her who you are and that I said you could be here.” With that, Tom walked out the door, leaving Nick in his house alone.
Later that night Tom returned home and saw the old ragged green piece of junk they called a car sitting in the driveway, he knew that his mom had come home. He ran inside and the first person he saw was her. She was distraught, tears in her eyes sparkled in the light looking like she was about to cry. She was sitting at the table in the kitchen with her head down and as much as Tom wanted to know where Nick was he had to set that aside for a moment. After Tom asked Amy why she looked like she was about to cry, he saw the picture of Gary on the table, she had been reminiscing about him. Tom then felt like crying himself but he couldn’t. It was like he could not produce tears. He quickly changed the subject by asking Amy, “Where’s Nick?”
“He’s not here,” she said while she tried to stop sobbing. “I told him to leave, I had no idea who he was.”
Tom then became angry but he could not stay angry. He could not blame his mom for she had not seen him in years and seeing a stranger in your house would be quite frightening. “Did he say where he was going or where I could go to find him?”
“No, he said nothing. Just walked out the door with his suit on.”
It was now nearing eight o’clock and Tom knew how dangerous the streets could be so he decided to do the smart thing and start his search tomorrow.
The next day Tom woke earlier than usual and got himself prepared for work. On his way to work he looked down every side street, ally and examined every homeless man thoroughly but none of them were wearing a suit. He wondered why Nick had not just waited for him outside his house. When Tom arrived at Bricks he tried to work extra fast so that he could have more time in his day to look for Nick. Then an hour and a half and two thousand words later he was done his journal. It certainly was not his best writing but that did not matter at this point, at this point all he wanted to do was find Nick.
He walked for hours, visiting every place he thought Nick might be but never even found a trace or a sign of his presence. As disappointing as that was he searched on until the weather turned sour. The city was covered by a shrouding mass of black clouds and was showered with rain and lightning. Tom then gave up his search and walked home in the rain.
Everyday since that last time he saw Nick seemed to go by faster than ever. He would never know that slight bit of happiness that he had with Nick ever again. It was as if Nick had disappeared, he never showed up on his doorstep again nor did Tom see him anywhere around the city when he would go on his so-called “Journal runs.” And all these feelings of disappointment, regret and sorrow were growing inside of him, turning into a monster that he would not be able to control, a monster that may soon lash out. But amongst all this dismay there was still some contentment that would sometimes surprise him throughout his days. Then the day came that he had all but forgotten about, the day that would take his career in journalism to the next level.
It was a day the same as all the rest, but this time on his walk to work he could see Marcus standing outside the Brick building waiting for him. He had an impeccably large smile on his face and greeted Tom with a firm handshake. Tom already knew what he was going to say but was still anxious for him to actually say it.
“Tom,” said the sweet sound of pride that he loved so much. “Today is the day. Today you climb to the last rung on the ladder. Today you become a full on journalist.”
This promotion was what Tom wanted so badly since the day he first stepped foot into his office and hearing him say it brought an immense amount of joy to his ears and it almost seemed as if Marcus was just as excited. He could not wipe that corny smile off his face. It was the kind of smile that made Tom want to smile and that’s what he did.
“Thank you so much,” Tom said with bliss oozing from his tone. “I don’t know how to thank you sir, this is incredible.”
“No need to thank me, in fact I should be thanking you. You’ve written so many good journals and not only that, you helped keep my family business alive.” Tom began to form large red blotches on his cheeks and acted very modest, he was not normally one to brag. Then Marcus started again, “You know Tom, I bet you’d make one hell of a writer. Have you ever thought about that? Your journals are some of the best I have seen, especially from someone of your age.”
Those words that Tom had just heard reminded him of his dream that had been pushed to the back of his memory. It had been months since he had attempted to write and suddenly had an urge to try. But Tom could not tell him about his life long dream, it was something very private to him, something that only one other person in the world knew. “No sir, I have never thought about that path in life,” lied Tom. “But it is an interesting thought. Maybe I will try writing on my own and see how it turns out.”
“You should, your quite talented but enough with that, I need you to travel to Sarajevo in Bosnia and Herzegovina. I know it sounds like it’s on the side of the damn world but its relatively close, just across the Atlantic.”
“Ok,” said Tom hesitantly. “Why there?”
“That’s where the winter Olympics are going to be held next year and a good journal on that would be great.”
“How am I going to get there and when am I going?”
“We have a small plane we use to transport our top journalists to foreign cities,” Marcus said in quite a boastful tone. “And you will depart in three days so get your bags packed and say good by to your parents because you wont be home for about two weeks.”
The thought of flying scared Tom. He had never been on a plane before and he had heard stories about them crashing. What he did not know was that they were the safest way to travel, statistically. He knew that the only way to overcome this fear was to fly and what other choice did he have? If he refused to get on the plane then he would never become successful in his journalism career and he wanted nothing more than success. “Well sir, I guess I will see you in a few days.”
“Damn right you will,” Marcus replied jokingly. “When you arrive here, there will be a van out front and it will take you to the airport and be ready. It leaves regardless of whether or not you are fully prepared.”
After his joyful chat with Marcus, Tom walked back home. He never stopped to look down any alleyways or stray off of his path to look for any sign of Nick. He wanted to focus on his life rather than Nicks, this journey was what would define him as a journalist.
