the Liverpool Man (Ch 1)

The Liverpool Man

The movie playing on the miniscule screen in front of him was featuring Audrey Hepburn and a multitude of black and white, bikinied sailor girls, but Thomas was so completely unaware of it the movie might have not been playing at all. The atmosphere around him was relaxed – a little stuffy, perhaps, with the occasional cough and clink of trolley cart wheels rolling down carpeted isles, all muffled by the engine’s continuous purr. To the left of Thomas was a dozing, middle age woman with curled red hair, on his right, an overweight, elderly man whose glasses were being constantly pushed up as he watched the movie on the seat in front of him. The entire situation seemed like a joke, that he, Thomas, was sitting on a plane, surrounded by lethargic, languid travelers, while he was wide-eyed, sitting straight in his seat, staring ahead trying hard not to lose himself in his thoughts.  Having drank a large paper thermos of dark irish coffee earlier that morning had not helped either.
         The flight, headed to England, was about 6 hours long, and while Thomas had no idea how long he had been sitting there, he had a feeling it had been a little too long. Shaking his head like a sleepy dog, he hoisted himself up around the woman and climbed awkwardly to the end of the plane. Staring out one of the windows, he could half-imagine what England would look like – a lot of green and grey, probably. The fact that he had been born and spent the first few years of his life in Liverpool had no effect on his memories, they were dim and vague, and he honestly had not thought about his homeland for a very long time. He had been living a simple life, free in its laxness, but easy and good, as long as you didn’t expect too much. What had suddenly grabbed him and thrown him on a plane headed for Britain he had no idea, but he did know why. While summer break was very close to an end, college had been doing nothing for him, and he was almost dreading its return. Then suddenly, a stranger walked into his life, and, with a couple of conversations over bitter black coffee, Thomas now found himself alone on a plane to a place he couldn’t even remember. Smiling to himself, he had to admit it felt good.

         It had been on a dry Monday morning. Thomas was in a gas station, buying coffee and cigarettes for some of the boys at the lumber place when a voice suddenly called behind him,
“Tom!”
The young man approaching him, with brown hair and a broad build, was grinning widely at him, his smile making him look like a mischievous school boy.  David, who was the same age as Thomas and currently went to Boston College, had been Thomas’s best mate at their boarding school during junior and senior years.
“David! How’d you get swept all the way up here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
When Thomas’s mother had decided to move back to England when Thomas had been 16, he had stubbornly said he was going to stay in America. Rather than go back to a country he couldn’t remember to a messy divorce, Thomas moved in with his distant aunt and uncle. David, who had been a teacher’s nightmare and class clown, was their son, and the two boys attended a boarding school, quickly becoming close friends. Most of Thomas’s best school memories were stored at that school – summertime at his relatives’ house was always distinctly uncomfortable. At least neither adult had a drinking problem, and that was one up more than there had ever been when Thomas had lived with his mother.
         Seeing David’s face in the grubby gas station was enough to bring all these thoughts back in a rush, and he realized for a second he hadn’t seen his mother, or any close family, in the last 5 years. He stuffed the cigarettes back on the shelf, quickly finished paying for the coffee, and went outside with David.
“So Tom,” David asked half hour later as the two of them sat at a diner somewhere, “tell me again how the hell you ended up in Wisconsin of all places? You working here over the summer?” Thomas nodded, not particularly keen to divulge too much right now.
“Yea, just working. What about you? Things are going great at Boston, from what you’ve been telling me you’ve got an amazing girl waiting for you down there, so what are you doing here?”
David drooped a little in his seat.
“Remember how I had a grandfather who used to live in Wisconsin?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, apparently he’s gonna go soon, and its my job to go see him and get things sorted out before he dies. My parents are coming up next week, and then I can get back to Boston.” His mischievous grin was back again, wider than ever. Thomas was suddenly reminded how much of a boy David could be, always looking for something fun. “Where Anna’s waiting for me. I’m telling you, she’s amazing. I’ve never had a girl like her before…”
Thomas let him ramble on for a while as David talked, starry-eyed, about Anna, before cutting in and suddenly talking about their school years. For a second David just stopped where he had been interrupted, then quickly changed track and listened to Thomas, eagerly bringing up old memories. Thomas smiled to himself. David had always been the younger brother, second to no one except Thomas. They had been the most popular boys at the medium-sized boarding school, always with good looks, good beers, good girls, and actually good grades as well. Thomas glanced around him. Not that you would know it now.
         A little while later, after lots of laughs and a couple of drinks, David’s thoughts seem to be thinking the same thing.
“Listen man, what happened when we finished high school? You were all set up to go to…what was it? Penn State or Duke? Do you still go there?”
Thomas sighed; drink always made him a little melancholy.
“David stuff happens, you know…My freshman year of college wasn’t really that good. I’m just trying to figure things out right now.” This was of course, a lie. While David nodded wisely, Thomas really had no idea what he was trying to figure out. He had originally come to Wisconsin on what looked like a promising job opportunity in architecture, but it had fallen flat early on. Not knowing whether to stay or go back, he had scrounged around, looking for more jobs - after all, he had told himself, it would probably be the same back home.
         David suddenly glanced at his watch.
“Damn,” he said. “I’m supposed to go see the old geezer again today and sort through his old stuff… Why don’t you come? It’ll give the old man someone to talk to while I try to figure out if he has anything that is actually worth something.”
“Yeah, sure. Why not, right?” Unknown to David, Thomas had already skipped out half a day’s work with the boys, so there was no point in coming in now.

