CHAPTER TWO
Meeting Mr. Right
Copyright 2004, All Rights Reserved
“Sean, I need you in the front. Lucinda has to tinkle,” exclaimed Alexis Walls—a petite and tight-bodied woman who came from a devoted family of USC Trojans and was proud of her position as Head Librarian for U.C.L.A.’s newly built Gordon Wasson Research Center.
“I can’t. I have to finish these proposals for Professor Bromberg or he’s going to kill me. I’m a week behind,”
“Sean,” interrupted Alexis, “darling, this is your boss talking. Lucy’s been on her own for hours.”
“Alright, alright. We’re completely understaffed. This is ridiculous,” returned Sean after popping up from behind his desk/cubicle and slamming his drawer shut. He’d been a bit more forceful ever since returning from his grandmother’s funeral a few days back.
“Thank You. Don’t forget we’re having a Yahtzee dinner with the Tellefsens tonight,”
“ I know,” said Sean, “Don’t forget my sweater,”
“I brought it,” replied Alexis, “It’s in the car,”
The two met at the portal separating the back room from the front room. “How am I supposed to function properly when I can’t even spend thirty minutes on top funding issues without getting distracted?” said Sean in that cute little “I Can’t Wait To Get You Alone” way that seems to somehow release his newlywed wife from all countenance and control.
“Will you quit your whining?” Alexis said with a kiss, “You’re almost out of here anyway. Two more weeks and you’re Mr. I’m A Lawyer On My Own: You’re going to rent out some small office somewhere downtown hacking out mortgage claims and making’ a ton of money, right? Right?”
“Oh baby,” he kisses her. “You keep me so straight and narrow. Where would I be without you?”
“Probably working some sneeze-bag skirt at a marketing firm somewhere,” she smiled and slapped his bottom. He used his admonishment finger but didn’t say a word as he reluctantly headed off to release the overworked Lucinda. “Lucy, you may now tinkle,” he started.
Sean Allen was a thirty-three year old genius: Literally—he was a Mensa Genius and had scored in the top one percentile nationwide on all sorts of intelligence and achievement tests. He met his now-wife Alexis at the very interview that got him his current position as Director of Outreach Programs (a puffed up grants-writer) for the breathtaking institution that had just opened thanks to the generous contributions of Mr. & Mrs. Gordon & Valentina Wasson’s Estate, the famous Anthropologists who first gave birth to the field of ethno-botany. His family’s contributions to the university’s alumni association constantly made Sean feel he had to demonstrate to his cohorts that his job position wasn’t a product of nepotism. Somewhere deep within him lay the notion that he could never escape this self-imposed poke.
He’d been working at night on his law degree and by day as a grants-writer for the university. It felt strange for him to be a student at thirty-three. The fact that he was now married gave him a sense of comfort—a façade that allowed him to continue, what he thought to be, the drab everyday role of adulthood.
Sean and Alexis hadn’t moved in with each other yet. It was in the works but taking its time. Although the prospect of living together excited them both, they also shared an apprehension about it all. Even though Sean was ready for the move immediately, he sensed in Alexis a reluctance that made him wary as well. So they were taking their time. Besides, Sean was focused on his BAR exams. Cohabitation could wait.
That night, Sean and Alexis lay about his paper-strewn condominium’s living room—an esurient setting filled with books, DVDs and an impressive collection of Ship-In-A-Bottle souvenirs from his travels. It was messy, but an organizational pattern could be discerned: One that set Alexis’s mind at ease every time she realized that she’d married a creative, and therefore, messy type-o-man. She was helping him review for the impending exam.
“Okay. Arthur vs. Imperial Mortgage Company of Texas,” proposed Alexis as she looked onto a brief. Sean quickly proceeded to break down the entire case, in detail, citing dates and names of Judges. Despite a certain flakiness that he was sometimes accused of, he was always incredibly unrelenting and persistent when it came to his interests. Alexis followed along in amazement as he laid it all out.
“You are amazing,” she said.
“Yes. I am” he replied flatly.
“You must be so excited. You’re really going to do well you know,” she said.
He didn’t say anything in return. Was he still thinking about the case they had just analyzed orally or was he actually not excited about being the top dog of his graduating class?
“I told you my folks are coming out in June, right?” he finally spoke.
“Yeah.”
“Mom says it’s a family reunion thing but I know she’s just wanting to show me off,” he said glumly. “You’d think the thrill of it all would have worn off after both my sisters & all three of my brothers got their J.D.’s. She still has this urge to impress even the well impressed,” he said with a cheerless, lost in thought look. “Dad’s up for re-election,” he followed and then paused.
