Four Things

This is a story about four things: honor, respect, friendship and love. If you are looking for sex – change stories because this doesn't have any graphic depictions of hot bodies slapping against each other in raw animal lust.

This is about honor: that internal system that integrates your values with your relationships into a shared and focused mindset that doesn't allow you to disgrace yourself because of failing to do what is right. A mindset that will not sanction any discredit to what or who you or the people within your circle are to you, for you, and with you.

This is about respect: that level of honor, appreciation and value that is shared with the people within your circle of relationships – not just family, but friends, business associates, and strangers.

This is about friendship: the one thing that once shared is given back equally. The one thing that cannot exist with respect and love. The one thing many of us don't seem to have enough of.

And this is about love between two people: the one that encompasses head and heart but not genitals. The one thing that transcends all emotions but cannot exist without honor, respect and friendship.

My name is Jack – but you probably already know that. I was speaking with a new friend recently and was reminded of this episode in my life. I am not sure how we got to the topic but it just seamed to be appropriate at the time. I decided then and there to write about it – not for any prurient sentiment but in an act of sharing what honor, respect, friendship and love can mean.

I had been working in Costa Rica running a club that I owned a large percentage of. I was tired of fighting the local mindset about what needed to be done and who was responsible to do it. My military training had taught me about accountability and responsibility and I just could not get them to engage. I decided to sell the club and look for somewhere else. I also had an idea for a style of club that would most likely not fly in Costa Rica. There weren't enough people with money.

During that time I met an extremely wealthy and powerful Panamanian banker who for these purposes I shall call Carlos. It turns out he was the major shareholder and president of one of the country's largest banks. For whatever reason, we connected and quickly became friendly. Although I was comfortable I wasn't in his social circle but that didn't seem to bother him. He extended himself including me whenever possible and I reciprocated – much to our mutual delight.

One evening I was discussing with him about my frustrations with the remaining members of my company and my longer term plans. He said, and I was clear about it, that it was cultural in Costa Rica especially and that I should look for a more cosmopolitan community for my next venture. He suggested Panama and offered his help, guidance, and business acumen as a courtesy. Many weeks later when I asked if he was still interested he said yes. I was honor bound to offer my friend a piece of the action. He refused and I insisted. I had learned about "face" in Taiwan when I had worked there. I found out much later how much that meant to Carlos.

After the sale I met him in Panama and we discussed the plan. Needless to say he was quite enthusiastic and used his influence and the power of his bank to locate and purchase a suitable location about three miles outside of Panama City, which for those of you that do not know, is located at the Pacific side of the Canal.

In short, the club was for members only and required a substantial membership fee and ongoing commitment. Carlos and I had decided early this was not going to be a Cadillac, but a Bentley – designed from the beginning to be the equivalent of a five star hospitality genre. When Carlos put the word out about the club we were inundated with membership requests from his circle of acquaintances. Within three weeks we were sold out, all the membership fees had been received, and we hadn't even finished the plans yet alone started the renovations. Six months to the day we opened with a gala party for the members – no spouses or guests permitted in accordance with club rules.

Eleven months later we were burned out. The police ruled it arson. Fortunately our insurance company paid us. Rather than rebuild, we sold the property and rebuilt the club in the top two floors of Carlos' building in the financial district. Better security availability for members during the day.

Why am I doing this amount of back story detail here, because it is part of the journey. It shows the maturing relationship between Carlos and me that came from working closely together toward our mutual goal and then getting there.

It was about then that I met Mariana, Carlos' wife. Theirs was an arranged marriage as had been done for generations of Carlos' family. She had been born and raised in Seville, Spain, and came from a wealthy and respected family known to Carlos' parents.

I will say that from my perspective, their marriage seemed to be working having had three children. They were attentive to each other but I was not naïve enough to think that Carlos did not have a least one mistress. I was not sure about Mariana however.

She was about five feet three and maybe 110 pounds of the best Spanish breeding and upbringing had to offer. Long dark hair, wide and large deep brown eyes and a splendid body that she obviously worked at keeping in shape. In short, she was an enchanting, beautiful and sensually graceful.

Mariana was an interior designer/decorator and made use of her husbands contacts to build a rather lucrative business. So when I purchased one of the high-rise condominiums three blocks from the new club, I asked her to decorate it. She had absolutely nothing to work from – the condominium had three walls of concrete and one of glass, concrete floors and a double door into the foyer I shared with the other five apartments on the floor. I gave her a budget, largely dictated by the financing for the purchase, and she went to work. What she came up with was breathtaking.

