more of Sam Story

At this moment in time, I realize my storytelling involves a confusing
(for me) jumping around timeline - one minute were in a bar, then the
story shifts to the past and now I am in some vague future writing
this. I apologize to whomever is reading this in an even further
future. But this is the best way, okay not the best, maybe the most
logical - no, it is not too logical, wait . . . I've got it - the
easiest way to follow the story. Not that it is easy to follow.
So, anyway, this is the story so far: I am sitting in a bar drinking
beer with an old friend whom I have not seen in five years. He wants to
tell me what happened to him in those five years but he thinks that
this knowledge might somehow warp me. I think, 'should I trust him ? He
sounds okay and is as charming as ever' and somehow I remember a time
when we were very young when he tried to trick me.
The point of that memory is, well, actually, there are two points, so
they are one - that whenever people have tried to trick me, they do and
yet somehow it all works out for me. The second point is that Sam never
tried to do this again (have a laugh at my expense). That is not to say
that Sam never tried to fool me again or keep things from me - he did.
Sometimes not too well, like my 'surprise' birthday parties from ages
12 through 25 - I mean what is surprising about this : it is the day of
your birthday and somehow you can't be where you normally would be and
your best friend says 'hey, let's do something different, just you and
me, let's go walking on the beach.' and I say 'okay', because I know
this is a ploy to get me out of the way so that people can set up the
party and surprise me. Every year, I am surprised, surprised that these
people are trying to surprise me. Can't be done - at least not in such
an obvious way. But, on this day, Sam did surprise me and not just by
showing up.
He surprised me by being so cryptic and vague. Usually, at least up
until he disappeared, Sam would be gushing out details left and right,
leaving me to make sense to them.
"Fourteen dollars, can you believe it ? Parking, and it is so hot and
then this girl, maybe 16 or 20, and then two ice cream cones, walking
and fireworks, man, can you believe it - fireworks!"
That was Sam's description of the baseball game he had been to. I don't
even want to tell you what a hot date might sound like. Suffice to say,
listening to Sam required years of experience to know what really was
being said. The more excited he became, the less verbiage was used.
Considering the look in his eyes, that's what I was ready for - nonstop
details, flying out of his mouth. I imagined something like this -
"Tibet, old man, winter, clothes, robe, food, bending, meditation,
yeah, now you" with hand gestures thrown in to highlight some point or
direction depending on the words being spoken. I consider myself an
expert in the Samese language. I had years of experience picking up the
dialect and the idioms, I was ready.
Yet, Sam surprised me, speaking in clear whole sentences that I did
not have to interpret. 'What has happened to this guy?' I thought. 'Has
he been abducted by aliens and replaced by a clone?' Whole scenarios
leapt into my mind. 'That's why it has taken five years. They probably
needed that much time to try and figure out what was going on in his
mind. They should have abducted me because then that would have sped
up the process but they didn't. Stupid aliens content to think that
their superior science would solve every problem. They are so smug but
I have seen through their plan.'
"Hey," Sam was staring at me, "I could use your attention here. This
is serious. I am going to tell you about the guy." He emphasized the
last two words by speaking them with a hushed voice and an eye twitch
as if was quickly looking to his right without trying to be noticed as
if there might be someone listening. I couldn't figure that one out
because Papa's was a place where you could bring your covert lover and
not be seen since the booths were high and spaced far enough apart and
the noise was loud (not too loud) and the interior was dark (not too
dark). There were larger tables in the middle of the main room where
large parties (more than four people) would sit and drink beer and eat
pizza. Papa's served a large menu of mostly luck food, as in hope you
have the good luck not to order it and the better luck not to eat it.
Sam and I determined that with enough beer the pizza was 'good enough'
but the rest of the menu required more beer than an elephant could
drink to become 'good enough'. Papa's was a no nonsense, drink beer
kind of a place. And if you tipped the waitress enough she would let
you sneak in some decent food. For Sam and I, this place was thee
perfect spot to drink beer and talk away from the prying eyes of our
families. (More on them later).
"So tell me already," I said, "who and or what is this guy." I paused
for a moment and spoke in a whisper, "if you can tell me without them
(I made a twitch with my eye) knowing." Sam ignored my whisper.
