Chapter 1

For some strange reason, the image of his father reading the newspaper filtered into his head. His father would snap the open newspaper, making a sharp report, followed by a soft rattle of pages being shaken. This would indicate that he'd found some article that he wanted to share with whoever was in the room at the time. It was an unconscious habit on his father's part, but it managed to draw everyone's attention to him.

Irving closed his Kindle, thinking that it was a shame that one couldn't make an attention getting sound with it in the same as when his father had snapped the newspaper. Even closing the case quickly just made a disappointingly muted whump. He supposed that throwing it against the wall might get some attention.

Irving cleared his throat while looking at his wife, Susan. Her eyes stayed focused on her Kindle. He sighed loudly. She flipped to the next page.

"Susan."

"I'm reading," Susan answered without even glancing in his direction.

"I'm going for a drive," Irving said.

Susan didn't bother to answer. She was engrossed in a historical novel about Mary, Queen of Scots. She'd been on a women in history kick for the past two months, reading an average of one historical novel every two days. Before that, it had been ancient Rome.

Irving sat in his older model sedan trying to figure out where he was going to go. His view impeded by the drizzle beading on his windshield, he stared at the garage door for a full five minutes without starting the car. He'd had no real destination in mind when he had left the house. He just needed to get out before he went crazy from sitting around doing nothing.

Unable to think of anyplace better, he started the car and headed towards the mall. He wasn't in any particular hurry to get there. The simple fact was, he wasn't looking forward to window shopping, surrounded by hundreds of teenagers who were cruising the mall as a means of killing off a Saturday on a wet fall day.

Although it wasn't a long distance to the local mall, it took him a while to get there. The traffic was pretty bad. It seemed to Irving that everyone had forgotten how to drive in the rain. It didn't bode well for his visit to the mall.

The mall was one of those 'L' shaped buildings with a hundred stores and food places on two levels. There were three major stores, one at each end and one at the bend. The outside of the building was basically concrete with enough texture on the walls to keep from looking like an oversized brick. The entrance, eight doors side by side, was well lighted.

The parking lot was packed with cars. Drivers cruised around the lot hoping to find a spot that minimized the distance from the car to the entrance. Irving didn't waste his time in that fashion. He parked at the far end of a row.

Dreading the hike through the drizzle, he headed towards the mall entrance. There was just enough of a chill in the air that he needed a jacket, and enough wet that it didn't help. He was cold and damp by the time he reached the mall. A quick gust of cold air sent a shiver went through his body as he reached the door.

The air inside the mall was warm, and had a tinge of an unpleasant odor to it. Initially, the closest Irving could come to categorizing the smell, was that it was kind of like a gym changing room, but without the sweat. Then he thought of the smell of the inside of a laundromat. It dawned on him that he was smelling damp clothes, air drying.

Irving walked around the mall gazing occasionally at the displays of the goods in a few of the stores. The women's clothes on display left him feeling empty. He just didn't see them as being attractive and thought they didn't compliment the female figure all that well. Then he realized the mannikins didn't have female figures, but were basically parodies of the female form.

He came across a coffee shop and went inside anticipating that a nice hot cup of coffee would warm him. He stood in line behind young people who rattled off complex coffee orders using terms he had never heard before.

When it was his turn, he said, "I'll take a small coffee with milk."

"The smallest size we have is medium."

"Then I'll take a medium coffee with milk."

"What kind of coffee?"

"Coffee coffee."

"We've got breakfast blend, dark roast, french roast..."

"I just want coffee. You know that hot black liquid formed by brewing ground coffee beans in hot water."

"Do you want any flavorings?"

"Yes. Milk."

"Do you want it frothed?"

"No," Irving said.

He ended up paying a small fortune for a plain coffee with milk. He took his purchase to a little table outside the coffee shop. He took a sip of his coffee, finding it too hot drink. He removed the lid so that it would cool down a little quicker.

It had been a while since he had spent any time 'people watching.' He was shocked by what he saw. Young women who were thirty or forty pounds overweight, and women who were twenty or more pounds underweight, walked past him in a never ending stream. It was like none of the women looked normal. Even worse, there were quite a few teenagers sporting tattoos – something that he felt should be illegal until one was old enough to know better.

Ten years ago it had been his daughter cruising around the mall, there to see others and to be seen. He remembered the heated arguments about her clothes, or rather lack of them, along with the tears and wails of anguish when he wouldn't let her out of the house without wiping off some of her makeup. With her hormones raging, everything had been so important to her, from what some girl said about her to how some guy looked at her.

He looked around at the girls thinking of what their parents were experiencing. He knew the drama would pass, but getting through those years of raising a teenager wasn't easy. There would come a day when these girls would turn into women, and then move out of the house to make their own way through life.

He looked at the women who were closer to his age, late forties. It was depressing to think that these were the same women who had been so vibrant, sexy, and alive, only twenty years earlier. It was as if they had given up on being attractive: short hair, no make up, loose shirts, and stretch pants that should never have been worn on their overweight bodies. Some of the stretch pants left nothing to the imagination, cottage cheese patterns on their butts and thighs, as well as 'camel toes' in the crotch, peeking out from under a big belly. Unfortunately, his wife had adopted the same fashions.

