Leaving New York

Chapter 10

I got up the following day, put on my jock strap, gym shorts, and my favorite "Flipper" T-shirt, and hit the workout room. After about 15 minutes, the endorphins started pumping. Exercise is a vain thing, some people say, especially weight training. But for me, it was a considerable mood stabilizer.

After chowing down on an omelet and protein shake, I went to the empty crew lounge to study a French phrase book. My blood percolated from my workout; I decided to travel to France then back to New York to get my old job back. The door swung open-- it was John Pruitt.

"There you are."

"Pru."

"Getting a cat nap?"

"Just thinking."

"You must be excited about traveling."

"Kinda."

"Have you heard about Henry? His brother will help him; bought him a plane ticket."

I said, "Yeah, I heard."

"He'll get the proper help when he gets to the States. But we're just dumping him in France."

"Huh?"

"He'll have a passport, the donated money, but . . . I'm wondering if you can do just a little more for Henry."

"Like?"

"Get him safely to the Le Havre airport," I never thought about all the potential snafus for a mentally ill guy flying home from a foreign country.

"He just needs a Papa Bear watching out for him until he boards the puddle jumper to Frankfurt, where he'll catch a non-stop to Charlotte—where his brother will get him. I got a little choked up inside, realizing my red-headed roommate was leaving.

I said, "Of course, I'll help him."

"He likes you, Jack, and I understand why. I'd be proud to have a son like you."