You know I don't think I minded being left alone. I didn't. Maybe you're one of those people who just wants you to walk past and not say anything. You know... like when you stub a toe... and that hot wave of endorphin rich pain washes over you? I'm one of those people. Id much prefer not to be noticed. If you tried to help me now I would bite your arm off at the elbow and then spit it at your mother.
I've heard from people from back then... the Senators. They've contacted me since... apologizing. Offering 'sorrys' for being 'immature'. Some sent long long emails, some through Facebook. And days after a house fire... they would likely bring me water-balloons and salt water taffy. We went from spending hours in a big group laughing in the big empty dinning common to nothing. I couldn't speak to them. I couldn't look at them. Don't get me wrong I was mad at them for me... but ever so much worse. I was shocked stupid. I was shocked silent because they brought danger to us. Some consolation all those late dinners together were now...our jokes and snickering catching the attention of the hostess staff in the building, who on occasion would waddle over to make sure we weren't actually enjoying ourselves. Things change. Let's just say if they ran for an office now, I might do some campaigning against them. Not just because they were selfish.... it was because of what they nearly did. They nearly took my family.
Do you know though... I hit upon a little stroke of luck in those nasty times. A gift you might say. I discovered something. The fatal flaw that saved us in the end. Or at least saved us for the time being.
Work was a fuckery. I had a headache that was bearing patiently into the back of my eyes. My eyes were watery from it and I could feel the edges of them burn when I closed my eyes. I didnt have any advil, and there was none at the store. I wasnt shifting that day. Drive through had been steady. It may have been a thursay. It feels like it was that or a Tuesday. As the memory of it simmers in my mind. Either way much lunch break finally lumbered around. I had thirty precious minutes to get to publix, and buy some pain killers. Maybe something to eat and then storm back into work in time to mop the lobby. That was plan anyways.
I had located the pills I needed and was looking for something in a jar, or maybe some soup... ah that was it. I hit on a sub. That'll be fine. Someone was calling. The name on the phone was Laura Thompson. It was rare that she called. I mean she and I were friends, but we only hung out tangentially... whenever I ran into her or saw her at church. She was a very pale skinned girl with big watery blue eyes. Dark wet looking brown hair that always had just too tight of a curl to it. Or perhaps rather a shade too tangled. Some call it the natural look. I do not. She was most notable to me because she was emotionally sanguine and chiefly concerned herself with every lost cause that was just so lost as to be time wasted. She prayed a lot from what I can tell. Im sure she meant it a lot too. She dressed like an English teacher who desperately wanted to be an English person. Alac.
I picked up the phone.
"Hi."
"Josh! Where are you right now...."
"Im at publix... I cant get rid of this headache... Im getting lunch what's up?" I was baffled as to why she would have called me at that hour.
"Josh... we need to talk like right; right now." There was something itchy in her voice it sounded like panic.
"Oh... well we are talking... aren't we? Whats wrong?" I prompted. I had 30 minutes. I could eat or then not eat. I was going to eat.
"Sooo.... Ive been talking with Chris and Ray..."
My pupils narrowed.
"And Josh I cant believe it! You're totally gay... Like you're a homosexual!" She spat into the phone. Her words were making the same sounds children make when they're eating pudding.
"Huh?..." I stood still on aisle 5 at the publix on pelham rd.
" Where are you right now?"
"I just... like I said Im at publix. Ive got thirty minutes to my meal break. I dont know what you're talking about. I have to go."
"OK ok... WAIT... Josh hear me out. Im on the way to where you are stay there. Im coming."
"I uh. Ok..... "
She hung up. Undoubtedly she and her clan of other natural looking people had simply been riding around... guessing where I may be. I mercifully made it to the end of the line at check out and was on my way to the car... Maybe I'd luck out maybe she wouldnt be there.
She was. She called me in the parking lot. I saw the name on the phone but just slid the bar to ignore. She stalked up behind me in the parking lot. Eyes so much the more than watering.
"Josh! I cant believe this!... Why didn't you tell me?" She squared her shoulders at me. This other girl that was with her hung back like back up. Perhaps its a HAZMAT thing... 2nd stage protocol, in case I escaped.
"Why are you here right now?" The pain in my head was melting away, and I could feel a strange black coldness growing in me. Swelling quickly like a summer thunderstorm. I could feel that behind my eyes now quickly wiping out what was apparently just an imagined headache.
"I have thirty minutes to eat and try to get this headache under control and go back to work. What were you hoping to accomplish here."
"Josh! You're not listening. Ray and Chris... they told me everything. They told me how you and x were together! I'm here because I don't know what to do. I mean I cant just not tell people...You have to know it's wrong right?"
You know those scenes from action films. The ones where a protagonist watches as a large structure falls. The camera pans around and the score drops out... no sound at all. In some cases just a single high pitch is audible in the back ground. This happened then. And just as quickly I knew what must be done.
"What exactly, in as few words as possible did Ray and Chris tell you?" I said quietly, hawk-like.
"Well um.... " She started forming tears. "They said that you two were like together... that you had been for a while, and nobody knew about it. They said that they couldn't be involved with it anymore because... because Ray said that he knew that it was wrong. It's true isnt it!? I mean... It has to be right? Does Amanda know about it? I want to help you!... But i dont know how....Let me help you!"
I stared at her. Remorseless. Feeling out the play. Like I was playing a game of pool. This must strike that. This angle must strike that. A little chalk... a little luck. Go.
"Laura. Im not sure what all people have been saying about me. But to be honest I don't really have time to chat with you. I don't know why Ray or Chris would have said any of that. I have to go to work now. Your concern is appreciable. I have to go now."
All of the was delivered with a succinctness nearly absent in my other talks with anyone.
I got into my car and drove the less than a mile back to work. I wasn't hungry anymore. I wasnt anything anymore.
I carbon copied three people to a text and pressed 'send.'
Something has happened. Dont speak with anyone. We need to meet tonight. 10:30 I'll come to you.
Showing posts with label Church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Church. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Collusion: Part XXXII
She was trying to stay calm I think. To slip past them... That's what she had been trained for... But in the deadness and the silence... in that black tension, now we would see what would come of the training. She was hiding in the thick evergreens. The trees had begun to clear as she had made her way out of the deeper woods... I felt the fear with her. I sensed instinctively she was being followed.
The moonlight was weak. The clouds above, skeletal and fickle. I had no idea how long she had been running, but she wasn't breathing very hard. I caught a little glimpse at her, pale and thin in the blue light from the sky. She had a decidedly angular face. A thin nose that turned up ever so little at the end... and her eyes were a kind of black that ate in all the light around them.
Black hair hung to her shoulders and she was dressed for running and hiding.
Then before I knew what to think about it... they were around her. The smallest of rustlings back towards the woods and my glance darted towards it with her. Then two of them shot across the clearing towards her.
Dogs... no wolves. They bolted forward. Quick and silent like fish. The woman made no sound herself but dashed from her hiding place and began running. I followed them... Trying to hide myself... I was terrified of the wolves. I had to help this girl though. I ran after the group.
We ran for some minutes... the trees got more and more sparse... And then I stopped quickly, noticing that they had as well. Because there was no longer any land to run on. We had come to the edge of a cliff.
