There is a lot of combat talk in this ongoing series, and with good reason. It seems that life in society is more like war than life. It seems that the philosophy of war is more appropriate to health and peaceful living than any other philosophy at least for people who value reason and life. You can really be beaten down in this world unless you "fight, fight, fight, fight," as Frank Sinatra used to say in his live concerts when fooling around with the band. I don't think that he knew how prophetic he was.
Why is the warrior philosophy so important? In this world people do not want to just shoot you--or your ideas--down, they want to tear you to shreds, denigrate and humiliate you in the process and you are both supposed to laugh about it afterwards. These days someone can sue you or merciless attack you in the press and utterly destroy your reputation, and fully expect to go out for coffee and crumb cakes later. It is more like Wonderland than life.
There is a particular glee in maliciousness that did not seem to exist here before. I never lived through any other time, but in watching the great American classic films for example, you get a sense that things were not so dirty. That does not mean people were angels. Far from it. But, there did seem to be a kind of balance in society that people like you could appeal to, and even if you would not be heard, at least there was some kind of appeal. Just as an example, no matter how many signs are placed around places that are supposed to be quiet such as in libraries or movie theatres, people still insist on taking their bloody cell phone calls as if no one else on the face of the earth existed or mattered. It sends a very clear message: F-ck you! Who cares if it disturbs you. I'll do what I want! If you have the courage to try to appeal to someone to seek redress, then it becomes all about you, your unfriendliness, your unreasonableness, your "anger." This mentality is at the heart of the problem for rational people. It is mentality of homelessness, a mentality that sees ideas and values as nondescript entities disconnected and uprooted from any type of integrated system of ideas. Ayn Rand called them "floating abstractions. Leibniz called them "monads." An excellent American martial arts instructor was more straightforward. He just called them "bullshit." Whatever you call them, it is not surprising that people, American in particular, have great difficulty in critical thinking, completing a thought, because both require connecting ideas and that requires a working brain. When thinking matters through and integrating knowledge in general are held as noble goals, then one does not strive for "floating abstractions," but for understanding. When greater understanding is your purpose, at some point along your journey you realize that cell phones, loud talking, and horseplay in quiet places is inappropriate. Why? Because you have a sense of appropriateness, logic, order, cause, and effect. In other words, you have built a life based on an integrated system of knowledge that is biologically sound. That leads to common sense so that you don't have to be told or wait for someone to complain about out of place noises, you know it already and simply do not want to disturb no so much because you are saint, but because it just is not necessary.
Rational people, no matter how young you are, will feel an understandable repulsiveness at the flippant attitude that too damn many people get away with under the guise of "humor" or "wit." The greater question that will undoubtedly occur to you is why should you show prudence, caution, and consideration while others parade around flaunting their inconsiderately vulgar behavior? There is no other logical answer except that it is in your interests to do so. Here is an example of where the warrior philosophy comes into play. If you accept the premises of society, then you should turn the other cheek as it were because it is a part of some make-believe social contract. This is smack of dishonesty. On the other hand, if you take a more independent path, and place your survival at the top of your concerns, then you can coldly and objectively evaluate what to do in the face of gross injustice. If you say something to an obnoxious buffoon in a library or movie theatre will it cause you trouble? If you fight some ape-like moron because he insulted you, is the trade off in terms of jail time, loss of freedom, and opportunity for earning money worth the temporary satisfaction you may feel in pulverizing him or verbally putting her in her place? Usually the answer is no. The fact that you are so often confronted with such discouragingly negative choices in life shows not that you have a problem with your thinking, but that people in general are brutes with a very low intellectual capacity. Certainly in general they have a very low capacity for human understanding in all of its forms. In other words, unless you want to spend a lifetime in disillusioned anguish, you have to define concepts for yourself and build your own value system based on truth, reality, and preservation. That will undoubtedly lead you to a warrior philosophy.
Employers fire you without notice, teachers call your ideas stupid, parents humiliate or berate you in public or worse, they beat you in private while pretending to be pillars of society. Everywhere you turn, people behave more like sworn enemies than friends and it all seems to be based on one big illusion. From the perspective of truth and independence, it seems that the Founders of America were extraordinarily insightful about the threats to liberty, happiness, and life. While their emphasis was understandably focused on politics, the essence of the dilemma is directly applicable to the individual life. For, it seems that life in society is centered around slavery of one form or another. People seem to be overwhelming concerned about getting control over others. First they try with various carrots, bells, whistles or Trojan gifts: "be nice," "smile," "be friendly," "have fun," "be cool," which all translate to the same thing. "Make us feel comfortable by telling us how great we are, agreeing with us, and being more like us. If that does not work, they try various forms of guile like guilt: "you should do it to be a good neighbor, a good son, a good daughter, a good father, a good mother, a good citizen, a good soldier, a good leader, etc. Writers like Nietzsche encouraged people to question concepts like "good" so that the individual could determine what the word means exactly and how it is being used; for as he aptly put it "there is blood and cruelty at the bottom all 'good' things."
How people use words and their premises is a form of analysis that teachers rarely teach you in school. It is even rarer still for teachers to be bold, strong, and independent enough to encourage you question the premises they use because obviously that would call into question everything that they are teaching. However, if what they are teaching has the strength of truth, it will endure rigorous questions and stand the test of time. A person's desire for you to question their premises and beliefs is the mark of strength and truth. Truth needs no defense. For a teacher or a so-called intellectual, to become defensive toward your questions is the greatest indication that what they teach cannot stand on its own, and if an idea cannot stand on its own why would someone want to teach it?
Questions like these, which conventional outlets in society rarely encourage you ask, get straight to the heart of the matter. Nietzsche called it philosophizing with hammers and arrows, but these were just metaphors for intellectual fortitude. One of the ways to arrive at that kind of kind of intellectual strength is through a philosophy that builds its edifice from the ground up, starting with what is true and verifiable and going from there. In other words you start with the the premise that Ayn Rand called existence exists; or A is A. Aristotle said it too. All of the foolishness that encourage you to doubt reality, that "your reality is different from my reality," that "to be is to be perceived," and the like are just distractions, and generally lead you to drugs and madness. Life among men seems to be full of distractions that lead you nowhere.
If gifts and guile do not work, then people resort to outright intimidation: do it or else...we will fire you, hurt you, jail you, or kill you. While most of life is not always this extreme, history is full of enough of examples to show that this is a significant part of life that cannot be ignored, that is if you believe A is A, and the emperor has no clothes.
It may seem easier to go along with the flow, to buy into the illusion and refrain from "making waves." To be sure this path generally provides greater financial rewards for society rewards its obedient foot soldiers, those who proselytize its message without question. That of course rules out independence. On the other hand, if independence is important to you, then you must find some way to live in this world without betraying your values or the things that you hold dear. Since financial rewards are often tied to betrayal, it is a difficult challenge to face. It is worth facing however, not only because it makes you stronger and forges a character. It does, but these have become hollow platitudes by now. The challenge is worth facing because it makes your life more solid and meaningful in the end. Facing the challenge and overcoming it eventually--for it may take some time--will make you more flexible, intelligent, worldly, and strong. These were the kinds of values that the Framers of America held in high esteem. For, these are the kinds of values that endure the test of time and that always build a stronger life no matter what the circumstances.
