Chapter 1 (Beginning) - Stay Put, I'll Be Coming for You: A Love Story of Endurance

Hello there,

Today starts my postings of the full novel. I'm giving it the working title Stay Put, I'll Be Coming for You. My intent is that these installments will be up for a while, but will eventually taken down after I've posted audio versions on my project website. 

Here starts the story of boring ol' Clete Wong, a frugal, 50-something, bachelor, oil-and-gas producer, wildcatter, geologist, and petroleum engineer, who has piled up a bunch of money, but not much else. Sorry to those of you don't like reading profanity--he's one of those who uses "fuckin'" "Goddamn" and "shit" in just about every sentence he utters--you've met them (and I don't like them). They can be pretty shallow.

In the second section, there's a "punking" episode that every Asian American guy wishes he could pull off with a buddy--we get SO tired of being assumed to be foreigners. If you don't really get it, just promise you'll think about it. BTW, I'm sure Clete left her a big tip just because he messed with her...

Love,

Pops

Stay Put, I’ll Be Coming for You:

A Love Story of Endurance

Chapter 1  - Enter Johnson Lai

I am now convinced that alternative lifestyles should never be led by boring people like me. It’s frustrating. I see the world as having a template—it’s a place that is fairly ordered into which you drop all the stuff of cosmos—stardust, light, bunny rabbits, whatever—and it all winnows down into nice predictable slots that you can depend on. A structure is there that you can rely upon and build.

My daughters and grandchildren have different details to sort out and contend with than I did, but in the end I know that they will eventually see that overall, I’m right. Strive to the normal. Work with what is known. Avoid friction. Friction is your enemy. Proceed carefully into the unknown, but you know what? You’ll find the unknown is more like the known than you feared. Why? Because if you look deep, you will always find the template. Alternatives drive one crazy. And my secret weapon against alternatives is simply to endue them with my innate boringness and force them into the template.

I am not the introspective type. But my daughter has continually nagged me to write things down as I remember them. She’s into history, especially writing it. So here we go.

The journey from youth to age eventually kills you. That’s the way it works. We all know that. Some of us take a lot of steps on that way, some only a few, but unless we do, there will be no one left.

Years ago, my own journey took a turn when an e-mail came to me out of the blue. A few weeks earlier a colleague had me join an online professional network, one of those things that connect you to others in your field by extending your circle of connections into the circles of others. In came a fourth-degree connect (a colleague of a colleague of a colleague of a colleague), who turned out actually be a “first-degree,” who I had not seen since we were in grad school 30 years ago. John Lai, he pronounces it “lie” as in to lie, cheat, and steal. However, to associate those behaviors with John would not be correct at all. A more earnest man I have never me.

Saw your profile you old sinner! Hey if yr tired of getting rich by polluting the earth, get your lonely ass to lunch w/me when I’m in LA next week. I have an “eco-vacation” project that I’m working on that will interest you. LOL

And so I did something never do. I answered.

* * *

“So how did that date go I set you up with Mariko?” were the first words out of his mouth.

There are people who pick up with you exactly where you left off with them. It’s like they put a bookmark in you and when they pick you back up, be it 30 minutes or 30 years, they’re right there. John is such a guy.

“Hey, Earth to Clete. You in there?

“Sorry, you had me thinking back for a minute. It was great actually. We hit it right off. It was the last good thing you did for me.”

“It was literally the ‘very last’ thing I did for you. You disappeared, man. It hasn’t been 40 years in the wilderness, but it’s gettin’ close. Gotta love these online profiles though. They catch you up pretty fast provided they’re true . . .”

Who would lie about what goes on a public website? I thought. Mine said: Age 54, male, single, no children, geologist/petroleum engineer, partner in exploration and mining company. I smiled. “What if I told you after one date we eloped to Vegas?”

“Bull CRAP. The whole reason I thought you two would get along is that both of you were so solidly, stodgily, steadfastly BORING. People like you date for 10 years, just to be safe. So, really, what happened? Spill it.”

“We went to a movie, had pizza afterwards, took a walk. It was fun. She even kissed me at one point.”