The woman was being yanked around by the two hounds. It was no where as clear an image as I would have liked. The shapes became vague in the half light. They were as big as I was and bent with all sorta of blood lust on killing this girl. I looked on horrified... I looked around for some way to help her. A stick. A stone. Something. But I was forced to look back as I heard a scream. From her. This girl. She had pulled out a little short knife from a boot and stuck one of the dogs in the neck. And kicked the other off of her. But there were more of them... I felt the breath of one of them on the back of my neck and yelled out as it brushed past me into the clearing towards the girl. It didn't hear me. It didn't stop. It made no sign it had noticed me at all. Now it was five of them darting her way. Swift and silent as shadows across the white sand of the clearing. This time I ran out with them. There were too many. She couldn't get them all.
As I looked on though she had kicked the first two approaching in the face. Kicked them down flat. They struggled to get up. But then as if frightened... the others began to back away from her.
They whimpered and growled and backed away back towards the woods.
I stopped running towards them... and watched the cowering back, wondering at this odd and fortunate chain of events. The growled low... and sat down on their haunches menacing. The stricken ones staggered to their feet and joined the others in a wide circle around the girl... Who... oddly was smiling.
Ha ha ha! She laughed a laugh that sounded as careless as a teenagers. "I saw you running with them... Always sending out the boys after me... How many of them have I killed?'
Her smile was galvanized by the blue black moonlight.
I couldn't see who she was talking to until a moment later. A small thin man... barely as tall as me and much thinner stepped out of the shadow of the woods. He could have been a child for all that I knew... but he was dressed so perfectly as to be unrealistic of his jaunt through the woods just now. A tiny black suit. White french cuffs and a stiff white collar.
"Well this time you took it... Congratulations..." The man said. His voice was cracked and deep and completely disturbing for such a small child like person. "We'll have it back now though, thankyou."
He said this with absolutely no emotion. No inflection. And his voice sounded so familiar. Like someones that I had always known.
The woman did not respond to this except to spit on the ground in contempt. "Ill do what I came here for she said... and with that she flung her little boot knife at the boy... flink. As it nearly struck him in the face he flicked it to the ground....
The wolves grew vocal and angry at this... As if it were an affront to the entirety of their religion and made for the girl once again... And this time they were not alone. The little man rushed the distance between him and the cliff and quickly caught the girls neck making it there before the dogs. Jumping up on her knees to make the distance and then pulling her down with him to accommodate his shortness at the ground.
"What now girl?" Impish boy called to her sweetly as he was crushing her neck... "Give me back what's mine? Ill let you go?" The intensity with which the boy was crushing her neck was devastating to watch... The once gloating smile and taunting look dropped from her face leaving a blank white knowledge in her eye. She had chanced too much. She hadn't run fast enough.
Then there was something else. Something foreign that I'd never seen a human express.
A fastness. A calmness.
A quick snatch and now she had him by his throat as well... She pounced and pushed him onto his back using her height as an advantage. The wolves stood around taught as a drawn bow, but would not apparently challenge the contestants...
"And what of your family? You sister? What of them?" The little man asked his face rigid with the struggle...
The girl pulled out of his grasp and looked down on his as struggled wildly. "I know where they've gone."
"Then you must arrange to see them again! You must arrange freedom for them!" The little squealed at her.
The girl smiled at this, to my surprise, and said..." I'd much rather you visit them for me."
Little man snapped his finger and the wolves shot forward. Just then, though, my mouth fell open as slick black wings opened from the girls back and beat down once and quickly, just diving over the heads of the charging dogs, and over to her little knife in the sand...
She quickly pulled little man by the hair of his head and beat those wings three or so times more to hover over the dogs who were below her now yapping and whining for the leader to be returned.
"Remember this!" She screamed at the dogs. "Remember how there was nothing you could do!" Remember ... remember when you begin to feel safe again!" She laughed a little... I couldn't tell who was evil any more... I couldn't tell who I should help.
She fingered the tiny knife in her right hand and then quickly pulled it across little mans throat...
He en-hailed with a slight chug as she dropped him to the ground and made the smallest of thuds in the dusty sand.
The wolves looked up angrily and she flew off.
I bolted up sweating as my alarm rolled pleated out its tell tale fog horn sound.
Blink. Blink.
"DAMMIT!" Churned through my head like a track on a CD skipping as I jumped down from my top bunk to look for clothing and shoes. It can not be 7:50... It just can NOT BE! Kakis. Check. Ok. Teeth... NO! no. You have 10 minutes! It takes you 6 to make it across from your room! Shirt. Books. .... Tie.
Grrraaaaah! I was mad as hell. How could I have hit snooze that many times! I was stepping out of the room as I noticed and odd sensation... "The carpet is very short here... i thought." Gah! Shoes... I slipped some on and snatched at a very large, very ugly scarf on my way out the door.
:slam!: I passed boys in various stages of un-dress through the hall as I dashed madly for the side door of the dormatory.
"Hi josh!" My hall leader called out brightly. He'd obviously been slowly sipping Turkish coffee for hours.
"GrumN pEeh. Rah." I said as I zipped past him. Tucking my shirt in in the mean time.
I skipped down the stairs to the first floor exit two at a time glancing at my MOTOrazor the whole While. 7:54.
"OK. Alright Mr. Medlin. You're gonne be just fine.... just fine!" I heard in my head.
I shot out of the building forgetting all social graces and a bumped past two senior 'handsome soccer players.'
"Sorry! Sorry!" I offered as they shot me looks of disgust.
"Late... I'm Sorry!"
And then as the fates must have decided. There was Amanda. Even now as I type the name, it brings an utter revolt. So much so that I was required to look away from my typing and stare at a dark corner of the room.
Amanda Huss. Be mindful reader, it was not so then. 'Then' it hardly made a difference when I saw her. But.... the time would come... let it be known.
She wandered past with a group of acads.
"Josh!" She called out from the fray of them.... "Josh! Hi!"
I turned and greeted her happily.
"Hey Manda! Hey nice to see you." I said... Walking backwards away from her towards my classroom.
"Hey... you commin to church tonight?" She asked smiling at me all red haired and jolly.
"Yeah!... yeah... Ill see ya. I've gotta run. Late for Doctrines..." I turned and jogged towards lecture B.
I made it at the sound of the bell. The kids in the seats next to me all seemed rather perturbed at the size of my book bag; but it couldnt be helped. I didn't have time to stroll back to my room to change and fraternize with my friends on the hall between classes. I would be going till 1PM. And then work. So I squeezed in between peoples twice my size. I must have looked like a pack mule.
"Alright students" said the withered old man at the head of gray room.. "Would you please all take out a pencil and some notebook paper... and write for me todays quiz. Word perfect... John 4:24. You will have ten minutes to complete this....
Ok. Ok. I don't have to worry about this... but I did. Amongst all the things that Id gathered from my room on the way out, none of them were either pencil, nor paper. I whispered and annoyingly borrowed them from other students in my row... and began to write.
"John 4:24"
"God is spirit, and they that worship him should worship him in spirit and in truth."
I signed my name, and passed my paper to the end of the row for grading and then promptly fell asleep. I wandered if I could find out where that girl had flown off to... I wondered if I should follow her.