When he got back to his house he was compelled to try and write. When he walked into his room the first thing he set his eyes on was his glistening black typewriter. It had barely been used but he was determined to change that. He sat down and fed a piece of paper into the typewriter and without thinking began to write. He felt that if you think before you write it ruins the experience of writing and he believed it was the source of his writer’s block.
Tom wrote for about an hour and had a page full of words. They may not have been magical by any means but it was a start. At least this time he could actually get the page stained with ink. And although it was not much it was enough to make him happy, “After all,” he thought. “Pablo Picasso didn’t pick up a paint brush and paint his famous scream painting. He must have started painting juvenile pieces of work that never saw the light of day.” He thought that with enough practice and commitment he could become the Pablo Picasso of writing.
Those next three days slid by like they were on ice, the time to leave had already arrived. As he walked out the door he looked over his shoulder and could see Amy in the corner of his eye. She looked so proud and Tom remembered that face for he would not see it for another two weeks.
He arrived at the Brick building at the appropriate time with everything he needed. He could see the van that was colored a pristine white and a few people piling into the back of it. They were people he had never seen before but he assumed they were fellow journalists. When he got up next to the van he could see Marcus standing in front of its opened doors. He welcomed Tom into the van and wished him good luck and introduced him to the three others who were traveling with him. The first was Hanes Tillman. He was a shorter man who almost always wore a flat beaked hat on backwards, he said it was the “new style.” He was the kind of guy who could make you laugh in any situation, a natural born jokester. The second of the three was Winston Fritch. Winston was an African American man who had graduated from Yale several years earlier. He wore glasses and was easy to find amongst a crowd for he was six foot seven inches tall, abnormal to say the least. He was the type of person who could appear to be truly enjoying a conversation without being interested at all. He felt over qualified for the job so he acted as if it was no big deal. The last of the three was someone familiar, it was someone who Tom had seen before but allowed Marcus to introduce her anyways. “Tom, this is Hailey.” It was the girl with the long red hair and freckles that he had first seen when he applied for his job. Tom thought it was odd for her to be going on the same trip as him considering it was his first trip and she had obviously been working here for much longer than him.
The ride to the airport was longer than Tom had expected. After about an hour of driving and listening to Hanes crack jokes so bad it was impossible not to laugh they finally reached the airport. There he saw the plane waiting for them. It was a small plane like Marcus had told him and looked almost futuristic to him. It was almost all white except for a red pinstripe that ran the length of the plane. When Tom first entered the plane he was greeted with the delightful aroma of fresh leather and pristine plastic. This helped Tom set his fears aside and relax.
He took a seat near the rear of the plane while most of the others were up front. Then when Hailey came on the plane she did not sit up at the front like the rest. She came and sat in the seat near the back across from Tom. After she sat down the planes door closed and it began to move. Tom sat back in his seat and tightened his seat belt. Hailey could tell he was nervous so she attempted to comfort him.
“First time on a plane?” she asked.
Tom looked over at her and replied, “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Just making conversation,” she said with an obvious amount of sarcasm in her voice. “You know, planes are the safest way to travel. Even safer than driving.”
“Yeah, I know that, but what about the survival rate from crashes? I bet that’s not higher.”
Hailey started to laugh. “Don’t worry it’s not going to crash. I have flown on this plane many times and used to be scared like you but once you get used to flying you will realize that its no big deal.”
Although Tom was only half focused on her and half focused on the planes movements she was slightly comforting him and then, as she stirred up more conversation Tom felt more comfortable and for a few moments, forgot he was even on a plane. By that time they were already in the air and were riding steady. As the conversation grew it started to get deeper. She then asked Tom about his family and that lead him to talk about his father. Talking about his father, for the first time, seemed to be a little difficult. It was the first time he had ever had to refer to him in the past tense. Then after they finished talking about his family, the conversation ended on a more depressing note. Hailey felt bad for asking about him but did not apologize. She felt that it was best if she just left him alone.
After they were officially done talking for a while at least, Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a small note pad and wrote down some words. He started to carry this note pad around with him wherever he went because he never knew when inspiration would strike him.
When the plane landed Tom and Hailey had still said nothing to each other since the beginning of the flight but every time he would look over at her it seemed that she was always looking at him. He knew she liked him and he was not sure whether of not he liked her and for now he had to set aside his emotions and proceed with his job.
Tom walked around the city and saw things he had never seen before. He saw the different cultures that lived there, he saw the unique architecture of the buildings and for the first time in his life, Tom smelt genuine fresh air. Air that seemed to be easier to inhale compared to the smuggest air of New York. This city had shown Tom the beauty of what this world had to offer and these where the kinds of places where Tom wanted to live.
The two weeks had passed much quicker than Tom wanted them to but this was a life changing experience that impacted him in the best way possible. It gave him motivation to leave New York and move to a place as serene as here.
On the plane ride back Tom sat in the same seat as before, so did Hailey but this time Tom felt no fear. He no longer needed Hailey to comfort him and all Tom wanted to do was to write about Sarajevo and immortalize its beauty in writing and by the time the plane had landed Tom had already finished the majority of his writing. But then, as he was leaving the plane and entering the van, his eyes were suddenly opened wide and he realized how small his world really was. New York may have some of the largest buildings this world had ever seen but amongst these buildings were people, millions of them. There was no Tom here like there was in Sarajevo, here he was only a citizen. It was like these huge buildings trapped him, like they were the bars on a prison cell and he had been sentenced to life. But despite this trapped feeling, Tom knew that someday he would break free from these bars and live the way he had always wanted.
