Safe in the Lion's Den Pt. 07

"I think I just proved my point about 'seeing' in the dark." I said, as I placed my hand around Portia's waist and escorted her along the rocky trail. "This was the best way I could think of, to show you how it works. Let's just enjoy the rest of the tour, okay?"

"Deal." Portia replied, grinning at me. "Jack, you never cease to amaze me."

"Nor I, myself." I responded with a grin of my own.

"Mr. Spock!" Sophia giggled. "You are so funny, Jack."

"I mean it." Portia said quietly. "I honestly don't know who you are. I can't predict a damned thing you're going to do. I have never met anyone like you before. You don't follow the rules, and I think you are what is referred to in America as a 'loose cannon,' but I trust you for some reason that I cannot explain. None of my security personnel would ever act in a manner such as you have, but for some stupid reason, I still trust you. Why?!"

"I have no official training." I explained, as we followed the rest of the group, but once again trailing a bit behind. "That's what makes me dangerous to the pros, I guess. The bad guys are trained to recognize training, and I have none. It throws them for a loop, I reckon."

"Well, whatever you are doing, keep it up." she whispered, as we continued the tour.

We followed the rest of the group, although lagging a bit behind, so that Portia and Sophia could enjoy the tour without being a part of it. I knew exactly how they felt. My thoughts darted back to the first time that I had run for office. A local tabloid had run an article on me that was completely untrue, but still had spread to every AP and Reuters outlet in the world, meaning that the article about me was posted in literally every newspaper in the world.

I had the Media at my house, knocking on my door and demanding an explanation. No matter where I went, I was recognized, and whispers followed me. One day, I decided to jump on my motorcycle and head to South Carolina, where I could take my helmet off and clear my thoughts, but even that didn't work out, without an incident happening along the way.

I stopped at a local Jack in the Crack to have some lunch, but I was immediately recognized by the cashier. A look of fear crossed her face as she took my order, and she then told the cook to take a fully cooked hamburger from the grill and fill my order. They were scared of me, and they had no reason to be so! At least they made my burger right there in front of me, so there was no opportunity to spit in my food or anything.

I was saddened by all of this, and because I couldn't take my order out to my bike, I decided to sit down and eat in front of them. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I heard fear and anger in their voices. I finished eating, and bode them a "Have a blessed day" parting, which seemed to surprise them.

It was this personal experience that allowed me to understand what Portia was going through. As I said earlier, I understood what she was experiencing, but it never occurred to me what this could mean in current political climes. My story happened twenty years ago, but hers was happening now, in the age of the Internet and cell phones.

"Let's make a wish." I suggested, as the group came to a pool of water meant for this ritual.

"I don't have any coins." Portia replied.

"I do." I said with a smile, reaching into my pocket and fishing out some change.

I handed them both a penny, and we all tossed them into the pool.

"Now cross your fingers and make a wish." I instructed. "And don't say what it is."

The group moved on, as we were nearing the end of the tour, and as I put the change back into my pocket, I felt a much larger coin. I glanced at it, and saw that it was a half dollar.

"What the hell?" I thought to myself. "It's worth a try."

I placed the coin onto my thumb and forefinger, and with a quick flick of my thumb, spun it into the air with a loud ringing sound. It landed with a ker-plunk, into the water, and I crossed my fingers as I made the same wish for a second time. I quickly rejoined the group, and we finished the tour a short time later.

"That was so cool!" Sophia exclaimed, as we scaled the stairs and exited back into the gift shop. "I've never been in a cave before."

"It was." Portia agreed, shivering involuntarily, as we entered a warmer atmosphere. "Thank you for bringing us here, Jack."

"You're welcome." I replied. "Poke around if you want."

We wandered around the shop for several minutes, looking at all of the typical touristy stuff - like customized t-shirts and hats - along with many items that were cave-related.

"What is this cave rock kit?" Sophia inquired, looking at some boxes.

"Oh my god!"" I exclaimed. "I haven't seen those since the 70s. You mix up a solution and drop the tablets in. They start growing like stalagmites. Back in the 60s, they were called moon rocks, and you ordered them through the cereal company. You sent them so many box tops and a couple of dollars, and you got one of these kits in the mail, about six weeks later. None of that 2-3 day delivery like they have now. To a kid, it seemed to take forever."