The moonlight was weak. The clouds above, skeletal and fickle. I had no idea how long she had been running, but she wasn't breathing very hard. I caught a little glimpse at her, pale and thin in the blue light from the sky. She had a decidedly angular face. A thin nose that turned up ever so little at the end... and her eyes were a kind of black that ate in all the light around them.
Black hair hung to her shoulders and she was dressed for running and hiding.
Then before I knew what to think about it... they were around her. The smallest of rustlings back towards the woods and my glance darted towards it with her. Then two of them shot across the clearing towards her.
Dogs... no wolves. They bolted forward. Quick and silent like fish. The woman made no sound herself but dashed from her hiding place and began running. I followed them... Trying to hide myself... I was terrified of the wolves. I had to help this girl though. I ran after the group.
We ran for some minutes... the trees got more and more sparse... And then I stopped quickly, noticing that they had as well. Because there was no longer any land to run on. We had come to the edge of a cliff.
The woman was being yanked around by the two hounds. It was no where as clear an image as I would have liked. The shapes became vague in the half light. They were as big as I was and bent with all sorta of blood lust on killing this girl. I looked on horrified... I looked around for some way to help her. A stick. A stone. Something. But I was forced to look back as I heard a scream. From her. This girl. She had pulled out a little short knife from a boot and stuck one of the dogs in the neck. And kicked the other off of her. But there were more of them... I felt the breath of one of them on the back of my neck and yelled out as it brushed past me into the clearing towards the girl. It didn't hear me. It didn't stop. It made no sign it had noticed me at all. Now it was five of them darting her way. Swift and silent as shadows across the white sand of the clearing. This time I ran out with them. There were too many. She couldn't get them all.
As I looked on though she had kicked the first two approaching in the face. Kicked them down flat. They struggled to get up. But then as if frightened... the others began to back away from her.
They whimpered and growled and backed away back towards the woods.
I stopped running towards them... and watched the cowering back, wondering at this odd and fortunate chain of events. The growled low... and sat down on their haunches menacing. The stricken ones staggered to their feet and joined the others in a wide circle around the girl... Who... oddly was smiling.
Ha ha ha! She laughed a laugh that sounded as careless as a teenagers. "I saw you running with them... Always sending out the boys after me... How many of them have I killed?'
Her smile was galvanized by the blue black moonlight.
I couldn't see who she was talking to until a moment later. A small thin man... barely as tall as me and much thinner stepped out of the shadow of the woods. He could have been a child for all that I knew... but he was dressed so perfectly as to be unrealistic of his jaunt through the woods just now. A tiny black suit. White french cuffs and a stiff white collar.
"Well this time you took it... Congratulations..." The man said. His voice was cracked and deep and completely disturbing for such a small child like person. "We'll have it back now though, thankyou."
He said this with absolutely no emotion. No inflection. And his voice sounded so familiar. Like someones that I had always known.
The woman did not respond to this except to spit on the ground in contempt. "Ill do what I came here for she said... and with that she flung her little boot knife at the boy... flink. As it nearly struck him in the face he flicked it to the ground....
The wolves grew vocal and angry at this... As if it were an affront to the entirety of their religion and made for the girl once again... And this time they were not alone. The little man rushed the distance between him and the cliff and quickly caught the girls neck making it there before the dogs. Jumping up on her knees to make the distance and then pulling her down with him to accommodate his shortness at the ground.
"What now girl?" Impish boy called to her sweetly as he was crushing her neck... "Give me back what's mine? Ill let you go?" The intensity with which the boy was crushing her neck was devastating to watch... The once gloating smile and taunting look dropped from her face leaving a blank white knowledge in her eye. She had chanced too much. She hadn't run fast enough.
Then there was something else. Something foreign that I'd never seen a human express.
A fastness. A calmness.
A quick snatch and now she had him by his throat as well... She pounced and pushed him onto his back using her height as an advantage. The wolves stood around taught as a drawn bow, but would not apparently challenge the contestants...
"And what of your family? You sister? What of them?" The little man asked his face rigid with the struggle...
The girl pulled out of his grasp and looked down on his as struggled wildly. "I know where they've gone."
"Then you must arrange to see them again! You must arrange freedom for them!" The little squealed at her.
The girl smiled at this, to my surprise, and said..." I'd much rather you visit them for me."
Little man snapped his finger and the wolves shot forward. Just then, though, my mouth fell open as slick black wings opened from the girls back and beat down once and quickly, just diving over the heads of the charging dogs, and over to her little knife in the sand...
She quickly pulled little man by the hair of his head and beat those wings three or so times more to hover over the dogs who were below her now yapping and whining for the leader to be returned.
"Remember this!" She screamed at the dogs. "Remember how there was nothing you could do!" Remember ... remember when you begin to feel safe again!" She laughed a little... I couldn't tell who was evil any more... I couldn't tell who I should help.
She fingered the tiny knife in her right hand and then quickly pulled it across little mans throat...
He en-hailed with a slight chug as she dropped him to the ground and made the smallest of thuds in the dusty sand.
The wolves looked up angrily and she flew off.
I bolted up sweating as my alarm rolled pleated out its tell tale fog horn sound.
Blink. Blink.
"DAMMIT!" Churned through my head like a track on a CD skipping as I jumped down from my top bunk to look for clothing and shoes. It can not be 7:50... It just can NOT BE! Kakis. Check. Ok. Teeth... NO! no. You have 10 minutes! It takes you 6 to make it across from your room! Shirt. Books. .... Tie.
Grrraaaaah! I was mad as hell. How could I have hit snooze that many times! I was stepping out of the room as I noticed and odd sensation... "The carpet is very short here... i thought." Gah! Shoes... I slipped some on and snatched at a very large, very ugly scarf on my way out the door.
:slam!: I passed boys in various stages of un-dress through the hall as I dashed madly for the side door of the dormatory.
"Hi josh!" My hall leader called out brightly. He'd obviously been slowly sipping Turkish coffee for hours.
"GrumN pEeh. Rah." I said as I zipped past him. Tucking my shirt in in the mean time.
I skipped down the stairs to the first floor exit two at a time glancing at my MOTOrazor the whole While. 7:54.
"OK. Alright Mr. Medlin. You're gonne be just fine.... just fine!" I heard in my head.
I shot out of the building forgetting all social graces and a bumped past two senior 'handsome soccer players.'
"Sorry! Sorry!" I offered as they shot me looks of disgust.
"Late... I'm Sorry!"
And then as the fates must have decided. There was Amanda. Even now as I type the name, it brings an utter revolt. So much so that I was required to look away from my typing and stare at a dark corner of the room.
Amanda Huss. Be mindful reader, it was not so then. 'Then' it hardly made a difference when I saw her. But.... the time would come... let it be known.
She wandered past with a group of acads.
"Josh!" She called out from the fray of them.... "Josh! Hi!"
I turned and greeted her happily.
"Hey Manda! Hey nice to see you." I said... Walking backwards away from her towards my classroom.
"Hey... you commin to church tonight?" She asked smiling at me all red haired and jolly.
"Yeah!... yeah... Ill see ya. I've gotta run. Late for Doctrines..." I turned and jogged towards lecture B.
I made it at the sound of the bell. The kids in the seats next to me all seemed rather perturbed at the size of my book bag; but it couldnt be helped. I didn't have time to stroll back to my room to change and fraternize with my friends on the hall between classes. I would be going till 1PM. And then work. So I squeezed in between peoples twice my size. I must have looked like a pack mule.