         That was what started it all. Thomas leaned back a makeshift seat near the stewardess cabin and closed his eyes. The old man had died less than a week later, catching Thomas just enough off-guard to take his words seriously. David, the  golden boy with the good college and amazing girlfriend, went back to Boston soon after, telling Thomas he’d be expecting him to come see him soon. At the time Thomas had agreed loudly, if only to smother his real thoughts. He did not plan on going to see David. David had excelled and he had not. Now however, sitting here with a stewardess shooting quizzical glances, Thomas felt more alive than he had in a long time. He had no plans, or expectations, but something told him this was the right thing to do. All because of a crazy, grumpy old man with nothing left but a bunch of well-worn cards and a dusty attic.

“Morris, this is Tom, he was a good friend at our boarding school” said David, speaking to the old shriveled man on the couch in loud tones. “Tom, this is-“
“Alright David, there’s no need to talk like I’m handicapped!” snapped the little old man. Looking down on him, Thomas begged to differ the statement. Morris was very tiny, hunched over where he sat, but it was clear this did not stop his vigor - nor, apparently, his dislike of his grandson or any other stranger in his house.
“Now David I told you, I won’t have any tax people or anybody nosying around my place – you hear? I just want my things organized, and no strangers pawing through my house.” Morris glared obviously at Thomas while he said this. Despite the inclined insult, Thomas wasn’t sure if he would step back at this man’s ferocity, or chuckle at the sight of him – he wanted to do both. Instead, he saved David the task of answering (from the look on his face, David had been through many of these conversations in the past) and sat down by the old man. 
“Well actually, I’m here to give you a bit of company, if you’ll have it, while David sorts some things out” he said, now beginning to thoroughly wish he hadn’t come at all. He could see Morris was wishing it too.
“I’m not handicapped! Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m stupid or need constant attention! Harumph!”
         For a few minutes they sat there in silence. Morris continued to glare at Thomas, and Thomas felt like he was being weighed and measured for all his worth. The only sounds were scrapes of furniture and shuffling of paper, accompanied by loud thuds as David threw what sounded like blocks of wood in the trash. Thomas couldn’t help smiling; David had always been impatient with elders, always thinking they were too traditional, or more usually, spoiling good fun. Taking care of an old man and sorting out his rubbish was one of the last things David would ever want to do.  He was thinking he would get up and help with when Morris suddenly shot at him:
“What are you smiling at?”
“Uh. Nothing.”
         Morris obviously did not take this response as a reasonable answer.  He grumbled to himself darkly. More minutes of silence. Taking his mutterings an octave higher, Morris said “and of course a young idiot like you probably wouldn’t even know how to play cards.”
It took Thomas a couple seconds to realize what the old man was saying, and then a few more to comprehend. As the silence stretched, his eyes lighted on a pair of very old, very worn cards on a small table on the other side of the room. He glanced at Morris; for the first time, he was quiet and avoiding his gaze. Finally, Thomas got it. He crossed the room in a single, long-legged stride, grabbed the cards, and placed them sharply down in front of the old man.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He paused. “Most idiots know how to play cards, even if its just to earn a little extra money.” He tried to hide a small grin, and began dealing the deck.