A Conversation in Connecticut

When asked about the many friends and former associates who had passed before him, he gently shrugged his rounded shoulders, while nodding his gray covered head. In a shaken voice apologetic in tone, replied, " I can't recall. Time has had its’ way with me- it has its’ way with everyone, eventually. I'm sorry, I just don't remember, I can't." Aubrey was determined to get answers to her questions. She wasn't here to pacify the editorial director of the American Journal nor to pay homage to this aging man who once was much more than he appeared to be today. Truth be known, she was told that Cotton Eye Joe, as his staff referred to him because of his lazy eye, had no interest in running or pursuing a story even slightly associated with this aging, dementing fossil. It was the major stockholder of the Journal who insisted the paper get the real story- discover the truth in what many liberal thinking people theorized was possibly the greatest government cover-up in American history. In 2010, Ainsley, a rather effeminate fellow, had invested heavily in the paper and was not one to display weakness or delicacy when making a request. He was credited with saving the grappling paper with his multimillion- dollar infusion and demanded control over Cotton Eye Joe, the staff, or anyone attempting to come between his ego, his money, and his somewhat dubious agenda. This assignment fell on the desk of Aubrey. A recent graduate of the Northwestern University school of Journalism, she had been recruited by the American Journal and by journalistic standards considered a newbie. Consequently, cotton eye bestowed this assignment upon her. His experience told him nothing would come out of the interview and therefore it would not only provide his latest protege' needed experience, it would keep the flaming Ainsley, off his back- at least for a while. Aubrey, knew how the game was played and held no contempt. She was expecting this non-envious assignment to land exactly where it did- on her lap. She had to prove herself to Cotton Eye, as well as her colleagues and staff. This would take time, planned positioning and well excuted posturing. Aubrey was willing to pay her dues. She was a strong-willed, highly intelligent competitor with an exceptionally sexy and athletic built body. Her determination to achieve success would only be overshadowed by the effort she would put forth to that end. She held no reservation that the struggles of the paper was due in part to the lack of energy displayed by the significant number of incompetent assholes employed as investigative reporters. She was dedicated to her profession and would be loyal to the paper. Aubrey had every intent of becoming a team player. The American Journal had always been perceived as a family newspaper where loyalty was rewarded by security and longevity in one's career. Many, once accomplished journalist, were more than content remembering the good old days while permitting possible newsworthy stories to pass them by. Aubrey always thought the working culture of any company started at the top and worked its’ way down through the ranks. No one should be exempt from putting forth their best effort. " when you rest, you rust," she always said- and the Journal was rusting. She set a goal to eventually achieve the coveted position of editorial director and would not allow a senile old man prevent her unrelenting effort to claim the corner office now belonging to Cotton Eye Joe, as her own. Her persistence in questioning continued and each question received the exact response as if rehearsed...I can't recall. (This guy remembers everything, she thought. He remembers what, when, who and why. Is he protecting himself, someone else or something nefarious?) " No need to apologize, Mr. Trammel. I forget things too. Christ sake, I can't remember what I had for dinner last night- not sure I even had dinner. Actually, I hope to be as sharp as you, when I get your age." Aubrey, you're not only breathtakingly beautiful, you're astute as well. Please, call me Theodore, Mr. Trammel is far too formal. May I get you something to drink while you continue to prod and probe my ability to remember, or not"? " Tea would be great, thank you." As Trammel prepared the tea, Aubrey took visual survey of the room. " Rather minimalist," she thought. A 69 year old recluse- no photos, no memorabilia, no history to remember or forget- nothing- not a single clue to a life lived. She wondered if this was his choice or his cause to conceal a truth yet discovered. " Would you like lemon," he asked, setting the tea on the coffee table? " no, this is just fine, thank you." As she sipped her tea the room fell into an eerie silence. A feeling of unwelcomed anxiety came upon her while she manically searched for something to say or give a plausible reason for conducting this interview. Theodore Trammel knew this was not a human interest story in the challenges of aging by a former internationally acclaimed political economics professor at Yale University. Dozens of investigative reporters had come before Aubrey, in hopes of uncovering the truth. Each with the desire of ending an old rumored government conspiracy and put speculations to rest, once and for all. Theodore had never given the slightest indication that he had any knowledge of or interest in fielding their questions to such an absurd hypothesis. Even at this age his once strong personality could intimidate even the most seasoned reporter and they would take quick leave having no desire to return. Aubrey was different and he had not the slightest inclination as to why, she just was, so he welcomed her presence. Bending over to return her teacup to the saucer he became aware of her beauty. Her voluptuous well- formed breast provided him a welcomed glimpse into a long -forgotten memory of his lustful youth. Her curly blond shoulder length hair reminded him of his young wife, killed two tears after they married. Left only with his teaching duties at the University and becoming a single parent at 28, he aborted all social invitations as well as possible romantic exploits. Trammel lead a life of total dedication to his two loves...his daughter and his profession.