"Alright students" said the withered old man at the head of gray room.. "Would you please all take out a pencil and some notebook paper... and write for me todays quiz. Word perfect... John 4:24. You will have ten minutes to complete this....
Ok. Ok. I don't have to worry about this... but I did. Amongst all the things that Id gathered from my room on the way out, none of them were either pencil, nor paper. I whispered and annoyingly borrowed them from other students in my row... and began to write.
"John 4:24"
"God is spirit, and they that worship him should worship him in spirit and in truth."
I signed my name, and passed my paper to the end of the row for grading and then promptly fell asleep. I wandered if I could find out where that girl had flown off to... I wondered if I should follow her.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Collusion: Part XXIX
We all have those memories that stand out. The ones that stand up to the challenges of a regenerating cerebral cortex. And as time goes on they tend to melt into a rosy softness. Like watching old movies. And each time we replay them they confirm to us that we are... self. The same self that we remember. If we're lucky enough sometimes... those memories enact physical change upon us.
I was running. I was were those hand-me-down clothes that 5 year olds get from church friends. We were laughing. In the simple and pure way that only 5 year olds can laugh. It was effervescent. And the sound of it glinted of the wooden vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary. I was dashing around on my nimble little legs and darting through clusters of worshipers who were milling about the auditorium chatting about this or that. Middle aged guys who had married too early because they got somebody pregnant. Old couples who like stones... never aged past antique. Frilly fabrics covered in 90's floral patters. Lots of of blues. Kaki pants all over. A suit here and there. And in the center aisle... A missionary was setting up a slide projector. I have no memory of what the missionary looked like. But I do remember dim flashes of Africa and in the half light.
We were always there early. Dad's office was usually a bustle with people who just wanted to chat. To get advice about their lives... or gossip about other peoples life. Either way. I darted in and around the aisles... I was trying to catch up with Gary.... who was way ahead and Dustin was chasing him. Dustin was probably my best friend at the time. And we used to build make believe houses and go hunting for make believe tigers in the woods behind his house.
Then... I tripped I guess.
Something like 48 seconds passing. And I got up. Ouch, I thought. But oddly... it didn't hurt at all. I looked around for where the other boys had gotten off to... But I didn't see them. Maybe they had headed out and into the vestibule? Running had made me hot, so I hardly noticed the my face was wet... for a few moments. Though I was soon away that it was much more wet than usual... a hot stream ran down the bridge of my nose and skipped sticky and salty over my lips. I kept walking and put my hand up to my face. I pulled it away and it was shining and red.
Oh... I thought.
I was aware of people and movement around me... But one in particular caught my attention. Dustin's mom was in the hall. She was my kindergarten teacher. She had taught me how to tie shoes... and she had taught me numbers. And words like 'cat.' She screamed. It scared me... She never screams....
She yelled for my mom. "Laurie! Laurie! Josh is hurt.... Come here!" Things started happening. Everyone had sad faces now. They were shocked at how much blood I was losing. Dustin's mom found something to press against my head. But it didn't seem to help much. It was a dish towel. Dustin's mom is named Mrs. Bates. Darleen I believe.
Mom was here now. I hadn't cried yet... but when I saw her cry, I started crying too. Moms are not supposed to cry... Especially not my mom. Not Laurie.
My mom picked me up. I remember to this day that they chose an obvious option. The hospital. Darleen would drive. Momma carried me out... down the sidewalk. I remember the exact cut and color of the dress she was wearing. A silky looking thing. Mostly blue and floral. We got in Darleen's Jeep. I had always wanted to ride in that Jeep... And I was thinking how lucky I was to finally be getting to do that. I sat on mom's lap on the drive. She held me close to her like I was a baby again. I was still bleeding hard... and as we shifted positions... some blood skirted out from under the towel and rolled beaded down the shoulder of her dress.
"Oh... I'm sorry. I've got blood on you." I told her around the towel.
"It's fine sweetie. I can wash it out." Mom said.
"I hope it does." I said.
Darleen provided much needed distraction.
"Don't you worry about that dress honey! You just stay awake! The dress don't matter a bit!" She said sounding like Scarlett O'Harah. She was waving her arms.
We waited at the hospital for a long... long time. I had stopped bleeding so much. I was playing with toy cars in the waiting room.... Dad was there now. John and Beth were elsewhere. No doubt sleeping over at the Bates'. Lucky ducks.
The nurse took me back to the OR. I could see my mom through the plate glass window... watching. worried. I screamed at them to let her in. I wanted her in there with me. Finally they let her. She had to help them hold me down as they push needles into my head.
When I woke up there were 40 stitches in my forehead. I had cut it to the bone on the corner of a pew.
Ya know all that has cause me to think about pain differently. I mean sure it hurts. But you just might get to ride in that Jeep you've been wanting to...
I was running. I was were those hand-me-down clothes that 5 year olds get from church friends. We were laughing. In the simple and pure way that only 5 year olds can laugh. It was effervescent. And the sound of it glinted of the wooden vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary. I was dashing around on my nimble little legs and darting through clusters of worshipers who were milling about the auditorium chatting about this or that. Middle aged guys who had married too early because they got somebody pregnant. Old couples who like stones... never aged past antique. Frilly fabrics covered in 90's floral patters. Lots of of blues. Kaki pants all over. A suit here and there. And in the center aisle... A missionary was setting up a slide projector. I have no memory of what the missionary looked like. But I do remember dim flashes of Africa and in the half light.
We were always there early. Dad's office was usually a bustle with people who just wanted to chat. To get advice about their lives... or gossip about other peoples life. Either way. I darted in and around the aisles... I was trying to catch up with Gary.... who was way ahead and Dustin was chasing him. Dustin was probably my best friend at the time. And we used to build make believe houses and go hunting for make believe tigers in the woods behind his house.
Then... I tripped I guess.
Something like 48 seconds passing. And I got up. Ouch, I thought. But oddly... it didn't hurt at all. I looked around for where the other boys had gotten off to... But I didn't see them. Maybe they had headed out and into the vestibule? Running had made me hot, so I hardly noticed the my face was wet... for a few moments. Though I was soon away that it was much more wet than usual... a hot stream ran down the bridge of my nose and skipped sticky and salty over my lips. I kept walking and put my hand up to my face. I pulled it away and it was shining and red.
Oh... I thought.
I was aware of people and movement around me... But one in particular caught my attention. Dustin's mom was in the hall. She was my kindergarten teacher. She had taught me how to tie shoes... and she had taught me numbers. And words like 'cat.' She screamed. It scared me... She never screams....
She yelled for my mom. "Laurie! Laurie! Josh is hurt.... Come here!" Things started happening. Everyone had sad faces now. They were shocked at how much blood I was losing. Dustin's mom found something to press against my head. But it didn't seem to help much. It was a dish towel. Dustin's mom is named Mrs. Bates. Darleen I believe.
Mom was here now. I hadn't cried yet... but when I saw her cry, I started crying too. Moms are not supposed to cry... Especially not my mom. Not Laurie.
