I had gotten it! After all these years, I had finally gotten it. Sure, it may not have been what I had envisioned I’d be doing as a child. But you know what, after nearly a decade of early mornings, failed investments, and scoldings by Tom, it was an achievement worth celebrating.
“Steve, you’re late for lunch,” my coworker Tom hollered, as he put on his sunglasses, and chased after the rest of the team. It was a lunch celebrating my new promotion, and I was late for it.
“One second!” I called back, as something on my desk caught my eye.
My cell phone was ringing. “Nathan.”
Nathan was an old buddy from college, who I hadn’t heard from in years. For a minute, I ventured to imagine that he might be congratulating me on my promotion, before realizing he couldn’t possibly know anything about that.
I should have just let it go to voicemail, but I answered it.
“Hey bud, how you been?” I said, slightly distracted, as I reached for my jacket.
“Steve, can I tell you something?” Nathan replied, a cold, serious tone in his voice.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you.”
I didn’t think much of it at first, because, well, there was always something off about Nathan. He was a good guy, but kind of had a loose screw or something. There were just certain things that could only ever happen to him.
“Well, that’s up to you, I guess,” I said, not knowing quite how to respond. “Hope you’re well though.”
“The thing is, if I tell you…”
It was starting to get a bit weird, so I decided to cut him off.
“Hey man, I actually have to run to a lunch. You know what, if you’re not sure, maybe you shouldn’t tell me.”
“Ok… yeah, I gotta go.”
But before I could wish him a final farewell, he had hung up.
—
A few hours later, I was on the train home, thinking back on a rare, perfect day. “Even Tom was nice to me,” I thought to myself, something that had never happened before, on my slow crawl up the New York white collar ladder. “Things are looking up.”
But before I could continue to bask in a much needed win, I was interrupted by a small vibration in my pocket.
Nathan again. But this time, it was in the form of a text.
“Steve, let me know when you have a second.”
“Nope, not today,” I thought to myself, muting the conversation. All I wanted to do was to get back home, see Sarah, have dinner, and pass out. I could deal with Nathan tomorrow.
And when I finally got back, it was exactly what I needed.
“How’d the lunch go?” Sarah asked, the second I came through the door, remembering the occasion. Man, I love her.
“Honestly? Pretty good.” I replied with a smile, sitting down and taking in the smell of her mother’s meatloaf recipe. Contrary to the sound of it, the meal had actually become one of my favorite comfort foods over the years, and smelled like the perfect way to cap off a perfect day.
That night, as we lay in bed, watching another trash reality TV show, Sarah passed out beside me, and I began to think about how lucky I was. About fifteen minutes into the show, I turned off the TV, and drifted off to sleep, completely forgetting about the strange interactions with Nathan.
—
The next morning, I woke up to a ray of sunshine in my eyes, as if the world was greeting me to yet another positive day.
That is, until I looked over at my phone, lying on the bedside table. “11 Missed Calls.”
“What the fuck, Nathan.” I thought to myself, as all my hopes for the day felt like they were just slapped out of me. I’ll call him when I get to the office.
But an hour later, as I sat on the train, just waiting for the end of the seemingly endless commute, I felt my phone vibrating.
“Seriously, Nathan? You know what, fine.” I mumbled to myself, as I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
“Nathan, what the fuck? 11, I mean 12 calls?” I called aloud, as all of the other passengers looked up. “What the hell is the matter with you?” I was never the type to share my business on the train, but I had to put a stop to this.
“Steve, I really need to talk to you.” He sputtered out frantically.
“Alright, just tell me already”.
There was a brief pause, as I looked up and saw at least a half dozen strangers still staring at me.
“No, you were right, we can’t do this over the phone.”
“Listen, I have to ask, as a friend, is everything ok? Are you ok?”
But all he said was, “Meet me after work tonight. Angry Donkey,” before hanging up.
Angry Donkey was the name of an old watering hole that we used to frequent right after college. A place with great memories, where we had spent more hours, and dollars, then I care to count. While part of me liked the idea of seeing the place again, I found Nathan’s cryptic behavior too irritating to reward with a meeting.
“No thanks”, I said to myself, as things on the train returned to normal. The conversation had been a bit unsettling, but I simply thought, “I’ll just get lost in my work today.”
Be careful what you wish for.
—
“First day after your promotion and you’re already late,” Tom snickered. Before I could even attempt to explain my morning, he had walked away.
The rest of the day was as rough as I’d ever had. Turns out, with just a small bump in pay, comes an unfair level of responsibility. And, of all the bonds in the company’s expansive portfolio, an oil leak in the Gulf had to strike mine, causing its price to plummet.