"But why were they called moon rocks?" Sophia inquired in a puzzled tone.

"Well, back then, everything was about the space race." I explained. "In the 50s and 60s, everything had a space name to it. It was Big Dipper this, and Galaxy that. Even the restaurant in the little town I grew up in, was named the Milky Way. So I guess calling them moon rocks was a selling point."

"Can I try it?" she inquired bashfully.

"Sure thing." I replied with a grin. "Hell, it's been so long, It would be fun for me too."

I picked up two of the kits, and we continued browsing around. Portia stopped at a section that was full of cedar boxes. You know the type; 3D pictures of deer, a local tourist spot or Jesus on the lids. She picked one up and opened it.

"Oh my god, this smells so good!" she exclaimed. "What is this purple wood? It's so pretty too."

"Eastern red cedar." I explained. "All of the interior walls on the first floor of my house, and all of the closets are paneled with it. It's a natural insect repellent too. It's what they use to make moth-proof chests and armoires."

"Your house smells like this?!" she inquired. "That must be amazing. Oh Jack, I can't wait to see it!"

"We should be home tonight." I responded. "I'm kind of looking forward to showing it off to you, too."

As we made our way to the cashier, a voice called out from behind us.

"Hey, hold up a sec, would you?"

I turned around, to see our guide approaching us.

"That was amazing!" he said with a grin. "I watched you when I turned the lights out, just like you said. Where did you go, and how did you get back? Are you a magician or something?"

"Something." I replied with a smile.

"Well, here's your twenty bucks back." he stated, handing the bill back to me. "For a performance like that, hell, I'd give YOU twenty bucks just to see you do it again!"

I laughed, and accepted the money.

"Well, if we ever come back this way again, I'll show you how I did it." I promised. "Take care."

I paid for Sophia's moon rocks, and we headed back to the car.

"It's almost lunch time," I remarked, "but I'm still full from breakfast, what about you?"

"Uh huh." Sophia replied, as Portia nodded.

"I need to top the tank off before we head out," I continued, "so we can get some sandwiches while we're there, and put them in the cooler. If we see a nice spot along the way, we can stop and have lunch then. Sound okay?"

"Sounds great." Portia replied with a smile.

Twenty minutes later, we were on our way and winding along the scenic parkway once again, when a thought dawned on me.

"I completely forgot that this thing has a radio in it!" I remarked, as I turned it on. "It'll make the ride a little less boring. What kind of music do you like?"

"Anything except rap, jazz or country." Portia replied. "You wouldn't happen to have a good polka channel on there though, would you?"

I looked over at her in amazement, and to my surprise I saw her grinning broadly and doing her best to stifle a giggle. It didn't last long, however, and she burst into laughter anyway.

"Had you!" she exclaimed. "I can't stand the fucking accordion! Or the mandolin or the clarinet either. Mama mia, Italian music sucks."

"Can't argue with you there." I agreed, as I hit the search button. "Except for Frozen Crown. They're pretty awesome."

The radio stopped scanning, and some 70s music filled the car. The song waned out, and an actual DJ's voice took over. "That was Boz Scaggs, with 'Breakdown Dead Ahead.' Here now, is Tommy James and the Shondells, and they are 'Draggin' the Line.'" The familiar bass riff kicked in, and Portia grinned.

"Hey, I know this one!" she exclaimed. "Taking a ride, right?"

"Well, it's actually draggin' the line, but since we're on a road trip, I see nothing wrong with changing the lyrics." I responded. "You do the first one in a higher voice, and I'll do the followup in baritone."

By now, it was almost time for the refrain, and we started there.

"and bright sunshine. Taking a ride! I'M TAKIN' A RIDE! Taking a ride! I'M TAKIN' A RIDE! My dog Sam, eats purple flowers..."

We were actually having a really good time, and I heard Sophia's seatbelt unfasten. She stuck her head between the seats and looked first at me, then over to her mother, and finally back at me.

"You know how I said you two were nuts this morning?" she inquired. "Well, I take it back. You two are PERFECT for each other!"

I looked over at Portia and grinned. She gave me one of those "maybe; maybe not" looks along with a shrug, and then smiled back.

