Chapter One
Memories-good old memories.
Driving my car as a newly single man felt good. I was surprised to feel a new kind of strength. I felt young again. I'd always thought getting divorced meant losing part of yourself. In my case that loss was a good one. I wanted to lose the boredom I'd wrapped myself in. After almost twenty-one years of marriage, I was free. Free to look at my future. Free to make decisions that would not be questioned or criticized by my wife.
Moments filled with happiness are meant to share with someone you can trust. For me, one person I loved dearly was Christopher, my friend from early childhood. Just the thought of us hanging around together brought a smile to my face. I had to give him a call and share my news with him. Chris is one guy I have a hard time fully describing. All I can say is that he has a heart of gold and he never judges anyone.
Chris is an attorney who lives in Las Vegas. When he opened his private law firm, I was his first client. He changed my last name from Funk to Christy. That was a new beginning for both of us, each of us sculpting our identities in our own way.
I decided to telephone Chris and share the news with him. When I got through to his office, his secretary put me on hold, and the entire fifty years of our friendship spun in my head. I remembered an older Greek man from the days when I had worked on a cruise ship. He'd told me that a man's wealth is counted by the number of true friends he has. I realized that I happened to be a very wealthy guy. I had one friend whose honesty and dignity were absolutely pure and real.
"Hey, Christy, how's it going," the voice on the other end suddenly cut into my thoughts.
"Chris, my friend, how are you?" I answered.
"Good. How about you?"
"I have some news to tell you: my divorce is final. To tell you the truth, I feel great! I think they are right when they say that life begins at fifty-five!"
We laughed. Chris was known for his own signature laugh, which was loud and highly infectious. He wanted to know if I was coming to Vegas. I wasn't sure at the time, but I told him, "probably soon."
"I got to go," was his famous line ending our conversation. Before he hung up he told me to keep in touch.
I kept driving around Annapolis, the city where I was born, when my phone rang. My son, Adam, was calling.
He wanted to find out when I would get home. Apparently it was urgent for him to see me so we could discuss something important. Without questioning, I told him I was about twenty minutes away. It surprised me to hear that he was already waiting in front of my new apartment. I could not help asking whether anything bad had happened.
"No, Dad, nothing bad happened," he answered. "I just need to talk to you. I'll tell you when I see you."
Adam was the love of my life. He was my only son. It was mostly because of him that I stayed married to his mom. I tried to avoid stressing him while he was going through high school. Adam had a great desire to become a movie director. He loved his camera. At an early age he showed enormous interest in filmmaking. Before he went to high school, he had already made a couple of documentaries. I was truly proud of him. He turned out to be a good teenager and a loving son.
I got home earlier than I'd expected since the traffic was light. Adam was sitting on the front steps of my building. As soon as he saw me he rushed toward me. Before I could even get out of my car, I could see Adam was anxious to get to my apartment. He acted as though it were a matter of life or death.
"Dad, I have to tell you something very important. You know that all I want is to become a movie director."
"More or less I do," I said.
"There's an audition for young, talented directors. The prize is big. I want to enter."
I kept looking at Adam, trying to understand what his dilemma was. I thought it was great that he had this opportunity and told him he should go for it.
"I need to have a story," he went on. "And guess what? I am completely brain-dead."
Hearing him say that made me hug him. I loved my son. People constantly told him how good-looking he was. Girls were crazy about him, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was make movies. I believed he was too naive. He trusted everyone.
"Dad, I need your help." Adam recalled that I had lived in Vegas for many years and thought that I must have had opportunities to see things that were different from the norm. He wanted me to draw from this experience, to give him an idea for a film.
Working as a casino dealer had indeed given me the chance to see lots of crazy things. However, I explained that the things I'd seen were degrading. Gamblers, prostitutes, and others who wanted to make quick money had weak character because their behavior was usually affected by desperation. I suggested he try to direct the story that would have a positive effect on viewers.
Adam became upset. He told me that people find positive images boring. He tried to convince me that audiences were turned on by action movies. Danger, treachery, and weird sexual desires of a twisted mind were the popular movie themes. I had to laugh. It was sad to know that people were aware of the trash that was out there and yet did not care to change it. Movie studios seemed to care only about box office numbers. They are driven only to make money.
As I listened to my son's attempts to make me understand his point, I could not ignore his beautiful blue eyes. My son was truly handsome. I think I was full of myself, knowing that I was part of his creation.