“Deal with this. Now.” Tom commanded, as I slunk in my chair, exhausted by just the idea of what lay ahead.
I ended up working later than I wanted, succeeding in completely forgetting about Nathan.
That is, until the train ride home, when, during a complete absence of thought, my mind went back to him, for some reason.
“What could this all be about?” I wondered. “What could possibly be so scary that you couldn’t talk about it over the phone.?” Then I remembered. Nathan was a gambler. “Fuck, that’s it”. This guy could end up in a pair of cement shoes in the bottom of the Hudson. I stopped myself from delving too deep into the nuances. I had a tendency to overthink, and let my mind wander. That wasn’t going to do me any good.
I knew exactly who Nathan was, and was definitely aware of his faults, but I’ve always prided myself on being able to see the best in people. Even in Nathan. Yeah he might have had some addiction issues, in his younger days, but he was a good guy, and back then, he had always been a loyal friend.
“A loyal friend,” I thought to myself. “Ah fuck, ok fine!” I called out, as I jumped up, and darted through the nearly closing subway doors, to head for a connecting train to Astoria.
—
But after two hours of drinking a twenty dollar pitcher for one, the notion of loyalty was growing really old. I looked down at my text conversation with Nathan. “Hey, I’m here. Where are you, man?”
“You’d think after all the urgency, he definitely would have been here,” I thought to myself. My mind began to wander back to dark places again. He’s at the bottom of the river, lungs filled with water, long passed the point of resuscit-
I stopped myself. “Positive thoughts, Steve. Positive thoughts. Everything’s fine, maybe he stopped by before you got here and had to run.”
For a minute, I was even thankful he dragged me back here. The place hadn’t changed much, though the old bartenders weren’t there anymore, taking away the feeling of belonging I used to get from it. “A place really is defined by the people you hang out with when you’re there, isn’t it?” I mused. Still, it was nice to see that it was still around, and if I’m being perfectly honest, after the day I had, I needed that pitcher.
One more try, I thought, as I called him again, to no answer.
“Fuck it, I’m out.”
—
But by the time I got home, any feelings of nostalgia that may have been lingering had worn off, and had turned into annoyance.
“Of all the fucking accounts to plummet, why’d it have to be mine? The day after my promotion, no less. And then there was Nathan. Where do I even begin?”
Sarah could tell something was on my mind.
“Steve, there’s some leftover meatloaf in the fridge if you’re hungry.” she offered, from a place of love.
“I don’t want meatloaf. I’m sick of eating meatloaf, every fucking night!” Even as I said it, I knew I was being a prick, but what was said, was said. Suffice to say, words were exchanged, and I slept on the couch that night.
—
Laying on my lumpy sofa, I found myself unable to sleep. Staring up at the living room ceiling, my mind was still replaying the day’s events on repeat. “The bonds, fine, they’re out of my control, but Nathan, I just had to stop entertaining it.”
Then, at that exact moment, the sound of a text message rang out throughout the room. I scrambled to put my phone on silent mode, so as to not wake Sarah. I had screwed that up enough for one night. I looked down at my phone.
“Hey, remember that thing I was gonna tell you about. Just forget about it.”
Nathan’s text sent me into a rage. I jumped off the couch, and had to stop myself from screaming my words aloud as I typed them.
“Nathan, I went to Angry Donkey and you didn’t show up. What the hell??? And then you ignore my texts and calls. This has to stop. You know what, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anymore. I’m done with you.”
But of course, he didn’t reply.
I continued to toss and turn, to the point where I needed to turn on the eight hour rain loop, just to ease out of it. An hour or so later, I somehow managed to finally crash.
—
Several days passed, and I didn’t hear from Nathan. You’d think I’d be glad, but for reasons I can’t quite explain, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. “What could he have wanted to tell me so urgently, but didn’t, or couldn’t anymore?” I kept going back to the mafia theory. My mind began to play tricks on me, and I started to wonder if he had gotten involved in some kind of CIA plot. But it was Nathan, what kind of contact could he have with a government agency? At best, the only thing I could conjure up was that he got drunk, and crashed into a Fed’s car, sensitive files spilling everywhere. My thoughts continued on like that for days.
But no matter how hard I tried to forget, I just kept going back to it. “What could it possibly be? And why haven’t I heard from him?”
Concrete boots joke aside, I was starting to wonder if Nathan actually was in some kind of serious danger. I thought about calling the cops, but what could I even say to them? It would all sound so crazy. I guess I could tell them he was a missing person, and let them handle it, but did I really want to get myself involved?
I resolved to put the whole thing out of my mind, focusing on the fact that the oil bonds were finally showing upward growth.