Tom turned this thought of leaving New York over and over in his mind dozens of times. He wanted to leave more than anything but there was still some part in him that compelled him to stay, like he was a positive amongst this city of negative. The only reason he had to stay was his job and he needed the money, not only for him but also for his mother who wasn’t getting any younger.
As the months passed, Tom’s love for his job began to fade away.  About once in every two months Tom would be sent away to foreign countries to cover a “breaking” news story that he really didn’t care about. His life was passing him by too fast and he had fallen back into this monotonous groove that he had once escaped. He couldn’t live doing the same thing for much longer and that’s when he made a conscious decision to quit his job.


Chapter 5

The next day Tom arrived at work happier than ever. He passed in his journal and proceeded up the elevator to Marcus’s office. He put his hand on the door handle but when he tried to turn it, it would not turn. He looked through a small window that was beside the door and saw that he was not in his office. Tom went back down the elevator and asked the clerk at the front desk if Marcus was there but he told Tom that Marcus was on vacation and would not be back until next week. Tom thought that was strange considering that he had been given nothing to work on, but on his way out of the building the clerk stopped him and gave him a note that was left by Marcus. The note explained that Tom and the rest of the crew were scheduled to leave the following week on a trip to Dubai. Tom had never heard of the place but apparently it was an uprising city in the middle of the desert, built atop huge oil lakes that were buried deep under the sand and rock. Tom decided that this would be his final trip and after he returned he would no longer be a journalist.
The next day Tom departed with the crew and this time he thoroughly enjoyed their company. Hanes was cracking jokes that were genuinely funny and he could not here Winston complaining about having an underachiever’s job. His voice was drowned out by the sound of him and Hailey laughing uncontrollably. Tom still wasn’t sure whether or not he should ask her out but what he was sure of was if he did, she would say yes.
After stopping for fuel and flying for hours, they finally touched down in Dubai. As soon as he set foot out of the plane, Tom could see the massive amount of construction that was happening simultaneously in this busy city. They were building everything from buildings to coastline, it was the easiest city he could wish for to write about.
That night him and his crew checked into a fairly large hotel located right in the middle of this construction empire. The rooms were laced with luxurious hand crafted trim and gold paint with an incredible view of the Persian Gulf. The only issue was the constant noise from the machines that worked endlessly to build bigger and better. Tom had no idea how his employers had enough money to pay for something this lavish but right now that didn’t concern him.
Later that night, while everyone else was asleep Tom was restless. Not only was the constant noise keeping him awake but also was the thought of quitting. Although he was thoroughly enjoying himself now, when he returned to New York he would always be reminded of how much he hated his hometown. As Tom was turning this though over and over in his mind he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but once again he could not. He opened his eyes and saw something far to familiar. It was something that he had not seen in years and had almost forgotten about. It was the red light. Like the other times he saw it, it simply floated above him waiting for him to get up, when he rose it would move forward in increments and every time he neared it, it moved forward a little further. It led him out of the hotel and down the street for a few minutes until it reached a small pub, then it disappeared. Tom walked into the pub, this time being over the legal age to drink, and took a seat on one of the bar stools at the table. He looked around like before but saw nothing that interested him, only people he did not know. He did not have his wallet, or anything else and he was still dressed in his pajamas that he had worn to bed. Tom looked quite silly sitting in his pajamas amongst this rich looking bar. Then while he was sitting there feeling like a fool, a group of young women walked through the door looking as if they had been drinking since the night began. They sat in a booth near the back wall of the pub and there was one that caught his eye. She looked to be around the same age as him and maybe a few inches shorter. She had long blond hair that flowed with unison as she walked and lightly tanned skin that rested under her yellow dress. Although over half of the population here was Indian, she was not. Maybe she was here on a trip like him or was just a minority. She turned her head and looked at Tom who had been starring at her for the past minute, Tom quickly turned his head away trying to mask the fact that he was interested in her. Tom thought that maybe this was the reason the light lead him here but he was too intimidated by her and her group of friends, his personality was much too introverted for him to go and talk to someone such as her.
She knew he was looking at her and could tell from the way he was that he liked her. But she also knew that he was too reclusive to come and talk to her especially with all her friends surrounding her like bodyguards so she decided to go and talk to him.
Tom did not know that she was on her way to him so the next time he turned his head to look at her she was inches away. He almost jumped, making himself look even more foolish. She sat down next to him and ordered two beers. She then looked at him and said, “You like beer?”
He didn’t really but he also didn’t care in that moment. Her voice was hypnotizing and before the conversation had really begun, she had Tom in her palm. “Umm,” Tom stuttered, “Yeah, love it. It appears that you’ve had you fair share of it tonight.”
She snickered and tilted her head while still looking directly at him. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. So what’s your name?”
“Oh sorry, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you my name,” he said laughing. “It’s Tom, Tom Gibbons. And yours?”
“Well Tom it’s nice to meet you,” she stuck her had out for a shake.  “I am Victoria Valet.” She was a Canadian with French and British parents and as the conversation went on Tom found it quite obvious that she was Canadian based upon her constant emphasis on words like “out” or “about” but she never said eh. And eventually she asked about Tom’s odd wardrobe.
“Well,” Tom said hesitantly while he tried to come up with some sort of story. “I couldn’t sleep and I, I thought that maybe some alcohol could help me sleep but when I got here I noticed that I had forgotten my wallet.”