"He is so hard to describe. I don't know where to begin. He shows up
out of nowhere, most of the time, and then he does what he does and
then after days or hours or even minutes, he is gone. Without a bit of
evidence that he was there in the first place."
"Then how do you know he's real ?" I countered.
"Because of what happens when he's around. He makes things happen. Big
things. And it rocks you to the core." Sam stopped, not unlike a
witness in a TV courtroom who has realized he has said too much. I
watched as Sam's consciousness pulled back into his head, his mind
running through ideas. Tick Tock. Thirty seconds pass. Bingo. His eyes
light back up again and he faces me.
"He wants to see you."
"Me?" I am shocked. That is the last thing I thought he would say. Not
to worry though, my ego takes over. Of course. This guy used Sam to get
to me. I am the real goal. My ego ignores the fact that 'this guy' has
been with Sam for five years. My ego reasons that out this way - it
probably took this guy five years to realize that I'm the prize. Hmm. .
. that doesn't sound right - Wait I know, this guy has used up Sam and
now he needs another person to use and abuse. Hmm. . . still doesn't
sound right.
What I don't realize is that my consciousness has pulled back into my
head and Sam is waiting for me to return. Tick Tock. Twenty seconds
pass. Sam has tired of waiting.
"He wants to see you tonight." That last word makes a whole new
scenario in my mind. Ego has given up and my deductive mind has taken
over.
"What? How? When?" is what I wanted to say but actually I said
something more like this: "Whaaa huh?" I sounded like a drunk woken up
from an alcoholic nap. To my surprise Sam isn't laughing.
"He'll meet you tonight, if you let him." This gets better and better.
Or creepier and creepier. I don't know anything about this guy and Sam
here is trying to fix me up on a date.
If I was a girl, I might have been totally freaked and none of the
strange stuff that followed would have happened. It also would have
been the end of this story, but I am me, a nearly reckless person, who
is willing to try nearly anything. Once. Besides, Sam is still alive
and seems okay - so I'll play along.
"Okay, how do I let him ?"
"Just say these words out loud"
"What words?"
"I've haven't said them yet."
"Well," I put emphasis on the next words, "say them."
"Promise not to laugh."
"JUST SAY THEM!"
"Okay, here goes," Sam hesitates, "are you sure you want to do this?"
"SAY THEM BEFORE I PULL THEM OUT OF YOU!" My blood pressure is
starting to rise - I feel the monster within coming out. Yet, I know
Sam is playing with me once again and I am still falling for his old
trick.
"Okay, you don't have to yell. I'll say them." Sam looks at me and
knows that my eyes are starting to glow red which means it is time to
release his words. "I allow Bashia to visit me."
He says really fast. They fly out of his mouth so fast that I don't
hear them because I am busy being impatient. I calm down.
"Say again. I didn't hear you."
"I allow Bashia to visit me. Tonight. You have to say tonight,
otherwise it is an open-ended invitation and you don't want that." Sam
looks pleased with himself as if he has accomplished something
significant. I look confused.
"So all I have to say is - Bashia come visit me and he comes?" I am
trying to work this out in my mind and when I do that I have a tendency
to think out loud.
"Tonight," Sam corrects, "you have to say tonight."
It is Sunday afternoon, about three-ish and I have had only two beers
- well one and a half. I am thinking if I had plans to do anything
tonight but no I don't. I had left the day open to see what would
happen with Sam. I figured that it would take at least a few hours for
each of us to catch up on what has happened to us in the last five
years. I had figured that I would drink about three and a half beers in
that time and I would need a ride home, but now it looks like Sam is
not going to tell me much and this beer probably would be my last so I
could drive myself home and then I would have nothing to do all night -
so yeah, I could see this guy. This whole train of thought runs through
my brain in a second or two.
"Okay, I'll do it." I straighten up and take a deep breath. "Bashia
come visit me tonight."
The words flow out of my mouth and strangely enough they send a shiver
down my back. "Whoa." is what I say and 'Holy shit' is what I am
thinking. What have I gotten myself into?