The LOMMETRUS Chronicles: Book One: The Abduction of William Baxter by Matthew Novak
The LOMMETRUS Chronicles
Book One: The Abduction of William Baxter
By: Matthew Novak
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, dialog and situations in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Copyright 2013: Matthew Novak
Chapter 1
There have been a number of alien abduction claims over the years but none will compare in detail to the story I’m about to tell. My name is William Baxter and I am one of at least two humans that have reached the LOMMETRUS galaxy. Unlike so many of the accounts given where the person abducted remembers being locked in some spaceship or lab room to be tested and analyzed---my story is a different experience. In fact; my experience allowed me to be a central figure in changes that occurred in the LOMMETRUS. The other mentioned human that reached the LOMMETRUS is my work colleague; Sonya Meyers, the marketing intellect behind so many advertisements you see on television and hear on radios. I will also communicate her account of the events as she told them to me. The story begins like most stories do and that is with a first day---and an absurdly peculiar day it was.
It started like most of my mornings---with eyes opening and the first image being the Nannyberry tree; the one that the landlord points out to potential renters, but also appears through my windowpane as the sunlight peeks through its reddish twigs on a chilly daybreak in January. Of course there was my typical sentiment of not wanting to get out of bed and just enjoy a few minutes under the warm blankets. I looked at the clock which displayed a 7:30 on its digital face. I then gave myself a mental command, “now Baxter, hit the alarm button and turn that awful noise off.” Then my thoughts drifted to, “I may need to find a new alarm clock because one of these days I’ll smash this one to a thousand pieces.”
I put my head back on the pillow after I flipped it and propped it up; laying there to get my head and body in sync with the start of another day. Today is Friday, isn’t it? “Five o’clock on Friday is the best feeling,” I think. I love walking out of work Friday, knowing I don’t have to work again until Monday. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression of me; that is, I don’t dislike working or even dislike my job. In truth, it’s my dream job. I just really love to enjoy my free time, my real life outside of work. I’m enjoying my early twenties, not living at home and now having my own apartment. My life is beginning to get interesting, especially my dating life.
Now the building I work in does present some opportunities in meeting attractive women. In fact, there are plenty of beautiful women in my office. For example, this evening is especially exciting because the pretty girl in accounting said yes to a date tonight. It took me nearly three months to get any nerve and ask her for this date. I know what most people would think here; ‘That seems like a long time to wait for one date.’ That’s probably fair and I am more likely on the extreme side of apprehension that most guys feel when asking a girl out. But this isn’t just any girl; it’s Stacy Schmitt from accounting.
It started out as just talking on our lunch breaks. I broke the ice by proposing a trade like kids do at school. I wasn’t serious but I thought it would be a cute way to get noticed. I remember it like this, “Hi---you’re Stacy from accounting, right? Uh…my name is William Baxter. You don’t know me…I work in the marketing department. Anyway, I couldn’t help but notice that you have my favorite, a turkey on rye sandwich, could I interest you in a trade for that sandwich?”
As a side note; this is not actually my favorite sandwich although it was better than what I had. Delfinas Delicatessen’s a few blocks away makes a roast beef with melted provolone and some of that deli mustard spread on warm Ciabatta bread. That is the ultimate tasty sandwich; however, I needed something to start our conversation---something that might cause her to take notice of me. Stacy began to say something but paused; as if she needed a few more moments to consider my trade proposal. My efforts to make this trade increased with an attempt at being clever.
I took the sales pitch approach. “I have the most delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich and look, it’s even on this fabulous; vitamin rich bread.” Adding the last part of this pitch was more about showing my charisma. It didn’t help.
“Thank you but no, I am really very happy with my sandwich.”
“Are you sure? Grape jelly, extra creamy peanut butter,” I added but knew this was probably overboard on the salesman shtick. In fact; I took a quick analysis of my sales pitch to her and I don’t think that it came off as charming but rather…peculiar. As she was looking at me; I imagined her thinking, ‘I wish this weirdo would stop talking to me.’ She was polite though.
