Ten Moves Ahead (Part 10)

It's about 9:30 when Cornelius says, "Well, I think it's about time to head out."

I look at the collection of beer glasses on his side of the table and back at the two that I've had.  "Do you need a ride home?" I ask.

He nods somewhat drearily.  He seems tired, and conversation has slowed over the past half hour or so.  "I need a ride," he says, "but not home.  There's something we need to do first."

"What?"

He looks up at me.  "Save people," he says with a smile.  "Come on, let's go, I'll give you the address."

We drive in silence to what seems to be an abandoned warehouse not far from some docks.  I look around at the street lights, half of which are broken, and hear a few gulls crying out in the distance.  The place looks completely deserted.  "What are we doing here?" I ask.

He turns to me, looking surprising sober compared to what he was just 20 minutes ago.  His eyes seem much more focused and less vacant and there's a determination in his gaze that almost frightens me, but then his eyes dart away in what seems to be a flicker of nervousness.  "I need you to stay here," he says.  "There's something I need to do."

"Like hell," I protest.  "Whatever it is you're going in there to do, I'm coming along."

He closes his head and shakes his eyes.  His hand reaches out and touches me on the shoulder, eyes still closed.  "No, not yet," he says.  "I need to stop something really bad from happening."  He opens his eyes and stares at me.  I've never seen him quite so serious before.  Usually he has a least a smile or some small way to make these situations seem less severe, whatever "this situation" might be.  "I need you to take your cell phone and call 911," he says.  "Tell them there's been a shooting here and that they need to send the police right away."

I feel my pulse quicken.  "A shooting?" I exclaim.  "Who's going to get shot, there's no one here!"

He smiles now, but I can tell it's forced.  "I'm trying to stop it," he says.  "Just call the police.  Do it as soon as I get out of the car.  Then wait for me here.  Just trust me, Dave.  I'm going what has to be done."

And he pats me twice on the back, then turns and walks out of the car.  He glances back at me and then walks towards the warehouse.  I have no idea what's going on and I feel exceedingly nervous, but I do what Cornelius says.  I dial 9-1-1, tell the operator there's been a shooting (I was concerned at first she wouldn't believe me, but I realize as I speak to her that my voice is plenty panicked), and sit and wait.  I close my eyes and try to breath deep.  I've never helped Cornelius with something like this before, trying to prevent a shooting.  But if that's what we're doing, why did he have me call the police to say there had been a shooting.  As minutes tick by, I feel myself getting increasingly nervous.  Nothing seems to be happening, so word from Cornelius, no police coming, no messages on my phone.

And then, in the distance, I hear sirens.  My eyes jerk open and I look around.  Still no Cornelius.  I wonder if I should move the car out of the way.  I realize how weird this will seem when the police show up and find me sitting in my car with no idea what's actually going on.  No gunfire, no victim, no culprit, just some guy who made a false 9-1-1 call.

And then, I hear it.  The shock of it echos through the emptiness.  A gun shot, a pause and then three more.  The sirens are close now, and I can even see the lights coming as, without thinking, I get up and rush out of the car.  It seems like everything is moving in slow motion.  I'm running the way I saw Cornelius go, but I feel like I'm barely moving.  I just get to the door and reach for the handle as the cop cars show up on the opposite side of the building.  I hear someone shout "freeze!" and out of the corner of my eye, I see cops holding guns pointing at the back side of the warehouse building.  I don't freeze.  Even if they were talking to me, I couldn't care, I pull open the door and rush in where I saw Cornelius go.

I get inside and there are two sources of light.  A workbench in the corner to my left has a light on over what looks to me to be some sort of assault rifle sitting out on a table, only partially assembled.  On the far side of the building, I see light from the street coming faintly through an open door, light from the police cars, flashing red and blue and the silloutte of a man with his hands raised as who I assume is a cop rushes towards him.  And there at my feet, in a pool of blood, with his hands clutching his gut, is Cornelius.

"No!" I shout out as I step forward and collapse beside him.  I hold his head in my hands and see that he's still breathing, though faintly.  He opens his eyes and looks up at me with a look that I can best describe as somewhere between a lost puppy and a mother welcoming her children home after a long absence.

"Did they get him?" he whispers.

I know better than to ask who.  "I think so," I say with confidence.

He closes his eyes and smiles.  "That's good," he says.

I feel tears start to fall down my cheeks.  "Why did you go in alone?" I asked.

"If you came with me, we both would have died," he says, weakly, I can feel him fading.

"You're not going to die," I lie.

He lets out what I think is a chuckle and then starts coughing.  I see blood come up out of his mouth.  He opens his eyes again.  "You can't lie about that to someone who's seen the future," he says.  "I see my death every time I look at you."

The tears are streaming down my face now.  "Then why?" I ask.  "Why did you come here at all?"

"I had to stop him," Cornelius whispers.  "So many more would have died... this was the only way I saw."

