Ten Moves Ahead (Part 8)

Cornelius and I continue to hang out, converse, help people.  Everything seems pretty normal, as far as being friends with a guy who can see the future goes, until one day we're walking through Central Park and something strange happens.

Cornelius has just managed, somehow, to save a small child from being attacked by a lose dog and after actually receiving thanks and recognition from the boy's mother, we're walking along making casual conversation when suddenly he freezes and I'm sure I hear him whisper, "That's him."

"Who?" I ask, but when he doesn't respond, I follow his gaze to a rather rough looking fellow with a beard, cut off shirt and visible tattoos walking towards us.  He looks a little scary, but I've walked by his type before without Cornelius so much as letting out a peep.

"What's your problem, buddy?" the unnamed fellow says with a sneer as he walks by.  Cornelius's gaze follows him as he passes, but then quickly snaps forward again.  He shakes his head as if waking up from some sort of dream.

"What was that all about?" I ask as we slowly start to walk forward again.  "What did you see?"

Cornelius just shakes his head.  "I'll tell you later," he says.

But he never tells me.  I wonder if it was something he dealt with on his own, but how scared he seemed when he saw that guy, I figured this was something he'd need help with.  I thought back to our conversation in the diner at lunch a few weeks before, about murders and violent crimes and how I wanted to help.  I was sure Cornelius would let me help.  But he said nothing about this guy, and I'd never seen him so scared.  I really wanted to help, but what could I say?  I just had to trust that Cornelius would tell me when the time was right, that he wouldn't let something terrible happen.

The furthest I got was to say a few days later, "You know, if you see something really bad, really terrible that you don't think you can stop alone, you can tell me.  I can help.  I want to help."

He just smiled and said, "I know.  If that ever happens, I promise I will tell you."  And that was that.

So we went on as if the incident in the park had never happened, even though it bothered me from time to time.  We talked to people who needed someone to talk to and prevented twisted ankles and broken legs, but nothing major seemed to be going down.

Oh, and I saw my co-worker, the one we had talked about at lunch that one day, and noticed he had no wedding ring.  I had never been so happy to know someone was getting divorced, but I didn't say a word, just like Cornelius had made me promise.

I did notice somewhat of a change in Cornelius, though.  Within a week or so of the park incident, he did start to depend on me a lot more.  Things that he normally would have handled completely on his own, he asked me to do more and more often.  It felt good to help people, but I wondered why he was doing it this way, relying so much on me.  I wanted to ask him about it, but it actually made me feel good, being the one to take charge, to make a difference myself, so I didn't ask because I also didn't want him to take it away.  It also made me think that maybe he was showing that he really trusted me, that he would ask for my help if he really needed it, so I let it go.  I let the whole thing go.  Guys aren't particularly good at talking about their emotions anyway.

So we just kept hanging out, helping people, turning down pretty girls from time to time that wanted to thank us, though I admit that didn't happen too often, and dealing with the people who thought we were crazy when we tried to help, the people who were just like I had once been.  I wondered if any of them would discover what I had discovered and come looking for Cornelius later, but I never saw it happen.  It didn't seem to bother him, not anymore.  He seemed distracted and I sometimes had to ask him what we should do next, prompt him to tell me things he was seeing, but again, I didn't press too far.  I knew that he would let me in on what was bothering him in due time.  Or, at least, I thought that he would.