“I am really okay with my sandwich but maybe some other time,” Stacy said.
I wasn’t sure what to say because the build-up in my mind would only allow the conversation to continue after she had accepted the trade offer so I was kind of stuck for any meaningful words at that point. Plus, the promise of ‘some other time,’ felt like an ending on some high note that I could hang my hope on. I couldn’t move toward asking her on a date after having my lunch trade offer rejected. No, rejection had to be taken in small doses or at least that was what I had decided prior to this first attempt at contact with the stunning Stacy Schmitt.
Stacy was looking at me; head half cocked, and there was sort of this uncomfortable silence as I tried to figure out my next move. It was then that I realized my mouth had been open the whole time and worse yet, no words had been coming out of it. I was embarrassed and felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I imagined how dumbfounded I must have seemed at that moment.
“Are you okay,” Stacy asked?
I had to say something and since I couldn’t think of anything else to say; I simply blurted out, “Oh, yes…okay. Well maybe some other time then.”
She gave a warm albeit brief beam of recognition to my retreating statement and then went back to her number puzzle as I just sat there eating my sandwich, my plain ole PBJ. So initiating some semblance of conversation with Stacy is going to be difficult. I had dated in college and even high school but those were girls I grew up with, girls I had already been friends with. If I wanted a date with Stacy, I was going to attempt something that made me feel uncomfortable. The direct approach, words floating in my conscience like a foreign language.
“Ask Stacy on a date and see what happens afterwards,” I thought. This only happened with the advice and encouragement of two co-workers; who are actually my only two friends from work, Miles and Sonya. Each had the similar opinion of: ‘just go for it’ and ‘just ask her out.’
“That’s it! You’re kidding right? You think I should just walk right up to Stacy and ask her for a date? Stacy Schmitt, the most attractive woman in the office,” I told them.
This last comment didn’t set well with Sonya. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re hopeless Baxter,” Sonya said before walking away.
I still couldn’t believe it was this simple. I stalled an additional day by checking with human resources on the proper protocol for pursuing an office relationship to which Bernie; a human resource department dinosaur, gave his trademark smirk. He looked up and then through those black rimmed glasses of his. “Baxter, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work, yeah…just ask her out. But if I were you; I’d hurry, because someone else may beat you to it,” Bernie said.
This third and decisive charge turned out to be the spring that sprung the inner-c
“Stacy, would you like to go out some time…get something to eat or maybe just coffee if you’re…?”
“Yes,” Stacy said before I finished.
“Yes as in you would like to go out…yes?” I said this because I needed to hear her say it again.
“Yes William. Yes…I will go on a date with you---dinner or something.”
I couldn’t believe in that moment everyone was right about this direct approach thing. It actually worked.
“Great! So does this Friday sound good?”
“That sounds fine,” Stacy replied.
It was later when I told Miles. He gave me a slap on the back and in his own genuine approach to people that I was still in awe of, Miles showed his happiness for my success.
“Now, don’t screw up the date,” he said with an exaggerated cockeyed wink.
My friend Miles is a computer programmer in the building. Everyone is charmed by him in our office because, while he’s exceptional at everything he does, there is a humility quality about him that makes Miles approachable. It took me awhile to discover that about him though. I was used to being the best at nearly everything in high school; big fish in a small town, but Miles was on a whole new level. For example, he won the office NCAA tournament contest, picking nearly every game right. As mentioned before, every female in the office makes a point to say at least something to him if he walks by; even if it’s just a flirtatious, ‘Hi Miles.’ This will always be unnerving but what probably irked me the most was when he’d been asked into the conference room during a marketing strategy meeting with a small French Airlines company. As the meeting started, it was discovered that the airlines CEO did not speak English on a level appropriate for listening to a presentation and negotiating a major advertisement deal. It turned out that among other languages Miles is fluent in; speaking French is one of his favorites. I was nearly knocked over from shock and muttered through the gasp of disbelief, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
When the deal was finished; the boss rewarded Miles with dugout seats at Yankees Stadium on opening day. More importantly; Miles had achieved in fifteen minutes what I’d been trying to do since being hired at Sorenson & Lankford---impress the boss.
