Читать книгу Fleeing the Past - Christopher LaGrone - Страница 14

LAYNE TYPED HIS LOGIN AND PASSWORD into the Government website for the hundredth time, and read the same information:

Entrance Exam - Complete

Oral Board Exam - Complete

Drug Test - Complete

Background Investigation - Incomplete

Hope was dying a little more with each day that passed. It felt like an eternity since he had taken the initial written exam at the Broomfield Public Library—too much time had elapsed without word from Edward. And it had now been months since the Oral Board Exam. He was certain that Edward had uncovered something disqualifying in his aberrant history, so much so that Layne was expecting a rejection letter instead of a bad news phone call. The notification felt overdue.

The thought tormented him that an investigator like Edward was accustomed to researching choir boys and occasionally unearthing a closeted story about teenaged shoplifting. Even trivial matters could be eliminating; there was no way to know. Edward would be disgusted if he caught wind of one aspect of the truth that Layne was attempting to erase from his memory. It would require a miracle for everything to remain hidden from him.

Fabiola was starting to behave as if what he had told her was true. She was realizing that he probably hadn’t exaggerated about his slim chance of being cleared for national security.

The fantasy about seeing “Complete” next to “Background Investigation” was growing faint. But parades still materialized in his mind when he tried, like the celebrations in New York City for the Yankees after a World Series victory, ticker tape, streaming ribbons and marching bands—the trophy being a woman of striking beauty and class, and Layne being the catch on her arm. All of his problems would be solved if he could just make it to the Academy. He needed a ticket to anywhere. He could abandon the wreckage of his life in one, brilliant chess move across multiple squares. He would be a success story, and his gleaming new status would eclipse the rough patch, both to himself and to anyone who discussed him. All of the people he envied—who had respectable jobs and shiny presentable cars that chauffeured gorgeous, proud wives—were living in a perpetual victory party. He imagined champagne and caviar if he could achieve their status.

The dream shimmered in contrast to reality. He dreamed that he would once again experience a feeling that he belonged. He would reach the goal of respecting himself.

Virtually the only thing he owned now that was not disposable was his car and guns. He was too old to live like this anymore. It was painful to come to terms with the realization that seven years had disappeared below his feet. His only hope was to leave now, or live and die this way.

Fabiola was the thread he was hanging from, and the days continued to pass by in a worrisome monotony. He was reaching a point that he preferred to be put out of his misery with confirmation that he was not fit for duty to the torture of not knowing. There was no contingency plan. Working for pennies in a cubicle was unsustainable. Living with the sense of self-worth that accompanied it was, too.

Fabiola had raised an eyebrow when he passed the Oral Board, but her repressed curiosity had faded concurrently with his as time passed. He could sense and see her growing increasingly unfulfilled with his halfhearted affection for her. He concluded that after another week of non-activity, it would be in his best interests to begin accepting her and treating her accordingly.

There were things about her he would miss if the dream came true. He enjoyed her nearness; she made him feel less alone. The lilt and inflection in her South American tongue was an intimation of Latin Romance. She made him imagine what love would be like.

He went through whole days without thinking about the application and the security clearance. More listless weeks, then months, passed without any contact from Edward. On his worst days he felt the Academy becoming another fantasy that would fade into the normality of regular life and discontent. He was holding hands with Fabiola now when they walked in public; she smiled, satisfied just knowing that he was putting forth effort.

By happenstance, the green background of a website he had surfed across reminded him of his nearly forgotten attempt at true life, and on a whim, he loaded the Government website. He strained to remember his login—his password was always the same—and when he pressed “Enter” he stared in disbelief for several seconds at the word “Complete” next to Background Investigation. He stared frozen with shock for several seconds, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

He wondered how long it had been complete. Perhaps he hadn’t responded in time and the Minnesota Hiring Center interpreted his failure to respond as a lack of motivation—that he was no longer interested in the job. Or maybe the completion was of little consequence. Did it mean that the security clearance was in place, or did it mean that the background report had been received and that a decision was pending? There was no urge to celebrate. He called Edward for an explanation, and the investigator assured him, “Everything looks good. You should be at the Academy in a month or so.”