“It’s like she’ll never be happy,”
“She’s just proud of you,” supposed Alexis.
“I know.”
“Honey, are you having second thoughts?” she questioned.
“That’s just it: I’m not having any thoughts, “ he said with a frustrated tone. “I’m just…this is the right thing to do. I’m good at it, I guess. It’s secure. I’ll have clout and independence from all the morons of the world. Who knows, maybe I’ll follow in Dad’s footsteps and run for office…sign a bill or two. Pretty soon I’ll be running for President and then my mother will finally leave me alone,” he sighed. “I know. I’m being silly. It’s just I don’t want to fall into a ‘what if’-thing when I’m pushing forty. Our life is just beginning. I’m ready for this self-sufficiency motif that I’ve spent God knows how long pursuing with the…you know, my whole way of thinking,” he caught himself. “I just wonder how far I’ll go with this and still be content. I mean we’re talking kids; we’ll probably get a mortgage soon…”.
Alexis cupped his mouth gently and swiftly said “Sean, you’re fine. This is exactly what happened before the wedding remember,” calmed Alexis.
“I know. I was just thinking that exact same thing,” he said.
“Honey, you haven’t been right since your grandma’s funeral,” she spoke sensitively.
“She raised me, Alexis.”
“I understand that, baby,” she struggled to voice, “You know how much I liked her. I’m just saying that her dying…coupled with that…certain…anxiety factor you feel about your parents and work and…all that stuff—it’s effecting your work and…I don’t know. You’re trapping yourself.”
“I know, I’m just…I guess I’ve still got some growing up to do,” said Sean as he toyed with his left earlobe—something he’d done since childhood whenever he’d gotten nervous. It struck Alexis as slightly unusual. His expressions and words suggested that he was receptive to her counsel and was making some headway towards understanding where he stood. Why was he nervous, she thought?
“That’s right, honey. Growing up. And that doesn’t mean you’re giving up. You’re not losing anything. You just evolve into another you. The anchor and the sail.”
Sean grinned and thought of what a wonderful woman he'd had the great fortune of marrying. His gaze lifted from the floor and unto Alexis as he said, “And you’re pretty sure of this?”
He strolled over to her and picked at her blouse with only devilish intentions.
“Yes I am, Mr. Man. What do you think you’re doing?” she queried as her own, now growing, grin crept across her dimpled face.
“Just trying to find some confidence, you know what I’m sayin’?” he retorted.
“Stop. Look elsewhere for your primal needs, you brute. I have to get ready for the Telefsens,” she said as she escaped his groping clutches, “and you’ve got to clean all this stuff up. I don’t want them thinking’ we’re married now so we’re going to let everything go hippie. What are all these papers anyway?”
“Didn’t I tell you about them?” he said as he made for a beer out of the refrigerator, “No. That’s right: I was to talking to Mom on the phone about them. You won’t believe this. Apparently, I’m a descendant of some naval hero from the 17th century. I got this crate this morning-- U.P.S.-- from the New York State Public Archives, I think, and a letter explaining that my great, great, great aunt was a lady named Sara Ooft who was married to this guy named William Kidd who was an Admiral or something in the British Navy in the late 1600’s and these are apparently documents which belonged to him. I don’t really know who he was but I think…at least it seems from what I could…you know... gather... that his claim to fame had something to do with…I don’t know…navigational systems, I think,” he explained.
“Is it a big deal?” Alexis asked.
“Yeah. And I’ll tell you why. I can’t even read most of it. It’s all written in Old English and weird symbols and…anyway, check this out,” he said while going to his answering machine.
He pushed play and after a few seconds of rewinding, a high-pitched voice said “Hello. This message is for Mr. Michael Allen. If he could please call Dr. James Parks at the North Atlantic Maritime Museum, we’d appreciate it. This is regarding a request for a possible donation of family artifacts to the museum. The number is (416) 055-1257. Thank you”
After the beep, another voice followed--this time a woman: “Looking for Michael Allen. Please have him call Jan Elliot of the Florida Maritime Museum at (718) 999-6888”. Beep.
Then, “Yes, Mr. Allen? This is David Steinmetz calling from the National History Museum of Maritime East. If you could please return my call, I’d appreciate it. It’s in regards to a shipment of Captain William Kidd documents that were released to you. Our museum would be very interested in acquiring them. As we’re sure you’re well aware, they’re of great historical importance and…. In any regards, the number is…”
Sean stopped the machine and said, “It’s filled with them.”
