Lost & Found

Chapter 9

I want to ask her out on a date, but there's one little problem. Well, not little - an NFL linebacker-sized problem.

Eric.

..

Desperate to do something to move forward in life, I call Harrison to check on the progress of my divorce. He doesn't have any updates for me. Next, I call a real estate agent to set up some appointments to look at nearby rentals.

Neither call made enough progress to appease my restlessness, so I open an internet browser and type in my real name. Nothing much has changed since the last time I searched for myself.

I try Marcus. Obviously I've done this before too, and not much has changed since the last time. Marcus stayed active as a boxing trainer/manager after I disappeared. He never climbed to the career heights that he had as my manager, and I believe that's because he never had the kind of control over another fighter that he had over me. Most of the guys that trained with Marcus moved on after a few months. The longest anyone stayed was two years.

Marcus is in his fifties now. I know he made some money on my story and got my assets and life insurance, but I don't know what he does for income these days. I'd guess he still owns the gym where I was trained, even if he's not the one coaching there anymore.

The last time the media rehashed my story was three years ago when I was declared legally dead. It's sickening rereading the story that cast Marcus as a pitiful, grieving father desperate for answers about his missing son. Rage builds in my gut.

I'm ready.

I want him to burn.

.

After putting part of my day into actual work, I give Eric a call.

"Tobias!" the gregarious man greets me after one ring. "I hear the cat's out of the bag and you've caught up with the Priors."

"I have," I say, "and I have to admit I was tempted to find out if my right hook is still what it used to be. I can't believe you're the asshole who hurt Tris back in college."

"I told you, I was a different guy back then," Eric says. He's not defensive at all. In fact, his voice is sad.

"That's what she says, too," I admit. "And if she can forgive you and be friends, who am I to be upset about it?"

We chat for a few minutes about Eric's meetings with Dr. Amar, his workouts, and the things he's been considering about his future. I tell him some things about my dinner with the Priors and my upcoming appointment to look at rentals.

Eventually we're caught up, and I get to the point of my call. "I need PR people," I say. "I think I'm ready to tell my story, and I need professional advice. I have lawyers, but I think I'll need an agent or a press person, too."

"Yes!" Eric cheers. "Zeke owes me fifty bucks! He thought it would take longer, but I knew you were ready to come forward and claim your identity. Good for you, Man!"

That is not the answer I expected, though it probably should have been. Eric has been on me since day one to come forward and claim my true identity. I'm starting to think it's for his own healing, or he's projecting his issues or something, because he's so damn excited about it.