There was still no excitement or joy; he was functioning in a state of shock. His mind was quickly confronted with anxious deliberation about how to proceed with tying loose ends. He decided to tell Fabiola that Edward wouldn’t call him back in the event that Edward was mistaken. Edward couldn’t tell him how long it would take before he was at the Academy, he would need her until then.

The next morning, he became overwhelmed with a sensation, an unprecedented feeling that something was about to change. The urge to leave had been revived, triumphantly, and was consuming him the way a migratory bird knows when it is time to leave for its other home. Visions of his future were appearing everywhere he looked. He would evolve like a misfit high school boy, who leaves for Marine Boot Camp a lost soul and returns home to visit, born again, transformed into a man.

He was told to wait for a call that Edward assured him was imminent. Out of superstition he chose to keep the news a secret from everyone, including his parents, until there was no doubt that it was real. He struggled to go about his daily routine. He couldn’t concentrate and could barely function at work, but he couldn’t quit until he received confirmation. If his coworkers only knew what he was about to embark on—he tingled when he anticipated their stunned reaction.

At night when he managed to fall asleep, his mind projected its conception of how the Academy would be. He floated vertically through a tesseract, surrounded by trainees in green uniforms moving busily at fast-forward speed on multiple floors above and below him. When he awoke, reality was so surreal that he had to confirm to himself that the website and phone call to Edward had actually happened and was not fictitious among the strange new dreams.

It was difficult to behave normally around Fabiola, and she observed him with suspicion for two weeks until the call came.

He was at work when his cell phone vibrated with a number coming from a strange area code. He disregarded the rule against cell phones during work and answered as he walked swiftly toward the bathroom as confused eyes followed him.

“This is Agent Eagan from Tucson Sector Headquarters. I’m calling to offer you a position as Border Patrol Agent in the Tucson Sector.”

“I accept,” Layne said.

Agent Eagan was silent for a moment then said, “You want to consider what I’m telling you. We have a position open in Douglas, Arizona, right now. But if you wait a month or two, there will be a position open at Tucson Station.”

Layne feared that an unresolvable complication might develop if he chose to hold out. He couldn’t risk it. “I can’t wait any longer,” he said. He was out of breath.

“I know you’re anxious, but you want to consider the location,” Eagan said.

“Douglas is fine; I’ve got to get on with this,” Layne said, swallowing with apprehension.

“Are you sure?” Agent Eagan asked with sincere concern.

Layne could hear himself breathing more rapidly. “Yes, I accept the position.”

Agent Eagan paused again, then continued. “Okay, do you have a pen ready? You need to be at the Holiday Inn on Palo Verde in Tucson on May 19—that’s two weeks from today. You will be in Class 590.”

Layne felt his heart trying to grasp that he had made it in. “What should I bring with me?”

“We’ll send you an orientation packet. When you get there, they will take you to tour your station, then you’ll take a bus from Tucson to the Academy in Artesia, New Mexico. Just make sure to bring some good running shoes, and you’ll need about $700 to pay for your hotel room. You won’t start getting paid until your first day at the Academy.”

Layne couldn’t wait to resign, and when he walked into his supervisor’s office and quit, she reacted with a look of disbelief. He left before she could say anything.

He wanted to tell his parents right away; he imagined their excitement. But first, he had to call Matt. “I couldn’t have done it without your help,” he told the man he knew only as a voice on the phone. “It went just the way you said it would—even the part about trying to rattle my cage during the Oral Board. Thank you.”

After Matt’s predictable “I-told-you-so” response, Layne called and told his parents he was coming over to tell them something important. Once there, he told them to sit down in the living room before he would tell them. By the smiles in their awaiting eyes he could tell that they knew what was coming. He tried not to smile as he told them: “I did it. I leave for the Academy in two weeks. I accepted a position as Border Patrol Agent in Douglas, Arizona.”