I hear footsteps running our way, and glance over to see police and two men with a stretcher rushing towards us.  I look back at Cornelius and he's reaching for me with a blood soaked hand.  I take it in my own.  "This was the only way I saw," he says again.  "The best way.  You've been my best friend, and I'm sorry it had to end like this, but it was the best way.  Take care of her; help her like you helped me."

"Who?" I do ask this time.

He smiles up at me with the last light I'll ever see in his eyes.  "Clara," he whispers.  And then he lets out one last breath as his eyes close and his hand falls out of mine.  The paramedics are here and the police are trying to pull me away as I shake and ball uncontrollably over my lost friend.  "He's gone, he's gone," I keep sobbing again and again.  Finally, they get me away from his body and the rest of the night seems to pass in a blur.

They tell me at the police station that the man arrested that night was planning some sort of wide scale attack on the city.  He was modifying weapons and even working on some sort of bomb, plus they found loads of illicit drugs both at the warehouse and in his place of residence.  The man had been arrested once before for drug possession and once for assault, but the police who had worked with him before would never have guessed he would do something like what he was apparently planning.  Even with all the stuff they found, I was told that it would have put him away for only ten, maybe twenty years.  The murder of my friend combined with the other stuff could possibly put him away for life.  It seemed like a small consolation to me, but then I remembered Cornelius's words, "It was the only way I saw" and realized what that really meant.

There were lots of questions for me, too.  How did I know Cornelius?  What were we doing at the docks?  How did I know the man who shot my friend?  I told them Cornelius was a good friend, that he wanted to go to the docks that night saying he had to stop something bad from happening, and that I didn't know the suspect, but that Cornelius must have.  The cops found no connection between Cornelius and the shooter, but admitted it was possible their paths had crossed before.  I told them Cornelius was always trying to be a hero and that I wished he had just called them first instead of trying to stop the man on his own.  What I didn't tell them was that Cornelius knew exactly what was going to happen, that I often helped him be a hero, and that the shooter, who they showed me a picture of later, was the man who had made Cornelius so nervous in Central Park that day several weeks ago.  It all made sense to me now, but how could I possibly have it make sense to them?

It took several hours, but they finally let me go and told me to keep in touch if I remembered anything else.  I asked them where my friend's body was and they said it was being kept at the morgue until the family came to identify it.  They said they were sorry for my loss and sent me on my way.

The next two days seemed to pass into nothingness.  I called in sick at work and slept for about 14 hours each day.  When I was awake it was all I could do to make myself eat and shower before going back to bed.  I turned on the news the first night only to hear a reporter talk about the man who had single handed tried to stop a criminal only to give up his life and how that man's friend described him as "always wanting to be a hero."  It was more than I could take, so I turned the T.V. off and went to bed.

The second day, I found myself continually checking my phone, half expecting Cornelius to call or text to say everything was alright and ask if I wanted to go grab a beer.  I just couldn't believe he was gone.  But then that evening I saw his obituary in the morning paper that I finally got around to reading.  There was that bright smiling face staring up at me from the page.  I read about how he was loved and missed by his friends and his family, his mother and younger brother and sister.  Funeral services to be held tomorrow (Saturday) at 11am with lunch to follow.

I wipe the tears from my eyes again and decide I have to go wish my friend good-bye.

---

At the funeral, I'm amazed by the number of people packing the small church and even more amazed to realize I recognize some of them.  I see Bill and his daughter Becky.  Becky looks like she's been crying almost as much as I have.  When Bill sees me he gives me a bill ole bear hug and says, "He was a great man."

"Yes he was," I agree, patting Bill on the back.

I look around me and there are others I've seen before as well.  An elderly man that Cornelius had saved from getting hit by a bus, and a woman we had saved from getting her purse nabbed.  I wondered how they could possibly remember Cornelius well enough to come to his funeral, but then I saw them sitting together talking.  It seemed like the old man was the woman's grandfather and they had realized the same man had helped them both.  I was also shocked to see the man who we had stopped from stealing purses so many times.  He walked up to me and said, "I know you."

I felt a little uncomfortable and said, "Yeah, maybe."

He shook his head and said, "No, you and this Cornelius guy, you saved me.  I'd be in jail now if it weren't for you."  He held out his hand to me and I nervously took it.  "I've got a real job now," he says.  "I don't know why you guys were following me around, and it really creeped me out at the time, but I think you saved my life."  He shook his head as he looked towards the casket.  "I just wish someone had been able to save his."

The final person I ran into at the service who I was surprised to already know is Tricia, one of the girls from the bowling alley so many months ago.  "Dave, right?" she asked coming up to me.

I nod.  "Yeah."

She smiles.  "You remember me?"

I nod again.  "Yes, from the bowling alley."

"That's right."  She seems a lot more softspoken now that she did then, even after she had sobered up.  "Hannah, that was the other girl from that night, she thought I was crazy to come to the funeral of a man I hardly knew, but he really made a difference to me, you know?"

I nod as I look around at this room full of people who somehow seemed to feel the same way.  "Yeah, I know," I say.