“So you owe me one then.”

“I owe you something.”

“No ring on your finger though.”

“That’s a very ‘chick’ thing to say. So what the hell is this? You in the matchmaker business now? AND running a travel agency? You putting together tree-hugger travel packages for cash now? Johnnie I’m so disappointed in you. You used to be so smart.”

“Hey, I Googled you. What are you, rich as Croesus now? You can take some extended time off from work? You’re in oil right?”

“Google doesn’t tell you everything. Did you know there are guys you can pay who’ll remove as much of you off the Internet as possible?”

“What little is there tells me you’re doing pretty well. There’s one business journalist who thinks your net worth is measured in 10 figures.”

“ You’re talking about The Inside Dope on American Energetics blog guy, right? He’s smoking something. That writer was pissed at me because I told him to go to hell after we started arguing about global warming. I think he’s trying bait kidnappers to come after me. I think he truly believes I’m evil.”

“Well, if I were your publicist and you wanted to keep a low profile, I’d tell you to stop writing letters to editors on behalf of oil producers. Unchecked bloggers are dangerous people. So what is your net worth anyway?”

“Hell if I know. It’s all superfluous after you buy a car, pick up groceries, pay your rent, and give to your church.”

“Church?” I thought you were an atheist, O Evil One.

“Not everything goes on an online profile. My friends think that, because I say I believe in things I can see. But there are a lot of things I can’t see; so I keep my bases covered. Look, Mr. Fundraiser—that’s what your profile said, right?—all my assets are in the ground. The price shifts crazily. If someone comes up with a technology to cheaply extract what I’ve got, I go from a seven-figure worth to zip. If I start to track that kind of thing I’d go nuts. Let just say I’ve had better luck than others digging the odd hole here and there and as long as people like to drive cars and cook food, I’ll be able to pay my rent.”

“I’ll bet you probably had an ancestor who was a dowser.”

“A what?”

“A water witch. Someone farmers would hire to tell them where to dig a well. Supposedly it’s hereditary.”

“Put that way, maybe I am a water witch—or an oil and gas witch. I wonder how those guys got paid?”

“My guess if they were successful they threw them a festival. Maybe gave them 72 virgins to play with.”

“That’s only an interesting idea on paper. Think about it.”

“What a romantic! You still in a dry spell? Some water witch you are!”

“Shut your Goddamn mouth.”

“They probably executed the witches if they were wrong.”

“Ha! Now THAT, would be incentive. Nowadays the farmer would just take a tax write-off.” The waitress brought out our salads. Almost in unison we began to pick off the cheese that had been sprinkled on top.

“Something wrong guys?” asked our female server.

“I don’t know about him, but I don’t do cheese or milk,” I said.

“Same here,” said John. “Guess we forgot to tell you.”

“Let me get you ones without cheese. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” I said.

“So is this like a Oriental thing?” she inquired. John and I up-glanced at each other. His eyes said “Do it.”

“We are from the southeast Asian kingdom of Zomia,” I said, “where dairy products are unknown. Therefore Zomians like us have never developed the internal flora, or bacteria, to properly digest food derived from milk, like cheese or yogurt.”

“Wow, that is so interesting. Where is it?”

“John?”

He jumped right in. “I’d put it somewhere bordering Burma, Yunnan Province, Laos, uh ...”

“Let’s throw in Thailand in there too. Short plane ride from Singapore.”

“Oh right. Lot of people from the Middle East pass through there too. I’ll let you in on a secret. This man here is the sovereign crown prince and I am his head of security.”

“No. Really? You get all kinds in L.A. What language do you speak?”
"Why Zomian, of course,” I said. “But it sounds a lot like Chinese, being so close and all.”

“So say something in it.”

Without skipping a beat, Johnson and I switch to our first-grade schoolbook Cantonese we learned from at Chinese school when we were boys.

“Father good.”

“Mother good.”

“Good friend friend happy.”

“Little brother run.”

“Dog run.”

“You really are a jerk.”

“So are you.”