To see how this is true read Man's Search for Meaning by Victor Frankel, Common Sense by Thomas Paine, or On a Genealogy of Morals by Frederic Nietzsche.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Art and Value
From time to time we will include book excerpts, short stories, poems, etc. that seem particularly helpful in illuminating what is at stake and the things that you have to protect in your life if you are going to live a life that is your own. Art, value, and ideas must be protected every bit as much as property, money, or life. Art is life. Ideas are life. Property is life. Time is life. Money is life. Life is a value. Life is the ultimate value. One of the reasons that America's framers of the Constitution were so amazing, is that their insight into humanity was extraordinary. For example, they sought to protect "freedom of speech" in order to protect ideas. They sought to protect property from "unlawful searches and seizures," the right to "hold assembly" and other important rights because each one of these represents individual life. You spend time to earn money, and time is a abstract concept. Time represents the minutes of your life that you spend doing something like earning money. If you spend your time earning money, money then becomes the product of your time and your life. They are causally connected. To understand that of course you cannot have given up the desire to know. In other words, knowledge, thinking, and reason must still be important values to you. You cannot have abandoned, as so many would have you do, the desire for independent thought. More fundamentally you cannot have relinquished the importance of thinking in your life.
To understand the causal connections between things, you have to be able to think critically and be willing to exert the effort to arrive at a logical conclusion. The fact that money, ideas, property, and art are values like life and are products of life is self-evident if you have not fled from thinking as so many have. And, if you have not abandoned the process of thinking and knowing, then you are often a minority, alienated, and perhaps vilified. To endure a vociferous condemnation for rational ideas is an extremely hard thing to bear. No one teaches you how to bear it or that it is even worth bearing. But, it is worth bearing. In the end your Independence is at stake. And, at the end of the day--as they say--your own ideas and your own Independence are all that you have.
The warrior philosophy and the fighting spirit give you the intellectual tenacity that you desperately need to survive in this world either as you are or as you want to be. An intellectual wasteland is the only other alternative, and you may have already noticed that on the horizon.
So, enjoy the story, and while reading it think also of what is at stake in your life. Can you see through the illusion?
Where Love Will Be King.[1]
© 2005 By D. L. Evans
“Stay away from that girl. Do you hear me? Keep it up, and you’ll end up just like Clearance, thirty-five, and can’t hold a job. And, even if he could, it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference because the State is up his ass for 50% of whatever he makes. That’s your happy world. Yes sir, that’s the place where you think love exists. Face it boy, people ain’t no damn good. You’d better learn to accept that. The Lord is all you’ve got. The Lord and tough love. That’s all there is boy, tough love.”
“But…”
“Boy, what did I tell you about “but-ing” me? There is no but. Now, get in that kitchen and fix me something to eat. You hear me?” James jerked his body as if to kick Michael.
Michael ran toward the kitchen. It was not the first time. Cruelty seemed to be a way of life, and fear a constant companion. He never understood it, but he reluctantly learned to accept it. He did not hate his father, but he did not love him either. He just wanted the beatings to stop. And, if there was something more out there than sorrow and pain, he wanted to find it, wherever it was, and forever leave behind the sadness that always seemed to rise and fall with the sun, forever a part of this life of ours. Love had to be more than pain, he thought. It had to be more than languor. He wanted to believe that.
“And hurry up! I want to get to church early today. Anna said that she’s coming to service. That woman could turn a saint into a sinner! She’s got one of those heart-shaped asses. You know what I mean? Of course you don’t. What could you possibly know about it? Anyway, I need to give a good sermon. You understand me boy? Yes Lord, I need to give a good sermon,” he muttered to himself while fixing his tie in the big mirror.
“Did you hear me boy?”
“Yes!” Michael exclaimed. Is Courtney coming too?”
“What did I just say to you? I don’t want you messing this up for me. I told you to keep away from that girl. She’s too smart for your dumb ass anyway.”
Michael and Courtney had been friends since childhood. They seemed to dream the same dream, with hearts that beat for the same love, a secret love. For, the world was cold toward what was to them soft and beautiful and pure.
“So just forget the whole damn thing, you hear?”
“Why?”
“Because I said so!”
“But, you are trying to be with her mother.”
“You want to get smacked? That’s none of your damn business. As long as I pay the bills around here, you will do as I say not as I do. Understand?”
“No.”
“Don’t get smart with me boy. Everybody’s a goddamn smart ass, but it’s nothing that a slap across the mouth won’t fix.”
James raised his hand. Michael ran.
“That’s what I thought. Boy, you need to learn your place. Everything and everybody on God’s green earth has its place, and you are no exception. I’ll tell you what you need to do. You need to stop daydreaming about things that will never be. You are never going to amount to anything if you don’t start making your way in this world. By the time I was your age I had two jobs and I was the leading the church choir. That’s the problem with you kids today: you have it too easy. And, didn’t I tell you that I don’t like my eggs runny?
Michael cringed.
James pulled his hand back, and swung the heavy part of his palm onto Michael’s temple. Michael’s eyes crossed for a moment, his knees buckled, and he dropped the plate on the cold, marble floor. The plate broke in half to splatter eggs, and pieces of smoked ham to distant corners. His father looked down at the mess with some surprise, and then refocused his attention on Michael. A sharp stroke of fear flashed in the pit of Michael’s abdomen as he looked at the dark scowl forming on his father’s face. Raising his fist high in the air as he stood towering over the seventeen-year-old boy, James swung it downward in a consuming rage. However, for the first time, Michael noticed something in himself that he had never felt before. Fear was beginning to give way to his own anger, anger at the pain, anger at the humiliation, but most of all anger at the loneliness he felt in a world full of people so different than he.
His father’s big hand crashed down on his skull, and just as Michael was about to fight back for the first time, he felt the sharp point of his father’s alligator shoes in the pit of his belly.
“I see that I need to teach you a lesson again. You never learn do you boy? This is going to hurt me more than it does you,” he said with a smile faintly showing on his grimaced face.
James unloosened his belt, and as Michael doubled over he could only think that there must be a place far away from such pain where love not hate was supreme.
* * *
The mixture of races made her unique, inside and out. She had caramel skin and wheat-colored hair. Her slightly sharp nose and angular lips blended well with her eyes, which were a deeply, warm mahogany brown. She was slender and moved like a ballerina.
“Courtney sit down! People are staring at you!”
“They always stare mama. I’m used to it now. Are you sure that Michael is coming?”
“Is that all you ever think about? People are going to think that you are a tramp.”
“Let them think what they want. They do that anyway. Didn’t you always tell me to be myself or was that a lie too?”
“Watch your mouth! I didn’t raise you to have a mouth like that.”
“You didn’t raise me, Papa did.”