"He was like a silent hero or something," she said.  "I'm so convinced we would have really hurt someone that night if he hadn't been there.  I just really felt like I had to be here to honor him, like he was there to help me."

I  nod yet again.  "I know exactly what you mean," I say.

---

After the funeral at lunch (Bill has me sit with him and his daughter), Cornelius's mother comes over to us.  I saw her during the service, but I've never talked to her before.  "You're Cornelius, right?" she asks.  Her eyes are red an puffy from crying.

I look up at her and my heart aches.  "Yes," I say softly.

"And Bill?" she asks, turning to the big man beside me.

Despite the love of talking I saw from Bill, he simply nods at her.

"Cornelius left a video will that he wanted each of you to see," she says.  "I pains me some to know that he anticipated this early death, but Cornelius was always anticipating things and, well, I guess he just wanted to say one last thing to each of you.  Please, come with me."

We get up and go with her.  Becky comes along, too.  We're led to two different rooms where we apparently each have our own video to watch.  There's a man waiting for me in my room, saying he's Cornelius's lawyer and I should press play while he goes and talks to Bill.  So I do, and there is Cornelius's face on the screen, smiling.  "Hello, Dave," he says and I feel like I'm going to start crying all over again.  "I know we haven't known each other for all that long, but I think we've become really good friends in that time.  If everything went the way I wanted it to, I told you everything you needed to hear the night I died, but just in case, I want to make sure you really understand what happened.

"I've been seeing this future for weeks now, every time I looked at you, I saw what was going to happen, with me and with you.  The man in the park, the man who shot me, was the trigger, so to speak, who really brought it all together."  I can't help but shake my head at the bad pun.  "I saw him in that park and I saw what he was going to do, all the people who were going to die, but I also saw an alternative path, with me and you in it, stopping him, but only if one of us confronted him.  It had to be me, Dave, it couldn't be you, and here's why.

"You and Clara are meant to be together.  She loves you and she always will.  She just needed time to realize it, and you needed time to mature so you could be what she needed you to be.  Please don't be offended by me saying that, it's simply what I saw.  And if you're thinking I threw away my gift by dying, you couldn't be more wrong.  I've seen what happens to my gift, I saw it by looking at you.  It seems when one of us dies, one of us born with this gift that I have, it passes to another.  I wish it could have been you, Dave, because I know you're strong enough now to bear it, but it's another who will be close to you.  It's Clara, Dave.  You see, that's all the more reason for you to be together.  I know you love her, Dave, and want to be with her, but please know it's more than that now.  You truly need each other.  Call it destiny or fate or whatever you want to, but it's the way things are.

"Now go to that bar and wait for her.  She's coming soon.  And knowing how hard all this can be, I left you a little something more tangible, too.  It's my way of saying thanks for being such a wonderful friend and I wish you strength and courage in the years ahead.  I know you'll do the right thing.  You're stronger than I ever was.  Good-bye, Dave."

And with that the video ends and I'm sitting alone in silence.  A few moments later, there's a knock on the door and the lawyer man comes back in.  "Sorry about leaving you alone," he says.  "The video was just for you, no one else was supposed to watch it.  And this is for you, too.  I know it can't make up for your lose, but he wanted you to have it."

I take the envelope and open it up.  Inside is a check for $200,000.  I look up in surprise.  "What's this?" I ask.

"That's what Cornelius left you in his will," the lawyer says.

"I had no idea he had that kind of money to leave," I hear myself saying.

The lawyer looks a little surprised at that.  "He was your friend, I figured you would know."

"Know what?"

"Cornelius won the lottery several years ago.  Actually, he won it twice, though once was for a few million and the other only for a few thousand.  He never touched the money, though.  Lived off of what he earned and kept the winnings stored away, but his will specified how he wanted it distributed after he died.  He changed it a few weeks ago to include you.  This is your share."

I'm shocked beyond belief as I stare at the check.  I think about what Cornelius said in the video and how he lived his life.  I suddenly feel so ashamed to have cared so much about being with Clara when Cornelius cared so much about everyone around him.  And then I think of the video again.  It was the best and worst thing I ever could have heard.  I'd almost feel guilty about being with Clara if it weren't for Cornelius's words.  She needed me to help her now.  I felt bad wishing it was true, but how I wished it was true.  I wanted to be with her and I wanted to keep helping Cornelius.  I had to keep helping Cornelius, however I could.

"I have to go now," I say.

"I understand," the lawyer says, even though I'm sure he doesn't.  "Sorry for your loss."

---

I get to the bar around 2.  There are a couple people leaving, but then it's completely empty except the bartender.  "Sorry about your friend," he says.  "He really helped me out a lot, and so did you."  I nod and order a beer and then I sit and wait.

It's just after 3 when I hear the bell over the door ring and turn to see Clara walk in.  My heart starts beating faster.  She doesn't seem at all surprised to see me.  She walks over and sits down on the stool next to me, shakes her head at the bartender, who seems to know then to give us space, and turns to me.  "I'm sorry about your friend," is the first thing she says.

