Chapter 5 Orientation

In my rental car, I turned onto the street where West Newton-Murray lived, a quiet suburb outside Boston.With a cup of coffee in one hand and a mobile phone to my ear over my shoulder, I was talking to a TV producer about a show we were doing.I fixed my eyes on the digital clock on the car, because my return flight was scheduled to take off in a few hours, and after a while I hurriedly moved my eyes to the side of the road lined with greenery, identifying the house number on the mailbox.I left the radio on and listened to the news network.I always do things like this, five things going on at the same time.

I said to the producer: rewind, I will listen to this part again. He said: OK, wait a minute. Suddenly I have arrived at my destination.I hit the brakes and spilled coffee on my lap.After the car stopped, I saw a big Japanese maple tree. Three people were sitting not far from the tree at the door, a young man and a middle-aged woman. Between them was a thin and small man in a wheelchair. elder. Murray. As soon as I saw my old professor, I froze. Hello?The producer's voice rings in my ears: do you hear me? I haven't seen him for sixteen years.His hair had grown thinner and was almost white, and his face was thin and haggard.I suddenly feel like I'm not ready to reunite with him (among other things, I haven't finished talking on the phone yet), so I hope he doesn't notice me coming so I can walk around a bit more and finish talking I'm on business and mentally prepared.But Murray was smiling at my car, with his hands clasped in his lap, waiting for the occupants to get off.I used to know this person so well, but now he is so weak and skinny.

Hello?The producer's voice sounded again: Did you hear that? We have spent so much time together, Murray has been so patient with me, a young and energetic person, I should hang up the phone immediately, jump out of the car, rush forward to hug him, kiss his forehead and say That's right. Instead I turned off the engine and lowered myself in the seat, pretending to be looking for something. Hear it, I whispered, and continued to talk to the producer until it was settled. I'm doing what I'm best at right now: handling my own work.Even though my dying teacher was waiting for me on his lawn, I was still working.It's not something to brag about, but I did.

Five minutes later, Murray was hugging me, his thinning hair brushing my cheek.I told him I was looking for the keys, that's why I stayed in the car for a few more minutes, and I hugged him harder as I said that, as if it would suppress my little lie.The spring sun was warm, but he still wore a heavy blazer, and his legs were covered with felt.There was a slightly sour smell on his body, the kind that people who are sick and take medicine often have.His face was very close to my cheeks, and I could hear his slightly rough breathing in my ears. My old friend, he whispered: You are back at last.

He rocked back and forth, holding on to me, grabbing my elbow as I bent over him.I was flattered by his enthusiasm, after all we hadn't seen each other for so long.But I, long ago building stone walls between the past and the present, have long forgotten how close we were.I thought of the day of the graduation ceremony, of the suitcase, of him watching me leave with tears in my eyes, and couldn't help swallowing, because I knew in my heart that I was no longer the kind and talented student he remembered. I just hope, for the next few hours, that I can hide from him. Once inside, we sat at a walnut dining table with a window overlooking a neighbor's house.Murray moved around in the wheelchair, trying to get more comfortable.He was the same as in the past, he wanted to watch me eat something, and I said yes.A muscular Italian woman named Connie cut bread and tomatoes for us, and brought out plates of chicken salad, hummus, and more.

She also brought some pills.Murray looked at the pill and sighed.His eye sockets are more sunken than I remember, and his cheekbones are higher. He looks much haggard and older, but he still smiles like the old days, and his loose cheeks are pulled up like a curtain. Mitch, he said softly: You know I'm dying. I know. Good, then, Murray swallowed the pill, put the paper cup down, took a deep breath, and said: Shall I tell you what it's like? What's it like?die? That's right.He said. At this time, I didn't know that our last class had just kicked off. ◇◇◇ It was my freshman year.Murray was older than most of the teachers, and I was younger than most of the students because I graduated from high school a year early.In order not to look childish on campus, I always wear an old, color-hating cotton sweater, and practice boxing with a punching bag in the stadium, dangling a cigarette in my mouth, although I don’t smoke.I drive an old seroury cougar and the windows are always rolled down and the music is always blaring.I played with my personality for approval, but Murray's gentleness attracted me, and since he didn't treat me like a child pretending to be a grown-up, I was relaxed around him.

I finished his first class and took the next one.He is not strict with marks because he doesn't pay much attention to marks.It is said that one year during the Vietnam War, he gave all the male students who enrolled in a class ninety points so that they could continue their draft deferment. I started calling Murray a coach, the way I used to call my high school track coach, and Murray liked it when I called him that. Coach, he said: Well, I will be your coach, then you will be my player.I am so old now that you can take on many of life's wonderful challenges for me. Sometimes we eat together in the cafeteria.I'm glad Murray is messier than I am.He was always talking instead of chewing, laughing with his mouth full.He can eat a hard egg salad and talk about a school of thought, squirting yolk crumbs all over the place.

These things overwhelm me.During my time with him, I always had two strong desires, one was to hug him, and the other was to give him a napkin.