Todd Revisited: I Am (Chapter 16)

Time to shave.  "I've been here before, eh?"  he said to himself, taking a razor and shave cream from John's medicine cabinet.  He stopped for a moment, before making the first drag with John's razor, and caught his own eyes in the reflection.  Something was haunted and hopeful at the same time.  All he could think of was seeing Blair.  Being in the same room with her, and the rest of his family.  Possibly touching her.  Her recognizing him.  He knew he would see it in her eyes that she knew him.  He drew the razor up his neck and under his chin.  Slowly, his face took back the appearance that she and his daughter had last seen him with.  Of course, Jack was too young to remember him this way.  Jack.  He was concerned about what Jack had learned being The Impostor's son.  Since the night he eavesdropped on Jack and Starr at the poolside, he had been worried.  His heart sank when he thought of what Jack had become.  He splashed the water in the basin by dipping the razor in and shaking it off.  He would fix it.  He would fix everything.  He just needed her to believe him.


The queasiness in his stomach that was there earlier returned when he stopped and imagined Blair standing within arm's reach.  He had seen her on the red carpet.  She was stunning in white, always was.  Well, she was stunning, period.  How he had missed her, and his children.      


With the last swipe, he was ready to dress.  He carefully put on John's tuxedo shirt, which was seeming a pretty close fit, draped the tie around his neck and took the jacket with him into the main room of the apartment.  He remembered how Blair had once given him a tuxedo for a party for the upper crust that they were not invited to, and that they crashed it.  They were on top of the world, that night, just she and him.  It seemed no one could touch them.  Of course, it did not take long before he learned how very wrong he was.  The bump on the back of his head was sore, and touching it made him remember his fall and subsequent memory flash.  "Don't have time for this right now." As he worked the last button at the neck, there was a knock on the door.  Assuming it was the policeman that was posted, he went to the door without a second thought and pulled it open.  The young policeman fell backward into the apartment and there, in front of him, was Baker, eyes seething with anger, a black gun nozzle in his face.  With an artificial smile, Baker said, "Going somewhere?  Back inside."


As if unfettered, he stood, face to face with the rogue agent, and continued fixing his collar.  "You know, I would, but I've got somewhere to go."


"Let me guess, the movie premier, to see Todd Manning?  I'm headed there myself, so if there is a message that you would like me to deliver . . ."


"I prefer to deliver my messages in person," he said, grasping the jacket to the tux.


"I'm afraid you're going to be otherwise engaged."  The gun was still pointing at his chest.  He went about his business as if Baker wasn't there.  He knew in doing that, he was probably angering him further, but heeded the words of Peter Manning in his mind's eye.  Never show your cards.


When Baker said he had "other loose ends," Todd began to fear he would hurt his family.  Without showing that fear, he cooperated in dragging the policeman into the room, and while doing so, he pocketed the mace in his holster.  The next few moments were almost unclear; Baker explaining that after killing him, he would do the same with Tomas Delgado and John McBain.  He really did not want McBain to die, after all, the guy was a pretty cool character and a snappy dresser.  Baker, sneering, reminded him again he was not Todd Manning and held the gun pointing in his direction, and this time, no bulletproof vest.  On his way out the door with the agent, his ego deflated.  He was truly not sure how it would pan out, or that there was a way out of this one.  The officer on the floor stirred, and in that moment's distraction, he forced a last effort to change what seemed to be his fate.  The mace streamed like snake venom into Baker's eyes, and they fought, to the death, over the gun in Baker's hand. 




Using every ounce of strength he had, Todd forced the gun away from Baker and turned and held it on him.  Not willing to have another death on his conscience, he forced Baker into a chair, and tied him still.  At that point, the policeman stirred again, making grunting noises.  Todd helped him to his feet.  "What happened?" said the officer.


"You were ambushed, but I haven't got time to talk with you right now.  I have a party to crash.  Keep that guy under wraps, or better yet, call your boss."  And with that, he flitted from the apartment, headed on foot to the Palace Hotel for the premier.  He had to get to her, he had to prove himself, and more importantly, warn them all about The Impostor.  


As he rounded the first corner, he hoped Baker was not right behind him, and the horror-theater back chill went from spine to head.  He didn't want to run, to be too suspicious, but he almost could not bear the wait as he was in transit.  How would he make her see?


As his feet carried him closer and closer, he reminded himself to go slowly.  Anything too abrupt or intense could frighten her.  He would make certain not to come off . . . crazy, try not to . . . touch her.  Of course, there was that voice that doubted his own sanity.  The same one that was always there.  The same one that had spoken to him throughout most of his life.  Was he sane?  Sometimes he wondered with burning puzzlement.  He knew the voices in his head were only quieted by her, and sometimes, not even then.  In the past, not even sleep had taken them away.


Aman had decided not to fish that day.  Lilly was too spooked and he was worried for her, as well as about the guest.  She still could not put into words what she had seen and heard, and he let that go . . . for now.  But he knew she needed him around, so he stayed at the cottage that day to see for himself.


It was noon when he started his typical thrashing in the bed.  His head would whip from side to side.  Sometimes, he would say things, other times he would not.  His dreams would come every time, sometimes the glen and the woman with the child; sometimes a different woman handing him a Celtic Cross; sometimes The Man sneering, or burning him, or holding his hand over the flame of the lighter; sometimes himself holding a gun, yelling, hurting someone.  Each time he dreamed, something more and more horrific pulled at him.  In every nightmare, the one common thread in all of the nightmares was The Man.  And this bright, frigid afternoon, he awoke to see the man standing at the foot of the bed.


He stopped running when he saw the entrance to the Palace Hotel.  The area was buzzing with the traffic of onlookers and passersby, as well as well-dressed folks heading home.  Puzzled by the early departures, he skulked cautiously about, just in time to see two men carting off a third, who yelled, "Hey, it's not porn, it's art," followed by a shorter man crying, "You stole my movie!  You're not getting away with this, I'm telling you..." and they moved down the sidewalk out of sight.  


He brought himself out from behind the awning's leg, and entered The Palace, which had not changed much.  The location of so many times of his own life.  He was almost overcome by emotion, but gathered his wits about him, and pressed forward, almost running directly into Dorian and Vickers.  The two were exiting, arm in arm, dressed to the hilt.  "She's aged well," he said to himself.  Sarcasm.  He hid himself behind a potted plant, and held his breath not to be discovered.  They passed him in a flurry of red and black and talk of lawsuits.


Making his way into the main ballroom was not as hard as he imagined it would be.  Everyone was either busy, tired, or just not worried about a guy in a tuxedo with a scar.  He sauntered in, happening upon a scene that would be burned into his mind.  A circle of chairs; Blair, Jack, Starr, and Delgado; her brother Tomas, pointing straight ahead, and all attention focused on The Impostor.  He heard Tomas say, "That man is not Todd Manning."


He took a few steps forward and, fixing his tie, simply said, "I am."