Victoria could not stop her constant laughter. “Well, Tom you seem like a very interesting fellow and I would love to know more.”
This time, Tom let out a little chuckle. “I’m honestly not that interesting. I’m twenty-one years old and I’m from New York and I’m here because of my journalism job. I live with my unemployed mother named Amy and am aspiring to someday become a writer and that’s it, my life in a nut shell.”
She then told Tom that she was also here in Dubai on a vacation with some of her other Canadian friends and by that time, they had already been talking for a little under an hour and it was getting close to two in the morning. “Well,” Tom said. “I think that it is time that I should be going but I would love it if I could meet you here tomorrow at the same time, maybe a little earlier?”
A smile then swept across her face and she graciously replied, “Don’t be late.” Then her and her friends left the pub and Tom soon followed. When he arrived back at his hotel he realized that he had forgotten his key inside the room and could not get in till morning. That night he slept comfortably outside leaning against his room door thinking about Victoria Valet and when she went back to her hotel she slept comfortably thinking about Tom Gibbons.
The next morning Hailey opened up the door and found Tom fast asleep in the hallway. She began to laugh hysterically and her laughter woke Tom. He had only gotten about five hours of sleep but felt as though he had gotten twenty. He was unusually energetic and revitalized but when Hailey asked why he replied with, “No reason.” He did not want to hurt her for he knew that she had feelings towards him but his feelings were directed towards someone else.
After Tom took his morning shower he ate his usual breakfast, two pieces of toast and a bowl of the breakfast of champions, Mini Wheat’s. Now, with nothing to do with the rest of his day, Tom roamed the streets and looked at the enormity of the up and coming city and then he worked on his journal. Later that day, Tom finished his journal with five days left to stay in Dubai. Every night he would meet with Victoria and talk until the morning sun would rise and on the last day he spent the entirety of his day with her. Although he had only been with her for a few days, Tom felt like he already knew almost everything about her. He knew that she had quite a spontaneous personality and because of that Tom asked her to come back to New York with him and when he asked she had no choice but to say “yes.”
On the plane ride back Hailey did not sit next to Tom, it was Victoria and as much as she made him happy, he could not ignore the sense of betrayal he felt. It was a little awkward for him but once everyone had fallen asleep Tom could finally feel relaxed and he then work on his story that was about a quarter of the way done. It was slowly nearing completion and he had not yet shown it to anyone. Tom was very secretive about his writing and was hesitant to even tell people that he wanted to be a writer but ever since he met Victoria he had opened up his world of secrecy and in a way, she was writing the book for him.
When they arrived back in New York, Tom brought Victoria back to his unattractive home and was worried that she might think badly about him because of his bad living conditions. Tom opened the door and there stood his mother greeting him back home with a welcoming hug.
“It’s good to see you back home darling.” Amy said while still hugging Tom.
“It’s good to be back,” Tom replied. “Mom I’d like to meet someone, this is Victoria. I met her in Dubai.”
Amy seemed quite surprised. Why would this gorgeous girl be interested in a bookworm such as Tom? But who was she to question love? Amy also gave her a hug and greeted her as well.
That night they all sat in the kitchen and talked about Victoria most of which Tom already knew. Then after they had talked all about her, Tom asked Amy about something new. “Mom, I know you enjoy my company here and I certainly enjoy yours too but I think that it is time for me to move out. I’m twenty-one years old and now that I have a girlfriend I need more space so I wanted to ask you what you would think about that?”
Amy did not know how to reply. She wanted to say no and beg him to stay but as a mother, she knew what was best for her son so she was forced to say, “Tom, as much as I would love to stay, I know that you are growing older and need a place of your own, but I don’t know how I will pay for this place now that all your fathers inheritance is gone.”
“You wont have to worry about that mom, I will just send you checks in the mail every month.”
“Well, it’s going to be awful lonely here all by myself.”
“Mom you worry too much. We will be down often on visits and maybe take you to our house sometimes.”
Amy was trying to think of any possible way to change his mind but she could not think of any others. She knew that this day would come but she never prepared herself for it. She had already lost her husband and she now felt like she was losing her son. That last night she spent with him was a nice night though. She had hardly ever spent too much time with him so that last night they all gathered in the living room and watched her favorite shows till the night turned to morning. Amy prepared a large breakfast of eggs, ham, bacon, coffee and anything else she could fit inside a pan or pot. After their breakfast, Tom and Victoria left and Amy already could not stand the sound of silence and the feeling of isolation.
Tom and Victoria still did not own any sort of vehicle so the first thing they had to do was buy one. They walked hand in hand down the street until they reached a used car shop. The car shop did not have much variety and it’s owner had everything much too over priced. After looking for a short amount of time, they chose a car that was within their budget but a little hard on the eyes. They paid one thousand for their “new” 1984 Audi 5000. It wasn’t the nicest car but it was certainly better than the green eyesore that sat in Toms old driveway.
After the purchase of their car, Tom and Victoria went on the hunt for a home. They were not looking for something pertinent rather something that they could call their own until they had enough money for their dream home. Eventually they came across a small single story house just outside Harlem, the location was perfect because Tom decided that he could not quit his job now that he had purchased a car and would need gas and he felt like he needed money to satisfy Victoria. Their new house was nicer than what Tom was previously living in but was still not exceptionally nice. It was in a nice neighborhood where he did not feel nervous to go outside or walk down the street. It took a few days for them to get settled in and get their electricity and phones set up and at the end of those few days, they could finally say that they were proud home owners.