My mom picked me up. I remember to this day that they chose an obvious option. The hospital. Darleen would drive. Momma carried me out... down the sidewalk. I remember the exact cut and color of the dress she was wearing. A silky looking thing. Mostly blue and floral. We got in Darleen's Jeep. I had always wanted to ride in that Jeep... And I was thinking how lucky I was to finally be getting to do that. I sat on mom's lap on the drive. She held me close to her like I was a baby again. I was still bleeding hard... and as we shifted positions... some blood skirted out from under the towel and rolled beaded down the shoulder of her dress.
"Oh... I'm sorry. I've got blood on you." I told her around the towel.
"It's fine sweetie. I can wash it out." Mom said.
"I hope it does." I said.
Darleen provided much needed distraction.
"Don't you worry about that dress honey! You just stay awake! The dress don't matter a bit!" She said sounding like Scarlett O'Harah. She was waving her arms.
We waited at the hospital for a long... long time. I had stopped bleeding so much. I was playing with toy cars in the waiting room.... Dad was there now. John and Beth were elsewhere. No doubt sleeping over at the Bates'. Lucky ducks.
The nurse took me back to the OR. I could see my mom through the plate glass window... watching. worried. I screamed at them to let her in. I wanted her in there with me. Finally they let her. She had to help them hold me down as they push needles into my head.
When I woke up there were 40 stitches in my forehead. I had cut it to the bone on the corner of a pew.
Ya know all that has cause me to think about pain differently. I mean sure it hurts. But you just might get to ride in that Jeep you've been wanting to...
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Collusion: Part XXI
Christine and I had a conversation later that evening about just how little she liked the amount of time that I had been spending with Melodie Cappoccia. We were walking back towards her room after dinner. About as much practice that was going to be done that day, was already done, and I could tell she was in a bad mood.
CD:"I just don't understand why you like hanging out with her.... She's fat... and obnoxious and she smells like cherry blossom rape." She said flatly.
ME: "I mean.... It's not like I'm trying to make her into a best friend or anything... She just always seems to show up whenever I'm practicing."
CD: " Well.... why don't you practice somewhere where you don't usually practice.... like the basement of the dorms."
ME: "I would, but those pianos are complete crap.... I mean, some of them are missing legs!"
CD: "Well, I just think that you probably like the attention...."
ME: (sighs) "Ya know, she just seems like a nice person...."
CD: "She seems like a skank. Just a nasty big breasted skank."
ME: "I'm not even remotely attracted to her! Her boobs are bigger than my head!.... It's a public nuisance..."
CD: "And another thing! Every time I have a conversation with her, she's always going on about how fantastic you are! It's friggin' annoying! YOU ARE SPOKEN FOR! And she needs to keep her hands off you..."
ME: "She hasn't had her hands on me.... ewe. She's just got a crush... it's no big deal!"
CD: "Well. I don't like it. And I don't like her. She's repugnant. And I think you should stop hanging out with her."
ME: "I mean... if it really makes you that unhappy.... (eye roll) Ill make sure to to instigate anything with her.... ya know. Disengage."
We were quite for a while after that, and just walked without speaking, in the half light back to Christine's room.
CD: "Well.... I dunno. Maybe Im just being a total bitch about all this. We just don't get to hang out as much as we used to."
She started to tear up a little bit, and I leaned in to hug her. Just a quick one though. Ya never know who might be watching from a window in the dorms and find the need to punish you for a harmless gesture of affection. Christine, by comparison to Melodie... did not smell like bathroom cleaning liquid. She smelled like a normal girl. Like skin, and shampoo.
ME: "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it bothered you all that much. She's starting to get on my nerves too.... And you're right.... She smells awful."
She was right about us not hanging out as much anymore... I'd transferred out of the Dining Common work force and begged a job from the people at the Museum & Gallery. Which is honestly the quietest easiest job anyone could ask for. I spent afternoons dressed in a simple black suit, and blue button downs and usually my own choice of an hideous tie. My tie choice was never ever calculated.... and most of them were yard sale purchases. All refugees from the seventies who had managed to not be thrown away or burned due to kitsch. I would study note cards and write poetry whilst wandering around in the thickly carpeted dimly lit rooms. Rooms filled with archaic and post Renaissance paintings. Huge... wall encompassing works in which the Virgin Mary would look down peacefully at her christ child son. All works on thick topics like sin, or death.... or the devil. The whole place couldn't have gotten more than 12 visitors a day. And that was fine by me... I loved the luxury of the quiet Bach string quartets on repeat on the PA system.... and the dusty emotionless atmosphere. It was nice. It seemed like a place between places.... Peace and quiet, only occasionally interrupted by the occasional group of antique humans there to look at the antique art.
Because of the new work schedule though... whatever free time I had to spend with Christine had been ganked around so that our schedules no longer coincided.
After our sad little fight, I trudged back to my room, planted myself in my bed, and stealthily put in my ear-buds. Like so many other convenient personal items, earphones were considered contraband. Being discovered with them could land you an easy 50 demerits. Presumably because you could be listening to any of the many types of music forbidden from student consumption... Such as rock, r&b, rap, jazz, soul, and polka. Whatever. Id had a bad day, and I'll be darned if I was going to chill out in my room listening to negro spirituals. No sir. All the other roomies were busy about the lords work.... So I cranked up some tunes and did a little homework reading.
::Knock Knock::
Who now? Uhn. I ditched the ear-buds and my ipod.... tossed them way back onto my bunk and jumped/slid into the chair at the desk. Just in time.... In walks Danny Callahan. Danny is a tallish troll-like creature. With rudimentary spacial perception and infantile logic skills. He's 6'1'' with a blond crew cut and a face like an Irish potato. Also, his accent was something like 'The Real White Trash of Boston Mass." Also, he was this years hall leader. So in addition to being obtuse, it was his job to make sure that everyone was living or dying by the Almighty Handbook.
DC: "Hey."
ME: (I look up from my text book and slowly blink at him.) "Hello Daniel."
DC: "So.... what are ya doin?"
ME: "I'm trying to decided if you got your polo out of an egg machine."
DC: "uh..... ok." He said wondering about the room. He was delighted to discover Roland's soccer ball in the corner and began punting it around. Callahan was, of course, a soccer player.
DC: "So... they've got you rooming with Roland. I wonder why that is...."
ME: "I haven't the slightest. I can only assume it's because Roland is so very fond of me..."
DC: "Ha..... funny. You should be nice to people. They'd like you better."
ME: "I have no intention of being in-genuine with people to win their affection. Besides, soccer players are all the same... Once you've met one, you've met them all." I finished dismissively returning to my reading.
Callahan continued to mill about the room until spotting the ipod, tossed aside.
DC: "So.... who's ipod is that?"
ME: "Oh that old thing!? It belongs to me.
DC: "Well you need to turn it in.... You could get in trouble for having it."
ME: "Yes, thank you Daniel.... I am aware of regulations. And.... Ill turn it in.... I'm just waiting for Hell to freeze over."
DC: "Hey!" He said, pointing at me with mock anger. "Not funny."
ME: "You're right its not funny! How am I supposed to get anything done listening to the air conditioner run. My tunes help me concentrate!"
Danny apparently had lost interest in the conversation, or had rediscovered how fun soccer balls really are... because he was back to his punting. I have always been fascinated by obtuse people. Much as Pavlov was fascinated by dog saliva. It's not that Danny wasn't friendly, or that he was doing his job too well. It was just that I had serious doubts about his being a Counseling major. How could he possibly be good at that? Weren't most of his people lobster fishermen anyways?
