Chapter 2

Jake woke up the next morning feeling great. He couldn’t wait to get out of this place despite the excellent nursing he had received. His mother made her regal entrance as he was eating breakfast. As ever, she was perfectly groomed and fashionably dressed. She leaned over to kiss him and he flushed hotly as he felt her breast press into his arm. They chatted as he ate, just as he was wolfing down the last of his toast, Dr. Malone and another man entered his room. The new guy’s suit, horn rimmed glasses, and fake smile screamed ‘shrink’.

Sure enough, Dr. Malone said, “Jake, Mrs. Taylor, this is Dr. Pryne; he is our consulting psychiatrist. I brought him to meet you both just in case Jacob might feel the need to talk to someone. Dr. Pryne also wanted to meet Jake after seeing his EEG results.”

Jake’s mother gasped in alarm, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Dr. Pryne quickly assured her. “The fact is Jacob’s brainwave activity went from zero to the most activity we have ever seen. It is medically fascinating and I just had to meet and talk to your son. We were hoping Jacob would want, and you would allow him, to take some written tests while we monitor his brain activity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jake answered noncommittally.

Helen nodded in agreement. Both doctors then went through the same tests that he endured the day before. Dr. Pryne kept asking Jake trick questions to see if he could poke holes in Jake’s amnesia story. Dr. Malone admonished Jake to call and set up the psych tests (fat chance that’ll ever happen) and signed his release paperwork with a flourish. The Day Charge Nurse took Jake’s chart to prepare his discharge papers and told Helen that it would take about twenty minutes.

By 10:30 Jake was ensconced in his mom’s Candy Apple Red Mustang Convertible (no station wagon for this lady) headed to the home he had never seem. They drove in silence while Jake alternately glanced at Helens trim legs flexing as she smoothly shifted gears, and took in the scenery trying to place where he was. From the signage along their route, he gathered he was in Palmdale. Palmdale Beach was a small tourist city south of Daytona. He hadn’t traveled as many miles as he had years. Twenty minutes of driving brought them to a large colonial two-story house on a lane at least a hundred yards off the road.

‘Nice digs! My new father must be doing pretty well,’ Jake thought.

Helen wheeled the Mustang into the circular drive and killed the purring V-8.

‘I could get lucky a lot in this car,’ Jake thought.

Then it was into the house and on with the tour. The furnishing were high end and tasteful. The formal living and dining rooms were elegant. His room was on the second floor at the end of the hall.

‘I could be comfortable here,’ he thought, ‘but the Day-Glo posters, black lights, and peace sign shit have to go.’

Helen left Jake alone while she went to fix lunch. He wandered around his room, and then checked out the rest of the second floor. The five-bedroom floor plan was novel. On both sides of the hall, there was a set of two bedrooms separated by a bath accessible from each room and the hallway. His sisters occupied the bedrooms across the hall while Jake shared his side and bath with a guest room. On the opposite end of the hall, past the central staircase, was a large master suite with its own bath, walk-in closet, and dressing room. Next to Jake’s room was a second, smaller set of stairs that led down to a pantry off the kitchen. Jake took the small staircase down and wandered into the kitchen. His mother looked up from the sandwiches she was preparing.

“Bring back any memories, Honey?” she asked hopefully.

Jake put on a glum face and shook his head in the negative. He moved to the breakfast nook and asked, “Where do I usually sit?”

Helen pointed to a chair and Jake dropped into it. His mother slid a plate in front of him and put down a glass of iced tea. Jake inquired about his sister’s whereabouts as he ate. Helen informed him that they had gone to the beach with friends. Jake sighed. He was pretty certain they were ducking him. Once again, he wondered what he had done to cause them to avoid him like the plague. Jake temporarily put his history with his sisters out of his mind and asked Helen about school.

“Well, you missed the last week of class but you still passed by the skin of your teeth. Next year you’ll start tenth grade at Kennedy High School. Angela is a junior there, and Deborah is a senior. You have always been an excellent student until this year. I don’t know how hard it will be for you to overcome your under achievement and reputation as a trouble maker when you get to Kennedy.”

Jake chatted with Helen for a while then went back to his room to check it further. He went though the closet and chest of drawers examining his clothes. Bell-bottom jeans and tie-dyed tee-shirts dominated his wardrobe. That would have to change. He found some sneakers and running shorts and threw them on with a tee-shirt. His mother’s eyebrows shot up when he cut through the kitchen to tell her he was going for a run.

Jake picked an easy pace because of his lack of stamina, but it was still hard work. The self-discipline he was guiltily proud of kept him at it for half an hour. On shaky legs, he walked back into the kitchen for some water. His mom, still in shock that he went jogging, got it for him. The surprises kept coming.