“Your father was a bum. A real man would not have left us nothing. Always putting those silly ideas in your head about love and truth. What did that ever get him? What did it ever get me? If he had spent more time attending to his business, and me, we wouldn’t have to work so hard now.”
“How can you say that mama? He loved you.”
“To hell he did. All that man ever cared about was himself, and you. He treated everybody else like garbage. You were always his little angel. He didn’t care about what happened to me. The only reason he married me was because I was pregnant with you. Oh, he didn’t tell that to his little angel? I don’t know why. He told you everything else. Well, now you know. And, don’t look so surprised. That is the way it is. When do people ever plan on kids? Maybe some of those rich folk with their nannies and chauffeurs can plan them. But, the rest of us just have to settle for losing ourselves in a few minutes of pleasure to escape the pain of this life for a while. And, trust me, it’s only a few minutes. And men, they never want kids. They just want that good feeling that brings them into this world. At least nowadays we can get paid for it. If it weren’t for that, what else would we get out of it? So, you see, it’s just like I said, men are no damn good. And why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Men don’t interest me.”
“I see.”
“Don’t be silly mama. I don’t mean like that.”
“I’m glad to hear that at least.
“The men I know are hollow. They talk about the silliest things: football, basketball, baseball, or beer. And they laugh at everything. Everything is funny. But, I think that life is too serious for that. Sometimes it makes me sick. And, even if I bring up a serious topic they run away as if I have AIDS or something. It’s stupid.”
“You sound just like your father. I always told him that he thought too deeply about things.”
“I hate when you talk like that. You say it like it is an insult.”
“Look, men only think about one thing, and it is not your opinion I can tell you that. Men are the kind of things that laugh when they belch. They are the kind of things that try to see who can pee the furthest or talk the loudest. Do you think that that wants to hear your opinion? Look child, keep your opinions to yourself, and you’ll go far in this world.”
“I don’t want to go far in the world. I just want to be happy. But, they never seem to be the same.”
“Happiness does not exist. Life is just one distraction after another to break up boredom until you die. You will do well to remember that.”
“So, what are we doing here?”
“You ask too many questions. You always have. And nobody likes anybody that asks so many questions. But, if you must know, you need people, and Church is how you get accepted. That is just the way it is. I didn’t invent the world. I just live in it.”
“I can’t talk to you mama. You always say the same thing like every one else. You’ll understand when you grow up, blah, blah, blah. Well, I’m all grown up now and everyone still says the same thing. Michael is the only one I can talk to. At least he understands me.”
“There you go with Michael. Michael this. Michael that. I’m telling you Courtney, you mark my words; he will break your heart. They always do. Men are apes. Oh sure, they’ll laugh at your jokes no matter how stupid they are. They’ll look in your eyes and tell you how beautiful they are. They will pretend to be interested in the things you say even though you know they could bore the pants off a clown. You can even call them apes, and they’ll laugh and agree with you as if it is a compliment. All this just to get in your pants. But, in point of fact they are apes. They’ll hump anything that moves and beat on their chests like rulers of the jungle. And love, baby please! Their idea of love is a quick one after a night of hard drinking at a strip club. Sugar, you’d better get hip to the world if you don’t want to turn out like me.”
“I don’t think that you are so bad mama, but you don’t understand it and you don’t understand me. You never have. The men you know may be like that, but Michael isn’t. Not all men are dogs like you say.”
“I said apes not dogs.”
“Whatever.”
“Yeah well maybe so. But, I’ve been on this earth a lot longer than you, and I’ve known a lot of men in my day. The best you can hope for is a man with a job and not too many vices. Now Michael’s father, that is a different story. He has a pair if you know what I mean.”
“Mama!”
“What? Don’t act like little miss proper with me. I know what you and your friends talk about. Don’t pretend like you have never seen one before.”
“No!”
“Well, you are never going to get a boyfriend if you don’t learn to give it up every now and then.”
“Mama. How can you talk like that in church?”
“What? It’s the truth. You need to give it up sometimes if you want to
keep a man. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that you should go around jumping into bed with the first man who comes along. But, if you want to hold onto your man, you have to let him have a taste.”
“If you say so mama.”
“I do say so. As I said, Deacon James is different. Even as a Deacon he never passes judgment on the things that I’ve done. He’s not like the rest. If things were different, I mean if I wasn’t spoken for, who knows.”
“You mean Charlie? He doesn’t care about you mama. He calls you his little whore.”
“Oh, he doesn’t mean it. That is just his way of showing his love, that’s all. Besides, with my past who would have me? Now, don’t start any trouble. We’ve got a good thing with Charlie. His family has money and he has a good job. People respect him, maybe some of that will rub off on me, and if you play your cards right. . . .”
“--Does the respect of others mean so much to you? I get so tired of always having to do things to please others. Is that what life is all about? Playing games and making all the right moves? Don’t you want something more?”
“Shut up! What do you know about it? You don’t know anything about this stinking world or what it takes to get along. What am I supposed to do? Everybody talks about happiness, telling you to smile all the time. Well they can kiss my ass. Happiness? Ain’t nothing but some old bullshit if you ask me. All the things people expect you to do. Hell, it’s struggle enough just trying to find ways to pay the bills to hold on, and don’t dare fall behind in your bills. Then they’ll call you a loser, with a capital ‘L.’ Don’t dare have a low credit score. Then you can’t buy a good house or get a good rate, and don’t even think about living in an apartment, God forbid. You’ll really be a loser then because you are supposed to own things in this life, right? It’s all bullshit. Spendin’ all your time trying to live up to what other people say you should be, trying to get a gulp of fresh air before you go under again, and then you die. And don’t give me that shit that it’s all about attitude. When was the last time you bought some fried chicken with a positive attitude? I do love me some fried chicken though. That’s about all you have, those little things that carry you through. And, even for that you need money, unless you want to be like your cousin Quentin, locked up at Rikers for stealing. So, what do you know about it? Always getting these grand ideas about things. What makes you so special? You are no better than the rest of us. You don’t know anything about it. Now be quiet. The service is about to start.”
The church organ began to play a soft church hymn. The congregation stood to sing; the wood of the wooden pews creaked and echoed in the big hall. Courtney looked down at the words of the hymn: “amazing grace, how sweet the sound to save a wretch like me.”
She thought about what her mother had just said as she read the words to herself. Thoughts rode around in her brain like wild mustangs. It was difficult for her to accept the confusion that is so much a part of life. It always created a tortuous conflict; it seemed that one was not meant to think too deeply about things in this life, even though so many things in this life are worth thinking deeply about.
She looked up to see Michael standing in the doorway looking at her. She was glad. He jerked forward a little as his father pushed him to get going. Courtney felt a pang in the pit of her stomach, knowing what it felt like to want to capture a moment while others simply hurry it along, honking, tapping, rushing, irritatingly waiting…to go nowhere, when love wants to linger.