This perfect person image made me uneasy. I initially felt like a complete rube around the guy. Being in the same room with Miles got on my nerves; with his well-kempt, crew-cut hair and smartly-dressed outward manifestation. I was expecting a cocky meat-head type who somehow got his job through an important relative but instead, he could someday be running the company. My defenses were up and I made no effort to talk with him. Then I had a real problem with my laptop that went above my novice ability. I swallowed my pride to do the unimaginable and ask ‘Mr. Perfect at Everything,’ about it. And it wasn’t until after Miles fixed the problem when I finally allowed myself to be open around him. I found out that we had a lot in common. We spent an hour talking about the Knicks upcoming season, Nirvana music and kidded about some of the interesting people we’ve seen while riding the public transit. Talking with him was easier than I had imagined. My impression of Miles shifted as he turned out to be an interesting person with a sense of humor and someone that had every reason to be arrogant and cocky but was actually a nice guy to the very core. He’s impressive but one person has impressed me more.
Sonya Meyers, whom most consider the real treasure of our marketing firm, has helped me immensely. While I was going through my interim period and working on my first account; Sonya took a professional interest in helping me through the project until the deal was done. This proved to be valuable in securing my job at Sorenson and Lankford as well as a great learning experience. I wasn’t expecting this kind of generous behavior from someone in the same department; much less someone as accomplished as Sonya. My initial logic told me we’re competitors, vying for the opportunity to represent the company for its biggest accounts and it’s those accounts that lead to promotions and more money. One example comes to my mind; it was when we were both pitching ideas to the boss for the Halstead account. It wasn’t the biggest account this company had ever seen but still, it was a good size account. I was full of fresh ideas and little confidence to back them up. College had taught me a lot of things but those first few months at the company were the real education. Sonya was polished at this marketing game and in addition to her solid ideas; she was organized and well spoken in front of a crowd. The presentations I brought were part of the job that shed light on my mediocrity and I honestly couldn’t pretend to be good at them.
“I am more of a creative type and less of a perception guy,” I admitted to Sonya one day while preparing material for one client’s presentation. Sonya shook her head.
“I’m not going to accept that William. The perception part is important and you are more than capable of handling it. You just need practice.”You may believe in it but you still have to sell it.”
It made sense and besides, I couldn’t disagree with someone as successful as Sonya Meyers. She has been with the company twenty years and landed some of the biggest accounts for Sorenson and Lankford. She practically built this department for the company. Of course my competitive nature quickly turned into admiration for Sonya and her abilities in this marketing game.
And now we are back to me, relaxed and in bed but still needing to get up. I rolled out of bed; kind of ready to tackle another work day but for the first time since I started working at the company, something was different---something felt different about me. I looked at the nightstand and searched for my glasses. Where are my eyes? “Bathroom,” I thought.
I started walking that way when unexpectedly, my feet caught something and I fell to the ground. I squinted in that direction. It was when I got back up that I noticed my pants fell to my ankles. Christmas had been a few weeks ago and these were the pajama bottoms my parents had sent me. I remembered these fitting better last night or was I too tired to notice. I know they haven’t seen me in a few months but how much do they think I’ve changed? I can deal with loose but these were made for some kind of giant person.
This is where the story took a turn into the surreal world. I walked into the bathroom and felt for the light switch. Nothing but smooth wall as my palm waved across its surface. I made my way to the sink as the sunlight from the bedroom window began peeking into the open bathroom. The strangest thought suddenly entered my head. The sink seems taller to me. I walked toward the image and discovered my thought to be true. The sink had in fact grown over night; as if I was still sleeping and in a wonderland of my own.
Rubbing my eyes, I was still looking for my glasses on the countertop surrounding the sink.
“Found them!”
