The Last Score
He heard Enoch speaking to him. He knew it was important. He knew Enoch was getting agitated from his lack of responsiveness. But he just didn’t care.
Alex struggled to remain present, to concentrate on the crucial preparation work at hand, but kept finding himself zoned out in the pixelation of his daydreaming. He felt his long, deep breaths rise and fall in his diaphragm, the kind of intentional breathing necessitated by his own frustration with circumstances. The volume of Enoch’s voice was steadily climbing, carried by more angst the more impatient he became for Alex’s attention. Enoch deserves to know. If not now, when? Alex thought to himself.
He straightened up a bit, shaking his head gently as though it were necessary to regain his concentration and focus on the conversation. Without waiting for Enoch to finish his thought, or to find a natural point to insert his own, Alex just blurted out, “I’mmmm…I’m done!” And for the first time in several minutes, Alex made eye contact with Enoch, noticing the confusion in his expression.
“Wait, what? What are you getting at?” cried Enoch. “Done with what? This job?”
Alex took a couple more deep breaths before explaining himself. “I…I’m done. This is my last score. I’m out of the game. I…”
Enoch appeared shocked. “You’re walking away from us? From this? What suddenly prompted this? Do you have a problem wit…?”
“No, I don’t have a problem with you.” Alex raised his hands up in front of him, shrugging his shoulders a bit as he did. He’d known in advance that broaching this topic with Enoch, no matter the circumstances, would not be pleasant. He was not expecting Enoch to take it well.
“So, what is it? Where is this coming from?” demanded Enoch.
Alex allowed another long breath in and out. “You deserve that much.”
Enoch adjusted himself on the sofa, straightening his posture in attentiveness. The movements were almost forced, as though Enoch was forcing himself to try and be more receptive to what his close friend wanted to tell him.
Alex eyed Enoch’s expectant face, with the hint of impatience and irritability that, despite all efforts, Enoch could not avoid showing completely. Alex’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fingers fidgeting. The thought crossed his mind that it was only going to get worse the longer he made Enoch wait. Alex couldn’t argue with that. No time like the present.
Forcing his eyes back on Enoch’s, Alex began to explain himself. “As you know, I didn’t grow up with much. I was essentially raised by my grandparents because my parents couldn’t be bothered to do it themselves. It’s probably the most solid parent decision they made. Anyways…
“At a time when my grandparents should have been looking forward to retirement, as humble as it would have been, they both had to stay employed in order to make sure I didn’t go without. And when I was old enough to recognize the sacrifices that they were making for me, I vowed to myself that I would do everything I was capable of to reduce the burden they carried, and, if possible, give them the rest they deserved.
“By the time I was in high school, there was nothing I needed or wanted that I couldn’t get on my own, and I thought I was pretty clever about keeping things from my grandparents. My grandmother, eh…I think she suspected, but tried to convince herself otherwise. My grandfather, on the other hand, well, not only did he know, but he was surprisingly apathetic about it—even borderline supportive, strangely enough.”
Alex paused for a second to make sure his colleague was okay with him continuing. When Enoch didn’t say anything, he resumed.
“I remember, as though it were just a few moments ago, my grandfather knocking on my bedroom door one afternoon asking to talk. He never asked to talk…ever. It didn’t need to be spelled out to me why he might suddenly want to speak with me. And, if his voice on the other side of the door hadn’t been so gentle, I would never have opened it for him.
“After letting him in, he sat in the chair at my desk, and just stared down at his hands in his lap while I waited impatiently at the foot of my bed. We sat in silence together for what seemed an eternity, me not taking my eyes off of his, and him at his lap.
“I honestly had no idea what to expect out of my grandfather’s mouth. Every instinct I had led me to expect the absolute worst. You need to understand that I idealized my grandparents—I worshiped the very ground they walked on. Their disappointment would have been the end of me, crushing my very soul. But, that’s not what came out. My grandfather eventually looked up at me and gave me a second to make sure that I locked eyes with him.
“He told me that he knew I had been engaged in petty theft for some years up to that point, and that I was beginning to set my sights on bigger and bigger targets. He dropped that in my lap and went quiet, I think because he expected me to shout out that he was wrong. But I didn’t. I could not and would not ever lie to my grandparents. When I didn’t say anything in protest, he said one more thing, and only one more thing. He told me that he would support me in any path…any…that I chose under one condition: That I have a very clear moral compass to guide me, and that I vigilantly guard those principles. Otherwise, he said, I would deserve every bit of the punishment awaiting me.
“I’ll never forget that conversation. We never spoke on the subject again, and we didn’t have to. I carry those words with me always. So, to make an unnecessarily long explanation even longer,” Alex said with a grin, “I no longer know why I’m doing this. I’ve pondered it for months, but…but…all I know is that if I continue, I will be doing it for the wrong reasons. That promise to my grandfather means more to me than any score…any.”
When Alex had finished, he took a long, deep draught of air, before slowly letting it out, waiting for and fully expecting his lifelong friend to respond. Enoch adjusted himself on the sofa to sit closer to the edge of the seat, still betraying anxiety in his body language. A measured response from Enoch was the last thing Alex expected. However, Alex could tell that Enoch, though he wanted to say something immediately, had decided, rather, to choose to completely digest what had been shared with him, to process how he felt about it before opening his mouth.
The two shared a quiet moment before Enoch finally voiced his thoughts. Enoch’s countenance, Alex noted with relief, gradually softened, taking on the appearance of understanding rather than of hurt. Alex glanced down for a second, brushing his right pant leg at the knee as if removing dust, then Enoch finally spoke. “Well…if you’re out, you’re out.”
Joseph A. Schiller is a high school social studies teacher in Houston, TX USA, where he lives with his wife and three sons. Joseph has previously had several poems and short stories published along with a fantasy novel in English and Spanish, a non-fiction historical investigation, and a graphic novel.