“That’s novel. Why are they asking for your dad?” she asked.
“Not sure. I think because they were supposed to go to him. But he co-signed on my condo so they sent it here…I don’t know, things must’ve gotten mixed up. But, here’s the clincher: Some guy named Doctor Anthony Hawke is flying out here from Maine tomorrow just to see them and he’s willing to pay a substantial amount of money for them--he said so himself,” alleged Sean.
“What are you talking about? How much money?”
“I don’t know. That’s when I called mom,” Sean continued, “He wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to ask. So after my conversation with him, I called my mom about it and she said that this kind of thing happens all the time. Our family line is pretty long. It goes pretty deep into the Civil War. That’s why I get along so well with Bromberg. Museums call my Dad about donating stuff to them. He usually doesn’t have a clue what they’re talking about or where what they’re looking for could be anyway so he just throws some donation their way and they leave him alone. We could sure use it.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t it belong to your dad?” asked Alexis
“Yes. But my mom said that dad would just end up donating them anyway so I might as well not look a gift horse in the mouth. She also said that we should hold out as much as possible with this guy and get what they’re worth.”
“All this happened today?” asked a slightly bemused Alexis.
“Yup. Right before I left for work. Which reminds me: I won’t be in until around noon tomorrow so I can meet with this guy.”
Mockingly, Alexis reminds him of how “understaffed” they are and so forth. But the prospect of some free money coming into their lives was pretty powerful for them both, especially now that Sean had confirmed (though inadvertently) that he’d be into having children. Alexis was pretty darn happy. Lucinda would just have to cut back on her liquid intake that morning.
The doorbell rang as the two franticly began to clean up the apartment and call out “Just a minute,” with that oh-so “Everything’s fine” tone that most 21st century cosmopolitans had grown accustomed to. Sean was gathering the Chinese food speckled about and Alexis was shoving all the documents on the floor back into the crate. Her lack of economical packing caused there to be an excess of documents, which she hurriedly jostled into a nearby backpack. Then, she straightened her hair, checked in with Sean, who was now at the doorknob, and smiled.
“Hi guys…”
CHAPTER THREE
Chapters
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21 & 22, 23, 24, 25, Epilogue
Meeting Mr. Right
Copyright 2004, All Rights Reserved
“Sean, I need you in the front. Lucinda has to tinkle,” exclaimed Alexis Walls—a petite and tight-bodied woman who came from a devoted family of USC Trojans and was proud of her position as Head Librarian for U.C.L.A.’s newly built Gordon Wasson Research Center.
“I can’t. I have to finish these proposals for Professor Bromberg or he’s going to kill me. I’m a week behind,”
“Sean,” interrupted Alexis, “darling, this is your boss talking. Lucy’s been on her own for hours.”
“Alright, alright. We’re completely understaffed. This is ridiculous,” returned Sean after popping up from behind his desk/cubicle and slamming his drawer shut. He’d been a bit more forceful ever since returning from his grandmother’s funeral a few days back.
“Thank You. Don’t forget we’re having a Yahtzee dinner with the Tellefsens tonight,”
“ I know,” said Sean, “Don’t forget my sweater,”
“I brought it,” replied Alexis, “It’s in the car,”
The two met at the portal separating the back room from the front room. “How am I supposed to function properly when I can’t even spend thirty minutes on top funding issues without getting distracted?” said Sean in that cute little “I Can’t Wait To Get You Alone” way that seems to somehow release his newlywed wife from all countenance and control.
“Will you quit your whining?” Alexis said with a kiss, “You’re almost out of here anyway. Two more weeks and you’re Mr. I’m A Lawyer On My Own: You’re going to rent out some small office somewhere downtown hacking out mortgage claims and making’ a ton of money, right? Right?”
“Oh baby,” he kisses her. “You keep me so straight and narrow. Where would I be without you?”
“Probably working some sneeze-bag skirt at a marketing firm somewhere,” she smiled and slapped his bottom. He used his admonishment finger but didn’t say a word as he reluctantly headed off to release the overworked Lucinda. “Lucy, you may now tinkle,” he started.
Sean Allen was a thirty-three year old genius: Literally—he was a Mensa Genius and had scored in the top one percentile nationwide on all sorts of intelligence and achievement tests. He met his now-wife Alexis at the very interview that got him his current position as Director of Outreach Programs (a puffed up grants-writer) for the breathtaking institution that had just opened thanks to the generous contributions of Mr. & Mrs. Gordon & Valentina Wasson’s Estate, the famous Anthropologists who first gave birth to the field of ethno-botany. His family’s contributions to the university’s alumni association constantly made Sean feel he had to demonstrate to his cohorts that his job position wasn’t a product of nepotism. Somewhere deep within him lay the notion that he could never escape this self-imposed poke.