He sipped his coffee. It had cooled enough to be drinkable, while he'd been watching people walk by. The women weren't the only ones who had forgotten how to look good. The men were overweight, as well. They wore wrinkled pants with loose shirts that helped hide their substantial gut. He looked down, and sighed. He wasn't ready to be on the cover of GQ magazine, himself.

He had never thought about how much life inside the house had revolved around the children, until after they were gone. The conversations had all focused on what the kids were doing right or wrong, their plans, their dreams, and just the general drama of being young and exploring the world for the first time. His wife even planned all activities around the kids. Without the kids at home, there was nothing to talk about.

His daughter, Molly, had moved out of the house four months ago. That had been a big deal encompassing three months of talking about it, weeks of apartment hunting, and more weeks of shopping. His wife had been right in the middle of it, buying housewarming presents of a practical nature, such as a vacuum cleaner, and presents of a less practical nature, such as a picture to hang on the wall. He had been surprised to learn that his daughter's move had cost him as much as three months rent had cost her.

Irving wasn't upset about the money. After all, he had slipped her some cash to help out with the bills until she had gotten an idea of how much it would cost her to live on her own. He was her father, and fathers did care about their daughters.

It hadn't been the same when his son, Kevin, had moved out of the house. He, his wife, and Kevin had gone to 'Wally World' one afternoon, and purchased everything the boy would need for his place. The next day Kevin had moved into his apartment, and that was that. The noise level in the house dropped a little, but not a lot, as Molly tended to be involved in a lot more things, socially, than had Kevin.

Now, with both kids gone, the house had turned into a mausoleum. No one came running into the place shouting that they had good news, or that some life-shattering disaster had befallen them that day. The incessant music that had blared out of one bedroom was gone. The telephone ringing at all hours of the day or night had stilled.

To be honest, he had appreciated the peace and quiet for the first month or so. It was nice to sit down and watch an entire movie without interruption. He had enjoyed reading a book in a tranquil environment. He had even appreciated being able to have a drink at night, without fear that he'd be called away for some reason. It was nice being able to plan things without having to learn the kids' schedule first.

Then, the quiet began to eat at him. He couldn't understand what the problem was. There was something missing, something which was very important, and he didn't know what it was. A sense of unease was eating away at him, making his temper short. It was getting so bad that it was affecting his job.

Sighing, he realized that he was getting old. It had crept up on him without him being aware of it. Yesterday, he thought of himself as twenty something, and today he felt eighty. He was becoming the grumpy old man who looked at everything around himself, and found that he didn't like it.

Irving finished his coffee, and tossed the cup towards a nearby trashcan. Although the cup hit the edge, it did go in. He raised a fist in a little sign of glory. It was the first little spark of pleasure in his whole day.

Continuing his little tour through the mall, he stopped in a small electronics store. It had the usual selection of computers, cell phones, electronic accessories, televisions, and stereos. He paused in front of the stereo systems. There were only four different styles of stereos on display. He picked the smallest and least expensive one, thinking that he could get a little music to chase away that depressing silence in the house. Maybe if it wasn't so quiet he might get rid of that uneasy feeling, although there was a worm of doubt that it wouldn't be that easy.

It didn't take long for him to discover that lugging even a small stereo system around the mall, wasn't the most pleasant activity in the world. The box was bulky and there just wasn't a good way to hold it. Carrying the plastic bag in the normal manner had the box hitting his knee with each step. Slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder caused the plastic to cramp his fingers.

He took his purchase out to his car, getting soaked again from the continuing drizzle. He looked at the entrance to the mall, and didn't feel like taking that hike again. He spent some time in the car waiting for it to warm up before driving off. Actually, he was waiting to warm himself up, before driving off.

There wasn't much traffic on the road leading away from the mall. He still didn't have a real destination in mind, so he just kept driving. A long drive in the countryside would have been ideal if it had been a nicer day, but he couldn't see that it would be fun trying to make out the landscapes through the drizzle. Driving around in the city traffic wasn't all that much fun, either.

He was still trying to come up with a destination when he passed a small grocery store/deli, set a little back from the side of the road. His stomach growled reminding him that it was well after lunchtime, and he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He pulled off the road, so that he could turn around and head back towards it.

It had been years since Irving had been inside a little family owned deli like this. There were a couple of small tables in front of the deli counter. To the side was a small grocery area that provided a small selection of soft drinks, chips, and dessert snacks. It didn't have the kind of variety of products that most convenience stores carried. The overhead fluorescent lights were dim and one of them flickered. Still, it was a nice clean little place.

The guy behind the counter looked to be only a couple years younger than Irving. He had a ready smile and wrote down Irving's order ... an Italian sub with the works, plus potato chips and a pickle ... on a restaurant order pad. Irving watched the man cut the bread in half, slice the meats and cheeses, load it with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and peppers before drenching it with the oil and vinegar and finally sprinkling spices over it. He put the sandwich on a plate with a handful of chips and laid a pickle beside the sandwich. It looked delicious.