They were speechless as they rose from their seats. His mother covered her mouth with one hand. Her eyes welled up. She approached him slowly, without a word, arms extended to hug him. His dad turned red and erupted. He clapped his hands together and began high-fiving Layne repeatedly while his mother was still hugging him. No more mistakes, Layne thought. The watershed was prominent as he surveyed it from over his mom’s shoulder. It caused him to swallow hard.

* * * *

THE BEER TOOK THE EDGE OFF, but sitting on the couch alone watching the door was like sitting in a surgery waiting room. He had been putting this off for a week now, each day losing his nerve when he saw her—deliberating, then electing to tell her when the mood was right the next day. He was driving his mom’s car. He had sold his old car earlier in the day but hadn’t mentioned it to Fabiola. Giving it up was like putting his dog to sleep, a sense of love loss. It was burning the boats.

She was late, and in the meantime, he had drunk eight beers, having originally intended to have two or three. By force of habit he removed the remaining cans from the twelve-pack and folded the box and stuffed it deep down in the kitchen trash underneath the rest of the garbage. She would think he had only bought a six-pack and drank two. When the door opened, Fabiola gave him a dismissive glance, and walked into the kitchen to put her purse and keys on the countertop.

There was intense silence.

Like tearing off a Band-Aid, he forced himself to say to her, “I got the call.”

She emerged from the kitchen. “For the job?”

“Yeah, they offered me a position at Douglas Station,” Layne said, trying to face her.

“Where is that?”

“It’s in the far southeast corner of the state of Arizona.” Layne tried to find a comfortable position for his hands.

“When do you leave?”

“Thursday.”

“That’s in three days. When did you get the call?”

He couldn’t make eye contact with her. “I got the call a week ago,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me the same day?”

Layne glanced at the surprise on her face then looked away. “Because I was afraid of what you would say.”

“But you told me that Edward wouldn’t call you back, and you didn’t think you would pass the background check.”

“That’s what I thought. I really didn’t think I’d get the Security Clearance.” Layne was surprised by how uncomfortable he felt telling Fabiola the truth.

She came halfway into the living room and, as her stability teetered, asked: “Did you really think that, or did you just tell me that?”

He stood up, but she kept her distance from him.

“I didn’t think I would get the job. I never thought I’d pass the background investigation,” Layne answered.

“Really?” Fabiola said angrily.

“Yes,” Layne said.

The silent intervals between them were growing, and Fabiola’s voice broke when she spoke again.

“I stopped looking into the visa application because you told me you decided you were gonna stay here.” She was trying not to cry. “You never really planned on taking me with you, did you?”

“I didn’t think I’d get it,” Layne pleaded. The remorse was even greater than he had anticipated. He told himself to get it over with as he looked at the floor. The mission’s objective was far more important.

“Do you realize that Edward asked me if you change when you drink, and I told him no?”

Layne didn’t reply.

“Do you know how much you put me through? He asked me questions about my visa because of you.” She was crying now.

“I’m sorry Fabi,” Layne said, finding it difficult to look at her.

“Get out of here,” she said sharply. She stepped toward him, her jaw set, one hand raised as if to strike him. “Get out of here now.”

She began pushing him toward the door as he tried to apologize. He didn’t resist and didn’t turn around or stop walking as the door slammed behind him.

* * * *

LAYNE’S PARENTS COULD ONLY ESCORT HIM as far as the security gate at the airport. The female voice announcing departures sounded like the voice of God, her words transmitting the sound of finality. He pretended he didn’t notice his mother tearing up in the parking lot. His dad could avoid breaking down under any circumstances; for them, the parting was a standoff of sorts. When there was no more time to delay, his mother hugged him like she would never see him again, her tears breaching the levee. His dad hung on tight and fought hard to withstand the scene. He hugged Layne in a manly way and said what he always said, “I’ll see you soon, Big Horse.”

Layne threw his suit and carry-on bag over his shoulder and tried to smile. “Promise yourself that you will be fearless,” he said to himself as he turned to head toward the gate.