He’d been working at night on his law degree and by day as a grants-writer for the university. It felt strange for him to be a student at thirty-three. The fact that he was now married gave him a sense of comfort—a façade that allowed him to continue, what he thought to be, the drab everyday role of adulthood.
Sean and Alexis hadn’t moved in with each other yet. It was in the works but taking its time. Although the prospect of living together excited them both, they also shared an apprehension about it all. Even though Sean was ready for the move immediately, he sensed in Alexis a reluctance that made him wary as well. So they were taking their time. Besides, Sean was focused on his BAR exams. Cohabitation could wait.
That night, Sean and Alexis lay about his paper-strewn condominium’s living room—an esurient setting filled with books, DVDs and an impressive collection of Ship-In-A-Bottle souvenirs from his travels. It was messy, but an organizational pattern could be discerned: One that set Alexis’s mind at ease every time she realized that she’d married a creative, and therefore, messy type-o-man. She was helping him review for the impending exam.
“Okay. Arthur vs. Imperial Mortgage Company of Texas,” proposed Alexis as she looked onto a brief. Sean quickly proceeded to break down the entire case, in detail, citing dates and names of Judges. Despite a certain flakiness that he was sometimes accused of, he was always incredibly unrelenting and persistent when it came to his interests. Alexis followed along in amazement as he laid it all out.
“You are amazing,” she said.
“Yes. I am” he replied flatly.
“You must be so excited. You’re really going to do well you know,” she said.
He didn’t say anything in return. Was he still thinking about the case they had just analyzed orally or was he actually not excited about being the top dog of his graduating class?
“I told you my folks are coming out in June, right?” he finally spoke.
“Yeah.”
“Mom says it’s a family reunion thing but I know she’s just wanting to show me off,” he said glumly. “You’d think the thrill of it all would have worn off after both my sisters & all three of my brothers got their J.D.’s. She still has this urge to impress even the well impressed,” he said with a cheerless, lost in thought look. “Dad’s up for re-election,” he followed and then paused.
“It’s like she’ll never be happy,”
“She’s just proud of you,” supposed Alexis.
“I know.”
“Honey, are you having second thoughts?” she questioned.
“That’s just it: I’m not having any thoughts, “ he said with a frustrated tone. “I’m just…this is the right thing to do. I’m good at it, I guess. It’s secure. I’ll have clout and independence from all the morons of the world. Who knows, maybe I’ll follow in Dad’s footsteps and run for office…sign a bill or two. Pretty soon I’ll be running for President and then my mother will finally leave me alone,” he sighed. “I know. I’m being silly. It’s just I don’t want to fall into a ‘what if’-thing when I’m pushing forty. Our life is just beginning. I’m ready for this self-sufficiency motif that I’ve spent God knows how long pursuing with the…you know, my whole way of thinking,” he caught himself. “I just wonder how far I’ll go with this and still be content. I mean we’re talking kids; we’ll probably get a mortgage soon…”.
Alexis cupped his mouth gently and swiftly said “Sean, you’re fine. This is exactly what happened before the wedding remember,” calmed Alexis.
“I know. I was just thinking that exact same thing,” he said.
“Honey, you haven’t been right since your grandma’s funeral,” she spoke sensitively.
“She raised me, Alexis.”
“I understand that, baby,” she struggled to voice, “You know how much I liked her. I’m just saying that her dying…coupled with that…certain…anxiety factor you feel about your parents and work and…all that stuff—it’s effecting your work and…I don’t know. You’re trapping yourself.”
“I know, I’m just…I guess I’ve still got some growing up to do,” said Sean as he toyed with his left earlobe—something he’d done since childhood whenever he’d gotten nervous. It struck Alexis as slightly unusual. His expressions and words suggested that he was receptive to her counsel and was making some headway towards understanding where he stood. Why was he nervous, she thought?
“That’s right, honey. Growing up. And that doesn’t mean you’re giving up. You’re not losing anything. You just evolve into another you. The anchor and the sail.”
Sean grinned and thought of what a wonderful woman he'd had the great fortune of marrying. His gaze lifted from the floor and unto Alexis as he said, “And you’re pretty sure of this?”
He strolled over to her and picked at her blouse with only devilish intentions.