Later on that week Tom took a few days off work so that him and Victoria could go up to Canada to meet her parents. They chose to drive up so that they could spend more time together but after a few hours Victoria already knew it was going to be a long drive. Tom was cracking every Canadian joke he could think of, everything from living in igloos to having bet polar bears. Tom already knew that none of them were true but he just liked to test Victoria’s patience with him.
It was mid November and the snow had started to form a thin veil on the already dangerous and windy road. Tom did not have much experience with driving in these conditions so he had to slow down and that made the trip longer and more tedious. When they finally arrived in Hamilton, Ontario all of Tom’s jokes were put to shame. Victoria lived in one of the most financially prominent neighborhoods in Ontario. They came up on her house that was neatly tucked in behind a perfectly trimmed hedge that was nicely accented by the light snowfall. It was painted a perfect shade of yellow and must have been three times the size of the one they had just purchased and all this made Tom feel uneasy. He felt self conscious about himself and he was worried about what her parents would think about him. Victoria noticed that he was beginning to feel worried so she tried to comfort him by telling him that she had had many other boyfriends who were not even half as impressionable as him. This did give Tom a bit of courage and they opened their doors and walked up to the front door of the house and knocked. A few moments later a man and women both of whom were dressed in high-end designer clothing opened the door. Tom looked at what they were wearing and what he was wearing and he started to experience the feeling of self-consciousness that he had felt before. Then the man stuck out his hand and introduced himself to Tom and so did the woman. Their names were Phillip and Sophie and they invited Tom in just as their maid was finishing up supper.
For supper they ate premium steak, the best that Tom had ever had, he also drank a cup of fine wine, also the best that he had ever had. Philip and Sophie began to ask Tom questions all about himself and where he was from. They asked him about his future and what his life plans were while staring him down as if they were evaluating him. Most of Tom’s answers were lies, he was afraid of telling them the truth about him thinking that the truth would not be good enough. And then, after all the questions were asked and all the questions were answered, Philip and Sophie looked at each other smiling. It appeared as though Tom had passed the parental test even though he had lied about most of it, but before he could escape the hot seat they had one last question for him.
“So Tom,” Philip asked. “What are your religious views?”
Tom was not religious at all, in fact he believed in the opposite of religion, science. He believed that there was a scientific explanation for everything but when he looked over Philip’s shoulder he could see a bible sitting on top of a shelf. It was like it was placed there specifically for when he asked this question. Tom could not say what he believed no matter how bad he wanted to.
“Well sir, I like to keep a strong relationship with god.” It was almost hard for Tom to string those words together but he knew it would be for the better and at least he could now leave comfortably knowing that he had established a strong first impression.
On the way back to New York They stopped at a gas station to fill up their once again, empty gas tank. Tom didn’t realize how fast these expenses could pile up but it was still cheaper than taking a plane. While Tom was pumping more gas into his car he started to wonder how Victoria’s parents were so content with her moving in with him before they met him?
After he paid for the gas he arrived back at the car and asked her. She then proceeded to tell him that she was quite reckless while growing up. During high school she would rarely return home and on some occasions stay away for days at a time. Eventually her parents got used to it and stopped trying to “fix” her, as they would say. They thought that the best way to teach someone was to let them experience life on their own. This worried Tom a bit, he wondered if she was still the same reckless person who grew up with her parents or maybe those days were gone along with her high school years.
The rest of the drive back went by slower than the drive there, probably because Tom wasn’t entertaining himself with Canadian jokes. This time Victoria had fallen asleep and Tom was beginning to become a little drowsy himself. Tom could barley keep both eyes open and then when his eyelids were to heavy to lift, he closed his eyes for the last time. But before he had enough time to fall asleep, he was awoken by the startling noise of hundreds of tiny bumps along the side of the road. He had seen them there before but he never knew what they were used for and he found out in a timely fashion, they had just saved his and Victoria’s life.
Tom was still shocked at how close he had come to death and he knew he was not yet fit to drive. He pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car. Victoria was still somehow sleeping and in a matter of a few minutes so was Tom. When he woke he was revitalized and calm and continued to drive until they arrived in New York.


Chapter 6

In the remaining days that Tom had off of work, him and Victoria looked to find a job for her, a job that would offer only part time though as she was getting prepared to head off to university. It was a thought that he had contemplated many times, and it was something that her parents wanted her to do ever since her high school days. She may not have gotten the highest marks in high school but they were still adequate, and if she went to university, she wanted it to be something she wanted to do, not something her parents wanted to do. And so, after giving it lots of thought over a few years, she finally thought that it would be best if she furthered her education. Victoria was more interested in arts rather than sciences and it was apparent why after being in her home, so she decided that she would go back to get a bachelor or arts.
The university she chose was Columbia and was located near the center of Harlem. It had a large green field in front of the main entrance that was crafted from solid concrete. There was a large concrete awning that was supported by strong, architectural beams that added to its beauty. It was one of the nicest universities that Tom had ever seen. The school year didn’t begin for a couple months so they still had time to find her a job. Eventually, after a couple days of searching, they found a zoo right next to the university that was in need of people to help care for the less dangerous animals. Victoria loved animals and was hired on the spot; it was a job that she could actually look forward to doing.