“Mom, can you take me to get a haircut after I shower?” Jake asked. “It gets in my way and annoys me when I run.”

“Oh,” he continued, “and do you think Dad can get me a job? I need some new clothes.”

Helen nodded, dumbly. His normally unflappable mother was jaw-dropped speechless. ‘My more emotional husband is going to faint,’ she thought.

Helen took Jake to the barbershop and waited while he had his long hair shorn. When they departed Jake had medium short hair parted neatly on the left. His sisters were home when he got back and they cautiously greeted him. Angie asked about his new look. Jake told her he was tired of it being long and excused himself, saying he was tired and wanted to rest for a while. It was his sisters’ turn to be mega surprised. The haircut and his politeness left them both in shock. They huddled with their mother and were further amazed as Helen related the day’s events. The three females couldn’t wait to see Charles Turner’s face when he came home.

As the family sat around the dining room table that night, Jake asked his father about a job. Charles looked sharply at his son. He was pleased with Jake’s haircut; but, coupled with the job request, it seemed so out of character for his son that it was probably too good to be true.

“What kind of job do you want?” Charles cautiously inquired.

“Well, I’m not qualified for much, but I thought I could help make furniture deliveries or work in the warehouse,” answered Jake.

His father slapped him on the back, smiled broadly, and asked, “Can you start tomorrow? We lost a helper to the draft last week and I haven’t gotten around to advertising for a replacement yet.”

After some small talk at the table, Jake excused himself. It had been a pleasant meal. Even his sisters talked to him and, while they were reserved, they were at least civil. He made his way to the kitchen and called Cindy. After identifying himself to her parents, Cindy breathlessly picked up the phone. They chatted for a while and Jake promised to call her again soon. Next, he called Sara at the hospital. She seemed happy that he called and invited him to dinner at her place Friday night. Jake accepted, contingent on getting his parents permission. Then it was up to bed and instantly to sleep.

Jake was up, dressed and making coffee by 6:30 the next morning. When his father came down for breakfast he did a double take at Jake sitting at the table ready for work.

Jake laughed and said, “ Don’t look so surprised, Pop. I need to turn my life completely around after my last stupid stunt.”

Charles poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped it.

“Good coffee,” he said. Then added, “Stunts - plural, Jake; but you seem to be taking steps in the right direction. I hope you can keep it up.”

“I hope so too, Dad. I’m going to give it my best shot,” Jake replied.

Jake spent the first hour at his new job filling out papers and being issued Turner Furniture cover-alls. Finally, he arrived at the rear loading dock. He would be working with Raeford Robertson, a large muscular black man in his mid-to-late-thirties. They finished loading up their morning deliveries and Raeford pulled away from the dock. Raeford sat stoically behind the wheel. He had only spoken three words all morning and Jake was annoyed.

“Mr. Robertson,” Jake said, “I just want to work and make some money. I am not a spy for my father. I do not expect any special treatment, and don’t want any. I repeat, I just want to work. Are you okay with that?”

Robertson gazed at Jake quizzically, “Rafe,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Call me Rafe.”

Rafe stuck out his large hand and Jake shook it.

“Rafe it is, and I’m Jake.”

Rafe and Jake made a good team. They made three deliveries before noon, and, after a short lunch, loaded the truck and made two more. They still made it back to the warehouse in time to fill the truck with tomorrow’s furniture. Jake rode home with his father. He was tired, but pleased that his body responded so well to the physical exertion. Jake turned in the seat to face his father.

“Dad, can I get an advance on my pay?”

“What for?” Charles was suspicious.

“I want to get a weight set and a bench. I could put it in a corner of the garage. If today was any indication, I seriously need to work out,” Jake answered.

Charles thought for a minute.

“I could probably use some exercise, too. Tell you what, I’ll spring for the equipment, and we’ll both use it, okay?

Jake looked at his dad’s paunch and grinned.

“Okay!”

The week sped by. Thursday, Charles and Jake went to a sporting goods store and Jake picked out a weight set. Charles grumbled some about the need for the more expensive metal plate weights and a competition type bar but acquiesced when Jake used the ‘you get what you pay for’ argument on him. They also picked up an inclined bench with leg lift attachment and a z-curl bar. They set the equipment up in the garage and Jake showed his dad how to use each item.

He phoned Cindy and Sara a couple of times, both seem genuinely glad to hear his voice. His sisters were starting to warm up a bit, but were still leery of him. At dinner that night, he asked his parents about going out Friday.

“Where are you going and who are you going with?” Helen asked.

“Sara Douglas,” he replied, “and we are not really going out, she invited me for dinner.”

His sister and father stared at him incredulously. His mom’s eyebrows rose up almost to her hairline.

Chapter 3 »