Still, it was good to see a friendly face. Church made her uncomfortable. All of the primping and strutting and pretending to be holy. She hated hypocrites and church seemed like one of their hangouts. She had nothing against God. In fact, she always wondered if he really existed or if God could be a woman. But, church seemed like just another place where people bunch together like grapes simply to see and be seen.
Courtney smiled as Michael turned back to see her. He was dressed smartly in de la Renta and Zegna. James always insisted that he dress to impress. ‘The first impression is the only impression that counts,’ James often said. He was very fond of platitudes.
Michael and Courtney stole away when they could to a pre-arranged meeting place after service while the adults were still occupied with gossip and tall tales. It was one of their rare and cherished moments of joy when no one really cared where they were.
New York can be a magical and romantic place. The thoroughfares are dense with shops and street vendors that engulf passersby in the charm of the moment where there is nothing else in the world but New York. They especially liked to take the train to Coney Island. The ride was long and the subway travels above ground for a good part of the way.
Shadows from old red brick buildings zipped across the floor of the subway cars as it passed from the darkness and into the light. The clank of steel against steel created a soothing almost hypnotic rhythm in a symphony of shadows that stretched out to the bay and eventually into the wide sea.
“Look how fast the shadows shoot by,” Courtney said.
They nestled closer.
“Ouch.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Does that hurt?”
“Yes, a little.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing?”
“Did your father hit you again?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why won’t you let me help?”
‘’What can you do?”
“I don’t know. But, there must be something.”
“What can anyone do? Nobody really cares anyway. It’s all a big game to avoid facing the truth.”
“What is?”
“Everything. I mean my father is always talking about being a man. Be a man this, be a man that. I get so tired of hearing that crap. He is just like everyone else. Be this, be that, but they never tell you what it is that you are supposed to be. It’s bullshit. They only say it when they want you to be something they are not or when they want you to be something they should be but aren’t. You know, he hits me and then says not to cry. So, just what am I supposed to do? Laugh? It just seems to be is an excuse for me to accept his abuse so that he can use me to make himself feel better. That is what it is all about with people in this life of ours. Finding some excuse to do whatever they want with impunity. They want to cut, but in a way that doesn’t bleed or leave a scar.”
“But you don’t do that.”
“I know. I’m just saying people, humans in general. I’m a human, but I’m not like that. Neither are you. So what do we do?”
“I don’t know.”
Michael reached down to lift her chin up.
“I can see love in your eyes, love and tears. Did you know that?”
“Really?”
“They always seem to go together.”
They kissed.
“Look, we’re here.”
The garbled, crackling voice of the conductor announced Coney Island. It was the last stop.
“Why don’t they ever get that fixed? Courtney asked incredulously.
“I mean, what is the point of their announcements when you can’t understand a word they say? I’m from New York and I can’t understand him. I can only imagine what foreigners must go through.”
“Welcome to America.”
They descended the train. It was a cool autumn afternoon. The wind gently carried the smell of salt and the sea to far away places. Seagulls, clean and white, circled high overhead. Their pensive cries echoed out toward the sea, their thin shadows cutting across the smooth yellow sand and the pier as people passed by with red cotton candy and fluffy white animals.
They held hands while they looked out toward the foam of the breaking waves. There was a slight chill in the air, but the wind seemed to excite happy memories even ones that never existed, but were wished for so strongly that they appeared to be real, memories of lost time, miss opportunities, things that could have been and might still be.
“It feels good to stand next to you,” Michael said.
“I wish that this moment would never end.”
He put his arm around her and squeezed a little. She smiled.
“Me too.”
Why is it so hard to be kind and understanding?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know what I like about you?”
“What?”
“You’re honest. At least you try to understand. Whenever I ask a question like that, I usually just get yelled at.”
“I’ve noticed that too.”
“I guess that’s what people know, anger and fear. So, they defend it even if it is wrong.”
“I guess. It’s sad though.”
“What?”
“That they are destined to do the same thing over and over.”
“I know. But, what about us Michael. What will happen to us? Our parents won’t let us see each other anymore.”
“I know. Even though they don’t mind committing a few sins of their own, they make us feel that we are the sinners.”
“Its so hypocritical.”
“Well look at the two little love birds!”
They turned to see a group of kids from PS 130. Lynwood was speaking. He was big and tall with eyes that bugged out of his head, and when he spoke he rubbed between his legs as his sign of manhood and of being pleased with the sound of his voice.
They were in the same grade at school. Lynwood was the captain of the football team, and very popular because everyone loved football. Ugly and brash, he had an art for turning trivia into vulgar conversation, and everybody loved it. He made people feel comfortable by appealing to the basest within them. He had many friends. Everyone said that he would go far in life. They were probably right.
“What are you doing here?” Courtney asked.
“None of your business half-breed.”
“Oooo,” they all chimed with that grunt-like laugh of the not-too-smart. Michael grew tense.
“What are you going to do about it punk?” Lynwood turned to Michael.
“I thought so. You see what I mean? All of your fancy words don’t mean nothing when I can kick your ass the minute you open your mouth.”
They all laughed. Lynwood felt very proud of himself.
“Come Michael let’s go.”
“Yeah Michael, listen to your bitch before you get spanked. You know baby if you were mine, I would never let you get cold.”
Courtney yanked on Michael’s arm and began to lead him away.
“Aww! Leaving so soon?” Lynwood said. He was full of banality on that day. It was a day like any other.
“Do you mind if we leave?” Michael asked when they were far away from the crowd.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m just tired of all of this. Everybody always talks about life as if it is great or something. It just seems to be full of ugliness to me. I spend so much time trying to avoid the pain that others cause. Do you think that there could ever be a place where you don’t have to fight for love? I don’t know. Sometimes it seems stupid to ask questions like that because such questions just aren’t asked. Then on the other hand, I can’t help it. It’s the way I feel.”
“But, I love that about you Michael.”
“And, I appreciate that you do. But, it never seems to be enough because I still feel angry and frustrated so much of the time. Is it me? I want to be different. I try to be different. But, I just can’t be like them.”
He pointed back toward the group that they left behind.
“I wouldn’t love you if you were.”
“I know. But, I guess that I’m talking more about the fight within me. The fight I have every day that I go out into the world and face all of the things that I find to be insane and discouraging. To be honest, it disgusts me. It just seems that all people care about are their own wants and desires. They never give a damn about anyone else. It’s all about them. I mean, my father is the Deacon of the church, but all he wants to do is add another notch to his belt. He talks about us living in sin, but he never asks me about you or how we feel, and he never thinks twice about committing a sin for himself. God will forgive him but condemn me? He has all the answers without knowing. How typical is that? It makes me so angry sometimes.”
He turned to Courtney.
“Why can’t we just get away from here?”
“You mean run away?”
“Why not? Is it so wrong to be happy?”
“No, but what would we do?”
“Live the way we want, without guilt or fear.”
“I just don’t understand why good things have to be so hard.”
“It’s people. They make everything difficult. With all of their talk about humanity and friendship, it doesn’t exist. Maybe you are right. What is so great about this life of ours? Living to please everyone else. And the first time we live for ourselves, they make us feel dirty, like common criminals and tell us it is for our own good. Do you know what I think?”