During the next few weeks, Tom and Victoria kept themselves quite busy. Tom had gone back to work and was sent down to Mexico and Victoria was kept busy working at the zoo, and when she wasn’t working there, she was sending letters to Tom. No matter where he went or how far away he was, they would always find a way to keep in touch. Tom enjoyed receiving the letters and Victoria enjoyed sending them and every time he received one, his day seemed to suddenly become joyful. But once Victoria started university, the letters became scarce, and Tom started to feel like he was forgotten. Tom knew that she had to focus more on her school work but it didn’t dismiss the fact that he felt like a misfit toy left out in the rain, he didn’t realize how much he enjoyed the letters until they stopped coming. And even when Tom returned home, he still felt like he was somewhat forgotten. Victoria had become engulfed by her schoolwork and job. She had to learn how to juggle Tom in there somehow.
As time went on, Victoria’s school year was coming to a close and when it did she would receive her bachelor of arts. Just the thought of her school year finishing joyed Tom but he was also happy for her. She had strait A’s and Tom finally saw a passion in her that he had not seen before. And then, the day that Tom had marked upon his calendar had finally arrived, her graduation. It was held in the universities theatre and after they sifted through names for over an hour they finally called, Victoria Valet. She walked upon that stage with a familiar smile on her face, one that Tom had seen many times before, and later that same night, on their first year’s anniversary Tom rented a boat and brought her out to the statue of liberty. The night was still and the stars were shining brighter than ever. It was the first thing they had done together in what felt like month’s, and then once they reached the top and could see one of the most scenic views of New York, Tom knelt down on one knee and held out his hand. What came next brought a tear to Victoria’s eye, she put her hand in Toms and he said, “Victoria, would do me the honor of taking my hand in marriage?”
It was a catharsis of eternal emotion finally set free like it had been waiting for a lifetime, and not only from her, but also from Tom. When she began to cry so did he, he did not know whether or not they were tears of joy or pain until she finally said yes. Tom had never been so happy in all his life after hearing a single syllable. He had no ring or any other type of memento to help savor this moment but that didn’t matter to her. Victoria’s day had already showered her with immeasurable joy, but the next day after the best night of both their lives, they went shopping for a ring. They came upon a small jewelry shop that sat near the edge of a large river. The shop didn’t have much variety and they had a strict budget but after looking at their choices they settled on a ring that most women would be insulted to receive. It was mostly gold with a single strand of sliver that ran through it without even a sparkle, but it was enough for Victoria. In this increasingly materialist world, she stayed true to values and the thought behind materials rather than the materials themselves. And then, with barely any planning, they were married. Their reception was held in a small church and the only attendance was themselves. There were no guests, no family or friends, only Tom, Victoria and the priest. It was tough to pick a spot to honeymoon as Tom had already seen most the popular locations but one place he hadn’t been, was Sicily. There, they rafted along miles of coastal shoreline and in between masses of harmonistic mountains and at night, the city came alive. Thousands of lights lit up the city and the stars kept the night sky scenic, everywhere he looked, Tom could see nothing but radiance and majesty. Then one night, while Tom was admiring the tranquility of Sicily as he looked through the skylight in his hotel room, he saw a light, one of the likes of which he had not seen the previous nights when he looked up to the stars. It was the same light that he had seen in Dubai and the same light that had begun to stain his eyes with red. The red light was back again, and once again Tom chose to follow it.
“Where are you going?” Victoria asked him.
“I’m just going out for some fresh air,” Tom replied without even glancing back at her. He left the room and walked out of the hotel on the beach that was merely feet from their hotel door. The door was made entirely out of glass so Victoria watched him the whole time.
Tom continued to walk strait across the sand and into the still blue waters of the pacific. He continued to walk strait until the water was touching the bottom of his chin, then Victoria knew that something was very wrong with Tom and she ran out after him. By the time she ran across the beach and into the water Tom was underwater. Tom weighed much more than Victoria especially with soaking wet clothes and as she tried to pull him out of the water, she almost fell under herself. Victoria pulled with all her might and will and then as she fought against the current, she finally got him in close enough to the shore that she could feel the sand beneath her toes. She continued to pull him in closer until they were out of the water and laid flat on the beach. Tom’s eyes were closed and he was not responding to her constant cries. She had never attempted CPR but she no choice to try it on Tom. As she beat on his chest and blew air into his lungs, he still gave no response and Victoria started to lose hope. Then as she was pushing on his chest, Tom’s eyes opened and he began to breath heavily. He spit out a fountain of water and looked around as if he had no idea where he was. He looked at Victoria and asked, “Where the hell am I?”
Victoria then became confused but answered Tom discreetly. “What do you mean? You’re on the beach outside our hotel. Don’t you remember walking out here and into the ocean?”
Then, the confusion fell on Tom. He had no recollection of walking anywhere. Last he remembered was seeing the red light then nothing. It was like trying to remember a dream. “No, Why would I do that.” Then right after he asked her he thought to himself that the reason he walked out into the ocean must have had something to do with the red light and the reason behind it, was not known by anyone, except the light.