DC: "Don't you ever get tired of playing the system?" He asked in a sparkling moment of clarity and relevance.
ME: "Well.... yeah sometimes." I said with earnestness, and then with a passionate intensity.... "But if I do not play this "system".... I ask you.... How then shall it be played!?"
Danny was not impressed with my theatrics. And decided to leave without ceremony....
DC:" You're weird." He said popping his head back in the door before leaving....
ME: "Thank you!" I sang merrily back at him.
CD:"I just don't understand why you like hanging out with her.... She's fat... and obnoxious and she smells like cherry blossom rape." She said flatly.
ME: "I mean.... It's not like I'm trying to make her into a best friend or anything... She just always seems to show up whenever I'm practicing."
CD: " Well.... why don't you practice somewhere where you don't usually practice.... like the basement of the dorms."
ME: "I would, but those pianos are complete crap.... I mean, some of them are missing legs!"
CD: "Well, I just think that you probably like the attention...."
ME: (sighs) "Ya know, she just seems like a nice person...."
CD: "She seems like a skank. Just a nasty big breasted skank."
ME: "I'm not even remotely attracted to her! Her boobs are bigger than my head!.... It's a public nuisance..."
CD: "And another thing! Every time I have a conversation with her, she's always going on about how fantastic you are! It's friggin' annoying! YOU ARE SPOKEN FOR! And she needs to keep her hands off you..."
ME: "She hasn't had her hands on me.... ewe. She's just got a crush... it's no big deal!"
CD: "Well. I don't like it. And I don't like her. She's repugnant. And I think you should stop hanging out with her."
ME: "I mean... if it really makes you that unhappy.... (eye roll) Ill make sure to to instigate anything with her.... ya know. Disengage."
We were quite for a while after that, and just walked without speaking, in the half light back to Christine's room.
CD: "Well.... I dunno. Maybe Im just being a total bitch about all this. We just don't get to hang out as much as we used to."
She started to tear up a little bit, and I leaned in to hug her. Just a quick one though. Ya never know who might be watching from a window in the dorms and find the need to punish you for a harmless gesture of affection. Christine, by comparison to Melodie... did not smell like bathroom cleaning liquid. She smelled like a normal girl. Like skin, and shampoo.
ME: "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it bothered you all that much. She's starting to get on my nerves too.... And you're right.... She smells awful."
She was right about us not hanging out as much anymore... I'd transferred out of the Dining Common work force and begged a job from the people at the Museum & Gallery. Which is honestly the quietest easiest job anyone could ask for. I spent afternoons dressed in a simple black suit, and blue button downs and usually my own choice of an hideous tie. My tie choice was never ever calculated.... and most of them were yard sale purchases. All refugees from the seventies who had managed to not be thrown away or burned due to kitsch. I would study note cards and write poetry whilst wandering around in the thickly carpeted dimly lit rooms. Rooms filled with archaic and post Renaissance paintings. Huge... wall encompassing works in which the Virgin Mary would look down peacefully at her christ child son. All works on thick topics like sin, or death.... or the devil. The whole place couldn't have gotten more than 12 visitors a day. And that was fine by me... I loved the luxury of the quiet Bach string quartets on repeat on the PA system.... and the dusty emotionless atmosphere. It was nice. It seemed like a place between places.... Peace and quiet, only occasionally interrupted by the occasional group of antique humans there to look at the antique art.
Because of the new work schedule though... whatever free time I had to spend with Christine had been ganked around so that our schedules no longer coincided.
After our sad little fight, I trudged back to my room, planted myself in my bed, and stealthily put in my ear-buds. Like so many other convenient personal items, earphones were considered contraband. Being discovered with them could land you an easy 50 demerits. Presumably because you could be listening to any of the many types of music forbidden from student consumption... Such as rock, r&b, rap, jazz, soul, and polka. Whatever. Id had a bad day, and I'll be darned if I was going to chill out in my room listening to negro spirituals. No sir. All the other roomies were busy about the lords work.... So I cranked up some tunes and did a little homework reading.
::Knock Knock::
Who now? Uhn. I ditched the ear-buds and my ipod.... tossed them way back onto my bunk and jumped/slid into the chair at the desk. Just in time.... In walks Danny Callahan. Danny is a tallish troll-like creature. With rudimentary spacial perception and infantile logic skills. He's 6'1'' with a blond crew cut and a face like an Irish potato. Also, his accent was something like 'The Real White Trash of Boston Mass." Also, he was this years hall leader. So in addition to being obtuse, it was his job to make sure that everyone was living or dying by the Almighty Handbook.
DC: "Hey."
ME: (I look up from my text book and slowly blink at him.) "Hello Daniel."
DC: "So.... what are ya doin?"
ME: "I'm trying to decided if you got your polo out of an egg machine."
DC: "uh..... ok." He said wondering about the room. He was delighted to discover Roland's soccer ball in the corner and began punting it around. Callahan was, of course, a soccer player.
DC: "So... they've got you rooming with Roland. I wonder why that is...."
ME: "I haven't the slightest. I can only assume it's because Roland is so very fond of me..."
DC: "Ha..... funny. You should be nice to people. They'd like you better."
ME: "I have no intention of being in-genuine with people to win their affection. Besides, soccer players are all the same... Once you've met one, you've met them all." I finished dismissively returning to my reading.
Callahan continued to mill about the room until spotting the ipod, tossed aside.
DC: "So.... who's ipod is that?"
ME: "Oh that old thing!? It belongs to me.
DC: "Well you need to turn it in.... You could get in trouble for having it."
ME: "Yes, thank you Daniel.... I am aware of regulations. And.... Ill turn it in.... I'm just waiting for Hell to freeze over."
DC: "Hey!" He said, pointing at me with mock anger. "Not funny."
ME: "You're right its not funny! How am I supposed to get anything done listening to the air conditioner run. My tunes help me concentrate!"
Danny apparently had lost interest in the conversation, or had rediscovered how fun soccer balls really are... because he was back to his punting. I have always been fascinated by obtuse people. Much as Pavlov was fascinated by dog saliva. It's not that Danny wasn't friendly, or that he was doing his job too well. It was just that I had serious doubts about his being a Counseling major. How could he possibly be good at that? Weren't most of his people lobster fishermen anyways?
DC: "Don't you ever get tired of playing the system?" He asked in a sparkling moment of clarity and relevance.
ME: "Well.... yeah sometimes." I said with earnestness, and then with a passionate intensity.... "But if I do not play this "system".... I ask you.... How then shall it be played!?"
Danny was not impressed with my theatrics. And decided to leave without ceremony....
DC:" You're weird." He said popping his head back in the door before leaving....
ME: "Thank you!" I sang merrily back at him.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Collusion: Part XVI
It snowed that spring. So unusual for our state. Our state which is so much the more famous for philandering republicans and topless biker rallies in Myrtle Beach. Classes were canceled for that day. All the gang got together and scraped snow off of cars to throw it at each other in parking lots. Snow isn't something Im used to seeing. Being from south-central SC means that I could have potentially interacted with snow about once in a decade... and the last time I had seen 4 inches or so... was never. Im sure the other members of the gang must have found my child-like delight with the stuff.... juvenile. But I was a long ways from caring, and was the main instigator in all of the snow time mischief.