“What?”
“They just say that so they can keep doing what they do without changing. I hate it.”
* * *
“Where the hell have you been? Did you hear me boy?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Don’t get smart with me.”
“How can I if I am a dumb ass?”
“Are you looking for another beating?”
“Since when did you need an excuse for that?”
“What has gotten into you boy? Have you been smoking that crack, chronic or whatever the hell you kids call it?”
“Are drugs the only possible reason that I could speak up for myself?”
“What other reason would there be?”
“You have no idea do you?”
“So now you think that you’re smarter than me? I’m the one who brought you into this world and raised you with no help from a woman or from the State I might add. What could I possibly know? I’m just your father after all. I think that I know a few things about the world thank you very much. I know what you kids do nowadays, smoking that cheeba, doing body shots, having sex in hallways, disrespecting your elders. A life of debauchery; that is what you lead. I know all about it. What do you know about it?”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you. I sacrificed and toiled in bottom-feeder jobs for all of those years to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly and this is how you repay me.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“What do you mean that you didn’t ask me to do that? You ate the food didn’t you? You wore the clothes didn’t you?”
“What was I supposed to do? You said that God punishes people who kill themselves. So, I had to live didn’t I?”
“That is not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“I don’t apologize for anything I’ve done. I did the best that I could with the little I had. My father wasn’t worth a damn. He was either drunk or gone. The only time I saw him was when it was time to eat or on payday, my payday. Since he couldn’t hold a job, I had to earn money for the family. Do you know what kind of pressure that puts on a kid? But, I did it without complaint. So, don’t ask me what I know about it because I know plenty. You couldn’t do what I did.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know what you kids are like today. Your idea of hard work is to get up before noon. Your idea of a hard choice is Coke or Pepsi. Your idea of fun is drinking until you pass out. I know all about it.”
“And what about you? You preach all about sin and salvation when all you really want is another notch on your belt. You preach all about compassion and truth, and then you talk about people behind their backs. You talk about generosity and giving, and then you buy Movado watches and Volvos. You are such a hypocrite.”
As the words left his lips, Michael quickly realized what he had just said to his father. He felt shock, then joy, then fear. James clenched a fist and struck Michael in the eye. Lights twinkled in a vast darkness as Michael reflexively reached back while falling toward the island stove, his hand catching onto a knife there. Without thinking Michael’s hand grasped the knife as the world slowly came back into focus. Rage surged through his body in a hot flash, and he lashed out with the knife plunging it into the arm of his father. Blood began to soak through the cream-colored suit in a seeping crimson stain. James reached for the knife in his arm in utter dismay. When he finally looked up, Michael was gone and all James saw was the sunshine peering through the open door and the sound of little sparrows chirping. The world was oblivious to his pain.
* * *
Courtney was startled at the frantic knock on the wood of her window. She slowly arose and moved cautiously toward the sound. She peered out of the window and saw Michael. She was filled with joy and surprise. Sensing that something had happened by the look on his face, she lifted the window.
“Michael! Why did you climb all the way up here? You could have been hurt. Why are you breathing so hard?”
“I was running.”
“What happened?”
“Do you love me?”
“You know that I do. Why?”
“Did you mean what you said about going away with me?”
“I wish that we could.”
“Well, come with me.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. Will you come?”
“What about your father?”
“Forget about him.”
“Why, what happened.”
“Nothing. Are you coming?”
“But we need money. What about clothes?”
“Do you really want to be with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then come on!”
“Ok. Just a minute.”
Courtney disappeared for a moment and returned with a small black bag and a coat.
“Where are we going?"
“Away from here.”
“Grand Central?”
“Yes.”
The two left Courtney’s house, walked a bit, and caught the first bus after waiting a little while. They went to the back of the bus and sat quietly gazing out toward the front as the meaning of what they were doing started settling in. They arrived at Grand Central station at twilight.
“Where are we going?” Courtney asked.
“There!”
Michael pointed to the first train that he saw.
“Los Angeles? Is that where we are going?”
“No. It is just the first stop. From there we can go anywhere.”
“But where will we go from there?”
“Where we have always wanted to go.”
[1] Dedicated to Jacques Brel.
To understand the causal connections between things, you have to be able to think critically and be willing to exert the effort to arrive at a logical conclusion. The fact that money, ideas, property, and art are values like life and are products of life is self-evident if you have not fled from thinking as so many have. And, if you have not abandoned the process of thinking and knowing, then you are often a minority, alienated, and perhaps vilified. To endure a vociferous condemnation for rational ideas is an extremely hard thing to bear. No one teaches you how to bear it or that it is even worth bearing. But, it is worth bearing. In the end your Independence is at stake. And, at the end of the day--as they say--your own ideas and your own Independence are all that you have.
The warrior philosophy and the fighting spirit give you the intellectual tenacity that you desperately need to survive in this world either as you are or as you want to be. An intellectual wasteland is the only other alternative, and you may have already noticed that on the horizon.
So, enjoy the story, and while reading it think also of what is at stake in your life. Can you see through the illusion?
Where Love Will Be King.[1]
© 2005 By D. L. Evans
“Stay away from that girl. Do you hear me? Keep it up, and you’ll end up just like Clearance, thirty-five, and can’t hold a job. And, even if he could, it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference because the State is up his ass for 50% of whatever he makes. That’s your happy world. Yes sir, that’s the place where you think love exists. Face it boy, people ain’t no damn good. You’d better learn to accept that. The Lord is all you’ve got. The Lord and tough love. That’s all there is boy, tough love.”
“But…”
“Boy, what did I tell you about “but-ing” me? There is no but. Now, get in that kitchen and fix me something to eat. You hear me?” James jerked his body as if to kick Michael.
Michael ran toward the kitchen. It was not the first time. Cruelty seemed to be a way of life, and fear a constant companion. He never understood it, but he reluctantly learned to accept it. He did not hate his father, but he did not love him either. He just wanted the beatings to stop. And, if there was something more out there than sorrow and pain, he wanted to find it, wherever it was, and forever leave behind the sadness that always seemed to rise and fall with the sun, forever a part of this life of ours. Love had to be more than pain, he thought. It had to be more than languor. He wanted to believe that.
“And hurry up! I want to get to church early today. Anna said that she’s coming to service. That woman could turn a saint into a sinner! She’s got one of those heart-shaped asses. You know what I mean? Of course you don’t. What could you possibly know about it? Anyway, I need to give a good sermon. You understand me boy? Yes Lord, I need to give a good sermon,” he muttered to himself while fixing his tie in the big mirror.
“Did you hear me boy?”
“Yes!” Michael exclaimed. Is Courtney coming too?”
“What did I just say to you? I don’t want you messing this up for me. I told you to keep away from that girl. She’s too smart for your dumb ass anyway.”
Michael and Courtney had been friends since childhood. They seemed to dream the same dream, with hearts that beat for the same love, a secret love. For, the world was cold toward what was to them soft and beautiful and pure.