I turned around and could see through the dim sun beam that the light switch was nearly eye level. What is going on here? Could this be some kind of elaborate prank someone pulled? A few college buddies came to mind but they weren’t this clever. I then looked toward the mirror and my eyes bulged with an expression of disbelief. My face and hair looked the same but my body had shrunk. The reflection in front of me was a smaller version of myself. I rubbed my eyes again to make sure I was seeing this image clearly. What has happened to me? I moved closer to the mirror to examine my hands and the rest of my body more thoroughly. This wasn’t a prank or a dream; I was awake in reality. I thought of the night before to somehow get answers. I jotted through the activities of my normal routine for Thursday night. I grabbed a bite to eat at my usual spot, picked up some clothes from the dry cleaners, went home to watch three quarters of the game and then, I fell asleep.
However, what was not normal became the adjustment to this size for the rest of that morning. And after the shock wore off or when I was able to push through it, I considered going to work. Work…how am I going to explain this to my boss and coworkers?
My thoughts shi
The smile on my face vanished at this thought. Today is not the kind of day a person misses over something as minor as…my thoughts trailed off. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on my brow. The next problem occurred to me when I remembered that my clothes for work probably weren’t going to fit either. I walked to the closet and scanned my options. With a little help from some scissors, I could make a pair of my pants shorter in length but this wouldn’t be accepted by my boss; Mr. Davis, if he noticed the tattered ends of my trousers. Experience told me he probably would notice so a trip to the clothing store before work was necessary.
I will have to buy an entirely new outfit---shoes too. This would make me late for work but it was better than the alternative which sounded like, ‘Hey in addition to showing up for work and appearing shorter, I’m wearing clothes that look completely ridiculous on me.’ The mockery from my coworkers would never end. They’d probably ridicule anyway but I had to at least take charge of the things I could control. My thoughts shifted to my work friends, of course Miles and Sonya wouldn’t take part in the teasing but this consolation paled to the anticipated laughter from the others that now danced in my head.
I had till ten o’ clock, being the absolute earliest the clients would arrive. “I could get my usual morning routine finished, with the addition of a trip to the store before ten,” I thought. It was already 8:30. I picked up the phone to call Sonya. I need to give her a heads up that I might be running late today. After three rings, there was no answer. Oh forget it, I’m running late already. I tossed my phone toward my briefcase. No coffee and breakfast today. This was actually the one piece of my morning routine that I could make up later at the lunch room vending machine. I just needed something to sit in my stomach till lunch---which would be late because of the meeting this morning. Not going to sacrifice my lunch date or rather pre-date to the actual evening date I have with Stacy tonight. This hit me like an express train directly on the forehead. “Oh no---Stacy and I have a date tonight. Man, this isn’t good.”
Ok, so Stacy is 5’10” without heals and I am probably four feet and two inches with them. I wondered if she’d still go out with me tonight or be completely weirded out by this transformation. This thought depressed me while I made my sack lunch for work.
I pondered; “Why did this have to happen to me and why today, of all days?”
I wasted more time climbing and reaching for items in my cupboards. When the task of making my sack lunch was complete, I rushed out the door.
“I‘ll just run to the station to make the 9:15,” so I thought.
This proved to be a miscalculation on my part too. My new shorter legs didn’t cover ground as fast as the longer strides I had been used to. Plus, the alterations I had made to my pants didn’t account for the extra room around my waist; so while one arm was pumping like an Olympic sprinter toward the finish line, the other was stiff and desperately trying to hold my pants up. Hobbled by this movement; this started a chain of events and then sent the entirety of the pants directly to my ankles causing me to fall a few times as the motion of this run was too awkward. Finally, my hand got tired and just stopped holding the altered britches. Man this is frustrating. The extra room in the shoes didn’t help either.
By the time I made it to the train station I was sweaty and somewhat dirty from the missteps and the puddle splashes I encountered on my way there. If there was any question of needing new clothes before work, those questions were now answered. I have to get to the store before work because these clothes make me look like some hobo hobbit from Middle-earth and the newest problem of the day was I missed my train to the city. I would have to sit and wait for fifteen minutes till the next one arrived. This was not a good start to my day.