I'm about to thank her for her sentiment, just like I've been thanking people all day, and then I suddenly realize that she's never seen Cornelius before, at least as far as I know, and I certainly haven't told her about him considering I haven't spoken to her again since that day in the supermarket.  "How do you..."

She smiles, but looks a little nervous.  "I know," she interrupts.  "I don't quite understand how I know, but I know.  I had a dream last night.  I saw you sitting here, alone, and me coming here.  You told me you had lost a friend and I said I was so sorry.  When I said I still loved you, you seemed to think I was just feeling sorry for you, but I want you to know that's not true."

She reaches out and daintily touches my hand.  I've never really described her as dainty before, but that's the way it happens.  "I want you to know that I've loved you even since we broke up," she says.  "But I didn't think we were right for each other.  There were things about you that just seemed, I don't know, off, but I received this letter in the mail about two weeks ago."

She pulls out a letter and shows it to me.  I'm shocked to see it's from Cornelius.  I scan through and see words like, "Dave can be who you need." and "Dave will help you make the most of your life."

"It caught me completely off guard," she says and I continue to skim through it.  "At first I thought it was you being childish, trying to get me to come back, but when there was no follow up and you didn't write or call me yourself, I started to think maybe it was for real.  And then I saw the news, two nights ago."

I look up at her in surprise and feel my heart beating even faster as she says, "That man who died, who was shot, it's the same man who wrote me this letter.  He says that you've been helping him do good things for people.  That you'll help me do good things, too."

She looks back down at the letter.  "I'm a little scared," she admits, wringing her hands together.  "This man, Cornelius, he didn't say anything about the possibility of dying in his letter, but that's what happened to him and his good things."  She looks up at me again.  "I want to do the right thing, I really do, but I don't understand.  All I know is that you've done a wonderful thing being this man's friend, helping him with whatever good he was trying to accomplish, that's what was missing before, that's what I wanted to see in you, and now, I believe this man, it's like I've seen it myself.  I looked in the mirror two days ago and it was like I saw our future together, as clearly as my own memories of the past, and I know that we're right together.  Now, we're right together, and I can admit to you just how much I love you."

I stare at her in stunned silence, holding the letter still, staring at her beautiful face until she says, "Well, say something!"

I break down and sob, but it's not the tears of sadness I cried for Cornelius, now I feel an overwhelming sense of joy and conviction, a feeling not only of passionate, romantic love for this woman, but also a sense of purpose and a need to always be there for her.  "I love you so much, Clara!" I exclaim.  "And I will always be there for you, whatever the future may hold."

"The future," she whispers looking at me, and she smiles.  I don't know what she sees, but I see her smile, and at that moment, that's all I really care about, and as I lean forward to kiss her, I'm not thinking about the future, I'm thinking about this moment, this beautiful, bittersweet moment and then of all the passion and hope and promise it brings.

As we pull apart again she says, "Wow.  I don't think you've ever kissed me like that before."

"I'm going to kiss you like that every day we're together," I promise her.  "For as long as we live."

She nods and smiles at me.  "I know," she says.  "I don't know how, but I see it.  How do I see that?"

"Come on," I say, leading her off the stool and out of the bar.  "I have a story I need to tell you."

Ten Moves Ahead (Part 9)

As more time passes, it seems like Cornelius starts to get more uncomfortable, awkward around me.  He's still nice, friendly.  He even talks to me, answers questions, jokes around from time to time.  But he doesn't answer the question I ask every once in a while, "What's wrong?"  Well, he answers it, but not fully.  He says something about how I shouldn't worry about it and that everything will be fine.  I feel like he doesn't make eye contact with me as much as he used to either, like he's afraid of something he sees when he looks at me.

And then, one day, he just seems to snap out of it.  He seems like his old self, optimistic and helpful.  We help people and then even go out to bowling again in the evening, this time without interruption from any drunk girls.  At the end of the night, I ask him what changes and he says, "You're going to see her again soon."

I feel my heart skip a beat.  "Clara?" I ask.

He nods.  "Clara."

"When?  Can you tell me when and where?"

"Four days," he says.  "In the bar.  You know which one."

I nod.  He's already told me which one.  I'm almost afraid to ask, but I find myself saying, "Which ending?"

He smiles, but a weak smile.  "The one that we need," he says.

I feel a little nervous.  "That we need?" I repeat.  "What does that mean."

He reaches out and pats me back in that same caring way I'd missed.  "You'll see," he says.  "There's just one thing we have to do first to make sure it happens."  There's a pause as I consider whether I should ask him what he means and then he says, "See you tomorrow."

I nod.  "Okay, you have a good night."

"You, too," he says, "You, too."  He sounds strangely sad, a tone like he's lamenting something, but before I can decide whether I should ask him if he's okay, he's already walking to his car, so I just get in mine and drive home.