But yet again, I found myself wide awake in bed. Thinking about it, and thinking about it, and thinking about it. Until finally, I sat up and said, “Fuck it.”
I did my best to keep quiet, as I threw on a pair of jeans, but somehow in the process, my belt buckle accidentally fell to the floor, waking Sarah.
“Honey, where are you going?” She asked, as she turned to look at the clock. “It’s one thirty in the morning. Can you just try to get some sleep?”
She was right, I hadn’t slept well in days, too obsessed with the mystery. I wanted to tell her what was on my mind, but I couldn’t bear to trouble her with it, and possibly get her involved in the mess.
“I’m just… starving, dear. You know I can’t sleep on an empty stomach.”
“We just ate a few hours ago.”
“I’m just gonna run to get a burger. I’ll be back in a few.” I said, my words trailing away as I walked out, now fully dressed, leaving Sarah sitting up in bed, a look of concern on her face.
—
As I drove over to Nathan’s place, my mind continued to race. “Sarah was right, even more than she knew.” I had only slept a few hours in as many days, and Nathan’s secret was starting to wear on me.
At that very moment, I looked back at my rearview mirror and saw a set of glaring headlights appearing over the horizon, which seemed to be rapidly approaching.
“If Nathan was in trouble with the government, or some sort of crime syndicate, could they know about me? Surely, they’d be aware that we’d been in touch. Even though I still didn’t know his secret, maybe they thought I did. And if so, could this be them tailing me? I have to duck them to be safe.”
But when I looked back at the rearview mirror, the lights were gone.
—
When I arrived at Nathan’s, I realized I hadn’t thought through my plan very well. Encamped in the lobby, I kept tapping on his apartment’s buzzer repeatedly, wondering if he was sleeping through it, ignoring it given the late hour, or not home at all.
“Come on, answer, Nathan. I’m just trying to help.” I thought to myself, before walking around to the back of the building and looking up at his living room window. It was dark, but then again, if I was in some sort of trouble, and woke up to someone buzzing me at this hour, I’d switch off all of the lights too.
Then it hit me. A rusty stairway to my destination was looming right in front of me. “The fire escape! Fuck it!” I thought, as I propped myself up on a trash can and hopped up to latch onto it.
The initial pullup was the hard part. I’ll admit it, I hadn’t been to the gym in a while, and definitely felt it in that moment. But luckily, scaling the rest was easy. I just had to be quiet, lest one of Nathan’s neighbors think I was breaking and entering. Which to be fair, I kind of was.
When I finally made it to his window, I discovered that it was locked. “Obviously,” I thought, before convincing myself that I had no other choice. I took off my sweatshirt, wrapped it around my arm, and punched the glass, the sound of shattered shards raining on the pavement below, echoing throughout the alleyway.
“Argh” I screamed, quickly muffling myself, as I looked down at my arm, blood dripping out from the sweatshirt. “Where did I learn that?” I wondered, before whispering to myself, “Idiot.”
—
Within a few minutes, I was in Nathan’s apartment, broken window closed behind me.
I turned on my cell phone flashlight and, before looking around, thought to call out my name, and alert Nathan of my presence. But I began to wonder if someone might have beaten me here.
I went on an ultimately fruitless search of the apartment, except for a cryptic note I found on his bedside table that read, “Goodbye”.
Suddenly, I heard the rustling of keys at the front door, a few rooms away. Looking around the bedroom, I spotted an ample amount of space under Nathan’s bed, and slid my way under, remembering to turn off my cell phone’s flashlight.
I then proceeded to hear whoever it was, enter the apartment, close the door behind them, and eerily walk around, as if searching for something. I could almost picture it all perfectly just by closing my eyes and listening, as the footsteps stopped by what seemed like the window. Then, they immediately crept to the bedroom and stopped at the doorway. From under the bed, all I could see was the silhouette of a pair of muddy boots, not moving at all. I tried my best to do the same, covering my breath with my good hand.
“Must have been my trail of blood,” I thought to myself, as I looked over at my other arm, still bleeding.
The boots then proceeded to walk directly over to where I was hiding, stopping just a few inches away.
“Fuck, I have to act now.” I thought, before awkwardly sliding out from the bed, and darting in the direction of the kitchen. But before I could make it out of the room, I found myself tackled by the mysterious figure.
Grappling for my life, I tried to kick them and free myself, but was no match for my attacker, and ended up in a headlock, face pressed to the floor.
“Steve? What the fuck are you doing?” the man screamed. That’s when I remembered that Nathan had wrestled in high school.
“Nathan?” I called out, unable to see him.
“Who else would it be?” he shot back, before releasing me, my body collapsing to the ground, as I struggled to catch my breath.
