« Rufus: Chapter One
Rufus
Chapter Two
by Conrad Phillips
For about a month or so after Rufus had showed up unexpectedly in front of Tom’s apartment, neither Tom nor Melinda nor William heard from him. It would’ve bothered them more, but they really didn’t want to care. Whenever the phone rang, Melinda panicked a little, and when the person on the other end wasn’t Rufus, she felt relieved, but then, after hanging up and thinking in the silence by herself, she slowly felt sorry about everything she’d been feeling. She avoided telling William about it, but instead, she’d call up her son and ask if he’d talked to Rufus lately. Tom would tell her no and she would say that was good, then she wouldn’t say anything and would wait for Tom to continue the conversation. There were enough things to worry about.
Still, she couldn’t help but be surprised when she picked up the phone one day and a dour voice asked her if she knew how to contact Rufus Cunningham. Melinda asked who this was and immediately the voice changed. It stayed just a little bit purposeful and businesslike, but now it wanted Melinda to be its friend. “I’m sorry, I should’ve started with that. My name is Tyler Ehrenreich. I’m Rufus’ supervisor at Sicherheit Solutions. I’ve been trying to contact him the last couple of days, but I’m not getting any response, not from his phone or email. He listed you as his emergency contact. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked, you’re Melinda Davis, is that correct?”
She told him it was.
“And you’re his . . .”
“I’m his ex-wife.”
“Oh . . . okay . . . I was just wondering if you knew any other way to contact him, or if you’ve talked to him recently.” First, Melinda explained that she hadn’t talked to Rufus in at least a month, and then she asked Tyler why he wanted to contact Rufus in the first place. As far as Melinda knew, Rufus had quit, or maybe he’d been fired and was too afraid to admit it.
“He tried to quit,” Tyler said, “but I wouldn’t let him. He was just feeling down at the time. He’d been working on a new project . . . building a new database from the top down for a client, but you don’t want to . . . and it just wasn’t working. We didn’t give him enough resources or people or the rights sorts of people, and everybody knew it. The client got mad, we had to move him off the project to make them happy. What I’m saying is, it didn’t matter who was on the project, but someone had to go. I told Rufus right away that no one thought any worse of him for it. He couldn’t have done any more than he’d already done.
“All of a sudden, a week later, Rufus bursts into my office and starts talking about his soul. Stuff like . . . he doesn’t know what he’s done with his life, he needs to get out, he needs to be himself, he sounded like he’d drunk a lot of coffee. He kept on telling me he wanted to resign, but I told him right back that he was being rash. I told him he should take a month’s leave. We couldn’t afford to pay him for it, but his job would be waiting for him. He muttered something about quitting and walked out.
“It’s been a month . . . I was afraid he wouldn’t come back. We’re really just a bunch of young guys here. Someone like him could really help us out. If you could . . . I’m sorry . . . if you could just put us in contact somehow . . . I’m kinda worried . . . and we can’t keep that job open forever, yknow.”
Melinda explained again that, as far as she knew, Rufus was not coming back. Then she took down Tyler’s name, work phone number, cell phone number, work email, home email, and IM address. She promised that, whenever she met Rufus again, she would make sure to let him know that he was wanted.
“Thanks a lot. I don’t like leaving a guy behind. Especially a guy like Rufus. All he needs is something positive, yknow.”
Melinda agreed, then hung up. The conversation bothered her. After all the decades since they had been divorced, Rufus still listed her as his emergency contact. It made her sad for him.
From: rufusc <rufusc345@g------.com>
Subject: Hi
To: “Thomas Davis” <tdavis2@m------.edu>
Date: February 11, 2---, 2:43 PM
Hey Tom. How have you been? I havent been in my apartment for awhile and I dont if anyone’s tried to call me. Do you know? Ive been travelling, not very far not yet. I havent tried it in awhile and I need to get my legs. But its real good to try things I think I want to do and find out if I really want to do them. Im working at a computer in a library right now. I dont have a lot of time. There are things to do. Let me know how youre doing.
Rufus
Tom didn’t want to respond. Reading the email made his stomach heavy. Tom was at a stage now where he could say, mostly with confidence, that what he wanted in life was to be well and to do well. Rufus, as far as Tom was concerned, had never been well as a person. He remembered back when Rufus would come over for dinner, before Tom had gone off to college. The man had been sad in unsettling ways, and he ate with a scrupulous joy, as if Rufus’ only other meals consisted of microwaved ravioli and cups of applesauce. He wouldn’t say much, but he would smile a lot and recite boring anecdotes he had probably picked up from public television, like how Bob Dylan’s performance style had been influenced by Gorgeous George. At which point Rufus would begin speaking to Tom with an unbearable condescension. “Do you know who Gorgeous George was, Tom?” Rufus began a full-scale explanation of what happened when pro wrestling found television. “It’s hard to underestimate television when it comes to our nation’s understanding of entertainment.” Which somehow brought everything back to Dylan. “You do know who Bob Dylan is, right, Tom?”
“I know,” Tom said to the email. Rufus was not what Tom wanted to be. Tom knew that he couldn’t afford to be interrupted right now, not by the likes of Rufus. But he wanted to do well, and he knew that for the sake of a family friend and for the sake of his mother he would have to respond somehow.
Everything’s quiet over here. Hope you’re doing well.
Tom.
A week later, he called his mother just to see how things were going. Dad was doing all right. The investment firm was treating him well. Mom was doing okay. They weren’t selling as many houses as before, but she wasn’t doing the selling anymore and didn’t have to worry about commission. They talked amiably about the paperwork he was putting together for graduation and about whether or not he had found a new girlfriend. Melinda nagged him gently and sarcastically. “You should get over her,” she said.
“I am over her,” Tom answered, acting irritated so she wouldn’t know he was irritated. “I’m just busy.” Out of nowhere, as if she had been waiting to say it, she asked him if Rufus had contacted him. When he paused and said yes, she asked him what Rufus had said.
“It was an email. Something about traveling.”
“His boss had been looking for him.”
“I thought he was fired.”
“I don’t know . . . but he’s not home and I can’t find him.”
“He’s bouncing around . . . he emailed me from a library.”
“Did you say anything back?”
“Nothing much.”
“. . . Could you?”
Tom agreed and sent a message apologizing for his last email. He had been busy, he said. But if Rufus ever needed to talk, Spring Break started on March 8. He would have time then. “A couple of people are asking about you,” he wrote. “They want to know what you’re up to.” He sent the message and hoped that he wouldn’t get a response. He had plans for Spring Break, but once he sent the message and couldn’t take it back, all he could see was Rufus, standing at his door and smelling like an uncertain future. Unless, in the end, nothing happened, there was no way it could end well.