*Anyone can help the helpless; the magic lies in resurrecting the hopeless*
(Tuesday)
He walked into the showroom with such a sense of confidence and control that it was virtually breathtaking. He looked wealthy in the way a person from the Hamptons or Cape Cod would have been comfortable with; secure without being garish. What the hell he was doing in this little backwater town was beyond me.
My co-worker on the car room floor was catching a snooze so I got to him first.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Yes, I need a rental for twenty-four hours. A sedan; any make and model will do," he said.
"We have several cars to choose from. Let me show you our listings," I offered as I went back to my desk.
There was a time when I could turn heads and be assured that every man's eyes would follow me as I moved across the room, but those days were fading fast. Now I would get the occasional glance, but there were younger and fresher women out there. Still he followed me to my station and sat down. I punched up our selection on my aging computer system and turned the monitor toward him. I notice he looked at my hands.
"I'll take the Lexus," he said quickly. I took a deep sigh because I could really use the commission from this.
"Let's fill out some paperwork," I told him. He nodded nonchalantly, pulled out his wallet and slid a credit card across the table. It was one of those that sang out 'Credit limits? What credit limits?' and I remembered I once had one of those, even though it was the corporate card.
Entering his information I noted his name was Sebastian Vandemeyer from New York City; an upper West Side address. All I could think was this should have been me. I once dreamed of this kind of life. When I finished I saw that he was looking at my hand again.
"Sebastian; May I call you Sebastian? What are you looking at?"
He tapped his ring on the table and I immediately knew what it was and where it came from. Instinctively I covered my own hand and cursed the hubris that made me still wear mine. It was my college class ring.
"What is your name?" he inquired.
"Sylvia Westermann," I responded. I had taken to using my maiden name again since my divorce a decade ago.
"I'm the class of 2004; you?"
"Class of 1988," I sighed.
"Oh, you are that Sylvia Westermann. I've heard about you; you are sort of the 'what not to do' object lesson," he informed me. I couldn't have been hurt more if I'd been backhanded.
"Can I buy you lunch?" he asked.
"I ... I guess so. Things aren't exactly booming right now," I confessed.
As much as I feared his ridicule and condescension, Sebastian represented a world I desperately missed and longed to be a part of once more, no matter how impossible the dream. Even as we stood to go my loutish boyfriend Leo walked in.
"Hey baby, I need some cash. Me and the boys are going fishing," which was his code word that he was going whoring around again. He stuck his hand into my purse and I pressed down on his hand.
"Baby I need the money; maybe on Friday when I get paid?" I pleaded.
"Honey, I need the money right now," he insisted.
"Please," I said, "I can't right now."
"Bitch," he menaced and I felt so embarrassed I would die.
"Get your hand out of her purse," Sebastian said with a hint of menace as he came around the table.
"Fucker, this is none of your business," he growled. Sebastian struck like a snake. He twisted my Leo's hand, pressed the palm back and my boyfriend howled and fell to his knees.
"It is my business now," Sebastian said with icy calm. "Now next time I tell you to do something you had better do it or I will break you like a twig. Are we clear?"
"Fucker," my boyfriend ground out. Sebastian twisted and pushed harder until Leo yelped and tears streamed down his eyes.
"Okay, okay," he pleaded. What made this picture all the more amazing was that Sebastian was around five ten and fit and slender. My boyfriend was six two and a chubby two-sixty.
"Now, I think you were leaving," Sebastian said politely to Leo who picked himself and left still glaring hatefully at Sebastian.
"Thank you, but I think you've bought more trouble than you want," I told him. He held up his ring.
"We stick together," he assured me. "Lunch?" I looked over to my co-worker to see that he'd finally woken up and informed him that I was off to lunch and headed out with my customer. We went to the diner at the local motel which did have the best food in this small town. He let me order for him and we sat down to eat and have a little chit-chat.
"So, what brings you to town?" I inquired.
"I am moving to California but I wanted a vacation so I decided to take two weeks and drive cross country. I would have missed you if my car hadn't broken down. What brought you here?"
"What do you know about me and my fall from grace?" I asked.
"I would prefer to hear it from you," he responded. I took a deep breath.
"I was in the conflict mediation business and doing quite good at it, but I did some stupid things. I slept with clients to seal deals and had affairs with various co-workers and my boss."
"My husband got the dirt on me and then everything began falling apart. I lost my marriage, my daughter, and finally my job when it came to light what I'd been doing. I couldn't get another job in the business so I gradually drifted from one low paying job to the next until I ended out here in the wilderness where at least no one knew my name."
"You were actually good at what you did; you got the job done and that's what they paid you for. Office affairs can be tricky, especially when you are both married. I'm hardly a prude though. I'm a results oriented kind of guy."
"What is it that you do?" I said.