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an acid reflux attack. “It makes a helluva lot more sense to reschedule for the fall break—or even next spring if necessary. No rush for getting school agendas completed on time, and no Russian billionaires to hobnob with in the frigging Alborz Mountains!”
    There wasn’t much I could say since they were my exact sentiments, initially. But his irritation greatly exceeded mine, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear.
    “Yes, if given the chance to redo this whole adventure, I would concur with you.” I tried to sound caring while presenting an alternative point of view. “But the ‘ die has been cast’ , so to speak, Ali my boy. We’re going.”
    “The hell you say!”
    “Yes, the hell I say! I’m your father and you’ll just have to trust me that this will work out!” Now I was the one a little ticked off. “I’ll still find a way for us to head north to our destination. I promise!”
    “To Al-h—”
    “Sh-h-h-h!!”
    “What the hell’s the matter now??”
    “You damned well know what!” I chided him, although by then I had lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. “I’d rather not give away the rest of our itinerary, if you don’t mind, son!”
    Every phone line we’ve ever had has been bugged over the years.
    “Bah! Pops, only you’d be so arrogant to think everyone on the planet wants to know what the ‘Great William Barrow’ is up to these days!”
    Awkward silence followed, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. Apparently, Alistair faced the same problem.
    “I saw Mother today,” he finally announced.
    “How is she?” I felt a sudden lump form in my throat.
    “Not so good, Pops.” His tone bore profound sadness. I doubt this world has seen devotion for one’s mother any stronger than the love Alistair holds for his mom. “She’s remembering less and less...the nurse told me that she no longer wanders down the hallways at night.” He chuckled sadly.
    “I’ll be sure to stop by Good Shepherd tomorrow after I get off from work. I’m planning to read her favorite passage from Pride and Prejudice .”
    “I don’t know, Pops.” He sniffed. “I’d like to think she’d enjoy your company, but she didn’t seem to know who I was tonight. She might not even believe you’re her long lost grandson this time—probably not even if I came with you and told her that you’re my boy.”
    “I’m sure she’ll be fine with me, son,” I sought to assure him, my tone soothing and confident. “And if my presence agitates Beatrice in any way, I promise I’ll leave quietly. She won’t even know I’m there, unless it’s a positive experience for her.”
    “You swear?”
    Another image of my kid as a little boy suddenly filled my mind, and now it was my turn to chuckle, although warmly.
    “Yes, I swear. Ali, it’s going to be fine.”
    “Well, okay.” He sounded a tad hopeful. “I look forward to our evening chat tomorrow night.”
    “Good night, son.”
    “’Night, Pops.”
    After he hung up, I stared out my living room window at the twinkling D.C. skyline for nearly half an hour. A powerful sense of sadness overwhelmed me as I reflected on all that I had been through in the past century...what it was like before I met Beatrice, and how she changed my life and perpetual existence forever. I pictured her so clearly...when she was a young and beautiful woman with bright green eyes and long flowing strawberry blonde hair, and a smile that easily melted my steeled heart. Back then, my Georgetown professor son was just a young kid pretending to be Buck Rogers out in the backyard of our home in the outskirts of Glasgow.
    My wife and kid embodied such joy and happiness, and our lives seemed so complete. I’ll never forget the extreme pain I endured when I left them—how it literally destroyed me inside to do what I had to do. To do what I had done so many times before in the previous nineteen hundred years of my existence.
    Sometimes I’m not sure which is worse. Is it the