Ben's Story--Chapters 39, 40, & 41
Chapter 39--The whole world starts to search Chapter 40--Still no luck, but the show must go on Chapter 41--Storytelling assignment with the surprise of all
Chapter 39
Dad left a message at home saying he’d be there by 5:30 p.m., and Big Jim would be by at 7 p.m. As we talked on the way home, Jill said she felt slightly embarrassed at dinner, in anticipation of my feelings. Once she saw how comfortable I was, even with all the startling news, the evening was almost pleasant.
“Even after they wouldn’t let you escort me home?”
“That worked out too. I have this built in trigger . . .”
“Trigger?”
“Same kind of thing, I guess. It’s a reflex. I always think they don’t care and whatever they do is only for show. Last night I sensed something different. I think I was able to see more clearly through your eyes. After you left, we talked for awhile.”
“You brought me over to. . ..”
“For more than I bargained for, but I’m sure you could tell that. Like I said, I did know of the link between your grandpa and my dad, but I also wanted to show you what a rotten life I had.”
“A bit of an overstatement?”
“It does seem that way now, doesn’t it?” she said, still measuring my response, to see if my reaction to her parents was real, and to see if hers had really changed.
“When my dad offered to help find your grandfather, it was more than I had hoped for. Still, I was flabbergasted with all the other stuff. I know he’s not in the mob. But he hangs around with some tough people and doesn’t cut his enemies much slack. He didn’t find Huey, Dewey, and Louie working at Starbucks.”
“How come you always make fun of those guys?”
“I love those guys, you big dolt. But if I couldn’t kid them as much as they kid me, well, life wouldn’t be as much fun.”
We helped Dad fix dinner, but he told us Big Jim was going to eat before coming over. At 7 p.m. a loud knock came at the door. I opened it with Dad standing behind me. Big Jim was flicking away a cigarette. He stood with his hands buried in the pockets of a heavy, black overcoat. His head was cocked in a funny way, with one eyebrow up, giving off an apprehensive air—like, is this the right house. Is this the house of an old friend? Enemy?
“Benny Boy, nice to see you.” And then he looked directly at Dad. “And you, Rustbucket, you've changed. Been eating too many burgers? And look at all that skin up top. Best I figured on the way over, I haven’t seen you in the steam room since you were a little squirt.”
“I have gone to a couple of union meetings in the past few years Mr. Halverson.”
“But so few as to almost not count at all.”
“I didn’t want my father to get too pissed off.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you didn’t.”
“Glad you were able to come, Mr. Halverson.”
“Big Jim, Rustbucket. Even my enemies call me Big Jim.”
“Come on in. I still have food I can warm up if you didn’t get a chance to eat.”
“I thought I would, but I didn’t. I’d love a little grub. You cook any better than your old man?”
“He taught me everything he knew, but the price is right.”
That broke the ice. During the whole time they were catching up, Jill and I sat back to see what would happen. It was like two old friends getting to know each other again. We were both anxious, then relieved, to see where the meeting was going. Unfortunately, the most important agenda item seemed to stall. Even though listening to them reminisce was fascinating—for both me and Jill—I could barely contain my need to know if we were we ever going to get down to the lets-find-Gramps part of the conversation.
Before my curiosity could be satisfied, the evening’s most awkward moment happened in a way Jill and I hadn’t anticipated. During a slight lull, Dad asked Jill if she thought she was ready for her family history report.
“Almost,” she said, hoping not to draw too much attention to it. She immediately asked how our trip went, but that backfired. An awkward silence instantly reminded her that was when Gramps disappeared. Dad jumped back in, hoping to help Jill recover but inadvertently backed her into a tighter corner.
“I think this is a great assignment and I can’t wait to hear how all you kids do.” He then went on and on about all the information he and Gramps had shared with me and what a worthwhile project he thought it was. I watched Jill slowly shrivel in anticipation of her father’s need to know. Her fear was justified.
“So, what’s this? How come your mother and I know nothing about an oral history project?”
“Daddy, it’s not that big a deal.”
“That’s not the way it sounds to me.”
