The Price of Forever
an excerpt

Chapter 1 – “Rain”

The worst weather in the world has got to be a cold February rain. This is especially true in New Hampshire, where the chill penetrates every layer of clothing, straight through to the bones. I had promised myself I wouldn’t return here after that last, particularly brutal winter. It was just another in a long line of promises I knew I wouldn’t keep.

I waited for him inside the building, rather than remaining out into the cold. The Moody Building was a grand building when it was constructed, and I stood in what was left of its glorious lobby when it served as the Hotel Claremont. It had been converted to offices, with glass doors and steel frames. I found I preferred the way it had been, long ago. At least the tile floor remained, a reminder of the opulence to which this place had once aspired.
I pulled out a cigarette and my matches. As I struck the flame, I noticed the sign to my right – “no smoking”. I laughed and drew in a long drag. The smoke warmed my lungs in a way that was a little unnatural. I didn’t worry about the effects that smoking had on people’s lungs. What was the point? It wouldn’t affect me. Almost nothing affects our kind. Not in that fashion, anyway.

I looked back outside, watching for Carl. Meet him at eight tonight, he had said in his message; in front of the Moody Building. He’d explain everything then. I despise those recording machines. They were a convenience, like mobile phones and all the other things that people had invented over the years. But messages were so impersonal; I preferred conversing the old fashioned way, talking directly with people. They’re easier to read that way. True meanings come out easier.

Carl wasn’t difficult to read, however. His voice on the message was quiet and pensive, with long pauses between sentences. He was obviously worried about how I would react to whatever it was he had to say. I think I detected a bit of sympathy in his voice as well, as though he were worried how I would take the bad news he tried to hard to hide from me. But I knew what he was going to say tonight as sure as I knew my own name. I think he knew that I knew. And that would make him more nervous.

It was nearly quarter past eight when I finally saw him. Another indicator that this would not be a good talk; Carl is obsessively punctual, and almost always early. He bowed his head to the rain as he walked by the fountain. The water wasn’t running, being winter and all, but the fountain was large and ornate enough that it still maintained a strong presence. This despite the fact that what was once the beautiful Tremont Square had long ago been reduced to one fountain surrounded by a parking lot.

It’s called progress, I’m told. Looking at it now, I liked it better before all of this so-called progress. Last month, Carl would’ve laughed and told me I need to adapt to the changing times. But the look on Carl’s fact didn’t lend itself to laughter easily.

I studied him a moment, judging his features as I had the first time we met. Tall and lanky, he had a habit of always shoving his hands in his coat pockets. If he didn’t wear a coat, he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers. I worked with him for months to break him of the habit. But he hunched his shoulders from the cold as he walked by the fountain, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Whether it was merely because of the weather I couldn’t say for certain, but I’ve learned over the years that old habits return in times of great stress. This certainly appeared to be that for Carl tonight.

I contemplated for a moment just remaining in the shadows of the building. Make him worried, give him more fears to ponder. After all, this wasn’t supposed to be. He had given his word, and at one time that had meant something. That, too, was a change to which I could not readily adapt.
I frowned at my own vindictive nature; I had thought that I’d put away such immature thoughts and behaviours long ago. But I think that I was older then, far more mature and settled. I’m younger than I was, and more unsettled than ever before in my life. It is a rather disconcerting feeling.

I dropped the cigarette and crushed it underfoot. A deep breath, and I walked to the glass doors and stepped outside. The chill hit me immediately, like a frosty punch to my stomach. Damned February wind drove the rain horizontal. The broad upstairs porch shielded me from rain falling directly down, but there is no awning or cover from rain that is blown sideways. I shoved my hands in my pockets; gloves can only protect you from so much.

Carl saw me as he crossed the street. He froze; for a second I thought perhaps he was going to get hit by a car that was coming up Tremont to the Square, but he regained his composure and hurried out of the way. He stepped beside me and shrugged some of the rain from his coat, turning his face from the wind.

“Hell of a night.”
I nodded. “It’s why I left this place before.”
“Yeah, you said that.” He wouldn’t look at me, instead peering intently through the windows of the Moody Building shops. I don’t think he would’ve faced me if they’d been brick walls.
We could’ve stood there in our verbal fencing match, but I grew weary of the rain pelting my face like frigid wet bullets.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me why you left me that message.” I kept my hands in my pockets as well. My fingers curled around the revolver I kept for emergency purposes. Such as this might turn out to be. “It was rather vague, Carl. It wasn’t like you at all. Such things make a man in my position rather nervous.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that, Alexander. I just thought we should talk in person. I know you prefer that, right?” He forced a smile and shifted from one foot to the other.
I just studied him, and said nothing. Make a man nervous, and he’ll say and do many things he might otherwise not in his hurry to escape the situation. He wanted this to go easy, but I wasn't about to make it easy on him. It’s that damned vindictive side of me. Xiaou said I hadn’t gotten over it yet. Damn him too.