The 9:30 train rolled into the station. I was one of the first to stand on the platform among the group of travelers yet I still had to fight my way forward to get on board before the doors shut and the engine moved. I pushed through the doors to an already crowded car. There was not a seat open so I would be standing for this trip. I looked for anything to grab onto since the handle bars above the seats were too high for me to hold. I spotted a pole in the middle of the car that had five hands on it, including a little girl’s at the bottom. The wide-eyed girl looked like she was eight or nine. She stared intensely at me, sort of looking like she wanted to ask me a question but thought better of it and just bit her lip. The entire ten minutes it took to get down town on that train, her gaze was fixed on me. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and somewhat self-conscious. I checked my ankles to make sure that my pants weren’t around them and almost asked her---‘what is it? Is there something dangling from my nose?’
When I got to my stop, I was curious about what she wanted to ask me or not ask me. If I didn’t get off and continued to travel where she was going, maybe perhaps to the next stop, would she have worked up enough nerve to ask me what she was so interested in? We were on the same eye level and I couldn’t have appeared intimidating to her. But then it dawned on me how strange I must have looked to her. She might have never seen a person of my size and age before today. In her young mind, could she have thought I was a peculiar seven or eight year old child? This reflection made me think of Stacy again. If Stacy went through with tonight’s date, would she recommend a tasteful four-star restaurant and dancing at one of the clubs in the city? No; she’ll suggest a place that people of my size and fifteen years younger eat at like Zippy’s Clown Pizza and Arcade. Come on Baxter---that is just stupid thinking.
I rushed up the stairs to get on Main Street, which was at the heart of downtown. Fortunately, there was an abundance of shops and stores a block or two from my building. I walked into the first one I saw and immediately pressed forward to the men’s clothing section. I searched for the shortest pair of trousers in the store but I soon found out that they didn’t carry anything in my new and smaller size. Furthermore, when I questioned the store clerk about it, she told me the closest place she knew of that carried any clothing in my size was at KB Kid Clothing store that was five blocks away.
“They don’t open until 10:30 though,” the woman said apologetically.
My shoulders shrunk toward the floor even further at this news. I thanked her and walked out of the store.
I’ve gotta get to that store no matter what the distance is. I’m just going to be later than planned but Sonya could handle this meeting till I got there with my material for the presentation.
“THE MATERIAL,”I said while slapping a palm over my forehead. Oh man…how could I be such an absent minded idiot?
I knew how though. In my rush to get out the door while dealing with the confusion of waking up shorter, I left my apartment and mistakenly forgot my briefcase with all the client material I’d prepared. Most of it was a power point presentation on a memory stick but there were some printed pages for the clients to look at that had more in depth analysis of their company’s marketing strategy that I had worked up for the presentation. My brain began to race with thoughts of how this would look to the boss. He is going to fire me on the spot if I don’t handle this client’s presentation with professionalism. I already had a history with the boss not pleased with me and how I presented myself for meetings. I could wing it but I knew this was a risky strategy. And already being late, I was really counting on these spectacular sheets
The wind was beginning to pick up and the cold air just shot through my loose clothes and gave my body a chill. I saw a coffee shop and the temptation to warm my body up with a cup of coffee was too great. Besides, I still had fifteen minutes till the kid’s place opened and I had skipped my usual cup; usually two, this morning. I needed something to go right this morning and coffee is as right as it gets on a cold day like today. I also reasoned that my focus would be better the rest of the day too.
I moved quickly through the door and into the small coffee store. The aroma immediately held my senses captivate. I waited in line behind two people as I scanned the menu for flavors, sizes and prices. The first person ahead of me was a full-bodied woman in her mid to late fifties. She was taking her time to study the menu and then turned briefly to spot a booth, or that’s what it seemed like. She had big red cheeks from the blustery wind or perhaps it was a healthy application of rouge. At any rate, it made her appear intimidating and mean.
Finally, with a strong southern accent that sounded strangely familiar to me; she said, “I want a triple chocolate latte, with soy milk and could you Grande size that for me honey?”
“We don’t serve any of our lattes with soy milk,” the young male barista behind the counter said.