“So just forget the whole damn thing, you hear?”
“Why?”
“Because I said so!”
“But, you are trying to be with her mother.”
“You want to get smacked? That’s none of your damn business. As long as I pay the bills around here, you will do as I say not as I do. Understand?”
“No.”
“Don’t get smart with me boy. Everybody’s a goddamn smart ass, but it’s nothing that a slap across the mouth won’t fix.”
James raised his hand. Michael ran.
“That’s what I thought. Boy, you need to learn your place. Everything and everybody on God’s green earth has its place, and you are no exception. I’ll tell you what you need to do. You need to stop daydreaming about things that will never be. You are never going to amount to anything if you don’t start making your way in this world. By the time I was your age I had two jobs and I was the leading the church choir. That’s the problem with you kids today: you have it too easy. And, didn’t I tell you that I don’t like my eggs runny?
Michael cringed.
James pulled his hand back, and swung the heavy part of his palm onto Michael’s temple. Michael’s eyes crossed for a moment, his knees buckled, and he dropped the plate on the cold, marble floor. The plate broke in half to splatter eggs, and pieces of smoked ham to distant corners. His father looked down at the mess with some surprise, and then refocused his attention on Michael. A sharp stroke of fear flashed in the pit of Michael’s abdomen as he looked at the dark scowl forming on his father’s face. Raising his fist high in the air as he stood towering over the seventeen-year-old boy, James swung it downward in a consuming rage. However, for the first time, Michael noticed something in himself that he had never felt before. Fear was beginning to give way to his own anger, anger at the pain, anger at the humiliation, but most of all anger at the loneliness he felt in a world full of people so different than he.
His father’s big hand crashed down on his skull, and just as Michael was about to fight back for the first time, he felt the sharp point of his father’s alligator shoes in the pit of his belly.
“I see that I need to teach you a lesson again. You never learn do you boy? This is going to hurt me more than it does you,” he said with a smile faintly showing on his grimaced face.
James unloosened his belt, and as Michael doubled over he could only think that there must be a place far away from such pain where love not hate was supreme.
* * *
The mixture of races made her unique, inside and out. She had caramel skin and wheat-colored hair. Her slightly sharp nose and angular lips blended well with her eyes, which were a deeply, warm mahogany brown. She was slender and moved like a ballerina.
“Courtney sit down! People are staring at you!”
“They always stare mama. I’m used to it now. Are you sure that Michael is coming?”
“Is that all you ever think about? People are going to think that you are a tramp.”
“Let them think what they want. They do that anyway. Didn’t you always tell me to be myself or was that a lie too?”
“Watch your mouth! I didn’t raise you to have a mouth like that.”
“You didn’t raise me, Papa did.”
“Your father was a bum. A real man would not have left us nothing. Always putting those silly ideas in your head about love and truth. What did that ever get him? What did it ever get me? If he had spent more time attending to his business, and me, we wouldn’t have to work so hard now.”
“How can you say that mama? He loved you.”
“To hell he did. All that man ever cared about was himself, and you. He treated everybody else like garbage. You were always his little angel. He didn’t care about what happened to me. The only reason he married me was because I was pregnant with you. Oh, he didn’t tell that to his little angel? I don’t know why. He told you everything else. Well, now you know. And, don’t look so surprised. That is the way it is. When do people ever plan on kids? Maybe some of those rich folk with their nannies and chauffeurs can plan them. But, the rest of us just have to settle for losing ourselves in a few minutes of pleasure to escape the pain of this life for a while. And, trust me, it’s only a few minutes. And men, they never want kids. They just want that good feeling that brings them into this world. At least nowadays we can get paid for it. If it weren’t for that, what else would we get out of it? So, you see, it’s just like I said, men are no damn good. And why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Men don’t interest me.”
“I see.”
“Don’t be silly mama. I don’t mean like that.”
“I’m glad to hear that at least.
“The men I know are hollow. They talk about the silliest things: football, basketball, baseball, or beer. And they laugh at everything. Everything is funny. But, I think that life is too serious for that. Sometimes it makes me sick. And, even if I bring up a serious topic they run away as if I have AIDS or something. It’s stupid.”
“You sound just like your father. I always told him that he thought too deeply about things.”
“I hate when you talk like that. You say it like it is an insult.”
“Look, men only think about one thing, and it is not your opinion I can tell you that. Men are the kind of things that laugh when they belch. They are the kind of things that try to see who can pee the furthest or talk the loudest. Do you think that that wants to hear your opinion? Look child, keep your opinions to yourself, and you’ll go far in this world.”
“I don’t want to go far in the world. I just want to be happy. But, they never seem to be the same.”
“Happiness does not exist. Life is just one distraction after another to break up boredom until you die. You will do well to remember that.”
“So, what are we doing here?”
“You ask too many questions. You always have. And nobody likes anybody that asks so many questions. But, if you must know, you need people, and Church is how you get accepted. That is just the way it is. I didn’t invent the world. I just live in it.”
“I can’t talk to you mama. You always say the same thing like every one else. You’ll understand when you grow up, blah, blah, blah. Well, I’m all grown up now and everyone still says the same thing. Michael is the only one I can talk to. At least he understands me.”
“There you go with Michael. Michael this. Michael that. I’m telling you Courtney, you mark my words; he will break your heart. They always do. Men are apes. Oh sure, they’ll laugh at your jokes no matter how stupid they are. They’ll look in your eyes and tell you how beautiful they are. They will pretend to be interested in the things you say even though you know they could bore the pants off a clown. You can even call them apes, and they’ll laugh and agree with you as if it is a compliment. All this just to get in your pants. But, in point of fact they are apes. They’ll hump anything that moves and beat on their chests like rulers of the jungle. And love, baby please! Their idea of love is a quick one after a night of hard drinking at a strip club. Sugar, you’d better get hip to the world if you don’t want to turn out like me.”
“I don’t think that you are so bad mama, but you don’t understand it and you don’t understand me. You never have. The men you know may be like that, but Michael isn’t. Not all men are dogs like you say.”
“I said apes not dogs.”
“Whatever.”
“Yeah well maybe so. But, I’ve been on this earth a lot longer than you, and I’ve known a lot of men in my day. The best you can hope for is a man with a job and not too many vices. Now Michael’s father, that is a different story. He has a pair if you know what I mean.”
“Mama!”
“What? Don’t act like little miss proper with me. I know what you and your friends talk about. Don’t pretend like you have never seen one before.”
“No!”
“Well, you are never going to get a boyfriend if you don’t learn to give it up every now and then.”
“Mama. How can you talk like that in church?”
“What? It’s the truth. You need to give it up sometimes if you want to
keep a man. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that you should go around jumping into bed with the first man who comes along. But, if you want to hold onto your man, you have to let him have a taste.”
“If you say so mama.”
“I do say so. As I said, Deacon James is different. Even as a Deacon he never passes judgment on the things that I’ve done. He’s not like the rest. If things were different, I mean if I wasn’t spoken for, who knows.”
