Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

"You have to listen to me, Torstein,” Ferdy said. “This woman knows what she’s talking about. They’re getting more calls and more hits on the website about those two features she’s done on you than any other human interest stories. You’re going to be wasting all this great publicity if you don’t get on board.”

“Ferdy, I don’t care.”

“I thought you wanted to be a great philanthropist. You’re always giving away $5 here and $10 there. Don’t you want to be able to give away millions?”

Torstein wrinkled his nose, rolled his shoulders, shook his head slightly. “I guess not,” he said slowly. “My idea is, instead of one man giving away millions, maybe every man could give away 5’s and 10’s and 100’s. It’s more of a face-to-face and heart-to-heart thing.”

Ferdy looked to the rest of us for support. We were huddled in a Starbucks at the far reaches of our usual stomping grounds that Thursday morning, to try to avoid the crowds that were now stalking Torstein because of the TV news. And maybe just because they liked his message and wanted to be near him. Pete and Phyllis, Jack and Jazz were there; Ferdy, Bruiser, Maggie and Mari.

I had to admit, I’d been really astonished by the news report about the wedding reception. Torstein looked good on TV, not just his coat, he was one of those people like John F. Kennedy whose personal charm seemed to be carried equally well on the airwaves. But I also shared his thought that television was sort of phony. If Torstein deserted the park for a TV studio ... I didn’t know whether his message would be the same. He was a people person. How did that work on TV? I couldn’t give Ferdy any help.

Marigold said if she and Tawny could do Story Hour on TV, she would. Torstein said if they got an offer, they should do it, because they were really good, and Mari beamed at him.

“But they aren’t getting an offer,” Ferdy said. “You are, Torstein, and I think you’d be crazy to turn it down. There’s no risk at all. Just give a few messages on the news once a week for the next few weeks. Ariel’s got a real feeling that your popularity is only going to grow from here on out.”

Torstein smiled at Ferdy, a really genuine, warm, smile, the way I might smile at Pete or my dad. There was a lot of love in that smile. But then, in his eyes, there was sadness, too. It caught me off-guard, because Torstein’s eyes were always sort of sparkling, twinkling, like his dragonfly wings. Now there was this deep, gray well of ... I don’t know any other way to say it ... sadness.

“No, Ferdy,” he said softly. “My popularity is not going to grow any more. This is the end of my popularity.” He turned then, and looked around this circle of friends, looking each of us in the eyes, if only for a brief moment. And he said:

“My popularity is about to come to a screeching halt. I’m not only going to be unpopular, I’m probably going to be downright contagious. If it happens — no, listen to me.”

Pete had begun to protest, “There’s no way you could become contagious to us, Torstein —”

But Torstein waved the objection aside. “Listen, really. Listen, and remember this. And you’ll have to tell Franz and Tawny, and Angel and Caroline.”

Caroline, Nikolai’s ex, she was at work now. Franz and Tawny, and Angel and Len, had gone away for a couple of days to the shore. A sort of honeymoon.

“Something’s going to happen, soon now. I don’t want any of you to get hurt. If it looks to you like a good idea to come rushing to my rescue, I don’t want you to try it.”

“What are you talking about?” Pete demanded. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Hush, Peter,” Phyllis said, putting her hand on my brother’s arm.

“Nothing is going to happen to me but what I let happen,” Torstein said. “Nothing is going to happen except what is meant to happen. Nobody takes my life from me, unless I lay it down. But if and when I do, you’re not to interfere.”

“If anyone comes at you, they’ll have to get through me first,” Pete said. Good ol’ Pete. He had changed a lot since we started this journey with Torstein, but under all he was still the man of action. I envied it, I really did. I’m no coward, but I was scared of what Torstein was saying. Not scared for me, but for him, and for Mari, and for Sully and for everyone who had put their dreams in his hands.

“Pete, you’re strong, but that’s not who you are. You can’t build your life on your idea of yourself as this strong man. You’ve got to build your life on the foundation I’ve given you, the foundation of love.”

“I don’t understand you, man!” Ferdy said suddenly, angrily. “I’ve bought into your vision all the way, gave up my job, spent a year on the streets with you basically working and sweating to make this great plan, this great movement of ours happen — and now what? Now that the door is open for you to start making it happen, you’re saying, you’re saying this is the end? Not the beginning?”

Torstein’s brow wrinkled across his forehead. He grimaced a little, then said, “Oh Ferdy. No, this is the beginning. But it’s an end, too. What I want to do, this great movement, it has to happen inside people. It can’t happen on TV. It can’t happen with piles of money. It can only happen like this,” he motioned to all of us. “Like this.” He reached out and grabbed Ferdy’s hand, but Ferdy jerked it back.

He was steamed.

“You can’t just try it Ariel’s way?” Ferdy asked. “This is what I can contribute to your vision. This is how I can see it happening, and you can’t even try it? This is what we’ve been waiting for — this is our chance, Torstein!”

“My dear friend,” Torstein said softly, to Ferdy. Then he turned and glanced around to the rest of us. “My dear friends. My heart’s heavy. I don’t know how to say what I need to say, and there’s so little time left.”

Again, that fear, that fear that Pete seemed able to shake off and bluster through, it clamped down on me. Hard.

Read Chapter Sixty-seven

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