I don't sleep very well that night.  I wake up the next morning still feeling tired and with the feeling that I had some sort of disturbing dream that I can't remember.  I try to shake the feeling that something is wrong, but through the whole morning at work, I find myself having trouble focusing.  I decide to call Cornelius to see if he wants to have lunch, as I suspect he probably knows what's going on, but he doesn't answer.  I try to tell myself I'm just nervous about seeing Clara again, and that does enough to calm me down to finish the day without getting absolutely nothing done.

I try to call Cornelius again after work, thinking I'll ask about Clara, but still no answer, so I order take out and eat alone while I watch the news.  Then finally around 7:30, just as I'm finishing up my dinner, Cornelius calls me.

"Want to get a drink?" he asks.

"Sure," I agree, deciding not to ask about the missed calls from earlier in the day.  "Where?"

"The bar," he says.

I feel myself feeling nervous again.  "You said she wasn't going to be there for another three days," I say.

I feel the sympathetic smile in his voice as he says, "She isn't.  I just want to meet there tonight.  We haven't been there in a long time and I'd like to see how it's going there."

"Do we need to prepare or something?" I ask.

"Sort-of."

"Okay, I'll be there in 30 minutes."

---

Thirty minutes later, I meet Cornelius at the bar and it looks like he's working on his third beer.  He looks a little nervous, but seems happy to see me.  "How are you?" he asks.

"Good," I say, "well, okay.  I think I had a weird dream or something last night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but I can't remember it."

He smiles and fidgets with his half full beer glass.  "Don't worry about it," he says.

There's silence for a moment and then I say, "You know what's going to happen."

He nods.  "I know what's going to happen."

"Well then, what's wrong?"  I feel my heart beating faster.  "Is something bad going to happen."

"It might seem that way," he admits, not looking up at me, "but believe me, it's all for the best."

I feel sweat building on my neck.  "We're not going to be together forever, are we?" I ask.

He looks up at me suddenly, a look of surprise on his face, and then after a couple seconds of him just staring at me, he says, "Oh, you and Clara.  No, that's not it.  Clara will tell you she loves you and she wants to spend her life with her."

I suddenly feel like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders, not to be cliche, but it really feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off my back.  I smile, I feel like it's the biggest smile I've smiled in a long time, and I almost laugh.  "Well then what's the problem?" I ask, my hands up in the air.

He smiles softly.  "There is no problem," he says in a much more toned down voice than the one I'm sure I just used.  "Not really.  And I want you to remember that.  There is really know problem.  I know exactly what's going to happen and I accept it."

I start feeling a little nervous again.  "What are you talking about?" I ask.  I feel like Cornelius doesn't really want me to be with Clara for some reason.  Is he afraid he'll lose me as a friend if I get back together with her?  He doesn't seem like the type to worry about that kind of thing, but maybe he is.  After all, he's told me he doesn't really have friends, hasn't really had friends.  I don't want him to think I'll abandon him just because Clara comes back into my life.  I don't want that to happen any more than he would.  "I'm not going to stop being your friend when I start dating Clara again," I say.  "And I won't stop helping either.  We'll always be friends, and I believe in what you do for people."

He smiles, probably the most sincere smile I've seen from him in a long time, and I almost think I see a tear forming in his eye.  He wipes away what may or may not have been the tear and says, "I know.  That's not it."

"Well then what?"

He sighs.  "Let me buy you a beer," he says.  "I'll tell you everything you need to know later."

I nod.  "Okay," I agree, knowing better than to protest.  I smile as the waitress comes over to take my order and Cornelius says exactly what I wanted.  I watch him watch her walk away over to the bar and see her smile at the bartender who smiles and her and then at Cornelius.  


"They make a cute couple, don't they?" Cornelius asks.


"Are they a couple?" I ask.


He nods.  "If things go as I see, they'll be getting engaged in a few months."

"Well good for them!" I exclaim.  "I guess he didn't need that original waitress after all."

Cornelius shakes his head in agreement.  "No, he didn't," he says.

The new waitress brings out my drink and Cornelius gives her a generous tip.  No sooner have I picked up my glass than Cornelius raises his glass to mine.  "A toast," he says, "to fulfilling destiny and carrying on a legacy."

I'm not sure quite what he means still, but I decide not to ask.  "To friends," I say.

He smiles at me as he clinks his glass against mine.  "To friends," he agrees, and we take a drink.