"Put your seatbelt back on, Princess." I advised to Sophia, as she settled back into the seat.

"Aw, come on!" she protested. "There's nothing going on out here. It's like cruising in First Class at thirty-five thousand feet."

"It's the law." I replied. "And it's also a rule in my car, so do it please. You remember what happened the last time you argued with me over a suggestion?"

She nodded, fastening the belt and folding her arms.

"Happy now?" she demanded.

"Ecstatic." I replied drolly. "Thank you, Sophia."

The road rounded a curve to the right, and as we were about midway through the turn, a deer suddenly appeared in our lane. To the right, the mountain raised above us, and to the left was another lane of oncoming traffic, and beyond that, a view of what seemed like outer space at the time.

"Hang on!" I shouted.

Training and instinct kicked in, however, and my left foot went to the brake at the exact moment my right foot left the accelerator. I also tensed up, locking my hands on the wheel in a vice-like grip. I screeched to a stop about a foot away from the deer, which continued to stand there; staring at us stupidly, like the whole thing was our fault.

"Sophia, I pray that click I heard a minute ago, was you actually putting your seatbelt back on." I called out, as I muted the radio. "Are you okay?"

"It was," she replied, "and the next time you tell me to do something, I swear on Grandpa Luigi's grave, I will do it immediately. And yes, I'm okay. I was starting to color Jerry's tie red, when you slammed on the brakes. Now he has a red line running through his head."

"Tom probably had enough of his shit and shot him." I muttered.

"Jack!" Portia admonished.

"I'm sorry, Honey-bottom," I replied, "but I don't think you realize that if I wasn't trained to stay straight and not swerve, any other driver would have jerked the wheel, and we'd all be yelling 'Ye-haw' with the car horn blaring Dixie, as we dropped about a thousand feet straight down. Forgive me for being a bit on edge at the moment."

The deer was by now, long gone. I sighed in frustration, and looked over at Portia.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" I stated, accelerating up the road. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Portia."

"It's okay." she said with a smile. "Jack, what happened to you? It looked like you were frozen on that wheel; like you were possessed or something. I don't think a team of elephants could have pulled you loose."

"Thank my driver's ed teacher." I responded. "He hammered it into us to not swerve for anything. He said it was better to hit a deer, than risk running off the road and hitting a tree, or in our case, taking a Dukes of Hazzard off the side of a mountain. It's saved my life several times over the years. Most especially on my bike. If you go into a skid on a bike and try and turn into it, you're dead. You'll flip. But I just locked up and it straightened out on its own. So, as weird as it seems, it's usually safer to hit something, than to swerve and maybe end up worse. For some reason, I just lock up like that. It's a reflex I can't control."

"You're a cop. Aren't you supposed to swerve and protect?" Sophia inquired sweetly from the back seat.

"That was cute, Princess." I replied with a chuckle. "That was really good! I could have used that one on that smart ass trooper yesterday. 'I'm sorry, Ossifer; I was merely attempting to swerve and protect, as you should well respect, regarding your motto and all'..."

We all laughed; the moment behind us, and I unmuted the radio. To my consternation, it was playing "Cat's in the Cradle."

"Hey, I like this song!" Sophia called out. "It reminds me of my papa."

That was the problem for me too. It reminded me too much, of my relationship with my own father.

"Worthless chooch!" Portia muttered. "He was never there for you, alright!"

I could feel the emotion rising inside of me, as I sang out my own version of the lyrics instead.

"And as he hung up the phone, it occurred to him that I'd grown up just like him, yeah! I'd grown up JUST like him!"

I could feel tears leaking out of my eyes, as I focused on the road ahead.

"Jack," Portia said quietly, "are you okay? There's a scenic area up ahead. Why don't you pull over?"

I nodded, and pulled into a parking space overlooking the Shenandoah Valley.

"What happened?" she inquired softly. "You sounded so bitter."

"I came to live with my dad when I was twelve." I explained. "I didn't really know him, but I came to love him just like any son would. The problem was twofold. You see, in my senior year of high school, he took a job as a project superintendent in another state. He literally left me the checkbook to pay the bills. I was basically living on my own, at only sixteen years old.