“Say that again. Did I hear you say that y’all don’t serve your lattes with soy milk?”
The barista shook his head, “That’s right. We only use whole milk for all our lattes.”
The lady looked a little miffed at this and then erupted, “What kind of backwards, coffee slinging shop you running here? I mean---this is the big city isn’t it? You people aren’t worth the coffee beans you grind, is that it? Why, back home in the south, there isn’t a coffee shop with lattes on the menu that don’t have soy milk as an option. Have you people ever heard of lactose intolerant folks? Do you know what whole milk would do to me young man? I’d be gassy all day long. Do you know how many elevators I’ve been in since I got to this big city and do you have even the faintest of an idea how crowded those elevators get? Do you know how much walking I’ve had to do since I got here? This is just an unacceptable oversight on the behalf of your store. I want to speak with your manager.”
The young man rolled his eyes at the woman and exhaled heavily as if he wished he could say out loud, “It’s just a freaking cup of coffee. Order something or leave…I don’t really care;” or perhaps something ruder to the lady and laced with colorful language that might induce embarrassed grins across the cheeks of Gloucester fisherman within earshot.Tell me about it buddy, I am with you on that one. Well, I guess I’m not the only one having a bad day.
He walked to the back and I could hear a faint knock. The lady started talking to the customer directly behind her, as if her rant had to continue despite not having an employee from the coffee shop available to hear her gripe.
“Did you happen to hear my conversation with the coffee employee,” she turned and asked? “They don’t have soy milk for their lattes.”
At this, I decided to skip the coffee and head for the kids clothing store. I am sure all was grand when I left the coffee shop. I imagined that as soon as I walked out, the lady changed her tune and told the manager and young man that it was all a big misunderstanding. ‘I’ll take whatever is easiest on the menu to make and let me buy these two behind me their coffees for waiting so patiently and listening to me rant.’ She’d turn and point to where I had been standing but I wouldn’t be there. The bad luck left the coffee shop and all was right in the world again. I gritted my teeth and smirked at this thought. Still cold and windy out here.
When I arrived at KB Kids Clothing Store, my first impression was that it wasn’t a clothing store but more like a toy store with a small area of kids clothing and no shoe department. That’s interesting but what was slightly more interesting was that KB Kids Clothing Store was actually called Toys and Some Items of Clothing at KB’s. I walked in and located the clothing rack at the back of the store. The boys section had a pretty good selection of shorts and t-shirts which was odd. We are in the middle of winter, why is the summer line already on display? I need slacks or even khakis but shorts and a tee-shirt won’t work outside or inside today. One of the T’s caught my eye though; it was this Incredible Hulk green color, with the words, ‘Gnarly Dude’ on the front and a surfer looking guy below it. A funny thought came to me as I realized that I actually liked this shirt. “This is something I would’ve worn ten or fifteen years ago…no, I would’ve worn it to class in college a couple of years ago and now I’m able to wear this shirt from the boy’s rack. I think I’m going to buy this shirt,” I thought while reaching for it.
The kidult in me was excited at this discovery and showing up to work in it briefly seemed like the plan but I remembered that this was the real world and my college days were over. I’m sure my boss wouldn’t appreciate this shirt the way I do. Maybe I’ll buy it anyway to wear around the house. I wondered how long I’d be this size. Would I be back to my normal size tomorrow or was this a permanent change? If anything, I’ll buy this shirt just to remember this day, as if this day would somehow escape my memory. I found some acceptable pants and a sweater that no kid with any sense of cool would buy but my young adult brain accepted it.
I moved toward the cash register but then something caught my attention. I walked over to the super hero isle where I found an action figure that was reintroduced to toy isles. This was due to a movie that was finally made about the action super-hero guy. I was brought back to simpler days in my life. I can’t believe they are selling these. I used to watch the cartoon and I collected all the action figures from the show. I even had a few special edition comic books that I lost in a game of marbles. I was recalling better days and forgetting I had somewhere to be. I fell back into a habit my grade school teachers tried their best to break me from. I sort of stood there and day dreamed about those action figures. I was remembering the countless cartoon episodes I watched as a kid as well as some of the Christmas and Birthday wrapping paper that I tore through, discovering the figures for the first time---and all of which still existed in a box somewhere in my parent’s attic.