“There ya go. He just said ‘You very pretty lady,’” I declared in a mock sing-song accent.

“Awww. That’s so sweet. Let me get your salads. Your English is REALLY good you guys.”

“You know this guy has ten wives? You wouldn’t think it to look at him, wouldya?” said John.

“NO!” cried the waitress in disbelief.

I pick up my spoon and clobber him on the head. “Imbecile. Minister Venugopalan! Don’t you remember that the constitution limits me to only eight wives. The rest are concubines!” We then shoo her away to make the salad corrections. “At least we can eat the bread. How’s your ice water?”

“Excellent vintage. Silverlake Resevoir 2012 I’d say.” He took a big slurp and then we were finally down to business. “Ever hear of the Earth Dragon Trust?”

“EARTH DRAGON? A bigger bunch of environmentalist bozos with alarmist pseudo-science in tote you won’t find.”

“I thought you might have heard. I’m on the board. First Bozo in charge of fundraising.”

“Shut up! How can you John? You’re not serious. Your profile said you were with United Way.”

“It’s out of date. But I’m dead serious about Earth Dragon, my friend.”

“Haven’t you read any of the letters or articles I’ve written? I’m one of your enemies.”

“OK. Let me restate. I’m dead serious, my enemy. Yeah, I know you and your industrialist-developmentalist proclivities. That’s why when you showed up on ProLinkUp, I just had to get back in contact with you. I want to get you in on a project we have languishing. It needs a little time and a lot of money.”

“I can’t believe Earth Dragon is asking ME for money. Have you no shame?”

“Correction. Your good, ol’ buddy, John Lai is asking you to consider something. Y’know, I happen to think I’m the world’s greatest fundraiser. If I can convince you, I can convince anybody.”

“Childhood friendship is one thing but . . .”

“Hear me out. I’m not asking you for money. Well, indirectly I am, as long as it’s green, but that’s beside the point.” Our salads came out bereft of everything dairy. We were two cavemen munching on a bunch of leaves sprinkled with nuts and berries. “Ah, civilization gave us the ceramic plate and the metal fork, but not much else for this meal.”

“So you presume we’re having a Bronze Age lunch? I knew I should ordered the pasta. Use of the microwave to warm up the cups of lentil soup alone brings us up to the present technology. Don’t forget the diesel fuel that got this arugula to us, probably chemically fertilized and genetically engineered, or the natural gas electrically pumped here to boil the water, which was also electrically pumped here from Colorado for our iced tea.”

“Clete, this is lovely and we could have so much fun this with this, but I’ve got another appointment with REAL money, so let me get to the bottom line. There’s a teeny, tiny island in the Pacific that we want to survey. Just gather data, maybe capture everything we can know about it while it’s still above the water. Ever see those pictures of Kiribati with people having the ocean at their front porch?”

“Pure stage management.”

“I’m not going to argue that with you, but who knows? But even if you just took pictures of this place for us, it would be good. I’m talking pure geology. No politics. I remember how you loved doing field work back when we were pups. You had a particular interest in Pacific island research. You had a grant or something way back?”

“I did,” saying so with a sigh. “Never made it there.”

“What happened?”

“Family issues came up.”

“Like what?”

“It was a long time ago. I forget. Why do you care about this island?”

“We think in five years it will be uninhabitable.”

“So people live on it now?”

“Yep. They’ll be homeless soon.”

“So you want to make these pitiful saps your ‘Dustbowl Okie’ poster children to put on your fundraising materials?”

“Well, as enticingly attractive as you make that sound, not much chance of that. They’re very private I’m told.”

“They probably all have bad teeth anyway.”

“That’s actually a good thing in my line of work, but we digress. I’m coming to you because we have no funding for it. Zilch. You, I’m betting, could put it together yourself and we’d just give you our objectives.”

“Why would I freely do this for an organization I oppose when I could just go there myself on vacation and have fun with such a project?”

“What year were you born?”

“1958.”