"A few years later, he got 'downsized,' and we went into business together, as general contractors. It was great, working with my dad, and then we hit the mother lode; a job in the Hamptons. I made enough off of that to retire at 35. Dad though, never could manage his money, and he would go back to Connecticut to see his girlfriend, who thought shit of him, and to do side jobs to make extra money. He was always gone, even in the early years. Even when he WAS home, he was always gone during the fall, so he could spend the holidays 'back home.' THIS was our home, HERE. My birthday is in October, Thanksgiving is in November, and well, you know when Christmas and New Years are.

"He was never around, which is why those holidays mean nothing to me anymore. Do you know when the last time I got a birthday cake was?"

Portia shook her head in response.

"1980." I replied. "No one has baked me a birthday cake since then."My best friend lived just down the road, and his family literally adopted me as a foster son, because my father was never around. My 'little brother' has the same birthday as me, so my name was added to the cake, but it still was not a birthday cake for me.

"At Christmas, I would take the care packages I got from my mother and my aunt, and I would take them down the street and open them with my 'other' family, by their Christmas tree. They were more of a family to me, than my own dad was. I even voted on family matters, because I was the tie breaker. Dad was never around. He was always too busy for me, and then came the time when he got hurt. He'd been having some mobility issues, but then he fell and broke his hip. The anesthesia triggered full blown dementia, and he was dead in three weeks.

"While he was in the hospital, I had to keep working the part time job I had, to keep the bills paid. So you see, I wasn't there for him either. In the end, I did the EXACT same thing he had done to me. I was too busy paying the bills to waste my time on a frail old man who kept insisting he'd seen one of his brothers 'on film,' and he faded away in a hospital bed. I was at least there when he passed, but I felt nothing. I just walked across the hall to the nurse's station and said, 'He's Code Blue.' So, that's the rest of the story that I told you this morning. That song just triggered it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Portia responded. "I understand. Believe me. Sophia and I have both lost a lot ourselves."

She placed her hand over mine and smiled.

"That's not the worst of it." I continued. "Dad left his body to science, so that I wouldn't have to worry about a funeral or anything. It was the only intelligent thing regarding his estate that he ever did. The only problem was that I didn't know where the paperwork was, and his own doctor claimed she didn't know anything about it. By the time I finally found it, almost a month had passed, and it was much too late to donate his body at that point. I didn't have that kind of money to have his body cremated, so I had to give it to some church that did it for free. The catch was that I couldn't have his ashes back, so his wish to have them scattered around the property could never be honored. I have no idea where they put his ashes, Portia."

I looked at her and sighed.

"No body, and no place to go and talk to him. It's like he's MIA or something." I said sadly. "The whole thing just fucking sucks, and that song reminded me of it all over again."

I exhaled loudly, and Portia squeezed my hand gently.

"You've been through a lot." she said soothingly. "So have we. I understand completely. You're still grieving, Jack. It's normal."

"You are so lucky." I said quietly, looking at her intently.

"Lucky?!" she exclaimed. "Jack, I just lost my entire country and just about everything I own. My entire worldly possessions are sitting two meters away, in the back of your car. Why in God's name would you say I'm lucky?"

"Because you have a beautiful daughter in your life." I explained. "When I was growing up, all I wanted in life was to have a log cabin on top of a mountain, with a wife and kids. When I was 21, I literally bought the mountain. Finally, about fifteen years ago, I had met a wonderful woman, and on Mother's Day of all days, she tested positive for being pregnant.

"I was so happy, Portia! It was all finally coming together. I had the mountain, and now a family was on the way. All I had to do, was figure out a way to build the house. It was going to be perfect. And then we went back for the second ultrasound. I was going to learn whether I was going to be the father of a son or daughter. It turned out to be the worst day of my life. They hooked her up, but there was nothing there. They then took us to another room with a more powerful ultrasound. Instead of a fetus, there were pieces of what used to be my child floating around on the monitor.

"I didn't take it well. In fact, I took it worse than her. I fainted, Portia. All of the things I did for this country. People are dead because of me. And yet, Mr. Billy Bad-ass over here passed out."

"You saw your child dead!" Portia gasped. "Jack, no one could fault you for that."

"Maybe not," I responded, "but it tore us apart. Then in 2019, my brother shot himself."

"I thought you were an only child." Sophia piped up; inserting herself into the conversation in a manner that is quite common with children.