Then a voice snapped me out of the daze I was in. It was a little girl’s voice.
With one figure still in my hand, I turned around and saw the girl from the train earlier this morning. She continued with the intense gaze on me like she wanted to ask me something.
I was ready to ask her something too but my question was answered when she finally asked me what was bothering her.
Her lips moved and I heard her say, “Mom and I watched the ‘Wizard of Oz’ last weekend and you look like a munchkin from that movie. Are you?”
“Am I what,” I replied.
“A munchkin from Oz or maybe an actor in that movie,” she said with a grin.
I could hear laughter from the next isle when she said this. Her mom probably didn’t mention how old that movie is. I wondered; “could my ego really get any more abused on the day I take out Stacy Schmitt?” She wanted to ask me this on the train and thank god she didn’t.
I responded in a hushed but irritated voice, “No, I am not a munchkin or rather an actor from Oz.”
The girl made a gesture as if pointing toward the action figure that I was looking at and asked, “Do munchkins play with toys?”
There was more laughter from the next isle. The girl made no effort to keep her voice down and I stood dumbfounded by the fact that this inquisitive little girl managed to completely wreck any sense of manliness I had when I left home today.
Yeah Baxter, my confidence is going to be really up when I arrive for the meeting today. Oh yeah, my meeting. I decided at that moment t
Sonya Meyers stared into her bathroom mirror; replaying in her mind the last moments spent with her son. She had done this every morning since his death.
“Mom, I can’t find my black pony tail holder thingy. Uh, do you know where it is? I guess I’ll just have to be late for school or maybe not go.”
Sonya rolled her eyes. “I think it’s in your backpack where you left it. You know this is forgetfulness is becoming a habit with you.”
This memory played in Sonya’s mind when she saw the black pony tail holder she’d use that morning on the bathroom sink. Sonya was still getting used to her morning routine without her son Devon. Devon was killed in a car accident while staying with his father in California a year ago. This memory was the last morning she’d see her son as it was his final day of class before he’d get on that plane that headed for his dad’s later that evening.
Devon had long, black hair like hers. Her side of the family had Oglala Sioux heritage but she was really more Welsh, from her dad’s side. Jet black hair was common among members of her family. Her hair was the one thing she had any vanity about but she was naturally attractive. Sonya had a great complexion and never had to worry about make-up. This attention to long and flowing hair had rubbed off on her son.
Devon use to watch Sonya brush her hair from the time he was an infant. Devon would never pull at Sonya’s long hair; always gentle pats and rubs as if paying respect to his mama. She remembered looking at Devon as a teenager as he was putting his hair in a pony tail. She didn’t really like her son’s hair that long because it attracted the attention of too many girls but he was a good student, and he never got into any trouble. He was extra helpful around the apartment too.
“Devon should have something in his young life that screamed rebel. All teenagers go through it. When he was fourteen he was the spitting image of me and then at fifteen the facial hair on his chin started growing sparse and wispy and he was beginning to look more like his father,” Sonya thought.
His father, Stephen, had Devon for the summer. It had been three years since the divorce and she still had not gotten used to the idea of not being without Devon for an entire summer. It didn’t seem fair to her at all. “I caught Stephen cheating with his secretary and he somehow gets Devon during summer break.” She knew this wasn’t the right way to think about the situation but she was still so hurt and bitter about the affair that broke up her family. Since the divorce, she had found some comfort in immersing herself more into work. This went into hyper-mode after Devon’s death.
