8th Ticket. Tom

I continued shuffling through the letters we sent each other looking for the beginning, middle and end of our relationship. All this correspondence held a vast array of emotions. One minute I’m laughing five minutes later I’m crying. It was exhausting and after 24 hours of reading I wanted nothing more than to fall back into bed and sleep. Why was I torturing myself with this stuff, why was I holding on?

These were my thoughts when, Tom called.

“Hey buddy, how ya holding up?” His tone was cheerful.

“I’m doing alright.” I said. “How about yourself?”

“On my lunch break. Trying to catch some peace before returning to an afternoon of depositions.”

“Is that right?”

“A lot of carpetbagging developers are coming into the state trying to build condos and luxury homes on land once reserved for cattle. They all want to bring New York and LA with them.”

“Everyone wants a piece of big sky country, huh?"

“I thought practicing law in Montana would be a semi-leisurely pursuit, filling out paperwork for ranchers, The occasional land sale. But this new crop of wealthy hipsters are so litigious if they don’t get their own way they sue?”

“That’s a shame.” I said.

“Hey look, Jim, I didn’t call to talk about me, I was concerned about you. How are are you doing, I mean, in light of these new revelations about...”

“Doing fine Tom, no need to worry. It’s been 30 years.”

“Everyone here’s wondering how you were taking it. We all knew you both had this wild passionate relationship that nobody quite understood.”

“Whose telling and not understanding, Tom?”

“Robin and Gwen, mostly. They own the Two Birds Book Store, no actually the Two Birds Book Emporium. So pretentious. But the swells like it.”

“That’s good.” I said sounding as uninterested as possible.

“If you want to know what’s going on in Range go to Two Birds. And two birds will tell you. They’re so bad, they keep a picture of Melissa over the register. And constantly going on about, our late sister this and our late sister that."

“We all deal with loss in our own way, Tom. Just so they keep my name out of it.”

“Too late for that bud. Your the famous writer she was engaged to.”

“Is that right?” So not interested in this conversation.

“Do her sisters know that, Melissa was very well known and well regarded within the oil industry itself?”

“Not at all. The most they’ll ever say is that she’s a geologist. Plays better with the Hollywood elites.”

“They were always kind of stupid, weren’t they.” I said, without a question mark.

“Actually their strong point seems to be marketing. Once a year they run ads in the Village Voice and the New Yorker. And one in an ultra hip LA art mag. A while back they asked when you were coming to town and if you would agree to do a book signing?”

“Never and never.”

“That’s kind of what I told them.”

“Thank you,” I said.

"Dwight Finaldown will be doing a book signing next week. He wrote Threshold. You know it?”

“No.” I said. I was determined not to be interested in Dwight whoever, whatever or his book.

“Threshold is making a splash in certain circles.”

“Really, what circles?” I asked. Just asking was going to start a long, drawn out explanation I had no interest in listening to.

“This life is all about being on the threshold and deciding weather or not to cross over.”

“Okay. Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying your making a choice.”

“That’s what I thought but it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Tom, I don’t want to keep you but don’t you have depositions?”

“Don’t worry about that. They all went down the street to the new vegan place that just opened up.”

“Vegan?"

“You’d be surprised the food ain’t bad. I wouldn’t want to eat there everyday but it’s alright once or twice a month.”

“You really like these fancied up New York and LA types.”

“Why would you care, Jim, you moved out and never came back.” Tom said, sounding a bit testy.

“Sorry bro, didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

“No feather’s ruffled here.” He said. “But if truth be told the new move-ins mean more work for a boutique firm like mine.

“Yeah?” I said, trying to sound excited and ignoring the ‘boutique’ reference.

"I try to show an interest. Eating vegan once a month adds to my bottom line.”

"So is the firm going through a growth spurt?”

“Billing is up 75% from a year ago.”

“Wow, that’s great. Proud of you, Tom.

“We’re all proud of you too my famous little brother.”

“Thanks.”

“Think you’ll make it up next week?”

“The jury’s out on that bro but I’ll let you know.”

“Try to make it Jim. Buster is telling everyone Roy is making an appearance.”

“Speaking of husbands, I’m going to Fedex some sensitive paperwork to your firm. Your eyes only, Tom. I’m also sending a retainer. Make some discreet inquiries for me”

“What are you hoping to discover?”

“If what I’m sending you is still legal and binding.”

“Will do.”

“Okay see ya.”

I packed up all our letters, taped the box shut and threw it in a closet. In a desk drawer where I kept tax returns, paycheck stubs, airline tickets, press passes, medical information even my will was another file that I kept hidden away. I probably should have thrown this stuff in with the letters and forgotten about it but something told me to hang on to it. I removed it from the drawer and looked through the papers. There were a few letters I kept out but the rest I slid into a heavy envelope, addressed it and placed it inside a box to be sent out the next morning.

TBC.