“I’m good,” Susie answered, wrinkling her nose, an amused smile on her lips.
“I thought so.” Cal returned the smile, curious about her, more than mildly attracted.
“You here for the exhibit?” Chuck asked.
“Yeah, I wanted to see it again,” Cal answered.
“We used to listen to them on eight track.” Chuck laughed.
“We were cool.”
Chuck smiled, bobbed his head, and then shook it in a show of disbelief. “Cal Forster. What a surprise.” He swiveled his head to each of the two women flanking him and asked, “You two okay with having lunch now and coming back later?”
“Sure,” Charity answered.
Turning back to Cal, Chuck asked, “You have time for lunch?”
“I know a great place,” Cal answered.
Susie begged off, saying she’d catch up with Chuck and Charity at their hotel later. “Sorry to miss the opportunity to explore my new friendship with you, Cal Forster,” she said before walking away. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
As they walked to the nearby restaurant in a biting March wind, Cal experienced a surreal sensation of time folding in on itself. Could childhood friendship survive over four decades of separation? Cal had no idea, but comfort and camaraderie with Chuck seemed embedded in his bones.
By the time they reached their destination and were seated at a table, they discovered they both had chosen teaching careers and earned advanced degrees. Chuck now taught business classes and managed a high school work study program. Cal had spent a few years doing the same, but switched to teaching English after finishing his doctorate.
They both favored not tying funding for school districts to property taxes. They both saw the value of programs for students who preferred to gather work experience as part of their high school program.
Their lives diverged, however, when it came to family and future plans. Chuck and Charity had two children, both grown, and there were grandchildren. Cal talked about his sister’s kids and their families, but he knew being an uncle contrasted sharply with being a father. Chuck said he had no retirement plans thus far. He enjoyed working too much. Cal said he’d just turned in his retirement paperwork and laid out his plans to be his father’s travel surrogate.
At one point, Cal apologized to Charity for not including her more.
“You two go ahead,” she said, waving them on. “I’m having a great time listening.”
Chuck talked about the town where he and Charity lived. “Fieldstone’s population is about fifteen thousand,” he said. “We have all the amenities enjoyed by many of Ohio’s smaller cities and towns, including a declining infrastructure and an out-of-control heroin epidemic.”
Smacking her husband’s arm playfully, Charity said, “It’s not that bad. We have a fine coffee shop now—I can’t believe you haven’t been in there yet—and we have a great library.”
“Every county in Ohio has a great library system,” Cal said.
“Touché.” Chuck high-fived Cal.
They talked for well over an hour, their food going cold, half-eaten sandwiches whisked away to be replaced by multiple cups of steaming coffee, until Charity looked at her watch. “This has been lovely, but I think we need to get going if we’re going to have time for the exhibit before it closes.” She stood. “Meeting you, Cal, has been the highlight of my trip to Cleveland. Please say yes to the invitation I’ll send for our July Fourth party. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Of course I’ll come,” he said.
On the way to his father’s house, Cal noticed a discernible lift in his mood. Turning in his retirement letter had left him sad, unsettled, lost. Teaching had been his greatest success. Besides feeding his need for accomplishment, the constant interaction with staff and students steadied him. Anticipation of a trip to southern Ohio and attending the Henderson’s holiday party in early July gave him an anchor for the near future.
He planned to be on the road by August, but then what? And what would he do with his summer until then? The rest of his life was a syllabus waiting to be written.
Why not start right away? He would make a reading list, starting with Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck, and moving on to more modern travel memoirs. Come to think of it, maybe he should tour the states first. He could take Bailey with him.
Anxiety ebbed. He would stay connected. He could read and write and Zoom with or call his father every day.
By the time he parked his car in his father’s driveway, Cal again knew he was on the right track.
Entering the back porch of his father’s house, he wondered how many times he and Chuck had banged through this very door on their way to Cal’s room to pour over comic books or compare the day’s discoveries from digging in the backyard. He chuckled and shook his head in wonder. Life was a funny thing.
“Is that my favorite child?” his father called out from the living room.
“No, I’m the other one,” Cal called back. “Need anything from the kitchen?”
“Bring a six-pack,” his father answered. “Let’s get drunk.”
Cal breezed through the kitchen and dining room, down the hall, and around the corner. His father reclined in his chair in front of the picture window.
“Where’s my beer?” his father asked.
“Hello to you, too,” Cal said. “I think your beer got left behind in the 70s.”
“I think it’s time for the thirteenth step,” his father said. “The one that goes, ‘You’re old and almost dead. Who cares if you drink yourself silly? Go for it.’”
“I care,” Cal said.
Before his father stopped drinking, Cal Sr. would get too blasted to climb the stairs for bed. Cal’s mother had laid out an ultimatum. His father could have alcohol or his family. Even Cal, less than ten years old at the time, knew she was serious.
