Micah Jennings

2.13.05 Sunday [the end]

The phone rang twice before she answered.
“Hello, this is Pat,”
“It’s Micah.”
“Good to hear from you. Come to a decision?
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And…I’m interested, but.”
“You’re declining… You know this means prison, right?”
“No, I know…I just need more information. To be honest, the government and I haven’t always been on best terms…I just don’t know if I can say yes yet.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s the way it works. You say yes, you get your assignment. You say no, we disappear.”
“I understand, I just feel… trapped. It wouldn’t be right going around assassinating people and making it look like an accident, if that’s what you do…”
“…Yes or no?”

I weighed the choices in my mind. On one hand, I had felt prison on its way for some time, and was even ready to accept the idea. And, as I’d said, joining a government agency wasn’t at all appealing. But on the other hand, it would give me a purpose that I seemed to be yearning for in life. Ben has been right—I never did things unless as a means to an end. Plus, it would help to pay off my debt, whereas prison…

“Ok,” I said finally.
“Ok?”
“I’m in.”
“Alright. I’m glad you’ve decided that way. If you’d said no…well, there are police throughout your building.”

It was good to know. Could I run for it? I knew our rooftop well. It was a split level leading to other buildings on each side. If I went East, I’d have to do an eleven-foot gap to the next roof. I doubt I’d be followed. But Pat interrupted my plan.

“Now I can give you some general info on your assignment,” she said.
“Ok.”
“We’re flying you to Virginia. There you’ll meet up with Lieutenant Barkley, who’ll be working with you on a new project.”
“A ‘new project’?”
“Yes. We’re developing a training program for our men. It’s still in the early stages, and it might fall through, but we’re very interested in trying it out.”
“Trying what out, exactly?”
“Elements of your sport.”
“You want me…to teach the C.I.A. parkour?” I almost laughed.
“More or less. Some of the movements, obviously, won’t be needed. But the majority of it—precise jumping and landing, sliding through small spaces, climbing, and so on—will be implemented.”
“Are you serious? You don’t have someone already teaching that?”
“We’ve got tumbling instructors, but there’re limits to what they can teach. They’ve seen your video, and frankly, are expecting to pack their bags.”
“So this isn’t about killing…”
“No! We’re not drafting you. We’ve got plenty of soldiers. We just need you to make them better.”
“And what would the pay be like for this?” I asked daringly.
“It varies, but you should be able to pay back the judge before summer.”
After a few mental calculations I gasped at the figure, but was careful to sound unaffected.

“So, when do I start?”
“Pack what you need in one suitcase. A cab will be waiting outside at 3:00 this afternoon to take you to the airport. From there you’ll be escorted to one of our jets and flown straight to Virginia. You start now.”
I was apprehensive and she sensed it.
“If you get time, take a nap. It’ll clear your mind and prepare you. In any case, it must feel good not to be on the run anymore.”
I agreed, thanked her, and hung up.

It took no longer than ten minutes to get my essentials together. I packed only a few items of clothing, as I suspect they’ll issue me what I wear. Sneakers went in too, along with a baggie of toiletries—basic stuff.

But when I came to more personal items, I was forced to slow down. For some time, a dusty, framed photograph lay cradled in my hands. I was six again. Mom and I went to the park and climbed on the jungle gym. We raced across the playground and played on the swings. I sat on her lap as we swung high into the air, feeling the exhilarating wind push at the corners of our smiling faces. At the peak of our arc, she held a camera at arm’s length and snapped this photograph.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I began to cry. With deep, painful, sobs I realized the wounds that I carry within. I could not bring myself to call her. I couldn’t face her again. It would only have hurt us both. Instead, I phoned Reginald.

As the only person I could talk to about the latest stage of my life, we spoke of my decision and reminisced over our time together.
“Reginald,” I said seriously. “I want to thank you.”
“Well what on earth for?”
“What for?! Aside from supplying over $26,000 of your own money? Well, for one, you set me straight. You taught me to look beyond the surface… You saved me, Reginald.”
“Sure, I dipped into my pocket for yew boy, but yew must realize that yo the one who made the changes…”
“That may be true, but still! Without you...”
“Micah, here’s my last piece of advice for yew.”
I waited eagerly, having learned to treasure each bit of wisdom he had to offer.
“Never assume yo dependency. I may have been there to encourage yew along the way, but…yew, YEW were the one to climb down the tree.”
I was flooded with admiration for the man.
“Thank you. Again. I will never forget what you’ve done, and paying you back is my first priority.”
As we talked I noticed the hands of the clock beating on, and knew that it was time to say goodbye. He ordered me to keep in contact, and I gladly complied.

Obviously, my roommates were shocked at the news of my departure.
“You’re moving out?” Ben asked.
“Today?” Followed Aaron.
“Something has come up. A job offer.”
“What about the police?”
“It’s been taken care of.”
“So they let you off the hook?”
“Yeah,” I said, truthfully enough.

And although I couldn’t give them specifics, I saw that they understood I was moving on. Without a hint of doubt, they accepted it, and accepted me. I said I’d continue to send them money for my share of the rent if they’d keep a room for me, and they willingly agreed. I continue to reflect on what outstanding people they are.

It’s 2:54 and in a few moments I expect to see a yellow taxi waiting beside the sidewalk below my window. My palms are sweaty just contemplating what the next few days will be like. I’m nervous, but immeasurably excited about the job. In a way, it’s what so many have dreamed of doing—making a living out of parkour. But at the same time, it occupies a level of its own.

And so I complete this journal, finding it difficult to believe that so much has happened within the last month.
I’ve experienced the extremes of joy and sorrow.
I’ve gained friends and lost family.
I’ve learned the truth, cleaned my conscience, and found a purpose.
Incredible…

The cab is here!!!

-Micah K. Jennings

posted by Mr. Linty @ 10:04 PM