Irving grabbed a soda from one of the coolers and paid for his lunch. It had been years since he had eaten a sandwich made like that. He had gotten the 'full size', only thinking after the fact that he should have gotten the half. The sandwich was more food than he normally ate for lunch.

He carried his plate and drink over to one of the tables. It wobbled when he set the plate on it, so he tried one of the other tables. It was solid.

"I've been meaning to fix that table," the man behind the counter said.

"It should just take a minute to fix. What's the problem?"

"Parts. I can't get the little foot that screws into the bottom to level it."

"That's not a problem. You get a good long bolt that's the right diameter and, if you can't find one with the right thread, tap the holder to fit it. It won't be pretty, but it'll keep the table from wobbling," Irving said.

To keep the head of the bolt from scratching the floor, he recommended using the plastic top from a soda bottle as a cap on the bolt. No one ever looked under the table to see what made it stable. They only looked when it wobbled.

"I don't have the tools for that," the man said.

"I bet you've got a lot of construction crews that pick up lunches here. I'm sure one of the guys has the parts and the tools in the back of his truck. Offer him a sandwich if he'll fix it for you," Irving said.

"You seem to know how to do these things, could you do it?"

"Actually, I'd probably hurt myself if I tried. I'm not all that good with tools."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I manage properties for people who are too busy to manage them, themselves," Irving answered. Gesturing to the table, he added, "I run into a lot of nuisance stuff like that table over there. It costs too much to replace, but you can't get the correct parts to fix it properly. I've got a fellow that I use who is a shade tree mechanic, at heart. Ernest can patch up most things like that, in a minute."

"I'd say he's a handy fellow to have around. I'm not all that mechanically inclined," the man said.

Irving said, "I could send him around here. I'm sure that in less than an hour, he'd have that table fixed, the fluorescent light replaced, and the cooler over there leveled."

"How much would that cost?"

"You'd have to work that out with him," Irving said.

"If you could send him over here one afternoon, I'd be most appreciative," the man said.

Irving said, "I'll do that. I figure this a win win situation: you need stuff fixed, and he needs a little work."

Irving took a bite out of his sandwich. It tasted as good as it looked. The crust of the bread had just the right amount of hardness while the interior of the bun had a great texture. The ingredients were fresh and flavorful. The vinegar and oil had covered the lettuce, tomatoes, and onions without soaking into the bun. He was definitely going to come back here!

He ate his sandwich watching the owner at work. A few customers came in and purchased sodas and snacks from the market side of the store. It wasn't very busy, not like a corner convenience store. He imagined the guy had plenty of business around lunch time, particularly during the workweek.

Between customers, the man spent his time cleaning up the place. It wasn't an overt kind of scrubbing, but a easy wipe of his wash cloth, here and there, while he did other things. There was no build up of dirt or grim anywhere that required a rigorous application of elbow grease to remove it. Watching him at work, it was obvious that the man took more than a bit of pride in ownership.

Irving finished the sandwich, surprised that he had managed to eat it all, and sat back with a satisfied groan.

"That was good."

"Thank you. It's pretty hard to go wrong with an Italian sub."

Irving said, "I've gone to that big chain, and I'm often disappointed."

"That's a chain. You've got to expect that."

"I guess so. How long have you owned this place?"

"My dad opened this place when I was a little kid. I took it over when he retired seven ... no, it's eight years ago."

"Wow. You don't see many businesses getting handed down father to son like that any more," Irving said.

"Dad had dreams of me going off to college and becoming an engineer. I think he was kind of disappointed that I wanted to work with him."

"Why would he be disappointed?"

"He's kind of old world ... you know ... from the old country? He opened this place to provide for his family after immigrating here. I think he wanted a better future for his son, than being a shopkeeper."

"What country did he come from?"

"Hungary. He got out after the Russians invaded Budapest, back in 1956. My Dad really hated the Russians and communism. He was one of the students who had been protesting communism and helped bring down the government in the revolution. In fact, he was the organizer of a Petofi Circle."

"What's that?" Irving asked.

"A Petofi Circle was what they called a group of students who would meet regularly to discuss politics. In particular, they were incensed by the creation of the Warsaw Pact, which basically annexed Poland and the Eastern European countries as satellite countries to the Soviet Union. Those circles formed the core of the protesters who marched on Parliament, and ultimately brought down the government of Rakosi."

"I don't know much about that time in history," Irving said.

"It was a big deal, in its day."

Irving said, "I can imagine. By the way, my name is Irving."

"I'm Imre."

"Imre? That's an unusual name."

"My Dad named me after Imre Nagy. He was Prime Minister of the provisional government that was established after the fall of the Soviet backed government. He was kind of a moderate and respected by just about everyone. My Dad was one of those who felt that Nagy hadn't gone far enough when setting up the provisional government, but appreciated that he had taken it in the right direction. Nagy was moving the country towards a multiparty political system and announced that Hungary had withdrawn from the Warsaw Pact. It was a move that cost him his life through an act of treachery. Nagy was killed by the Soviets after they invaded Hungary. They promised him safe passage and then didn't let him pass."