“You mean Charlie? He doesn’t care about you mama. He calls you his little whore.”
“Oh, he doesn’t mean it. That is just his way of showing his love, that’s all. Besides, with my past who would have me? Now, don’t start any trouble. We’ve got a good thing with Charlie. His family has money and he has a good job. People respect him, maybe some of that will rub off on me, and if you play your cards right. . . .”
“--Does the respect of others mean so much to you? I get so tired of always having to do things to please others. Is that what life is all about? Playing games and making all the right moves? Don’t you want something more?”
“Shut up! What do you know about it? You don’t know anything about this stinking world or what it takes to get along. What am I supposed to do? Everybody talks about happiness, telling you to smile all the time. Well they can kiss my ass. Happiness? Ain’t nothing but some old bullshit if you ask me. All the things people expect you to do. Hell, it’s struggle enough just trying to find ways to pay the bills to hold on, and don’t dare fall behind in your bills. Then they’ll call you a loser, with a capital ‘L.’ Don’t dare have a low credit score. Then you can’t buy a good house or get a good rate, and don’t even think about living in an apartment, God forbid. You’ll really be a loser then because you are supposed to own things in this life, right? It’s all bullshit. Spendin’ all your time trying to live up to what other people say you should be, trying to get a gulp of fresh air before you go under again, and then you die. And don’t give me that shit that it’s all about attitude. When was the last time you bought some fried chicken with a positive attitude? I do love me some fried chicken though. That’s about all you have, those little things that carry you through. And, even for that you need money, unless you want to be like your cousin Quentin, locked up at Rikers for stealing. So, what do you know about it? Always getting these grand ideas about things. What makes you so special? You are no better than the rest of us. You don’t know anything about it. Now be quiet. The service is about to start.”
The church organ began to play a soft church hymn. The congregation stood to sing; the wood of the wooden pews creaked and echoed in the big hall. Courtney looked down at the words of the hymn: “amazing grace, how sweet the sound to save a wretch like me.”
She thought about what her mother had just said as she read the words to herself. Thoughts rode around in her brain like wild mustangs. It was difficult for her to accept the confusion that is so much a part of life. It always created a tortuous conflict; it seemed that one was not meant to think too deeply about things in this life, even though so many things in this life are worth thinking deeply about.
She looked up to see Michael standing in the doorway looking at her. She was glad. He jerked forward a little as his father pushed him to get going. Courtney felt a pang in the pit of her stomach, knowing what it felt like to want to capture a moment while others simply hurry it along, honking, tapping, rushing, irritatingly waiting…to go nowhere, when love wants to linger.
Still, it was good to see a friendly face. Church made her uncomfortable. All of the primping and strutting and pretending to be holy. She hated hypocrites and church seemed like one of their hangouts. She had nothing against God. In fact, she always wondered if he really existed or if God could be a woman. But, church seemed like just another place where people bunch together like grapes simply to see and be seen.
Courtney smiled as Michael turned back to see her. He was dressed smartly in de la Renta and Zegna. James always insisted that he dress to impress. ‘The first impression is the only impression that counts,’ James often said. He was very fond of platitudes.
Michael and Courtney stole away when they could to a pre-arranged meeting place after service while the adults were still occupied with gossip and tall tales. It was one of their rare and cherished moments of joy when no one really cared where they were.
New York can be a magical and romantic place. The thoroughfares are dense with shops and street vendors that engulf passersby in the charm of the moment where there is nothing else in the world but New York. They especially liked to take the train to Coney Island. The ride was long and the subway travels above ground for a good part of the way.
Shadows from old red brick buildings zipped across the floor of the subway cars as it passed from the darkness and into the light. The clank of steel against steel created a soothing almost hypnotic rhythm in a symphony of shadows that stretched out to the bay and eventually into the wide sea.
“Look how fast the shadows shoot by,” Courtney said.
They nestled closer.
“Ouch.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Does that hurt?”
“Yes, a little.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing?”
“Did your father hit you again?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why won’t you let me help?”
‘’What can you do?”
“I don’t know. But, there must be something.”
“What can anyone do? Nobody really cares anyway. It’s all a big game to avoid facing the truth.”
“What is?”
“Everything. I mean my father is always talking about being a man. Be a man this, be a man that. I get so tired of hearing that crap. He is just like everyone else. Be this, be that, but they never tell you what it is that you are supposed to be. It’s bullshit. They only say it when they want you to be something they are not or when they want you to be something they should be but aren’t. You know, he hits me and then says not to cry. So, just what am I supposed to do? Laugh? It just seems to be is an excuse for me to accept his abuse so that he can use me to make himself feel better. That is what it is all about with people in this life of ours. Finding some excuse to do whatever they want with impunity. They want to cut, but in a way that doesn’t bleed or leave a scar.”
“But you don’t do that.”
“I know. I’m just saying people, humans in general. I’m a human, but I’m not like that. Neither are you. So what do we do?”
“I don’t know.”
Michael reached down to lift her chin up.
“I can see love in your eyes, love and tears. Did you know that?”
“Really?”
“They always seem to go together.”
They kissed.
“Look, we’re here.”
The garbled, crackling voice of the conductor announced Coney Island. It was the last stop.
“Why don’t they ever get that fixed? Courtney asked incredulously.
“I mean, what is the point of their announcements when you can’t understand a word they say? I’m from New York and I can’t understand him. I can only imagine what foreigners must go through.”
“Welcome to America.”
They descended the train. It was a cool autumn afternoon. The wind gently carried the smell of salt and the sea to far away places. Seagulls, clean and white, circled high overhead. Their pensive cries echoed out toward the sea, their thin shadows cutting across the smooth yellow sand and the pier as people passed by with red cotton candy and fluffy white animals.
They held hands while they looked out toward the foam of the breaking waves. There was a slight chill in the air, but the wind seemed to excite happy memories even ones that never existed, but were wished for so strongly that they appeared to be real, memories of lost time, miss opportunities, things that could have been and might still be.
“It feels good to stand next to you,” Michael said.
“I wish that this moment would never end.”
He put his arm around her and squeezed a little. She smiled.
“Me too.”
Why is it so hard to be kind and understanding?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know what I like about you?”
“What?”
“You’re honest. At least you try to understand. Whenever I ask a question like that, I usually just get yelled at.”
“I’ve noticed that too.”
“I guess that’s what people know, anger and fear. So, they defend it even if it is wrong.”
“I guess. It’s sad though.”
“What?”
“That they are destined to do the same thing over and over.”
“I know. But, what about us Michael. What will happen to us? Our parents won’t let us see each other anymore.”
“I know. Even though they don’t mind committing a few sins of their own, they make us feel that we are the sinners.”
“Its so hypocritical.”
“Well look at the two little love birds!”
They turned to see a group of kids from PS 130. Lynwood was speaking. He was big and tall with eyes that bugged out of his head, and when he spoke he rubbed between his legs as his sign of manhood and of being pleased with the sound of his voice.