Empty Room

I wake up in an empty room.  Tall windows, sectioned panes, a little dusty and dingy.
I'm in the chair, tied to the chair, tightly.  Rope made of... rope.
I remember how I got here.
"Jason!" I shout.  "Jason are you there?"
"Jimmy?  Roger?"
They seem to have all gone.
I look around.  Nothing but concrete and pillars and the windows I can't quite see out.
No matter, I know what's out there.
I really wish they hadn't tied me to this chair.
I start to rock back and forth.  Maybe this will loosen the rope somehow.
Oops.
Falling.
S.L.O.W.L.Y.
Quickly.
Something solid breaks my fall.
Look behind.
That wooden dresser wasn't there before.
Wooden dresser wooden chair.
Nothing broken.
I try to lean forward enough
to return to solid ground.
Leaning forward,
almost falling,
leaning backward,
just in time.
Back on the solid, concrete earth again.
I turn to look.
It's a tall dresser, big and tall and sturdy, with those big doors that open outwards at the top.
Little drawers that pull out on the bottom.
Thin but long drawers, shallow drawers.  Something must be inside.
I try to twist.
  Twisting doesn't
     seem to work all
         that well for me
My feet do touch the floor so I push off
and hop
hop hop about.
Slowly
   turning
     around
  facing
the dresser.
Leaning forward I can grab one of drawer handles in my teeth.
Know it's dirty;
I don't care.
Pulling slowly... carefully... cautiously...
And inside are my clothes!!
Not the clothes I'm wearing now, but my other clothes.
They can't take that away.
Well, I guess they did, but I found them again!
Now what to do?
"Roger?!  Jimmy?!  Jason??!!"
They wouldn't just leave me.
But apparently they did.
Sigh.
Nothing else in the room.
Not sure what to do now.
Don't want to get a sliver.


I guess I have time to tell you how I got here.

Really, though, I'd rather not.


I kind-of have to pee.
I hope they come back for me soon.

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.

Ten Moves Ahead (Part 7)

After the "Drunken Bowling Incident" as I've decided to call it, I feel more like Cornelius's friend than like someone who's just tagging along trying to figure out what's up with him.  In fact, as time goes on, I feel like I care more and more about Cornelius as a person and about helping him with his little missions and less about the details of how any of this actually makes any sense.  I also feel like Cornelius trusts me more.  Even though he still doesn't let me in on exactly what's happening ahead of time, I find he is seeking my help with more efforts to help people in a physical sense, rather than just an emotional one.  Usually, it doesn't seem entirely planned, like when we were just out walking one day and he suddenly told me to ask directions from a woman down the street where he stood there staring at some unsavory looking follow in the crowd.  Cornelius later told me that man was going to snatch the woman's purse.  In fact, Cornelius went so far as to follow the guy and continue glaring at him until he got totally freaked out and ran the heck away.  The great part was when we came back to that same area a week later and scared the guy off a second time.  In fact, we hunted him down a couple more times, and one of the times Cornelius even sent me off on my own to handle it, saying he had something else to take care of.  I'm pretty sure that guy was never going to try to steal a purse again, though when I asked Cornelius about it, he said he couldn't say for sure.

So that was one of our recurring adventures, but we had plenty of one time episodes, too.  A couple instances of stopping pedestrians from getting hit by a car, giving an umbrella to an elderly woman caught in the rain (saying he didn't want her to get pneumonia), stopping a man from falling down a flight of stairs, and even one time stopping a suicide attempt.

That was one of the scariest things I'd ever witnessed:  up on a bridge, a woman threatening to jump, Cornelius tells me to call the police and while I'm doing that he goes and talks to her.  He calls her by name, which I would have though would have freaked her the heck out.  Turns out it seemed to startle her just enough to prompt her to listen to what he had to say.  I'm talking to the police while he's talking to her.  He tells her he understands, describes things he's gone through that I don't think he's ever actually gone through and tells her it's not worth giving her life up over.  "I know you'll regret it, as you're falling, as you'll see the earth rushing towards you, your last thought will be 'God, why did I do this?'"

The woman starts crying at that point, practically collapses on the floor at his feet, and that's where they find her, the police, when they arrive.  Cornelius looks exceedingly uncomfortable until, as they're helping her up and trying to ask her who she is and where they can take her for help, she looks over at him, red eyes with tears running down her cheeks and says "Thank you."

Cornelius smiles at her and says, "You're welcome.  You'll get through this.  I know you can."

I'm pretty shaken up myself, but I manage to ask him, "How did you know all that stuff about her past if you can only see the future and she was about to die?"

He doesn't look at me as he says, "You know what they say about life flashing before your eyes?  Well I saw that, felt it, for her.  I felt what brought her here and how scared and hopeless she felt and how her last thought was how there had to have been a way out, and then I just saw darkness."

"So all that stuff you said to her..."

"Stuff I felt in her, from her own past."

"And when she said she'd be okay..."

He looks over at me, very serious and says, "She will be.  I wouldn't lie to her about that."

"So if she wasn't going to be okay..."

"I think I'd just like to go home now," he mutters.

I frown and fidget with my phone, looking at the call made to the police just a few minutes ago.  "Yeah," I say, "I think I'd like that, too."

I really don't know how Cornelius deals with this, all the stress and responsibility, seeing people's futures, feeling like he has to do something to save them.  I consider asking him, as time goes on, if he ever just says "No" to himself, if he's ever encountered something too dangerous or risky and he just walks away.  The suicide attempt was one of the most frightening things I've ever seen him intervene in, and even then he was not at personal risk, at least not physical personal risk.  I want to ask him if he ever turns away, or if he's ever failed to save someone, someone at real, extreme personal risk, like the suicide attempt or the little girl on the bike, the daughter of that man he introduced me to all those weeks ago.  How long has it been since then?  Three months?  Almost four months, I think.  I want to ask him these things, but I'm scared myself, scared of what the answer might be.

