(11) Unraveling Randy
Andrew knew he’d be unraveling Randy hours before he met him. Dennis’s set-up had been straight from central casting, almost laughably so, but even cliché’s spring to life when they walk through the door. Brushing his teeth as he paced about, as often was his wont, he recalled fragments of a dream where he was actually unwinding some kind of woolly thread from Randy. How did he know it was him? He just knew. Randy was immobile, cocooned, as Andrew walked around him, pulling off the thread and wrapping it about his wrist. A bit sci-fi, a bit spooky, and then it was over, or at least the fragment was.
He’d managed to sleep in somehow, although the very concept seemed otherworldly by this point. Some misplaced effort to maintain standards? Some last ditch effort at bourgeois respectability? Whatever, it was just the right time to sail over to Bean There for a latte and croissant. He donned his coat, locked the door and was gone. Another crisp but beyond frosty day. The ladies from Clean Sweep pulled in as he was driving out and they exchanged cheery waves.
He ordered and sat down at the only empty table. Dan brought his order and was his usual charming self. Andrew had liked him from the start and occasionally found himself wondering if he needed any help with tuition fees. Sure it was an interruption of family privacy but he couldn’t help wondering. Bridget appeared moments later and plonked herself down expectantly. It wasn’t a normal table seating exercise, it was fitting- yourself-into-an-already-established-groove and he could see it. Filling her in on the details so far, Andrew must have projected something as Bridget asked why he was so glum.
Andrew guessed he’d wanted to be superman on a mission from God and Dennis had ruined it by handing him an all-too-human accomplice. Sorta wrecked his magical powers, didn’t it? She upbraided him with a look and took an exploratory sip at her latte. He asked if she was upbraiding him. No, she replied, and what on earth gave him that idea? As far as she was concerned Andrew was superman. Why the rest of the world didn’t know was the big puzzle for her. Andrew hoped she wasn’t losing any sleep over it. They both laughed.
One of the staff, Regan, was serving the table in front and turned to speak with Bridget. They chatted for a few moments while Andrew sat politely by, sensing he would not be acknowledged. Regan had treated him thusly before and he was becoming used to it. Mostly she was a civil, obliging young woman, but there was this chill that came over her from time to time that intrigued him. There were issues there, he knew it, but was quite content to let it all unfold in its own time. As a bus driver he’d been too busy staying focused to be bothered with all the messed up people passing by. You knew they were wrecks but what could you do? Now, with leisure as his handmaiden, he could afford to be concerned. Or maybe just curious. Now that was interesting, was concern curiosity leavened with compassion? He asked Bridget, who was surprised by the sudden metaphysical turn in their conversation, or at least claimed to be. She took a sip of her latte and a nibble of her bagel. Yes, she decided after a moment of consideration, perhaps that was what concern was. She would have to remember that. Andrew, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly sure it was worth remembering.
Now there’s your low self-esteem kicking in Andrew, you’ll have to watch for that.
Indeed. It shows every sign of squishing my insufferable arrogance, and we can’t have that, can we?
Bridget grinned, lifting her bagel. What was Andrew intending to use this Randy for exactly? Well he didn’t rightly know. In fact, if truth be told, he was verging on clueless. They had a cell number and a gruff voice, what could they do with that? Maybe I could get Obama to send in a drone, he owes me one you know. Bridget wanted to know where they’d send it to, a cell could be anywhere and move quickly. Couldn’t it just follow them around till they stopped somewhere? What if that somewhere was just a Wendy’s with a clean washroom? Well yes, that could be a problem. All that collateral damage. Biting off more than you could chew and all. Bridget suggested a complete rethink. What for example, would Bertie Ahern do? Take a back-hander, walk away and forget about it was Andrew’s suggestion. Bridget and Andrew had a running joke about Ireland’s former PM. He’d been the butt of many a jibe. Andrew asked if she still had Bertie’s number, maybe he could figure out what to do with The Randy. She said she’d check her purse when she finished her latte. Andrew said he’d look forward to that.