I looked up at him and, despite what he’d put me through, could not be more relieved to see his tired face, cold blue eyes, balding head, and lanky body.
He, in turn, looked back at me, then down at my arm.
“Did you break into my apartment?”
—
Ten minutes later, we were in his kitchen, lights now on like civilized adults, my arm wrapped with a makeshift bandage made of several smaller bandages.
“Where have you been?” I asked him, “I’ve been calling and texting.”
“I know, but there’s a logical explanation for all this.”
“Tell me.”
“No, you were right. I shouldn’t tell you!” he said, before a deeply concerning look washed over his face. “Fuck, it’s gonna rain tonight”.
He hopped up, threw on a jacket, and ran out of the apartment, as I sat at his kitchen table, scratching my head.
—
When I finally caught up to him, Nathan was stepping into his car.
“Nathan, you can’t just imply there’s something you desperately need to tell me, then completely fall off the face of the planet, and say to forget it. You have to tell me now!”
He was already in the car, its door closed behind him.
My old friend rolled the window down. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me, almost as though he was looking through me, before finally blurting out, “Then get in your car and follow me.”
—
About thirty minutes later, he pulled off the highway somewhere in New Jersey. I had followed him in my car, careful to check my rearview mirror for lights, but given the hour, I hadn’t seen anything in the darkness.
The city lights had disappeared, and the sounds of civilization slowly drifted away, leaving only the humming of my engine. Even the street lights were gone now. I had no idea where we were anymore, his tail lights the only thing guiding me. Everything felt like it was slowing down, but the slower it became, the faster my mind raced.
After navigating around several winding roads, Nathan’s car finally turned off of a main street and down a narrow, dirt road, lined by trees, as we drove deeper and deeper into a surprisingly dense forest.
Eventually, we arrived at a dead end and Nathan stopped his car, turning off its lights. I followed suit. When I walked over to him, he was glaring at me. But before I could even ask where we were going, he simply turned away and started walking into the woods.
—
About a football field’s length later, we arrived at a small clearing in the forest. Still without saying anything, he just turned to me and held up a finger to his mouth, warning me to keep quiet. I obeyed his command, and stayed silent.
He then proceeded to frantically circle around the clearing, his eyes on the ground, as if looking for something, until finally stopping.
“There it is.” he mumbled to himself, before turning to me. “Any boulders over there? Large ones.”
“Boulders?” I thought to myself, before seeing him rummage through the forest floor, realizing what he meant.
After some difficulty searching in the dark, I spotted a large rock, illuminated by the moonlight. Hunching over, I picked it up, and proceeded to carry it over to where Nathan was standing.
He wasn’t moving anymore. Instead, he was simply staring at something on the ground.
“See, this is exactly what I was worried about.” he said, before I looked down at what he was referring to.
It was a human hand, wedding ring still on the fourth finger, protruding from the ground, as if trying to unearth itself and escape.
“Rain comes in tonight, whole thing’s washing up. Hence the rocks.”
I dropped my boulder, and just stared at him. I was too shocked to think, much less come up with something to say.
Then without even being entirely conscious of it, I ran. I ran as fast as I could. Nathan simply watched me race away, before dropping his own stone, and chasing after me.
“I shouldn’t have told you!” he cried out, hysterically, his voice almost inaudible behind the frantic sound of crushing sticks and leaves.
I looked behind me, only to find his lanky shadow still chasing me, dipping and dodging tree branches and logs, in an attempt to catch up to me.
I just kept running and running. Somehow, I managed to get to my car, fish for the keys, open the door, and slam it behind me, as Nathan threw himself at the hood.
As I drove off in reverse, he dropped to the ground, then simply stood up and walked back into the woods, his car still parked. I spun the car around and peeled off down the dirt road.
“Psycho must have gone back to finish his dirty work,” I thought to myself, suddenly becoming very conscious of the fact that my breathing had calmed slightly, from hyperventilation to huffing.
“He’ll come looking for me. He knows where I live. Sarah, I’ve gotta call Sarah.” My mind was racing a million miles an hour.
I pulled out my cell phone, which barely had any battery left from using the flashlight earlier, and scrambled to find Sarah’s contact.
Calling her, each ring felt longer than the next, as I tried to keep my eye on the dark road.
“Ring.”
“Ring.”
“Ring.”
“Ring.”
And then, finally.
“Honey?” Sarah answered, abruptly woken up, and clearly concerned. “Where are you? What’s going on?”
“Sarah” I began, but couldn’t get the words out of my mouth.
“What honey? Tell me.” She begged.
I remained silent for a moment, as I attempted to organize my thoughts, before saying the only thing that made sense in that moment.
“I don’t know if I should tell you.”