Jane smiles, leans back and tips her coke into her mouth, reminding me of a persistent fantasy I had about her back when we were stupid kids living in a subway train. “Fine,” she said, “How’s about you talk to Mitch. Saves me a trip to Portland. Never much liked rain ennaways.”

MITCH

The alarm went off and I looked all bleary -eyed at the red digital numbers in the dark. My wife could sleep through a herd of caffeinated elephants charging through the bedroom with noisemakers, but I’m a pretty light sleeper. Especially on Mondays.

Sigh deep, rise. Into the bathroom, out of the bathroom. Try to ignore all the things that hurt and pick out my clothes in the dim light. Bring ‘em back into the bathroom and get dressed for the day, glad for a change that so much of my hair is gone- less to comb, doncha know.

Dress in my khakis, collared shirt, sweater vest. Glasses- I feel black-plastic rimmed today. Out to the living room to get some P&Q before the day starts proper. Open up my laptop, and read the Gospel of the day before I go to the front porch for my USA Today. Coffee. Check the bills, then more coffee. My wife wakes up, morning kiss with a smile, then say grace over our bowls of cereal. Throw a lunch together, kiss my wife goodbye again with a smile, then off to school.

Traffic’s not bad, no fighting it this morning. Pull into the school’s parking lot. Briefcase with student papers in it, out of car, into building. Wave ‘hi’s’ and ‘howareya’s’ to everyone as I go in. Get to my desk, and look at the eight octagon-shaped tables with hard black plastic tops. Walls with sinks and test tubes and other paraphernalia sitting on counters or hiding behind glass-fronted cabinets.

And I sit at my desk, thinking like I do every morning how happy I am with the way my life has turned out. Two adult kids who (mostly) get along with me, and stuck with our faith despite college. Got a wife I love who does a great job of putting up with me. And got a job I love where the students are good, and the worst thing I hafta deal with is some kid cheating on a test or cribbing a paper.

Yeah, life’s been good so far.

Then dear old Jake hadda roll into my room.

“Hey there, buddy!” Jake says from his wheelchair in my classroom doorway, smile so big on his face it could melt every icicle on the Eastern seaboard in January.

Jake has a certain smile. It’s almost impossible to resist it if you don’t know him that well. Moreover, even if you do know him well, you know him well enough to know that he’s got something good up his sleeve when he uses it, and almost always what he’s got’ll be better for him than for you.

Usually, anyways. The last time he used that smile on me, within twelve hours I’d gotten in and out of enough trouble that I was looking over my shoulder for the next year. I’d been bouncing around the idea of turning Catholic ever since, because as many times as I talk to Jesus I still wish I could go to a priest, confess my sins and be done with it all.

And here he was. Again.

“Well, look at you!” I said, getting up from my desk to shake his hand. Did he know I had a prep period now? Probably. Jake’s place, back when he had one, had all the organizational value of a trailer park after a tornado. But when he wanted something he did an amount and thoroughness of research that’d put the toughest CIA agent to shame.

And there was that wheelchair again. Dang. He must be up to something.

Five minutes later. Maybe not even, and we were sitting at one of the big science desks while he made his pitch.

“So, what’ve you been doing, Jake? How’s the carnival thing working out?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“It sucks wind, Mitch. The outfit I’m with now? They’re nice as far as carnies go, but I’m probably gonna hafta change out after another six months. A year at most.”

“So why’d you leave with them in the first place, old buddy? I thought you were doing fine with that little fortune telling place downtown. Plus, your food bill was always low.”

We laughed at that. He never had to pay for lunch- he’d use that weird little hocus-pocus stuff to make cashiers forget to charge him, or get people to fork over their wallets and cash. Pretty wild stuff, and I could never do it.

“Yeah, well, when I had my place the taxes to the local Romas put too big a dent in my overhead. It made sense to drop the fortune-telling shop and go with a job that paid my room and board and a little pin money extra. Plus they always blew town every week, so wherever we were if there was someone mad at me for taking them for a twenty, they couldn’t find me all that easy.”

“You still taking twenties, Jake?”

“Ten of those adds up during the day. Keep it small, no one sends legbreakers. I’m just someone’s cost of doin’ business, not an example to put six feet under.”

I laughed again. Poor Jake- never got a skill to take him through the straight life, but couldn’t ever quite fit in enough to make it with either the Travelers or the Gypsies.

But we’d finished the small talk. Even two old friends got to get down to business now and again.

“So what’s up, Jake? Usually you call first. You doin’ alright?”

“Better’n alright, Mitch.” He leaned in. Aw, crap. Not again. “I’ve got something lined up that’ll set me up so good, I’ll only be taking twenties because it’s fun, not because I gotta eat.”

“Waaaait aminute, buddy. If you’re gonna try another midnight run like we did a year back? I’m lucky my wife didn’t see the dent in the car, or my goose’d been cooked.”

“There’s ways around that, Snowman.”

“First, you don’t get to dink around with my wife’s memories. Second,” look over my shoulder, even though the classroom’s empty, the door is open, “you know not to call me that around here!”

“Eh, bullshit, Mitch! Like any of these walking pimple clusters ever read a comic book with you as the villain in it.”

“Well, with a last name like ‘Winter’ maybe they’ll think ‘Snowman’ was a school nickname or something. But come on, Jake. You’ve never come by the school before. What’re you after?”

Jake leaned back and looked at me for a while. Then leaned in. Again.

“Remember back in the day? Back when we had that hideout in the abandoned subway station? You, me, the Mothman, the Queen Bee, and . . .”

“Calamity Jane. Dear God, oh, yes. She was somethin’, wasn’t she? Between her an’ the Bee, no wonder I could barely sleep at night. If it weren't Jane turning me on with her tough cowgirl act, the Bee was parading around with that outfit of hers that was so tight I used to joke she just spray-painted it on before a job. Yeah, that was good times, alright. ‘Course, I was what, thirty pounds lighter’n I am today?”

“Yep. Well, what if I told you, Mitch, that Jane was putting the group back together? And with a job and a payday that could solve any problem that a good, churchgoing school-teacher could ever have in the money department?”

I looked at Jake. He was sitting there, smiling. Doing nothing but reflecting light off of a little pencil he was turning in his hands. He started to talk again and th-

…cil was still moving. My chest was all tight, like it was every time I thought about the house payment, and how this year it’d jumped by a good five bills each month with the new batch of taxes. My granddaughter, wanting so much to go to a good, religious college that had a tuition that might as well have been six figures for how reachable it was to my daughter, her mother, and my idjit son in law. Now how in the heck’m I supposed to solve that problem?

And all of a sudden, it was so darned clear. If I went with Jake’s plan, it couldn’t fail. With Jane, and ole’ Icky the Mothman again? We’d be back in business, I’d be teaching again, my granddaughter’d be in school and my daughter’d stop crying into the phone, worried about the influences her daughter’d be getting in a secular university.

Seemed like a slam dunk.

Sure, there was that little voice in the back of my head saying this wasn’t going to be a good idea. But I just chalked that up to Emmy’s influence. She’s my wife and I love her, but dangit if she hasn’t thrown cold water on every idea I’ve had to better ourselves in the last thirty years.

And then he gave the coup-de-grace:

Jane.

----

TO BE CONTINUED....