The campus is such a different place covered in snow, and unfettered by academic constraints. Especially the kind of snow that we get in the south.... short lived and muddy looking four hours after it's fallen. All of the sculpted hedges which under during normal weather look so perfect; Stately even, in the snow they look foolish and comic. Garish characterizations of themselves. The sidewalks which were so clearly defined before became a patchwork of dirty browns and asphalt. Icicles don't always hang from ledges in pristine and exact repetition. Nature mocks us. Nature knows no morality.
I believed very strongly in right and wrong. I believed that my heart was desperate, and wicked... and that as a person I should seek the restraints of Christianity if i was every going to find and sustain happiness. Although now that I think about it... at the time, whether i was aware of it or not.... Id never experienced long-term unhappiness. I hadn't experienced very much at all. Who knows why I believed these things. I mean... doubtless hundreds of thousands of hours of Sunday school and Bible studies could have had something to do with it. Maybe it could have been because my father was so passionate about keeping me out of trouble. Away from alcohol and loose women. So passionate about all this so that I wouldn't make the same mistakes that he had. I knew he felt like this.... Ive known it since I was very young. I felt the tension and power that high expectations can have on a person. Even from my earliest childhood memories I recall a singular concept. "Holiness leads to Happiness." The more that we can separate ourselves unto mystic hebrew god.... the more we can lead fulfilling lives. This is exactly what I aspired to. I wanted this contentment. Even though, oddly enough, I wasn't discontent.
It was after dinner on a cold February evening. I wasn't more than 16 years old. My brother John, and sister Beth were milling about, 14 and 12 respectively. Something was wrong with the parents. They weren't making their usual in-roads into popcorn production and television before bed. They had an announcement.... and so gathered us children together. We took places in the dinning room using chairs from around the table or standing curiously beside them. My dad is a short stout man. Given to loudness and being opinionated. He likes firearms to distraction... and at any given time has 186 long guns, and a smattering of handguns that he shuffles through his collection by selling them off to rural people who like killing woodland creatures for sport. He's not a man to be trifled with. He pulled up his chair for his announcement, and mom took her place behind him at his right shoulder.
"There's something that your mom and I have been needing to tell you kids for a while." He started in. I had never seen him unsure of anything he had to say... and was almost immediately struck by the comedy of this 'intervention' style announcement.
"Back a long time before i was saved... when I was 20... I made some bad decisions. I got a girl pregnant, and we got married. We had a daughter. Her name is Heather. I think you met her one time, Josh, at MawMaw's house. She's all grown up now." (Saved is the term that persons in our particular stripe of religion use to signify the moment that we aligned ourselves with the saving blood of christ... and began following the teachings of mystic hebrew god.)
We all just stared at them blankly. We are all brown eyed children, and as such I imagine that a unified stare from the three of us might have looked a bit soul-less and creepy. Dad had rubbed his knees and coughed in one of those gestures of tense discomfort.
"Oh wait... wasn't she that cheerleader girl? The one that was in college?" I asked... I had remembered meeting someone at my Dad's Mom's house years and years ago... and for whatever reason instantly thought of her.
"Yeah.... that was her. I think you were only six then. You remember that?" Dad returned.
The other children were as silent as lambs. I can only assume that they didn't know how to react. Or in the case of my brother... didn't feel led to react. My brother is a follower.
For seconds we all just sat there.
"We wanted to tell you... before you heard it from someone else. Other people know about her. People in the church. All the deacons know about it. We needed to tell them so they wouldn't be surprised about me being divorced." Dad continued on with his heavy southern accent. He plodded forward... telling us about what he considered the biggest mistake of his life. I found my footing rather quickly. Even at sixteen I had a tongue like a knife.
"So.... why did you wait until now to tell us? When other people know about it? When quite alot of other people know about it?" I asked. Not angry... just blank. Logical. Curious. Who was this girl. And why hadn't i been allowed to have contact with an older sister who was obviously cool enough to be a cheerleader.
"We wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. Sometimes... Even grown-ups make mistakes.... We do things that we wish we hadn't." My mom cut in... sensing that she could phrase the answer better. She took a tone that she might have used to explain the method of discovering the surface area of a rectangle.
"But... didn't you think we would understand before now? I mean... Im... nearly sixteen." I countered... Immediately finding flaws in their reasoning, as all clever children are want to do with their parents.
It was hard to argue with that reasoning... even though it seemed like the worst timing ever. A new CSI was coming on tonight... and you know I bet no one was going to feel like watching it now. I loved CSI. Everyone was so stylish and intelligent on that show. And they solved the most complicated crimes in 45 minutes. Props CSI. Props.
Well I did perhaps the most irrational thing that anyone in my situation could have done. I didn't reassure my Dad that we didn't think any less of him for the deception. I didn't remind him that we all still loved him and thought that every word that dropped from his lips was weighty and truthful. I laughed! One of those short little.... "Oh my gosh! I got it!" laughs. My father had a secret life! One that he didn't like... and one that he had clearly wiped clean like a chalk-board and started over with mom. And then with us. Wow.
I was probably this revelation that brought about the most fundamental change in my reasoning. A secret life! How exotic! How.... romantic! And so very close to home. In-fact. In my home. It was all so magically laughable. And.... as I've stated... Laugh I did. They didn't understand my wonder and fascination with it all. They told me I shouldn't laugh. It was a serious matter.
"Oh.... well. Sorry." I said. But I couldn't wipe the comedy out of my expression. Especially my eyes.
I learned then that the truth is a much more nebulous concept than my sixteen year old mind had allowed for. That my parents were complicated persons of depth and mystery. And most importantly... they were without a doubt. Human. Their judgment was compromised. I couldn't say with 100% accuracy that they would always be right. I was time to start questioning everything.... and making choices for myself.
Toggle back to the end of the school year in 2004. Everyone was heavy with the desire to get the school year over with. I had packed all of my belongings into the suburban. That hulking vehicle. I was absolutely ecstatic with the idea of staying at home... away from here for a few months. I'd had enough of all of the fake friendliness and all to real discrimination. It had been a few weeks since I had poisoned Ramon's hair product. The effects were plainly visible. The tips of his hair were turning beige-orange. He had begun to notice too. I can't deny the pure delight I had to mask when he asked me if i noticed it too.
"I don't get it? It mus be this campus water mayn? What would make my hair do dis yoshie?" He had asked one night in the week before school ended. Ramon could not pronounce and english 'j'.... and so always had used the name of a Nintendo character. Almost endearing if I haddn't been convinced he was an evil serpent.
"Dude... I don't even know. You have to be careful what kinds of shampoo you use... and there's alot of chlorine in city water in the US." I would shrug and stare at him wide eyed.
All of my things were tucked away safely in the suburban. I knew that sooner or later he would have caught on to what i was doing. Low IQ, does not equal no IQ. I had left one bag of mostly pencils, pens and notebooks in my room. It was the last thing I'd have to retrieve before walking away from school. I thought about that bag as I sat through the graduation service. I sat with friends but thought how that one item of my personal belongings was left un-protected from last minute pranking. As soon as the service was over I ran back to the room to find no-one there.... but in the middle of the floor, there was that little brown canvas bag. Someone had up-ended an entire bottle of hair gel on it. Poop.