Victoria brought him back inside and set him down on the bed and went into the bathroom to get him a towel. When he came back out, she saw that Tom had already fallen asleep. She put the towel over him anyways and slept on the dry floor. It was difficult for her to fall asleep because she could not stop thinking about why Tom had walked out into the water. “Was he trying to commit suicide?” She thought to herself. There was no other logical explanation that she could think of other than to ask Tom, so she tried to stop thinking about it and eventually, fell asleep. When she woke up Tom was already awake, watching television and sipping on the horrible coffee that was left in their room. Victoria got up and sat on the bed next to him and asked him about the previous night. Tom did not want to tell her about the light he sometimes see’s, he thought that if he it would lead her to believe that he was some sort of crazy person who needed to be put in a sponge play pen but he had too, it was the only way to provide her with closure.
“Victoria, this is going to sound unbelievable, borderline crazy but it’s the only way I can explain to you my odd actions. Since my father’s death, I seldom experience a feeling of being watched. When I look around me to see if someone is looking at me, I see a red light. This red light leads me things that so far seem to be random. It has lead me to a bar on the day of my father’s funeral, where I met an old man. It has lead me to you, that night in the pub when we in Dubai and the night before my father’s death it was trying to lead me somewhere but I did not follow it. I am not afraid that if I don’t do what it wants me to, someone else I love may die or something. I know this must sound crazy but, as crazy as it is, it’s the truth. It’s all just a matter of understanding, once I figure out what it’s purpose is and why it leads me to these places then, maybe I will be able to ignore it, but that’s only after I find out what it wants.”
After hearing what Tom said, Victoria started to worry about his well being. What he had said made him sound delusional but as his wife and friend, she believed it. “Tom, I believe everything you have just said, but it makes me worry. How am I supposed to feel, if I need constantly be looking over my shoulder to make sure your not trying to kill yourself?”
Tom felt bad for her, she had to live with someone who she thought was crazy and then Tom thought that he should have told her about this when they first met. “I know it’s a lot for you to think about right now, but I felt that if I had have told you about this the first time we met, we would have never gotten to this point in each others lives. The light has never let me down, it has helped my life in every way possible and is probably the reason I have enjoyed life over the past few years.”
Victoria wanted to argue but she could not. As long as Tom was happy then she could not stay mad at him, and so, they tried to forget about the whole ordeal and went about their day like any other couple in paradise would.
They had been in Sicily for two weeks and their honeymoon was coming to a close. They packed their bags, left the hotel and as they walked towards the airport, took one last moment to stop and sight see. They were standing on the edge of the city and as another couple walked by, Tom asked them to take a picture of him and Victoria. After the other couple took the picture, Tom looked at it on the digital screen. When he did, he turned his head towards Victoria and said, “Wow, you look gorgeous Mrs. Gibbons.” He enjoyed referring to her as a Gibbons rather than Victoria, not that he didn’t like her name.
They boarded the plane and within the same day, were back in New York, their honeymoon was over. Instead of walking upon sandy beaches and sleeping in luscious hotel rooms, they were walking upon the all to familiar cement and sleeping in a small house.
They both returned to work and once again, became cogs in the never-ending machine of industrialization. After being back for about one week, Tom noticed that Victoria was becoming increasingly ill and one night, started vomiting uncontrollably. She was complaining about constant stomach pain until Tom could not take it any longer, he decided to drive Victoria to the hospital. As he loaded her into the car and started to drive, he thought that she may have caught some type of disease or flu from Sicily but when they arrived at the hospital, he was utterly surprised.
After the doctor’s had examined her and checked out every possible solution, they came to the conclusion that Victoria was pregnant. They had found the essential hormones within her urine and when they Tom and Victoria, they cried with joy.  But not only was she pregnant, she was pregnant with twins. It was still too early to tell what gender they were but just knowing that she was pregnant was enough news for now. And as happy Tom was, he knew that with the addition of two new members to family meant, they would need more room and more money, but he could set this aside for at least nine months and think about how fortunate he was, he would soon be a father.
As he looked down at Victoria he thought about life. He thought about how it worked and if everything was left to chance or if it was all part of some master plan, was everything random or pre planned? These were the kind of questions he could not answer and maybe, these were the kinds of questions that were better left unanswered. As he looked at her, he thought, this girl, who he once never even knew, was now his wife and mother of his soon to be children. “Life,” he thought. “However it works, is incredible, how something so amazing can be sprung from nothing.” This was his moment, his purpose, this was his embodiment and he savored it for as long as it lasted.
Over the course of the next few months, Tom’s life became filled with work and nagging, and from the words of the great Stephen King, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” During the day, Tom would work, and work overtime, he needed the money but he could not leave to foreign countries because Victoria was nearing seven months. After everyday of work, Tom would return home with his suit and briefcase only to be nagged by Victoria for ridiculous concoctions of food. Her favorite was, peanut butter and pickles, so the next time Tom went to the store he bought enough to last himself a lifetime, but that would only last her several weeks.
This Closter phobic environment was driving Tom mad, most of the time he could not focus nor think let alone write. His book was hardly halfway done and he had started it years ago, at this pace it would be finished by the time he reached old age. Some nights, Tom would head out into the city with his note pad and pen to places where silence was not a rarity. There he would sit beneath the stars and write in peace. These moments of silence helped Tom mentally at times when he felt as though he was going insane, but this possibility of problematic insanity would soon vanish.
Tom had firmly planted himself within the leather chair that sat in their living room with his face brightly lit up by the glow of the television, when he heard a distinct yelp coming from their bedroom. Tom sat up and acutely tuned his ears towards that same noise and heard it once more. He jumped up off the couch and ran towards their room nearly tripping on his own feet. When he busted through the wooden paneling of the bedroom door, he could see Victoria barley standing holding her now enormous stomach. Then she cried once more.