“Dog. Year of the Dog . . . you’re way too workaday steady to do anything like that unless someone gives you a mission. Besides, the island authorities have given us exclusive rights to conduct this research. You can’t get on the island otherwise. As I said, very private. A generation ago they used to have some tourism. Didn’t really work for them. It’s beastly hot there. Now they just subsist and take fees from boats that fish in their territory. It’s bordered on one side by a nice reef. They pull big ol’ honkin’ shells out that interior decorators like as well.”

“A reef only on one side? Is it an ancient volcano?”

“Probably. But there’s part of a major trench on the other side. Nobody knows anything for sure. It’s a cipher. Every expedition attempted has shipwrecked. There have been two major cataclysms for them in the last century. Earthquake and major typhoon surge. It remains highly seismically active. It would all be in the file.”

“So it’s not all coral. It retains fresh groundwater stores?”

“It does. Enough for moderate agriculture and raising some livestock. Aerial photos indicate a possible mixed forested area too.”

“A forest? You mean a plantation right?”

“You’d confirm that. But there is saline incursion. We think it’s been increasing. That’s one of the things we would want you to study. Caught your imagination yet?”

“There are better things to do with my vacation time.”

“Pish. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

“I was in Kuwait two weeks ago . . .”

“On oil business?”

“OK, I went to Greenland this last year too.”

“Probably a mining project.”

“And before that I was in North Dakota.”

“Gas.”

“What are you? The fuckin’ CIA? So there’s a nice diner in Bismarck with a view of the park across the street. What of it?”

“And that’s your idea of a vacation?”

“My dad always told me, ‘Put your money in your pocket and keep it there.’”

“Yeah, and unfortunately your Chinese father didn’t live long enough to give you the other half of that sage advice.”

“Oh yeah? And that would be?”

“Invest it in your children. If you really are going to live by that principle of frugality, it’s because you are only the current steward for provisioning your family, for enriching your clan. You’re the only person in your family now. Your brothers are gone. What are you saving for?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Clete. Franklin was one of my best friends in high school. I miss him too.”

“OK. Point taken. John, one.”

“Bastard. Thank you. I didn’t come here to preach at you. It’s not many people who have the options you have. Can you point out your car from the window here? I’m going give you my guilt-trip spiel.”

“It’s almost in front of us. The white sedan.”

“That’s it? THAT’S YOUR CAR? You have a rumored 10-figure net worth and you drive a Goddamned, friggin’ Honda Civic? And what? A leading “3” on the license plate? It’s a 2001?”
“It’s a ’97. Gets great gas mileage and as long as you change the oil regularly, it’s extremely reliable. Civics are more expensive than the comparable models, like Ford or Hyundai, but I think it’s worth the extra cost. Actually bought it one-year old. The value drops considerably if you buy new . . .”

“And what? So now you tell me you live in a rented one-bedroom apartment too?”

“Three-bedroom if you count the home office. My landlord is actually my corporation. It’s pretty funny, the manager doesn’t know I’m his boss. It helps me know if he’s giving good service to my neigh . . .”

“Seriously? I was just joking. Clete, you’re one piece of work!”

“I try to keep a small footprint on the planet.”

“Said the rich oil guy! And that small footprint is white hot and burning a hole through said planet.”

“And now the liberal bullshit flows. You’re pissed because I stole your greedy capitalist-consumerist grand-slam shot.”

“OK. Point taken. Clete one, John one. Draw.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t come here to insult you. You know that. I’m here because scientific study of the earth is a passion we shared once. This may be one of the last unsurveyed places of human habitation on earth. I know you’ll enjoy it, and I know you’ll give me the objective report that I’m after. If my group can use the data to our advantage we will, but you’re free to publish whatever you discover. All I came to give you is our fishing license, really. Wow, look at the time. Clete I’ve got to go. It was great to see you. Promise me you’ll think about it? I’d offer to go with you and it’d be like old times, but us poor peons gotta work.” The waitress dropped our check on the table.

“John . . .”