"Adam, you have to impress people who are judging your talent. They have to see something in your work that is powerful and meaningful. One day, if you ever become a director, then you can direct something that the audience enjoys." As I told him this, he frowned. Suddenly, as if some angel had poured the thought into my head, an idea came to me.
"How would you like the story of an honest attorney-a story about your dad's best friend, Christopher? We've been friends for over fifty years. He and I have been through a lot together, but we have always managed to have fun."
I told Adam what the older Greek man once told me when we both worked on a cruise ship. "'A man's wealth is counted by the number of true friends he has.' I will remember that till the day I die." I hoped Adam would also remember that. "Your dad has a friend who happens to be the best man God could create, a man whose heart is made of gold. The trust we have between us has helped me survive through many difficult moments in my life. I'd like you to tell everyone the story of a man who is a good human being and, above all, honest in his profession, my best friend, Mr. Messner."
"You want me to perform a miracle?" Adam was quick to respond. "I don't think that would be possible. There aren't many people who trust or even like attorneys."
"Well, if you want to show your skill as a director, make that be your challenge. This could be the stepping-stone for you to become a quality movie director. The joy of doing something right will bring you peace. Christopher has never cared what other attorneys do. He has remained an honest man. He has practiced law for the sole purpose of helping his clients. Their welfare has always come first to him. He is for real."
Adam paused before agreeing that I could be right. "That could be a good challenge, Dad." To hear my son call me Dad melted my heart. I was not sure I had the words to express how happy I'd be if my best friend's greatness could be captured through my son's work.
I offered to help Adam if he decided to make a film about Chris. I wanted to relive all those wonderful memories we had shared. I wanted this story to be a memorable gift to my good friend. I loved the idea that my son would become a part of my past. Most of all, I wanted Adam to succeed as a promising young director with a meaningful story to tell.
We reached a mutual agreement to make a movie about Chris, which brought us even closer together. I felt a rush of adrenalin; I could even call it a high. I forgot I'd turned fifty-five. We agreed to start the next day. I was to tell the story first, and then Adam would create his own idea of how that story would be presented on film.
This was the first time I'd kept something from Chris. In the past he was the first to know if anything important was happening in my life. Because I wanted this film to be a gift to him, I thought I should wait until it was finished before saying anything to him.
Eager to start, I felt a need to seal my excitement with a drink. I loved Sky vodka, but I had to put a quick stop to the number of shots I swallowed. This story could affect my son's future, and I didn't want my delivery of it to be affected by my alcohol intake. It was a true story, after all, a story about a real and respectable person whose life I would reveal to the public without his consent. For a moment I hesitated. Was it fair to do this? Did I have the right to talk about Chris' life without him knowing it? I realized that what had seemed to be an innocent wish for my son to succeed and to give my friend a gift, might suddenly become something sensitive. But I was positive people could benefit from hearing a story of an honest attorney.
Adam was excited. We set our working schedule and figured that we could finish telling the story in a week. The following ten days or so would be used to make the film. I told Adam we'd start the next morning at eight.
On his way out, I asked whether he would tell his mom.
"Sure, I'll tell Mom." My son seemed surprised that I asked him that. "You know, Mom is really cool about my desire to become a movie director. I'm happy having parents like you."
What a beautiful soul Adam was. I suggested that the three of us have dinner sometime soon. Adam liked that. "See you at 8:00 in the morning," were his last words before he left.
My hand instinctively reached for the phone to call Chris. I guess he was the sort of friend you would call to share the moments that made an impact on your life. Then I realized I couldn't. I had no clue how Adam would perceive my story or what he would decide to create on the screen. All I knew was that the idea was grand in my heart. Telling Chris would have to wait, at least until Adam had outlined his movie.
With Adam gone, I found myself looking around my small rented place. It seemed like yesterday I was a married man with a son. My wife and I had simply drifted apart. She was a good woman. I guess we grew to become friends rather than lovers over the course of our marriage. In some ways, I was lucky that we had mutually agreed to divorce. I was a newly single man at fifty-five.
I looked at my face in the mirror and did not recognize the person staring at me. I had gotten old. The thought itself scared me. All I needed was a shot of vodka. That could erase my wrinkles. I was free to go anywhere, but all I wanted was to stay home. In some ways I was looking forward to telling my story to Adam. It would help me relive my youth, those fabulous days when our country, "the famous USA," was the best.