Over the next six months Mariana and I spent a great deal of time together and we got to be very good friends – the kind that a man and a women can be without the burden of sex. The kind that is mental not physical. The kind that ultimately begins to share more of themselves with each other. She was one of the most wonderful women I had ever met. It never occurred to me to cross the line.

When construction started I was seeing more and more of her, especially at the end of her day (the middle of mine) as she checked on the progress. Something began to change. I started receiving signals from her that were unmistakable. I had been married, had dated several women and knew, for sure, what was being sent. I did not respond or reciprocate.

We were having a working lunch when she interrupted me.

"Jack - Do you think I am attractive?" she asked.

"I think you are stunning" I responded. "Just look in the mirror – you cannot help but see that as well. But it is also the inside that is beautiful. Why do you ask?"

"Are we not ... "friends"?"

"I believe we are and would not wish it any other way." And then it hit me or should I say she hit on me. I was flattered and flabbergasted at the same time but I knew I had to get control quickly or this would get out of hand – something I new would impact my relationship with Carlos.

"Mariana" I said grasping her hand "this idea in your head must stop now. As attractive as you are to me, as much as I care about you, as much as you might think you want this to go to another level, it cannot. You are my partner's wife and he, like you, is my friend."

She began to cry. "I have embarrassed myself and I feel terrible. I was presumptuous and forward. You have really never given me any indication. Perhaps my issues with Carlos having a new mistress has had its effect. Please forgive me and continue to be my friend. I so enjoy our time together and I rely on your shoulder during difficult times."

"Of course! I would never wish it to be otherwise. Consider this our little secret."

We continued to remain very close even after I moved in to the stunning complex that she created. She even managed to arrange for a housekeeper/cook for me. The middle-aged woman had lost her husband and moved into the quarters that Mariana had set aside for staff in the condominium. Mariana vouched for her as she was her cousin.

Several very successful years later, things in Panama had changed but not my relationship with Mariana. She held a very special place in my head and my heart and I in hers – it was a remarkable, enriching and loving relationship.

Carter had given the Canal Zone back to the Panamanians in a big ceremony of wishful thinking. The Chinese had wrangled control of the Pacific inter-modal port operations and imported 250,000 laborers which put the Panamanian workers on the welfare roles. Mascosa's government could not get out of it's own way to deal with anything and Americans were not being treated quite as well as before – even those that had been there for many years. All this led me to the decision that it was time to leave. I asked Carlos to buy me out. He regretfully agreed.

Several months later we were in his conference room signing all the papers and Carlos had signed the authorization to transfer the funds to my account. As we stood to leave he asked me to wait a moment. He reached in his briefcase and pulled out a beautifully wrapped package.

"A gift form Mariana to remind you of our friendship". I had never seen him quite this emotional toward anyone except maybe his kids.

"Speaking of which" he continued "I want to talk about you and Mariana."

I was speechless and probably a little scared. I knew that in business we were equals at the club, and I believed we had become very close friends over the years. I had been to his home many times and his father had me calling him teo (uncle). I was always treated like a member of the family even by their children. I also knew that Carlos was capable of making someone disappear.

"Carlos. You are my friend, not just my partner. What is it you think you know?"

"I know you refused her advances and chose to be her friend - and mine."

"How long have you known?"

"Since it happened. She told me that night. I am not sure why but I am glad she did. It was then that I knew for sure you were a trustworthy and honorable friend – not just my partner. She was vulnerable and I could see there was something between you. You gave her the strength she needed to help herself back. I know you care deeply for each other and that it is like sister and brother and no more. I want you to know that I am indebted to you for not making me a cuckold and that you will always be welcome in my life."

And for the first time in the eleven years we knew each other – we hugged. Later that week we three shared a painful farewell. Mariana's hug goodbye was long and tearful.

Carlos and Mariana's youngest boy has decided to go to my alma mater. I made sure there was a place on the acceptance list with a not so modest contribution. I got a picture card from them during the holidays. Their daughter (middle child) is as beautiful as her mother and all grown up at eighteen. She is promised to a family equally as powerful and wealthy as Carlos'. Looks like a bank merger in the works.

When my mother took ill, and was in the hospital, Carlos and Marina flew to see me and make sure I was OK. They stayed with me at the hospital most of the three days they were there. My mother thinks he is such a sweet man and wanted to know if Mariana knew any nice single women.

I was wondering how he knew. He just smiled when I asked him.

"I keep an interest in the welfare of the important people in my life and especially my friends!" he offered. I never again will question his resources.

When they were leaving Mariana told me things between them were getting better and more loving every day and he had broken off with his mistress to concentrate on her. She looked radiant and happier than I had ever seen her. She said it was my doing.

Such is how it is with us. Hopefully, such as it will always be. God I miss those two.