Sonya had always been an achiever since she was a child. Her interest in sports at an early age fed this competitive spirit and it found a place in her studies as she got older. Sonya graduated valedictorian in high school and received her Master’s in Marketing: graduating summa cum laude just four years after high school. Right out of college, she landed a job at Sorenson and Lankford Marketing firm, the largest and most successful in the country. It didn’t take her long to impress the higher ups of the company as she successfully landed two of the largest accounts the company ever had in her first year. She was a natural, with big ideas and a smooth delivery to sell the potential clients. Her boss and mentor; J.D. Lankford, made her transition into the real world a manageable one and she owed some of her initial success to him. Mr. Lankford was thirty years older than Sonya and always treated her like a daughter or maybe just a prized protégé. He always acted proud of her at all times, like a vintage sports car collector showing off a 57 BMW 507 Roadster to his colleagues. The attention made Sonya nervous and excited at the same time. She loved being the center of someone’s admiration professionally. This had built a confidence in her that she didn’t know existed; even when she was honored valedictorian in high school. This taught her an important lesson about the power of believing in someone and she’d remember this with her coworkers.
This was the reason why Sonya was guiding the young Will Baxter. The young man had creative talent that seemed comparable to hers but he was green to the highly competitive world of selling big ideas. Baxter’s confidence was nowhere near Sonya’s when she had left school and began a career at Sorenson & Lankford and Sonya was two years younger when she started. Mostly though, Baxter just didn’t know what he needed to know.
A couple of times Sonya kept William from getting fired or at least looking bad in front of the boss. Helping William out sort of came natural to her though. While she was impressed with his potential as a marketing strategist, he kind of reminded her of Devon. After all, William was just 8 years older than her son when he had passed. She felt a certain motherly instinct toward William or at the very least, what an older sibling might feel for the youngest in the family.
When Baxter first started, he had this nasty habit of not checking his teeth after lunch to which his food would sometimes stay stuck between his teeth for the rest of the work day. Sonya told him about it a few times thinking it would do the trick but Baxter never learned. Then one day, when the bosses from upstairs were present, William finished a meeting with some clients. He smiled a toothy grin, with spinach salad stuck in his teeth as he gave his closing comments. Sonya felt embarrassed for William but she did warn him on several occasions.
Then he’d sometimes show up to meetings wearing a shirt that was badly wrinkled. Again, Sonya felt awful for William and just considered it as the thoughtless youth of the day. This made Sonya laughed to herself; something she hadn’t done since before Devon’s passing. However, it was so distracting to the boss that he pointed it out to William in the middle of a clients meeting.
“Baxter, aren’t we paying you enough to buy an ironing board and iron for your shirts to be more presentable?”
This got a laugh out of the clients who were probably thinking the same thing as a noticeable redness color took to William’s face. The boss told him if he ever showed up for a meeting looking like that again, he shouldn’t bother coming into work anymore.
“Poor, young William has a lot to learn,” Sonya thought. This absent mindedness to detail always made Sonya think of her son’s forgetfulness. It made work feel like home when she was around Baxter. After the wrinkled shirt incident, she made it her goal to mentor him until he got the hang of showing an aptitude for presentation.
Today was Friday, which meant she’d be driving the Maserati to work and after work head three hours north to her cabin in Buchanan. Sonya coped with her summer weekends without Devon after the divorce by purchasing a little cabin. Devon was twelve when she got it and thought he’d enjoy fishing in the spring. The cabin was now a distraction for a couple of days while she was not working, which really meant a new place to do work, but it was a different kind of work. Activities like chopping fire wood or planting and caring for flowers in the spring, things like that.
It was of course an ideal place for the creative mind to get busy too. Now that Baxter was in the mix, she didn’t feel like she had to work so hard at creating ideas for clients. In addition to being Baxter’s mentor, she was more of a senior consultant now or rather just a consultant with some valuable experience.
She now focused her attention on helping with the presentations and acting chummy with the clients and potential investors. Sonya still enjoyed creating though and this cabin in the woods seemed to spark that even more. As Sonya headed to the parking garage, she heard her phone ring. When she finally dug her phone out of the bottom of her purse it stopped ringing. The display screen read Baxter’s name and number.
Sonya was hoping everything was okay with the material for the presentation. She tried to call him back but no service. Sonya suddenly had the strange feeling that something about today was different. She dismissed this notion and thought maybe William had some