The Left-Handed Truth Chapter 25

Chapter 25 : Can I help you today?

The look on his face was something to behold. “We are?”

“Yep. No time to waste. Let’s go.”

“Okay,” he said, grabbing his winter jacket and running out the door after me.

“Agent McWhirter, this is Jimmy Carlisle. Jimmy, this is F.B.I. Agent McWhirter.”

“Hi,” Jimmy said cautiously, clearly awestruck by the big man.

“Nice to meet you Jimmy. Hop in.”

It took Jimmy a half hour before the questions began. The agent explained that he wasn’t with Jimmy’s mom when the explosion happened. Yes, he carried a gun, but couldn’t show it to him when he was driving. No, he had never shot anyone. He had never even shot at anyone. Yes, he had to go to college to get into the F.B.I. And on, and on.

I had to hand it to the agent; he didn’t get upset or frustrated with Jimmy’s constant questions. Maybe he had kids of his own and he knew the drill. On the other hand, I was sure he was relieved when the trip ended at the Detroit Municipal Airport. I thanked him profusely for the ride and for putting up with all the questions. Like his fellow agents, he was polite and courteous and made me feel good about his people.

Jimmy fell asleep on the way home. It was a relief and I guessed that he had talked himself out on the way down and could relax on the way home. He would have quite the stories to tell his friends tomorrow when he went to school. Stories that I wondered if any of them would believe. There had been nothing on the news, according to Angus and Mary, and little if anything in the newspaper when I checked the next day. I suspected that the F.B.I. had put a lid on the release of information since the suggestion was that a gas leak had caused the explosion.

***

Christmas was rapidly approaching and I was looking for ideas for gifts. I did what any sensible person would do, I consulted. I consulted Angus for Mary’s gift, and Mary for Angus. I consulted both of them for Nicole and Nicole for Jimmy. It was a total failure. I heard the following phrases more than once.

“Oh, I don’t really know. I’m sure he’ll be happy with anything you choose.” (Mary)

“I asked her and she said she didn’t really need anything.” (Angus)

“You know her desires better than either of us.” (Mary and Angus)

“He’ll be happy with anything you get him.” (Nicole for Jimmy)

Now, any other man might have been frustrated, but I chose not to be. I’m an optimist, after all. I could be creative if necessary. I could figure this out myself. Right!

First priority was Nicole. Jewelry was always a winner, I thought. Something nice and elegant, like that pearl necklace she wore on our first date. Back to the jewelry store where we bought the ring. My thinking was that that fellow who served us might remember Nicole and help me with a purchase. Naturally, he was no where to be found when I arrived.

Okay, Plan B. Better to talk to a woman, right? She’d relate better to my needs. Well, I sure hope so, because six hundred dollars later I had a nice, simple diamond pendant set in gold and a pair of matching earrings. Nothing too good for my lady, I rationalized.

So, on to my next priority, Jimmy. He already had a new bicycle, so I needed something different. I spent some time in the electronics department of Best Buy, looking at what might be suitable for a kid nearly seven years old. The woman who approached me with the usual “Can I help you today?” actually could help me that day. She had a seven-year-old nephew and she recommended a portable notebook sized computer that was specifically designed for kids. It came with a typing program, some kid’s games, and a “parent friendly” Internet web browser that would keep him from stumbling onto to undesirable websites. All that for only three hundred dollars.

I’d already found what I wanted for my parents. A video camera for Dad to record their various trips as well as Jimmy and my new family. Mom was angling for a new car, but I knew that wasn’t in Dad’s budget. I consulted with Dad and we jointly got her a paint job and detailing of her current ’99 Corolla, to be done between Christmas and New Years. I was able to negotiate both items with the same company and saved quite a bit for both of us.

Now for Angus and Mary. I had an idea and I talked it over with Nicole. We could get an inexpensive one week cruise with some careful shopping. She was all for it, a reward she said for putting up with her and Jimmy for all those years. She shared with me her finances and she could well afford it. In fact, the only reason she hadn’t moved out and found a place for her and Jimmy was that fact that it would have upset her parents. She also volunteered to find just the right voyage and I agreed.

So, I was ready for Christmas, somewhat lighter in the pocketbook, but happy with my choices nonetheless. The idea of teaming up with Nicole for her parents and with my father for my mother was fun. It also syndicated the risk.

By mutual agreement, we decided to have Christmas at the Carlisle’s. Christmas Eve would be just the five of us with my parents arriving mid-morning on Christmas Day. We allowed Jimmy one gift on Christmas Eve and he would be allowed to open his stocking presents before everyone else got up the next morning. Nicole had dealt with most of the stocking-stuffers, and I was relieved and thankful.

We had resumed intimate relations four days after our return when her bruises and general soreness had either ebbed or gone away altogether. I was extremely careful that first time, frightened that I might hurt her and uncertain if she’d tell me.

“For the last time, Will, I’m fine. You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile. I want you to make love to me and not be afraid to touch me. Now get to it!” she demanded, only partly in frustration.

“You promise you’ll tell me if I get carried away?”

“Yes … if I’m conscious.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m so horny that when you finally do get around to making love to me I’ll probably pass out from anticipation.”

“Oh. So … sooner is better?” I kidded.

“Yes, dammit, sooner is definitely better.” She was exasperated with my seeming to be being so slow to get the message.

Afterwards, we lay facing each other, our hands gently exploring each other in the afterglow.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes, finally. I was beginning to think you were never going to do it. You were driving me crazy with your worries. Are you convinced I’m okay now?”

“Yeah … I’m convinced. You’re a pretty good pole dancer.”

“As long as it’s the right pole,” she whispered as she gripped my resurging erection. “This one’s just dandy, thank you.”

“Care for another dance?”

“You have to ask?” she laughed, poking my chest with her forefinger.