Jon Bilbao - Still the Same Man

“I have to be honest with you,” said the professor, interrupting Joanes’s train of thought. “The truth is that I do remember you. I remember perfectly well.”

There was a pause, then he went on.

“I remember that you came to see me at my home. It was a Saturday, in the morning. The weather was bad, but we sat out on the balcony. You were about to start working for Robot Systems, a business that was going strong in those days. I was very pleased that one of my students should have gotten a position like that at such a young age. I found out later that there’d been some kind of problem. It was a shame. I was pretty sorry about it. I ought to apologize for lying before about not remembering you. But I thought that by admitting to remembering you and our meeting and what happened afterward, I would bring back bad memories for you. But now you tell me things are going excellently, so I have no reason to worry.”

Joanes listened in disbelief. The professor went on speaking.

“I’ve been retired for several years, but a few companies still request my services as a consultant. By which I mean that I’ve held on to my contacts. And I was thinking that, even though your business is doing splendidly, a bit of extra help never does any harm. I could talk to some of those contacts. Several of them owe me serious favors. I could put in a good word for your business, make a few calls. Of course, not right now, but later on, once the dust has settled. What do you say?”

Joanes couldn’t reply. He was too busy processing what he’d just heard, trying to reconcile what the professor had just told him with his own memories and the fantasies he’d developed over the years. The professor took his silence as an invitation to go on speaking.

“You might also be interested in trying your hand at something new. Before, in the room, I noticed you were particularly interested in what we were discussing. You’ve clearly kept your finger on the pulse and not limited yourself to your own specific area of business. You presented some ideas back there that, even if I don’t exactly agree with them, were undoubtedly interesting. You tick all the right boxes for succeeding at a new challenge. Something more meaningful than an air conditioning business, and, please don’t take offence, better looked upon by your colleagues. Something akin to the role you would have had at Robot Systems, if things hadn’t worked out the way they did.”

The professor spoke slowly, lending weight to his words and ensuring that Joanes was absolutely clear about what he was offering. Joanes stayed glued to his seat, his hands resting limply on his thighs.

“I can offer you that, too. The chance to start again, if you wish. In return, you already know what I’m asking — something very simple, so simple we can resolve it right here, in an instant.”

A loud clatter, like something collapsing, startled the congregation in the living room. A few of them leapt to their feet to see what had happened. The rest, delighted that something had finally livened up the tedious evening, followed them.

The chairs that had been stacked in piles were now strewn across the lobby floor, and in among them sat the professor, checking to see if his glasses were broken. His lip was bleeding. Joanes was watching him with his arms hanging limply at his sides. The Mexican guests formed a circle around them both. The hotel owner, slowed by his limp, cleared a way through the crowd to get to Joanes. He assessed the scene and then turned to the professor, who was struggling to get to his feet.

“What happened?”

Joanes, his eyes fixed on the professor, didn’t answer. The professor rejected the help of two Mexican men who were trying to get him to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

“Did you punch him?” the hotel owner asked Joanes.

It was the professor who answered.

“Nothing’s happened. I simply tripped and fell against the chairs. A clumsy accident.”

The hotel owner looked at him incredulously.

“Is that what happened?” he asked Joanes.

Joanes didn’t answer.

Several people in the crowd had begun to whisper, and the hotel owner silenced them with an authoritative gesture.

“Don’t you have anything to say, sir?”

“Leave him be,” said the professor. “This is between us. We’re all under a lot of pressure today.”

The hotel owner didn’t let that put him off.

“I have no intention of leaving him be,” he said. “You, sirs, are currently in my establishment, and I don’t put up with anyone fighting in front of my guests or my family.”

He paused, in case either of the accused had something to add. Since they didn’t, he added, “I won’t allow this kind of behavior under my roof. I’m very sorry, but whoever’s responsible will have to leave.”

He spoke firmly, asserting all his professional authority.

“You’re throwing me out?” asked Joanes, snapping out of his silence for the first time.

“Nobody fights under my roof without consequences.”

The professor scoffed at the hotel owner.

“Nobody’s fought anyone here. Didn’t you hear what I said? I fell over.”

“Let this man speak for himself,” replied the hotel owner.

“Fine by me,” said Joanes. “I don’t want to stay here a minute longer.”

“What are you talking about?” cried the professor. “You can’t be serious. Where will you go?”

“There’s a place,” said the hotel owner. “Back on the road to Los Tigres, you go down a couple of miles. On the left you’ll see a cabin. They put it up for the construction workers who were meant to build a hotel nearby. But the project didn’t go ahead, and now the cabin is empty.”

“A cabin?”

“It has brick walls and a solid roof,” said the owner. “It’ll hold out against the wind.”

“But how’s he going to get there?” asked the professor. “Have you all lost your minds? We’re in the middle of a hurricane!”

“It’s no big deal,” said Joanes. “I said I’m leaving.”

The professor pleaded with him to calm down. He asked everyone present to calm down.

“Let’s talk about this. You and I.”

“I don’t want to talk to you again.”

“I know. But I’m asking you as a favor. Think about this for a moment. You don’t need to do this.”

Joanes didn’t respond, so the professor asked the others to give them a moment alone. The hotel owner nodded and told the rest to return to their rooms. The Mexican guests left grudgingly. Some of them held back to try to catch what they could of the conversation.

Joanes gave the professor a look as if to say “get on with it.”

“There’s no need for you to leave. We can talk to that man, to the owner. I’m sure he’ll put you up in another room if you don’t want to stay with us.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Ah, so you think I owe you an apology? The right thing would be for you to apologize to me .”

“Don’t you speak to me about what’s right or wrong.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Forget it,” said Joanes, walking off. “I’m out of here.”

“No. Wait. Before you go, we need to get everything out in the open.”

Joanes stopped.

“Go on.”

“Everything I said is true. I can help you. I don’t understand why you reacted the way you did. Perhaps you thought I was talking down to you. But that’s not the case. I only want to help you, in return for you helping me.”

“This is what you wanted to get out in the open?”

“Well what else? I have to find out how my son is. I’ll do whatever it takes. I have to know if the explosion left him badly injured, or if—”