They were in the same grade at school. Lynwood was the captain of the football team, and very popular because everyone loved football. Ugly and brash, he had an art for turning trivia into vulgar conversation, and everybody loved it. He made people feel comfortable by appealing to the basest within them. He had many friends. Everyone said that he would go far in life. They were probably right.
“What are you doing here?” Courtney asked.
“None of your business half-breed.”
“Oooo,” they all chimed with that grunt-like laugh of the not-too-smart. Michael grew tense.
“What are you going to do about it punk?” Lynwood turned to Michael.
“I thought so. You see what I mean? All of your fancy words don’t mean nothing when I can kick your ass the minute you open your mouth.”
They all laughed. Lynwood felt very proud of himself.
“Come Michael let’s go.”
“Yeah Michael, listen to your bitch before you get spanked. You know baby if you were mine, I would never let you get cold.”
Courtney yanked on Michael’s arm and began to lead him away.
“Aww! Leaving so soon?” Lynwood said. He was full of banality on that day. It was a day like any other.
“Do you mind if we leave?” Michael asked when they were far away from the crowd.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m just tired of all of this. Everybody always talks about life as if it is great or something. It just seems to be full of ugliness to me. I spend so much time trying to avoid the pain that others cause. Do you think that there could ever be a place where you don’t have to fight for love? I don’t know. Sometimes it seems stupid to ask questions like that because such questions just aren’t asked. Then on the other hand, I can’t help it. It’s the way I feel.”
“But, I love that about you Michael.”
“And, I appreciate that you do. But, it never seems to be enough because I still feel angry and frustrated so much of the time. Is it me? I want to be different. I try to be different. But, I just can’t be like them.”
He pointed back toward the group that they left behind.
“I wouldn’t love you if you were.”
“I know. But, I guess that I’m talking more about the fight within me. The fight I have every day that I go out into the world and face all of the things that I find to be insane and discouraging. To be honest, it disgusts me. It just seems that all people care about are their own wants and desires. They never give a damn about anyone else. It’s all about them. I mean, my father is the Deacon of the church, but all he wants to do is add another notch to his belt. He talks about us living in sin, but he never asks me about you or how we feel, and he never thinks twice about committing a sin for himself. God will forgive him but condemn me? He has all the answers without knowing. How typical is that? It makes me so angry sometimes.”
He turned to Courtney.
“Why can’t we just get away from here?”
“You mean run away?”
“Why not? Is it so wrong to be happy?”
“No, but what would we do?”
“Live the way we want, without guilt or fear.”
“I just don’t understand why good things have to be so hard.”
“It’s people. They make everything difficult. With all of their talk about humanity and friendship, it doesn’t exist. Maybe you are right. What is so great about this life of ours? Living to please everyone else. And the first time we live for ourselves, they make us feel dirty, like common criminals and tell us it is for our own good. Do you know what I think?”
“What?”
“They just say that so they can keep doing what they do without changing. I hate it.”
* * *
“Where the hell have you been? Did you hear me boy?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Don’t get smart with me.”
“How can I if I am a dumb ass?”
“Are you looking for another beating?”
“Since when did you need an excuse for that?”
“What has gotten into you boy? Have you been smoking that crack, chronic or whatever the hell you kids call it?”
“Are drugs the only possible reason that I could speak up for myself?”
“What other reason would there be?”
“You have no idea do you?”
“So now you think that you’re smarter than me? I’m the one who brought you into this world and raised you with no help from a woman or from the State I might add. What could I possibly know? I’m just your father after all. I think that I know a few things about the world thank you very much. I know what you kids do nowadays, smoking that cheeba, doing body shots, having sex in hallways, disrespecting your elders. A life of debauchery; that is what you lead. I know all about it. What do you know about it?”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you. I sacrificed and toiled in bottom-feeder jobs for all of those years to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly and this is how you repay me.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“What do you mean that you didn’t ask me to do that? You ate the food didn’t you? You wore the clothes didn’t you?”
“What was I supposed to do? You said that God punishes people who kill themselves. So, I had to live didn’t I?”
“That is not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“I don’t apologize for anything I’ve done. I did the best that I could with the little I had. My father wasn’t worth a damn. He was either drunk or gone. The only time I saw him was when it was time to eat or on payday, my payday. Since he couldn’t hold a job, I had to earn money for the family. Do you know what kind of pressure that puts on a kid? But, I did it without complaint. So, don’t ask me what I know about it because I know plenty. You couldn’t do what I did.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know what you kids are like today. Your idea of hard work is to get up before noon. Your idea of a hard choice is Coke or Pepsi. Your idea of fun is drinking until you pass out. I know all about it.”
“And what about you? You preach all about sin and salvation when all you really want is another notch on your belt. You preach all about compassion and truth, and then you talk about people behind their backs. You talk about generosity and giving, and then you buy Movado watches and Volvos. You are such a hypocrite.”
As the words left his lips, Michael quickly realized what he had just said to his father. He felt shock, then joy, then fear. James clenched a fist and struck Michael in the eye. Lights twinkled in a vast darkness as Michael reflexively reached back while falling toward the island stove, his hand catching onto a knife there. Without thinking Michael’s hand grasped the knife as the world slowly came back into focus. Rage surged through his body in a hot flash, and he lashed out with the knife plunging it into the arm of his father. Blood began to soak through the cream-colored suit in a seeping crimson stain. James reached for the knife in his arm in utter dismay. When he finally looked up, Michael was gone and all James saw was the sunshine peering through the open door and the sound of little sparrows chirping. The world was oblivious to his pain.
* * *
Courtney was startled at the frantic knock on the wood of her window. She slowly arose and moved cautiously toward the sound. She peered out of the window and saw Michael. She was filled with joy and surprise. Sensing that something had happened by the look on his face, she lifted the window.
“Michael! Why did you climb all the way up here? You could have been hurt. Why are you breathing so hard?”
“I was running.”
“What happened?”
“Do you love me?”
“You know that I do. Why?”
“Did you mean what you said about going away with me?”
“I wish that we could.”
“Well, come with me.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. Will you come?”
“What about your father?”
“Forget about him.”
“Why, what happened.”
“Nothing. Are you coming?”
“But we need money. What about clothes?”
“Do you really want to be with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then come on!”
“Ok. Just a minute.”
Courtney disappeared for a moment and returned with a small black bag and a coat.
“Where are we going?"
“Away from here.”
“Grand Central?”
“Yes.”
The two left Courtney’s house, walked a bit, and caught the first bus after waiting a little while. They went to the back of the bus and sat quietly gazing out toward the front as the meaning of what they were doing started settling in. They arrived at Grand Central station at twilight.
“Where are we going?” Courtney asked.
“There!”
Michael pointed to the first train that he saw.
“Los Angeles? Is that where we are going?”
“No. It is just the first stop. From there we can go anywhere.”
“But where will we go from there?”
“Where we have always wanted to go.”
[1] Dedicated to Jacques Brel.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)