I went on luxury vacations with my dear parents. We
ate everything but McDonalds because my mother said it was “totally, extremely
unhealthy”. She sounded like we were talking about drugs or
something. “How about you, Jack?”
“Oh, yeah. Vacation stuff.”
“With parents, too?” I ask.
“No,” he smiles. “With friends.”
This is really hard to believe. Can you imagine a
bunch of guys go all the way to New York for vacations? Come on.
This is silly.
“You mean… girlfriends?” I ask. My heart races
quickly. I. Am. Jealous! Should I? Or am I entitled?
Definitely not. But I can’t help it.
“No girlfriends, ” Jack gives me a weird,
come-on-this-is-none-of-your-business look.
My face flushes. I know I’m stepping on his
toes. Oh, well, not only stepping, but stomping really hard like a twelve
thousand pound African elephant. I look at him. My face is all
red. Are. You. Lying. To. Me?
Jack is smart. He knows what’s in my mind. He
breaks the eye contact and looks down. That tells me He. Is. Lying!
“Okay, I lied,” Jack raises his eyes. Now he
confesses. “We came to New York a few times a year.”
I can almost see him and several his female
“friends” having fun in New York. Suddenly, I feel like my liar
boyfriend, Anthony, is much better than this Jack because he played with only
one girl, not several.
“But it was all business,” Jack adds.
I shake my head. What kind of “business”?
“Come on, Emilie,” Jack is frustrated. “This is a
man’s game, okay? We ship things and make money. It’s that’s
simple.”
Now he is giving me a totally different picture. A
bunch of big muscle men ship things and make piles and piles of money.
What kind of “things” can give him the kind of money he has?
“Drugs?” Oops. I didn’t realize I actually
said that. I look around. Yes, we are in a McDonalds in the New
York City. Too bad if I discovered his “business secret” by
accident. He can’t hurt me a tiny bit.
“Huh…” Jack laughs really loud. People turn to look
at him. “Come on, kid,” finally he stops his laughter. “That’s the
old trick. Now we have the Internet.”
This Jack is now a total mystery to me. He is making
huge amount of money with the Internet by “shipping things”. And his
“business” is more profitable than smuggling drugs. Are these “things”
blood diamonds, ivory, human body parts, or something worse?
“Come on,” Jack urges, “let’s finish the coffee and get
moving.”
I look outside. The traffic is now much
smoother. I gobble down my coffee and stand up. “Let’s go,” I say,
wiping my mouth.
Chapter Eight
It takes us only fifteen minutes to drive to the Greyhound
station. Jack pulls the car to the parking lot. He turns off the
engine and turns to me.
Well, it’s the time to say goodbye. I feel a lump in
my throat. I have mixed feelings with Jack. I don’t know how good
or how bad he is. I don’t know if he really killed someone. But I
do feel like I want to spend more time with him. I know this is the last
time we are going to see each other. Good or bad, I will never see him
again once I step out of this car. Isn't this really the way the life
goes? I look at him, trying to swallow down my lump so I can say
something nice.
Jack is swallowing really hard, too. Finally, he puts
up a smile and says softly, “Good luck and take care, kid.”
“Thanks for everything, Jack,” I say, grabbing my duffle
bag. I get out of the car and walk all the way into the station. I
don’t want him to see the wetness in my eyes.
The moment I step into the building, I hear the car engine
start. He is leaving. That’s. It. Life.
The line for the ticket is long. Big buses come and
go. But I
ate everything but McDonalds because my mother said it was “totally, extremely
unhealthy”. She sounded like we were talking about drugs or
something. “How about you, Jack?”
“Oh, yeah. Vacation stuff.”
“With parents, too?” I ask.
“No,” he smiles. “With friends.”
This is really hard to believe. Can you imagine a
bunch of guys go all the way to New York for vacations? Come on.
This is silly.
“You mean… girlfriends?” I ask. My heart races
quickly. I. Am. Jealous! Should I? Or am I entitled?
Definitely not. But I can’t help it.
“No girlfriends, ” Jack gives me a weird,
come-on-this-is-none-of-your-business look.
My face flushes. I know I’m stepping on his
toes. Oh, well, not only stepping, but stomping really hard like a twelve
thousand pound African elephant. I look at him. My face is all
red. Are. You. Lying. To. Me?
Jack is smart. He knows what’s in my mind. He
breaks the eye contact and looks down. That tells me He. Is. Lying!
“Okay, I lied,” Jack raises his eyes. Now he
confesses. “We came to New York a few times a year.”
I can almost see him and several his female
“friends” having fun in New York. Suddenly, I feel like my liar
boyfriend, Anthony, is much better than this Jack because he played with only
one girl, not several.
“But it was all business,” Jack adds.
I shake my head. What kind of “business”?
“Come on, Emilie,” Jack is frustrated. “This is a
man’s game, okay? We ship things and make money. It’s that’s
simple.”
Now he is giving me a totally different picture. A
bunch of big muscle men ship things and make piles and piles of money.
What kind of “things” can give him the kind of money he has?
“Drugs?” Oops. I didn’t realize I actually
said that. I look around. Yes, we are in a McDonalds in the New
York City. Too bad if I discovered his “business secret” by
accident. He can’t hurt me a tiny bit.
“Huh…” Jack laughs really loud. People turn to look
at him. “Come on, kid,” finally he stops his laughter. “That’s the
old trick. Now we have the Internet.”
This Jack is now a total mystery to me. He is making
huge amount of money with the Internet by “shipping things”. And his
“business” is more profitable than smuggling drugs. Are these “things”
blood diamonds, ivory, human body parts, or something worse?
“Come on,” Jack urges, “let’s finish the coffee and get
moving.”
I look outside. The traffic is now much
smoother. I gobble down my coffee and stand up. “Let’s go,” I say,
wiping my mouth.
Chapter Eight
It takes us only fifteen minutes to drive to the Greyhound
station. Jack pulls the car to the parking lot. He turns off the
engine and turns to me.
Well, it’s the time to say goodbye. I feel a lump in
my throat. I have mixed feelings with Jack. I don’t know how good
or how bad he is. I don’t know if he really killed someone. But I
do feel like I want to spend more time with him. I know this is the last
time we are going to see each other. Good or bad, I will never see him
again once I step out of this car. Isn't this really the way the life
goes? I look at him, trying to swallow down my lump so I can say
something nice.
Jack is swallowing really hard, too. Finally, he puts
up a smile and says softly, “Good luck and take care, kid.”
“Thanks for everything, Jack,” I say, grabbing my duffle
bag. I get out of the car and walk all the way into the station. I
don’t want him to see the wetness in my eyes.
The moment I step into the building, I hear the car engine
start. He is leaving. That’s. It. Life.
The line for the ticket is long. Big buses come and
go. But I
Similar Books