“It’s still weeks away. After I did as much research as I could, I was going to ask you and Mom for help.”
Big Jim wasn’t buying it, but he seemed willing to let it go—for the time being.
“And when were we going to give us an invite?”
Thank goodness Dad spoke up. “Jim, Ben just told us about it on the trip and he said that their teacher was going to be sending home invitations.” Dad was covering. The note, which Dad knew nothing about, had been sent home weeks ago. Jill’s dad still wasn’t falling for it, but again was willing to put it on the back burner.
“You and me, little girl, we’ve got more to talk about later.” After standing around in the kitchen watching the dads drink a couple of beers and Big Jim eat a big dinner between sips, the trip down memory lane ended abruptly.
“So, where the hell is your old man? He’s making me look bad and I’m done with that. You know we ain’t exactly going steady anymore, but we’ve got a history serving the workers in this city.”
Dad looked at him and said, “I wish we knew. He said he got a call to come home immediately when we were in Las Vegas.” We all went into the living room and Dad told Big Jim the whole story, minus the personal stuff.
“What have the cops done so far?” Big Jim asked. Dad told him everything he'd been told they were doing.
“You think they’re doing enough?”
“They say they owe him big time for helping their union get established. Yeah, I think they’re doing everything they can.”
Big Jim then continued, “second time for you Benny Boy, but let’s bring your pappy up to speed on our plans. If you give me the go ahead, within one week every Teamster truck in this region will have Deke’s picture on its back. Within one week every truck stop, Western Union station, greasy spoon, union hall, union workplace, and a few places we haven’t thought of, will broadcast his ugly mug better than any milk carton could. We’re going to turn this guy into Amelia Earhart and Jimmy Hoffa combined.”
Dad and I looked at each other. Big Jim was on a roll, but he was overlooking one important point. “Neither of them was ever found,” I said.
Big Jim barely slowed down. “Good point Ben. But one of them wasn’t too well-prepared, which ain’t your grandpa’s style, and one of them had the mob and the government hating him, which your grandpa does not. So, you see, there’s no reason for him not to turn up.”
By the time the evening was over, we all felt better. The worse-case scenario was now a more distant possibility. At the final handshake, Big Jim tightly gripped my hand for a second longer. “You gotta believe kid, he’ll be back. I helped him with some bullets the last time. I’ll help him again if I can.” I was barely able to keep the knot in my throat from choking me, and then thanked him for the fortieth time.
Chapter 40
Dad's nighttime routine now included calling the police as soon as he got home. When there was nothing positive to report he grew more and more worried. It had now been two very long weeks since we had seen Grandpa, a week-and-a-half since we reported him missing, and a week since the strategy session with Big Jim. The strength we felt from Big Jim's pledge, and the feelings of optimism, were beginning to fade.
Jill started coming over every night with updates from her father. Dad enjoyed having her around and Jill's input was helpful as we went over and over all the things that might have led to his disappearance. It didn’t add up, it would never add up. We knew he’d never intentionally hurt us this way--but why no contact? How could he let us think something bad had happened? He always joked about getting back after we kidded or tricked him. But this was too extreme. He couldn’t be playing around. This was life and death.
The worst-case scenario, the one we had feared the most, was now easier to believe. What if he still had enemies? Plenty of people were still fired up at him. Were the people who were out for Deke Caplan years ago still out there? Maybe they thought Big Jim would be blamed. Maybe he was murdered. I concentrated with all my heart to get that thought out of my head. All we could do was wait.
One more session of Group and I thought I was through. Mr. Shryke suggested that with all the turmoil our family was going through, Group was still the best place to share and find support. No way. School was going fine, I was handling things, but I couldn’t continue to listen to anyone else’s problems. To make him feel better, I said if things started to go wrong, I’d jump back in. He was suspicious, but I knew he meant well. With a call to Dad, backing from Mr. C., and a word from Mr. Magnuson, it was agreed that Group was still the best place for me. I guess I could manage a few more sessions, although I don’t think I had a choice.