I've come to expect so much from Cornelius, to assume he is always trying to help people, really help people.  I watch him say little words of encouragement to total strangers, give money to some beggars but not others (telling me he sees what they'll spend it on), stopping someone to ask for the time to keep them from twisting and ankle on the stairs or knocking someone down or getting hit by a biker or a car.  So many things all the time, all around us he's stopping, some life and death, some crime related (like the purse snatching), but I notice I've never seen him interfere with something that's both.  I've seen him stop petty crime and stop fatal accidents, but I've never seen him stop a murder or even an armed robbery.  Maybe he just doesn't see any of those, but would he stop them if he did?  Would I if I were in his shoes?  Surely he could at least tip off the cops, and then I wonder if maybe he already does.

Finally, I decide to just break down and ask him.  I think we've become good enough friends that he might even been insulted if I didn't feel comfortable enough to ask.

We're having lunch one day, near my office, when I just say, "Do you ever tip the cops off on bigger stuff?"

He looks at me suspiciously and says nothing, so I lean in and whisper, "Like murders and things."

He frowns.  "No murders, no," he says.  He looks real nervous and says, "Domestic assault several times, and a few... related incidents.  I try to stay anonymous."

"So you've never seen like... someone kill someone else."  I start to feel awkward and say, "I'm sorry, if you aren't comfortable talking about it."

"I'm not," I'm surprised to say him say, "not really.  I mean well, maybe someday you'll understand, but not today.  I can tell you that acts of violence are never fun to witness.  I've seen people walking down the street before, just glanced at them and seen either what they're going to go home and do or what they're going to go home and find done to them.  Sometimes I can see names and the other face, but sometimes I can't.  The times I can't are the hardest.  I try to follow them as best I can, see where they live so I can call in a tip, but it doesn't always work out.  There's been about half a dozen times when I've seen someone who was going to do something, hurt someone, not kill, but hurt someone, and I failed to do anything to stop them."

"Wow," is all I can think to say back.  "That sucks, man.  I'm so sorry I brought it up."

He shrugs, trying to let it roll off him, but I can tell he's exceedingly uncomfortable.  You don't have to see the future to see things like that.  "It's okay," he says, staring at the last few bites of his sandwich.  "Really.  I mean, it's not okay that I failed, it really isn't, but it's just something I have to live with."

"I can help," I blurt out.  "Really.  The next time it happens, the next time you see it, let me know."

At that he smiles.  "You already have helped me," he says.

I wrinkle my brow.  "Really?  With something like this?  If you mean the purse snatcher..."

He shakes his head.  "No," he says, "I mean that guy coming out of your office building that one day when we were meeting up after work."

I try to remember back.  "Charlie?" I ask.

Cornelius nods.  "Charles Anders," he confirms.

I lean in and whisper, "That guy beats his wife?  I see him at work at least once a week."

Cornelius shakes his head.  "His wife beats him," he whispers, seeming a little uncomfortable again.

My eyes grow wide.  "You're kidding."

Another head shake.  And then he looks straight at me and says, "You can't say anything."

"Of course not," I say.  And then a pause and, "Is that why you didn't say anything to me before?  You thought I would go around telling people."

"I didn't know you well enough back then," he claims.

"Bullshit!" I exclaim.  "You saw my future!  You probably see it every time you look at me!  You know me plenty well!"

He shrugs.  "I suppose I do," he says.

"So you're telling me you saw me telling someone about it?"

"I saw you treating him differently," Cornelius admits.  "Asking him if everything is okay.  Feeling sorry for him.  It would have made him uncomfortable.  Probably still will."

"But he's okay now?  He's wife's stopped?"

Cornelius nods.  "I think so," he says.  "Have you noticed anything different about him at the office."

"He does seem a little more depressed," I say.  "Which isn't a good thing.  I actually did almost ask him the other day if he was okay."

Cornelius stares at me for a while and then says, "when you see him tomorrow.  Check for a wedding ring."

"They got divorced?" I ask.

He nods.  "Seems that way, but don't say anything to him, please."

"I won't," I say.

Silence as I sip my water and then, "You know you could have just told me not to say anything originally."

"I'm sorry," he says.

"No, it's okay," I say.  "I appreciate you trying to treat this as a normal relationship, actually, avoiding to drill into my brain by looking at my future, getting to know about me the normal way."

He smiles.  "I figured you would," he says.  When I look up at him a little surprised he says, "I'm sorry, I looked far enough ahead to see that much."  And then he adds, "but you have to understand, I don't always see details.  In fact with you, there are still lots of things that are unclear."

I feel my pulse quicken and ask, "So some things have started to become clearer?"

