The Boy Who Came in From the Cold (18 page)

began to make whickering sounds as his wrist flickered effortlessly this way and that. “Schnookered, stuck like chuck,
shit
-canned.” He leapt into a classic
en guarde
position and stabbed an imaginary foe through
and through. “I was off my tits,” he shouted.
Todd exploded into laughter.
Peter whirled around, the blade disappearing into the cane as if it
had never been there. “Thank the Lord I was not driving,” he said,
voice dropping to barely a whisper.
Todd doubled over laughing, afraid he would fall off the coffee
table.
“It was
glorious
,” Peter declared.
Gabe joined the laughter. “It was pretty awesome.”
“Those who were not on the ground crying for mercy had run like
the wind, base cowards that they were.”
Todd wiped at his eyes. “That’s how you two met? Really?” “Really,” Peter replied. “And then upon making sure my hero was
not too badly harmed, we went back into the bar for another drink.” “Oh, my God!” Todd began to snicker anew.
“That is when I discovered Gabriel’s name—an angel you must
know—”
Gabriel. Peter called Gabe that every time he said his name.
Gabriel? Silly, but it hadn’t occurred to Todd that was Gabe’s real
name.

“And that is also when I discovered he was homeless. He slept that night in one of my guest bedrooms.”

 

“I stayed more than one night. He wouldn’t let me leave!” “And soon a companionship had been born. I hired him for one of my companies.”

 

“I started as an assistant to an assistant,” Gabe explained. “Kind of a glorified mailboy.”

“He tells not the story right. I was watching him. I knew not yet of what he was capable. I would have let him sit around my pool, but he insisted on earning his keep,” Peter clarified. “So I gave him a job as

an assistant to one of the investment officers. Now he is one of my two Chief Business Development Officers. He practically runs the place. We changed the name and its mission and everything about it. When it comes to Symmetry Innovations, Gabriel is my right arm.”

“Wow,” said Todd.

 

Peter nodded. “I watched him metamorphose to a lovely butterfly right before my eyes.”

T
HEY sat before the fire, Peter and Gabe on the couch and Todd on the floor, and talked. Gabe talked about how he would never have dreamed growing up in St. Louis that one day he would be living the life he was living. He seemed so happy, yet Todd thought he detected a note of sadness. Maybe life wasn’t quite as perfect as he said? What had Harry and Cody said? That they hadn’t seen Gabe with anyone in a couple of years?

Peter told tales of his travels and adventures around the world. Some were crazy, some outlandish and unbelievable. Peter had a delightful way of telling the stories of his exploits. Todd hung on every word.

Then Todd found himself slipping into his own story. Sharing with the men his dreams of cooking, of getting away from a small town and people and parents and a girlfriend who didn’t understand him. He let it all come out. How he’d lost his van, his money, his apartment.

Then he fell silent, exhausted. After a long pause he looked up into Gabe’s eyes—they were so deep and filled with mystery—and Peter’s—they sparkled with mischief and wisdom and more. Energy. How did the man have so much energy? How old was he?

Peter cocked an eyebrow. “How old am I?” Peter raised a hand before him, stared even higher. “‘A man’s age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves. A man’s age represents a fine cargo of

experiences and memories.’ So said Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and so say I.”

Shit! He’d done it again. Spoken aloud without thinking. That was his out-loud voice. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I wish I had a backspace for my mouth.”

“How old do you think I am, young squire?” Peter asked.

Oh no. There was no way he was stepping into that! He could only get into trouble.
“Please,” Peter said, placing his hands on his hips and thrusting out his chest. “Be quick about it—make a guess!”

“I-I… I don’t know. Sixty?” Todd clenched his jaw.

Both of Peter’s brows shot up and vanished in his great hanging bangs. “I am sixty-eight. Excellent. You chose to shave off a few years from your actual estimate. I recommend you always do this, especially in guessing the age of women and old queens. I also recommend you do not get yourself into a situation where age-guessing is required.”

Todd didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Eyes wide, he said, “But I didn’t think you were that old.”

“Old? You have heard the words of de Saint-Exupéry, now hear Douglas MacArthur. ‘You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.’ Remember that, my boy.”

Todd let the words sink in.
Young as my faith… my hope… my self-confidence….
Wow. “Do you believe that?” he asked.
“I do.” Peter stood up. “And as I totter into antiquity, I vow always to surround myself with youth, from whom I gather great handfuls of energy.” Peter reached out with one of those hands, long fingers grasping Todd’s shoulder. “I know times are tough for you now, Toddy. I know things look bleak. The days are cold and you have been thrown into the streets.”

Todd froze.

“But please remember this also, if nothing else. Remember the words of Albert Einstein: ‘There are two ways to live your life. One is

as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though
every
thing is a miracle.’”

His eyes bored into Todd once again. It was like Peter was right there, inside his head, looking through files, touching here and there. And yet…. Todd wasn’t afraid. There was no harm coming from this tall spider of a man. It was like he was gently settling things into place. Todd felt a strange peace come over him.

“Live life as if it were a miracle, Toddy, and surely you will find miracles just beyond the next bend in the road, over the next rise of a hill.
Great
things await you. I see it in you. I saw it in Gabriel here. Trust my words.”

Peter whirled away from him and raised his hand high again. “And on that note, I bid you adieu. This time is right. I know that my chariot dost await.”

“Are you sure, Peter?” Gabe asked, rising as well.

Peter glanced down at his watch. “Yes. My driver has probably been waiting, although not long.” He then turned to Todd. “Until we meet again, Toddy. You don’t mind if I call you ‘Toddy’, do you?”

Todd smiled. Wasn’t that funny? Peter had been calling him Toddy all evening. He hated “Toddy.” Had hated it so much when Joan called him that he wanted to scream. But from this man? Peter made him feel warm and safe and a part of something. But what? “I don’t mind.”

Peter reached out once more, grabbed Todd’s shoulders, and pulled him into a hug. Pressed up against him, Todd was surprised to feel the iron in that body. This was no sagging old man and no skeleton either.

Then Peter hugged Gabe while Todd ran to grab his coat and scarf. When Peter was done, Todd helped him into both. Peter smiled at them both as if he had one last thing to say, then winking, spun about and threw open the door.

Todd saw it then. Peter tried to leave them with those words, but he couldn’t help it. He would say something more….