Jill had decided not to go to Group as soon as we got back. It was an interesting coincidence that we hadn’t discussed quitting, although when we talked about it afterward, we found that our friendship had steered us both in the same direction. We felt better about many things, but maybe we were deluding ourselves. Jill’s participation had always been voluntary, but I still had this thing hanging over my head. Too bad she didn’t check with Mr. Shryke before making the decision for herself. First thing next morning she told me she got into quite an argument with the Shrinkazoid. He felt her adeptness at lying was more than enough reason to stick it out.
“Wish I’d never told him anything. Do you believe that guy, Ben?”
I thought about it for a few seconds.
“Ben?”
“Do you really think it’s such a bad gig? I mean, we only have a few more sessions.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” At least she didn’t get angry. Although thinking about it, we both knew, was just a way of saving face. Maybe yes, maybe no, maybe it really didn't matter. We were both learning how to better handle day-to-day frustrations.
After talking more and more with her parents, Jill was almost ready to start thinking about giving a family history of the Halversons—not some made-up version about a foster family. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was mending. Jill’s greatest worry was, of all things, Roger Farnell. Many of the protective walls she had erected had begun to fall, but she had told that tear-jerking story about her disappearing parents to Group and Roger was the only one in both Mr. C.’s class and Group. He would know and would he ever blow the whistle.
“Couldn’t we just have one of the “boys” offer him a deal he couldn’t refuse—shut up or lose an arm? Or something?” I suggested, again.
“Yeah, we probably could,” Jill said. “But I sorta like the guy.”
She waited for my face to fall through the floor before she winked.
“Maybe you could talk to Mr. C.? He might have a suggestion.”
“That’s a good idea. He’s really going to think I’m screwed up after the enormous fib I told him about the foster family, but I think I’m ready to come clean."
The next day I waited an hour for her after school. When she finally started down the front steps she was smiling.
“So, it went well?” I asked. “What did he say?”
“Thanks for suggesting I see him, Ben. He was great. He told me not to worry about Roger. I’m not sure what he’s going to do, but he said he’d fix it and that’s all I need to know.”
“But what took so long? You were in there quite a while.”
“I told you I had talked to him before, about what I could do. He may have been surprised, but not shocked. We had a lot to talk over. Sorry it took so long.”
Jill continued, “He was right about families and this assignment. I’ve missed a lot of things, things I was scared to know about. It’s not going to be easy, but he told me I can see him anytime if I need a shoulder. He also said he’d be happy to talk to my mom and dad. It sounds like he’s helped other kids find a better way to talk to their folks. Now that my foot is in the door, I think I’d like to start working things out."
“Did you know Mr. C.’s dad was a union man in Seattle?” she asked. I nodded my head yes and smiled. She stopped suddenly and gave me a big hug. As we walked home, she told me everything else she could remember.
Another weekend passed and still no word. I worked my butt off to get the report ready. Dad was always there to answer any questions I had about the information he and Gramps had given me. Finally, with only two days left, I was ready for a test-run. Using Dad as an audience, referring only to my outline, I was able to tell most of the Caplan story.
Dad sat on my bed during the practice run. When it was over, he gave me a big thumbs up. “Good job Ben, very, very good. Your grandpa would be proud.”
“I’m worried Dad, about getting choked up at the end. Without Gramps, there is no end, and what about the shooting. Should I put that in?”
“I think if you practice taking deep breaths when you come to the tough parts, it will help get you through. As far as the shooting goes, I’m not sure what to tell you. It’s public knowledge in a way, but even in this tell-all world, I think some things are personal enough to keep to your self. People might know about it, but that doesn’t mean you have to feed their curiosity.”
Dad might have tried to leave the door open for me on this part, but I could tell he had strong feelings. It took me only a split-second to know what I was going to do. As he reached over for a hug, I could feel the strength of his love for Gramps and me. The old man was in us. And so was Mom.
“See that photo of us with Mom?” I said.
“I love that one, Ben. You know I have the same one up in my bedroom?”
“Yeah, I do. Every time I practice my report, I’m looking at her. She’s looking at me. She’s telling me to be sure to include some of her Crazy Jayne stuff.”
“And Crazy Russell stuff too, I hope,” added Dad.”