“It’s mine. I want the distinction of treating one of the world’s richest men that nobody knows about.” He threw two 20s onto the table and unfolded his wallet toward me. “Not full of money, but it’s full of legacy. Clarice, my wife. Jared, my son, a teacher, and his wife Ji-Hae, a physical therapist. Daughter Tina, web designer, her husband Sal, a dentist. They’ve given me five grandchildren.” He flipped more windows showing me happy, toothy youngsters and beaming teenagers. He has somebody. I was a little envious. “I should put these on my phone, but I’m old-fashioned.”

“Nice. Especially the teeth. Your son-in-law do the orthodontia himself?”

“Remember Jackson Wong back in high school? His work. Any-who, I realize family life is not for everybody. You’ve got your reasons for being single, I’m sure, and I’m not going to pry into them. But when you get down to it, the succession of generations is the only thing our species has got. If you want to be a good Chinese son, you have to become a good Chinese father, Clete. Your dad would have wanted that.” He put his wallet back into his pocket. “We’re in midlife looking downhill toward either significance or oblivion. When your profile popped up it looked really, . . . really empty to me. That’s why I e-mailed. That’s all. Promise me you’ll consider it.”

* * *

Sally dropped a dusty red-brown file envelope on my desk. It was about eight inches thick and tied closed with brown cord. It raised a cloud of dust that set me to sneezing and coughing. “What the fuck is this?”

“When I talked to Sam—he’s at the North Dakota project—and told him where you’re going for a few months, he told me to dig this file out of the archives for you to look at. Ancient history, but he said they were interested in a development property not too far from where you’re going, a long time ago, back when he had hair, he said. Nothing ever came of it but he wondered if the government had maybe changed a few times to something more favorable. He said we’d buy your plane ticket back and cover expenses if you make the swing there after your vacation is done and check it out.”

“No promises. I intend to be busy NOT finding toxic gunky stuff to sell to others for a change.”

“Oh, so you’re going all lefty-softy on us? Sam says just go there, walk around, and see how you feel. He also said he wants to insure your “Golden Oil-Sensing Gut” with Lloyds of London.”

“He knows I don’t allow anyone to invest with me on my ‘hunch’ projects. They’re too risky. Let him do the full geology workup himself. Then maybe I’ll go.”  

“But Clete, your hunches are 100% hits.”

“But it’s lousy science!”

“Sam said the geology report is in the file. It’s decades old. You know, about this vacation of yours, if you stop finding oil, Uncle Sam is going to miss those multimilllion dollar checks you send home to him every season. He’s the only family you’ve got.”

“Yeah, well let my favorite ‘Uncle’ come beggin’ to me to make money. Hey, I sent you test transmissions from all of my satellite laptops from my house. Were they received?”

“Everything’s go.”

“Porta-lab?”

“On a freighter as we speak, as well as your gift offering of stabilized diesel for your hosts. 25 barrels.”

“I hope it’s the right formula. They were unresponsive regarding specs.”

“What a nice house present. You’re such a sentimental fool.”

“If not, I’ll send them a truck to use it up.”

“You ARE on vacation. You’re spending money left and right. Can I borrow your credit card?”

“The pursuit of human knowledge is one of the highest aims of mankind and it knows no price.”

“Spare me. I know the price. The tab is about one million bucks so far? And your working budget is two?”

“The equipment is not that expensive. Getting it to the middle of nowhere is what gets you every time. Just make sure Jerry is paying everything through my foundation to Earth Dragon and it’ll all be good.”

“Need me to run any errands for you before you say ‘Bye bye?’”

“Nah. I just need to stop by the Chinese grocery store and get some joss and then my personal checklist is done.”

“Joss? What’s that?”

“You told me you’ve got a Chinese grandmother, Sally, come on!”

“She was born in Ohio and raised Roman Catholic.”

“It's stuff you use when praying and remembering the dead. Play money, basically. And incense.You burn it.”

“Why?”

“Same reason we put flowers on graves. Respect and remembrance. The dossier says I might need it; the people there are kind of Chinese.”

“Kind-of Chinese? You mean like us?”

“According to the file they least they still speak it. We only look like we do.”

“Speak for yourself. Everybody thinks I’m Eva Longoria’s sister.”

© 2012 Vincent Way, all rights reserved.