“Yes I am, Mr. Man. What do you think you’re doing?” she queried as her own, now growing, grin crept across her dimpled face.
“Just trying to find some confidence, you know what I’m sayin’?” he retorted.
“Stop. Look elsewhere for your primal needs, you brute. I have to get ready for the Telefsens,” she said as she escaped his groping clutches, “and you’ve got to clean all this stuff up. I don’t want them thinking’ we’re married now so we’re going to let everything go hippie. What are all these papers anyway?”
“Didn’t I tell you about them?” he said as he made for a beer out of the refrigerator, “No. That’s right: I was to talking to Mom on the phone about them. You won’t believe this. Apparently, I’m a descendant of some naval hero from the 17th century. I got this crate this morning-- U.P.S.-- from the New York State Public Archives, I think, and a letter explaining that my great, great, great aunt was a lady named Sara Ooft who was married to this guy named William Kidd who was an Admiral or something in the British Navy in the late 1600’s and these are apparently documents which belonged to him. I don’t really know who he was but I think…at least it seems from what I could…you know... gather... that his claim to fame had something to do with…I don’t know…navigational systems, I think,” he explained.
“Is it a big deal?” Alexis asked.
“Yeah. And I’ll tell you why. I can’t even read most of it. It’s all written in Old English and weird symbols and…anyway, check this out,” he said while going to his answering machine.
He pushed play and after a few seconds of rewinding, a high-pitched voice said “Hello. This message is for Mr. Michael Allen. If he could please call Dr. James Parks at the North Atlantic Maritime Museum, we’d appreciate it. This is regarding a request for a possible donation of family artifacts to the museum. The number is (416) 055-1257. Thank you”
After the beep, another voice followed--this time a woman: “Looking for Michael Allen. Please have him call Jan Elliot of the Florida Maritime Museum at (718) 999-6888”. Beep.
Then, “Yes, Mr. Allen? This is David Steinmetz calling from the National History Museum of Maritime East. If you could please return my call, I’d appreciate it. It’s in regards to a shipment of Captain William Kidd documents that were released to you. Our museum would be very interested in acquiring them. As we’re sure you’re well aware, they’re of great historical importance and…. In any regards, the number is…”
Sean stopped the machine and said, “It’s filled with them.”
“That’s novel. Why are they asking for your dad?” she asked.
“Not sure. I think because they were supposed to go to him. But he co-signed on my condo so they sent it here…I don’t know, things must’ve gotten mixed up. But, here’s the clincher: Some guy named Doctor Anthony Hawke is flying out here from Maine tomorrow just to see them and he’s willing to pay a substantial amount of money for them--he said so himself,” alleged Sean.
“What are you talking about? How much money?”
“I don’t know. That’s when I called mom,” Sean continued, “He wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to ask. So after my conversation with him, I called my mom about it and she said that this kind of thing happens all the time. Our family line is pretty long. It goes pretty deep into the Civil War. That’s why I get along so well with Bromberg. Museums call my Dad about donating stuff to them. He usually doesn’t have a clue what they’re talking about or where what they’re looking for could be anyway so he just throws some donation their way and they leave him alone. We could sure use it.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t it belong to your dad?” asked Alexis
“Yes. But my mom said that dad would just end up donating them anyway so I might as well not look a gift horse in the mouth. She also said that we should hold out as much as possible with this guy and get what they’re worth.”
“All this happened today?” asked a slightly bemused Alexis.
“Yup. Right before I left for work. Which reminds me: I won’t be in until around noon tomorrow so I can meet with this guy.”
Mockingly, Alexis reminds him of how “understaffed” they are and so forth. But the prospect of some free money coming into their lives was pretty powerful for them both, especially now that Sean had confirmed (though inadvertently) that he’d be into having children. Alexis was pretty darn happy. Lucinda would just have to cut back on her liquid intake that morning.
The doorbell rang as the two franticly began to clean up the apartment and call out “Just a minute,” with that oh-so “Everything’s fine” tone that most 21st century cosmopolitans had grown accustomed to. Sean was gathering the Chinese food speckled about and Alexis was shoving all the documents on the floor back into the crate. Her lack of economical packing caused there to be an excess of documents, which she hurriedly jostled into a nearby backpack. Then, she straightened her hair, checked in with Sean, who was now at the doorknob, and smiled.
“Hi guys…”
CHAPTER THREE
Chapters
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21 & 22, 23, 24, 25, Epilogue
posted by Emil Ahangarzadeh | 8:18 PM
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