Before I let the next round of emotions get in the way, I smiled. “I wonder if Mr. C. ever imagined how important this assignment would be to me, to us? Mom promised I’d get through it, and I’m finally believing her. Hope she didn’t see me throw those punches along the way.”
“Ben, I seem to recall your mom throwing her fair share of punches along the way. Knowing how much she loved you, I’m sure you’re okay.”
After Dad left my room, I stared at another picture, this one of Dad, Gramps, and me. I was young. We were each on one knee, holding up fish we had caught on a camping trip. I had two fingers raised behind Dad’s head and he had two raised behind Gramps' head. We had all fought over who got to hold the real fish and who had to hold the ones we had bought in the store to fool Mom and Grandma. It didn’t matter. I blabbed the truth as soon as we got home.
I picked up the picture and stared at it. I touched their faces and thought about the quest. I looked over to see Mom looking at me from the other photo.
The paper with the words “quest,” “power,” and “legacy" was now on my bulletin board. As much as I had played with these words and thought about the ideas that came from them, I couldn’t figure out what they meant to me and why they were so important. I looked over at my desk and saw my dictionary -- only an arm’s length away. A stupid dictionary—why had it taken me so long?
Included in the definition of “quest” were words like birthright, heritage, and inheritance. Lights started flashing in my head. The quest was now under my belt. My power was the legacy. But my knowledge of the legacy had been incomplete. I suppose you don’t have to know every detail of your family’s history to grow up and live a normal life, but the big piece missing from mine sure helped me put a bunch of stuff in perspective. With the legacy firmly planted in my heart, I was ready for anything.
Knowing so much of the Caplan story now made it easy to trust that my life wasn’t coming apart. Mom had been right. A welcome feeling of relief came over me. I was a Caplan and for good reason.
The anger between Dad and Gramps--yeah, it was their problem. I wished I could make it go away, but what if that isn't possible? What if they had never shared the truth behind their anger with me? The knowing meant a lot. I wish I could say I would have been able to move on had I not known, but that’s impossible to say. I’m glad I know. Could the problems between them, and Mom’s dying, give me an excuse to act weird for a decade? Not on your life.
Like Mr. C. said, a quest could be for many things, but all quests had one thing in common—a search for something. With a great feeling of relief, the truth out on the table, I knew my search has been successful. With all my might, with all my soul, I prayed that the search for Gramps would be as successful.
Chapter 41
From the time of Big Jim’s pledge, Jill started driving around town with us every night as we tried to remember Gramps' former hangouts, long-lost friends, or anything that might lead us to a guy who needed to get away from his family for a while. The three of us alone put up over a thousand missing-person signs in truck stops, union workplaces, and blue-collar hangouts all over the city. Every day we had new ideas, and every day seemed like it was forty-eight hours long.
Dad said the cops assured him every night that they were doing all they could. “No reason to doubt that Ben,” he said. “They still appreciate what he did for their union.” After Big Jim rolled out his union’s “Let’s Find Deke” campaign, Gramps' union, who had begun their own campaign, immediately accepted the help, although they were suspicious at first. The movement grew rapidly until we heard that unions of every stripe were all doing what they could.
Deke Caplan, my grandfather, public manhunt subject number one. I don’t think there was any way we could measure the gratitude we felt or the strength we gained from everybody’s help and concern.
A week before the presentations, Mr. C. stopped me as I was heading out of class. “Listen, tough guy, I can only imagine how hard this is for you and your dad. If you need more time, or if you want to pass on this assignment for now, I’ll understand. If you don’t want to be here for the other presentations, I’ll understand.”
I looked at him in amazement. I knew my stuff. “Mr. C., I can handle it,” I said. I knew I could.
He pulled up a chair next to mine, all the while keeping his eyeballs planted on me. “You sure?”
“I must do it. It’s what keeps me close to him.”
“You’re a strong kid, Ben. If you need to talk about anything, I’m a good listener. Anytime. You know my number. If I’m not there, leave a message.”
“Thanks, Mr. C.” I was a little wobbly, but, as usual, talking to him was a good thing
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