He forces a smile and says, "A few things."

"Like what?"

His smile becomes a little more genuine.  "You've come a long way from being angry and not believing me to wanting to know every little thing I see," he says.

"That didn't answer the question," I point out, and then take another sip of water.

Cornelius frowns and then conveniently pauses to finish off the last couple bites of his sandwich, wipes his face, and says, "I'm not sure there's more I need to tell you right now."

"You don't trust me?"  I feel a little hurt, betrayed.  I've started to really like and trust Cornelius and thought he was starting to trust me more, too, but now I feel like he's holding out on me.

But then he says, "No, it's not that, not exactly."

"You think we won't be friends anymore."

"Again, not exactly."

"Well then what is it?"  I'm ashamed I really want to know what it is that he's refusing to tell me about my future, like even more than I wanted to know about the murders and violent crimes stuff that I backed off on when I realized he wasn't comfortable.  Somehow, as unfair as it might be to him, I feel like this is my own life and he should tell me what he knows if he's figured something out.

He sighs.  "I promise you," he says, "I have a really good reason for not telling you everything."

"Because you think I'll mess it up."

He shakes his head.  "No, I wouldn't say mess it up," he says.  "Just change it."

"Change what?"

"Nothing," he says.  Then he sighs and glances down at his empty plate and then back at me.  "Listen," he says, "I can tell you this, things seem to be shifting towards a happy reunion for you and Clara.  In fact, I am nearly certain that's the outcome that will come to be.  But it won't be without sacrifice."

"I'd do anything to get back with Clara," I blurt out.

He smiles.  "I know," he says.  "I know you'd say that and I know you think it.  I just want you to know that the sacrifice is going to be more than just for Clara.  It really is.  Don't feel bad when it happens."

Now I just feel confused.  "What are you talking about?" I ask.

He shakes his head and tries to smile but looks a little uncomfortable.  "Nothing," he obviously lies.  "Just forget about it for now.  You'll understand later.  Just trust me."

"I do," I say.

"I know."

Awkward silence.

"Listen," he says, glancing at the clock, "I have to get back to work, but lunch is on me today."

"No way," I protest.  "I ask you all these awkward questions and you answer them even though you don't want to and then offer to pay?  This one's on me."

He smiles.  "Was I that obviously uncomfortable?" he asks.

I smile back.  "Cornelius, buddy," I say, "you're a great friend, but you're often uncomfortable and not all that good at hiding it."

He just keeps smiling and says, "Thanks.  It means a lot to hear you say that."

I laugh as I walk over to the counter to pay for our meals.  "That you're often uncomfortable."

"No," he says, and I know that I knew what he meant, and he says exactly what I expect, "that you consider me a great friend."

Explanation

I don't understand God, not really, and I can't hope to speak for Him, but what I can attempt to do is put my thoughts and impressions of Him into human terms, a sort of analogy, what I think a conversation with some allegory for God might look like.  This is what I've attempted to do in the previous two posts.  I don't claim that my portrayal of God is perfectly accurate.  After all, God is perfect and I am not, plus I didn't put all my thought and effort into making a perfect analogy.  I'm just playing with my own attempts at analogy and parable.  God himself did it best first in the parables He gave.  I'm just trying to humbly and cautiously follow a little bit in His footsteps and portray Him as the amazing and wonderful and loving God that He is.  And honestly, I'm just playing around with my own meager writing attempts as well, so don't object to God simply due to my inability to really understand Him.

Help (possible draft/part 1)

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?  I created them and they're in trouble.  Why wouldn't I want to go help them out?"

"But you're suggested becoming one of them, joining into their midst, taking on all their weaknesses and limitations."

"I care for them.  I want to help them."

"But is this really the best way?"

"It's the only way, the only way I can really save them."

"Why don't you just zap them all and start again?"

"I suppose I could, but I promised I wouldn't."

"And you always keep your promises?"

"Yes."

"So you're really going to do this?  You're really going to go down into that muck of a mess and pretend to be one of them?"

"Not just pretend.  I really will be one of them."

"And how do you think they'll react when they realize their creator is right there walking among them?"

"Most of them won't even realize it, at least not until after I'm gone.  And those who do will either follow me or turn against me, maybe even both."

"So you're already expecting to be betrayed?"

"I know I'll be betrayed.  It's all part of the plan."

"What plan?"

"My plan."

"Did you know this was going to happen from the start?"

"I had my suspicions."

"Then why even start this wild experiment to begin with?  Why create this world?  Why create them?"

"They're kind-of like a part of me.  I put a part of who I am into them.  I gave them life."

"But why them?  Why not make something else, or some different variant that would have turned out differently?"

"I told you, they're mine.  I put my heart and my soul into creating them, guiding them, watching them thrive and diminish.  I feel their pain and sorrow.  I feel the pain they don't even know they feel.  I have to help them, to save them."

"By becoming one of them?"

"By becoming one of them."

"Well, good luck, my friend.  I wish you well."

"Luck has nothing to do with it."