“I think…” She interrupted herself and took a deep breath, “I think, I’m having a baby.”
She had only been pregnant for eight months, and Tom had read about the dangers of premature birth.
Victoria then grabbed Tom with her sweaty palms on his small shoulder and was struggling to keep herself stable. Tom grabbed her arm firmly and slowly led her out to their car.
After they had both been secured firmly, Tom drove off as quickly as he could towards the hospital. Her constant cries acted like a weight that was continuously pushing down harder and harder on Tom’s foot that leaned on the gas pedal.
Then after a short five-minute drive that, for Tom, was not so short, they arrived at the hospital. Tom quickly jumped out of the car and ran over to Victoria’s side. He opened her door and unbuckled her tight seat belt and then helped her walk strait up between the mechanically sliding doors of the hospital.
Once inside, a nurse almost immediately noticed that Victoria was in an immense amount of pain. She ran over in her large white coat and put Victoria in a wheelchair, and wheeled her off into one of the emergency rooms.
Tom was left there standing amidst this large atrium alone, until about five minutes later a tall male doctor came out from behind the wall of the office with his white coat trailing in the wind. He came over to Tom and told him that Victoria was in labor and would soon be giving birth, like Tom didn’t already know this. He then asked Tom if he wanted to come in while she was but Tom refused. He did not have a strong stomach and assumed that the doctors could comfort her better than him.
Tom sat in that lobby amongst a dozen of other sick, anxious and coughing men, women and children, for what must have been an hour. While he sat there squirming around, crossing his legs every which way, he pulled out his favorite book that was written by his favorite author, Great Expectations, Charles Dickens. As much as Tom loved reading it, which he had done several times before, he could not focus on what he was reading. His mind may have been picking the words off the page but they were simply bouncing off him, his mind was filled up with the thought of Victoria and the thought of being a father, something he thought would never have come upon him. Then, the moment Tom had been so anxiously waiting for arrived. The nurse came into the waiting room and pulled Tom up from his seat. “You’re a father now,” she told him.
His eyes began to sparkle and when he walked into the room where Victoria had given birth, they sparkled even more.
There was a small pool of blood on the floor that lay near the end of the table she had been laying on. But Tom did not see this blood, the only thing that came into Tom vision, was her and what lay in her arms, his first son. Tom walked over next to her and gently took the baby who was wrapped within a warm white blanked, and placed him in his arms. As Tom looked down at the baby a tear began to form in Tom’s eyes and then fell down on the baby.
After gazing upon the most remarkable thing he had ever laid eyes upon, Tom raised his head and asked, “Where is the other one?”
The nurse looked at Tom and so did Victoria. “Where is she?” Tom asked once more, and then, while Tom’s tears stopped, Victoria’s began to flow. “He died Tom,” it was the hardest thing she had ever had to say. The once beautifully ample ambiance, turned sour and then, even worse.
Victoria was still crying and could not get any other words to leave her lips. Tom turned to the nurse and looked at her, waiting for her to say something. She then opened her lips unwillingly and as the words left her mouth, Tom felt like his world had suddenly ended.
“Not only has your other son died,” she explained with certain grief in her voice. “But also, the one your holding, has been born with a rare disease that affects it’s…” Tom cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest.
“Will he live,” He shouted vigorously. “And if he will, how long?”
“He has a very low chance of survival and I must tell you that he cannot go home with you. You must leave him here and let the nurses do what’s necessary to help keep him alive.”
Tom looked down, and he could now see the large amount of blood that lay on the tiled floor. It was like his peripheral vision had suddenly decided to work.
The genesis of Tom’s idea of life, living well, family and success, had all but perished. His dream of having kids and being a fulfilling yet didactic figure for his kids, this dream that he had adopted since the day he had met her suddenly seemed so far away, too far away for him to grasp and cling too. And that night at the hospital, Tom sat in the same room as Victoria, next to her bed on one of those black stools that sit unused in the doctor’s office. He could not close his eyes, he was scared, scared of what he would see when he opened them. As he sat there, Tom could finally let out all of his coagulated emotions that he had been holding onto for so long. There not enough hours in one night for him to get it all out, an entire sleepless night and he could still feel it inside of him, but of course he stopped this outburst before Victoria woke. It wasn’t a macho thing, nor was it anything else. It was just him, he could not let anyone see him in such an emotional distress. He could hear Victoria making a frail groan, the sound she would always make just before she was about to wake up, so Tom wiped the emotions off his face and like turning a switch, shut out any possibility of a catharsis.
After she fully woke, Tom helped Victoria get up off the padded table and then into the bathroom. Victoria then cleaned herself and with no spare clothes, put on the same clothes she worn into the hospital the day earlier.
They both walked down the long hallway and into a large white room with dozens of small carriages all of which held babies. They saw a nurse, the same nurse who had helped her give “birth,” standing by the far wall watching over them. Tom and Victoria walked over to her and asked where their baby was. The nurse led them between the isles of almost identical babies until they reached theirs. Both Tom and Victoria looked down upon their one surviving child and then at each other. “What should we name him?” asked Victoria smirking.
“How about,” he looked up and thought for a second. “Thomas,” he started to laugh. “Lets name him Thomas.”
They both started to chuckle and they both looked down on him once again. “He looks like a Thomas,” said Victoria as if people named Thomas had a special look to them.