“Listen, Alexander,” he began slowly, and I knew that I may as well get accustomed to the chilling rain. It was going to be one of those talks. You know the kind; the ones that take twenty minutes when three will do. I settled in for a long drawn-out dissertation.
“What you’ve done for me, and for my family – there are no words for my gratitude. You saved Lisa, gave me back my self-respect, and I want you to know –”
“Carl, it’s raining. I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s damned cold, and I hate cold. Is there any chance you might get to the point before the bottom of the hour?”
I know that my displeasure and impatience came out like a sledgehammer. Do I feel guilty about it? Hell, no. I have no reason to.
“Yeah, you’re right – sorry.” But still he hesitated. Another long drawn out blah-blah session coming up. “It’s been three years. And I’ve learned so much from you. Lisa’s come to see you as a surrogate father, or maybe an uncle. Sam was thrilled to see you the other day, when you –”
“Carl, stop. Now.”
I had to stop him. It was bad enough to bring up his daughter, who sees me as anything but a surrogate father. I was her father’s odd employer, nothing more. I didn’t expect anything else from the girl, but I knew that Carl wanted her to see me differently. Well, I did make her laugh now and then, but that was it, and I was okay with that. But when he lied to me about Samantha, I had to draw the line.
“Carl, I know what Sam thinks of me. I can see it in her eyes and her stance whenever I walk into the room. I make her nervous, and she doesn’t know why. Which naturally makes her more nervous.” He started to argue, to disagree, but I wouldn’t let him. “It doesn’t bother me, Carl, I understand. In fact, it tells me that Samantha is an extraordinary woman, to sense that about me.”
“She … she has always wanted to like you. The way I like and respect you.”
He looked down and shoved slush about with his toe. This was getting too maudlin for my tastes, especially with the outcome.
“Alexander, Lisa’s been offered a scholarship at a school in Burlington. Vermont. I know you don’t like it up there, but she needs –”
Enough of this.
“Carl, you’re fired.”
The words hit him like a stone slab. At first he was shocked, then he started to argue, only to stop as he realized that somehow he got what he had wanted.
I pulled my left hand out of my pocket and he froze. He'd known for quite some time about the weapons I kept on my person. And I’d always told him if he quit I would have to kill him. I meant every word of that then, and I wasn’t about to go back on my word the way he was doing with his. So I fired him.
“Our agreement was that you would slowly cut ties with anything that did not directly involve me or my affairs, but lately you’ve become … irresponsible. Unstable. And almost entirely useless. But we had an agreement, which I’ll honor.”
I pulled out an envelope, tightly bound with elastic bands. And thrust it in his face. He stared blankly at it.
“Take it, Carl.” I was wet, it was bitter cold, so pardon my lack of patience.
Still he just looked at it. I jerked his hand out of his pocket and thrust the envelope into his bare palm. Carl opened the edge of the envelope and peered inside. His eyes widened. I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes.
“Severance pay, Carl. As per our agreement?”
“Yes, but I …”
“You what? You’re fired, Carl. Plain and simple. So go back to your wife and your daughter and move up to Burlington or Reykjavik or the Arctic Circle. I hear Yellow Knife is lovely in winter; hardly rains at all in February.” My voice dripped of sarcasm; which was appropriate considering that now the rain was dripping from my hair.
“Alexander … thank you. I can’t possibly –”
“Yes, you can thank me enough. By never mentioning my name again. Ever. To anyone. Understood?”
I grabbed his coat and pulled him closer, letting him feel the full weight of my meaning in his mind. He's always hated that, but we never had any misunderstandings when I did it this way. The headaches always made a strong impression. He nodded.
“If I ever hear that you have said anything to anyone about me, I will find you. And our entire agreement – ever facet of it – is rendered null and void.”
He swallowed hard and blinked harder. His voice cracked. “Lisa…?”
“Starting with Lisa. But not stopping. Are we clear?”
His nod caused rain to drip from his hat down onto his chest, pouring into his coat. I’m certain his chest was soaked instantly, but he didn’t seem to notice. Good. The point was made abundantly clear.
I let him go and turned abruptly, walking away, but I paused at the edge of the porch ceiling. God, I hate winter rains.
“Alexander?” He still sounded scared. He’ll remember this feeling for a long time, which is good – it’ll probably save his life.
I turned and looked over my shoulder at him.
“I … thank you.” Some of the fear left his face, and the relief was setting in at last. About time – he tended to be a bit slow at times.
“Go home, Carl.”

I turned from him and looked up. I’m not sure what I was trying to look at, because it was all just this bleak dark grey. Which pretty much describes the sky on every February night in Claremont, at least to my memory.

By the time I turned back to Carl, he was already headed for his car. His hands were already in his pockets again.

I watched him as he crossed the street with that almost clumsy gait. He had probably parked his car on Pleasant Street, in front of Marson’s Army-Navy. Or whatever was in there now. Carl was a creature of habit; of many habits, actually.

He chewed his fingernails like a delicacy when he was tense, he snored like a chainsaw, and always separated his food on his plate. That last one annoyed me the most, because he would do it every time, no matter where we were or who we were with. His talents were primarily in numbers, and he was pretty good at them.

But our agreement had stated that he was mine for a minimum of seven years, with my option to keep him longer. He swore to me on his daughter’s fragile and failing life that he would keep his word. His life was mine as long as I wanted it, he said.

He lied to me. In the end, he couldn’t handle the cost. He didn’t know how hard it would be, I get that. But right now, all the familiarity and friendship we had developed the last three years didn’t mean anything but anger to me. I was alone again.

I silently cursed at his back as he vanished in the rain. Go on, I thought. Go on up to Burlington or whatever icebox of a hellhole your daughter gets into. I’d had enough of people disappointing me. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last.

I stormed down the street, ignoring the rain. I paused by the Tumble-Inn Diner. It was where we actually met, although I had planned the meeting for weeks. I started to think back on where I first saw him, how our first talk went, then angrily shoved the memories away.

There were people in the Diner, enjoying a hot meal. I let them feel my anger as I passed, and for a moment reveled in their fear, not knowing what it is they all felt.

Damn him. I was going to miss his annoying laugh. And Lisa's as well.