The rest of that day I spent thinking of the past. That evening, I went to work at the charity casino. It was a place where people went to gamble, but the winnings were paid out as different gift prizes. I missed the early glory days of Vegas. I had worked at the Aladdin as well as the Frontier as a dealer. Those jobs had paid well. I was able to make a lot of money-at times even more than what Chris was making as a deputy city attorney.
Monday came fast. I heard a loud knock at my door. When I opened it, my son had his hands full of his equipment. There were boxes on the ground as well. I was curious to know what he'd brought, but instead of questioning him, I offered to help him move things in. He explained that he had everything needed for him to begin his project.
Before I could say anything, he asked me how I'd spent my evening. I explained that I'd gone to work for a few hours at the casino. Adam wanted to know if I could cut down on my alcohol intake. He told me I should cut that crap. I made him a promise to cut down on my drinking. Suddenly I felt uneasy. I was not sure where to start.
As if Adam had read my mind, he said: "Start from the very beginning, from the days when you were kids. Later on I can decide what should be cut out."
My son talked like a true director. For the first time I felt he was right. I enjoyed his strength and trusted his judgment. I even tried to ignore the fact that he was my son. I listened to how he wanted the story to be told; after all he was the boss.
"Here we go," I began. "I was an only child. My dad always wanted me to go to the naval academy and become a naval officer. I truly didn't know what I wanted to be. One thing I knew, though, was that I wanted to move out of Maryland. The idea of being on the West Coast appealed to me. I saw myself as an adventurer. At the time I was afraid to tell my dad what my true desire was. I kept it to myself. Many of my friends were from well-to-do families. They all had big plans for further education.
"One day, a new family moved in, just around the corner from our house. Most of the neighbors were curious, especially us children. To our surprise, the new neighbors had four children, and all of them were boys. They also happened to be around my age. One day I got off the bus and headed toward my home. I heard someone say, 'hi.'
"I turned around to face a kid who was much smaller than me. He was looking straight into my face when he said, 'Hi, I'm Chris. What's your name?' All I said was 'Charles.' He wanted to know where I lived. Before I could answer him, he explained that his family had just moved into Woodside Park. I told him I knew that. He made fun of my answer by calling it spying on the neighbors. He told me if I ever wanted to play some football, I was welcome to stop by his house any time.
"A few weeks later I saw him delivering newspapers in the neighborhood. He was running around barefoot. He really seemed different from any kid I'd ever met. He was straightforward. He would talk until he made his point. He loved to ask all kinds of questions. Strangely enough, he never criticized your answers or tried to make you feel like you were wrong. He was cool right off the bat.
"At that time in Washington DC, racial tensions were obvious. Blacks disliked whites, and same as whites when they had the opportunity to get at us, they sure did. Chris happened to be delivering papers in some rough neighborhoods. I was curious about how he was never afraid for himself. He would laugh and come up with funny retorts to any harassment thrown his way. I remember him telling me, how one day while delivering newspapers he saw that a few black guys were going to pick a fight with him. They were standing along his delivery route. Having attended a Jesuit school made him confident that God knew he was never racist.
"He told me: 'Charles, I'm coming toward them, and I can see they are getting ready to rip me apart.' When he got close to them, Chris had the audacity to tell one tall guy how he was looking for him to ask him if he wanted to work delivering papers or even share his own area with him. He explained to him how they were hiring paper delivery people. He added that the pay was not as great but still customers were known to tip them. From then on, all of them would say hi to him.
"The street dogs made him uneasy. He tried to ignore them, and they never attacked him. Chris was small, much smaller than most of the kids his age. However, he managed to compensate for his height with his confidence. I never heard him wish out loud that he were taller. He was never envious of what others had, or the way they looked. Everybody liked Chris. He was the only guy I knew that had no enemies. There was some special aura about him. I was proud to call him my friend. By the time we were both sixteen, he had decided to stop delivering the paper. He'd found himself a new job, working as an usher at the cinema."
I was sure Adam was too young to know about those old movie theaters where ushers took people to their seats. "At that time there was a high-class cinema in Washington DC. All the seats were reserved. When you entered the theater to see the movie, an usher would escort you to your seat. Chris had that job. He felt important. I believe he liked the idea of wearing a suit and tie as part of his work uniform.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Dictaphoneby Marina Milicevic Copyright © 2008 by Marina Milicevic. Excerpted by permission.
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