I scraped off what I could and joined my family for the trip home. "What's that on you're bag?" Mom had asked as I climbed into the car looking slightly angry and perhaps a little odd. I was still wearing the suit that was required for the end of year services... and carrying a canvas bag covered in blue goop. "Oh... it's.... nothing. I accidentally broke open a bottle of hand sanitizer on it...?" I said un-convincingly. They didn't challenge my story. I asked that we stop at a little community car-wash that we saw on the way home. So i could spray the bag off. I dumped the contents of the bag out in the floor board and marched over in my suit to ask a stranger if I could borrow her hose pipe. I did so with an un-blinking expression and the tone of voice that suggested i was on an important mission for MI6.
We drove home and talked of other things and I closed the door on the cubicle that I had put bullies in. Goodbye school.
The campus is such a different place covered in snow, and unfettered by academic constraints. Especially the kind of snow that we get in the south.... short lived and muddy looking four hours after it's fallen. All of the sculpted hedges which under during normal weather look so perfect; Stately even, in the snow they look foolish and comic. Garish characterizations of themselves. The sidewalks which were so clearly defined before became a patchwork of dirty browns and asphalt. Icicles don't always hang from ledges in pristine and exact repetition. Nature mocks us. Nature knows no morality.
I believed very strongly in right and wrong. I believed that my heart was desperate, and wicked... and that as a person I should seek the restraints of Christianity if i was every going to find and sustain happiness. Although now that I think about it... at the time, whether i was aware of it or not.... Id never experienced long-term unhappiness. I hadn't experienced very much at all. Who knows why I believed these things. I mean... doubtless hundreds of thousands of hours of Sunday school and Bible studies could have had something to do with it. Maybe it could have been because my father was so passionate about keeping me out of trouble. Away from alcohol and loose women. So passionate about all this so that I wouldn't make the same mistakes that he had. I knew he felt like this.... Ive known it since I was very young. I felt the tension and power that high expectations can have on a person. Even from my earliest childhood memories I recall a singular concept. "Holiness leads to Happiness." The more that we can separate ourselves unto mystic hebrew god.... the more we can lead fulfilling lives. This is exactly what I aspired to. I wanted this contentment. Even though, oddly enough, I wasn't discontent.
It was after dinner on a cold February evening. I wasn't more than 16 years old. My brother John, and sister Beth were milling about, 14 and 12 respectively. Something was wrong with the parents. They weren't making their usual in-roads into popcorn production and television before bed. They had an announcement.... and so gathered us children together. We took places in the dinning room using chairs from around the table or standing curiously beside them. My dad is a short stout man. Given to loudness and being opinionated. He likes firearms to distraction... and at any given time has 186 long guns, and a smattering of handguns that he shuffles through his collection by selling them off to rural people who like killing woodland creatures for sport. He's not a man to be trifled with. He pulled up his chair for his announcement, and mom took her place behind him at his right shoulder.
"There's something that your mom and I have been needing to tell you kids for a while." He started in. I had never seen him unsure of anything he had to say... and was almost immediately struck by the comedy of this 'intervention' style announcement.
"Back a long time before i was saved... when I was 20... I made some bad decisions. I got a girl pregnant, and we got married. We had a daughter. Her name is Heather. I think you met her one time, Josh, at MawMaw's house. She's all grown up now." (Saved is the term that persons in our particular stripe of religion use to signify the moment that we aligned ourselves with the saving blood of christ... and began following the teachings of mystic hebrew god.)
We all just stared at them blankly. We are all brown eyed children, and as such I imagine that a unified stare from the three of us might have looked a bit soul-less and creepy. Dad had rubbed his knees and coughed in one of those gestures of tense discomfort.
"Oh wait... wasn't she that cheerleader girl? The one that was in college?" I asked... I had remembered meeting someone at my Dad's Mom's house years and years ago... and for whatever reason instantly thought of her.
"Yeah.... that was her. I think you were only six then. You remember that?" Dad returned.
The other children were as silent as lambs. I can only assume that they didn't know how to react. Or in the case of my brother... didn't feel led to react. My brother is a follower.
For seconds we all just sat there.
"We wanted to tell you... before you heard it from someone else. Other people know about her. People in the church. All the deacons know about it. We needed to tell them so they wouldn't be surprised about me being divorced." Dad continued on with his heavy southern accent. He plodded forward... telling us about what he considered the biggest mistake of his life. I found my footing rather quickly. Even at sixteen I had a tongue like a knife.
"So.... why did you wait until now to tell us? When other people know about it? When quite alot of other people know about it?" I asked. Not angry... just blank. Logical. Curious. Who was this girl. And why hadn't i been allowed to have contact with an older sister who was obviously cool enough to be a cheerleader.
"We wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. Sometimes... Even grown-ups make mistakes.... We do things that we wish we hadn't." My mom cut in... sensing that she could phrase the answer better. She took a tone that she might have used to explain the method of discovering the surface area of a rectangle.
"But... didn't you think we would understand before now? I mean... Im... nearly sixteen." I countered... Immediately finding flaws in their reasoning, as all clever children are want to do with their parents.
It was hard to argue with that reasoning... even though it seemed like the worst timing ever. A new CSI was coming on tonight... and you know I bet no one was going to feel like watching it now. I loved CSI. Everyone was so stylish and intelligent on that show. And they solved the most complicated crimes in 45 minutes. Props CSI. Props.
Well I did perhaps the most irrational thing that anyone in my situation could have done. I didn't reassure my Dad that we didn't think any less of him for the deception. I didn't remind him that we all still loved him and thought that every word that dropped from his lips was weighty and truthful. I laughed! One of those short little.... "Oh my gosh! I got it!" laughs. My father had a secret life! One that he didn't like... and one that he had clearly wiped clean like a chalk-board and started over with mom. And then with us. Wow.
I was probably this revelation that brought about the most fundamental change in my reasoning. A secret life! How exotic! How.... romantic! And so very close to home. In-fact. In my home. It was all so magically laughable. And.... as I've stated... Laugh I did. They didn't understand my wonder and fascination with it all. They told me I shouldn't laugh. It was a serious matter.
"Oh.... well. Sorry." I said. But I couldn't wipe the comedy out of my expression. Especially my eyes.
I learned then that the truth is a much more nebulous concept than my sixteen year old mind had allowed for. That my parents were complicated persons of depth and mystery. And most importantly... they were without a doubt. Human. Their judgment was compromised. I couldn't say with 100% accuracy that they would always be right. I was time to start questioning everything.... and making choices for myself.
Toggle back to the end of the school year in 2004. Everyone was heavy with the desire to get the school year over with. I had packed all of my belongings into the suburban. That hulking vehicle. I was absolutely ecstatic with the idea of staying at home... away from here for a few months. I'd had enough of all of the fake friendliness and all to real discrimination. It had been a few weeks since I had poisoned Ramon's hair product. The effects were plainly visible. The tips of his hair were turning beige-orange. He had begun to notice too. I can't deny the pure delight I had to mask when he asked me if i noticed it too.
"I don't get it? It mus be this campus water mayn? What would make my hair do dis yoshie?" He had asked one night in the week before school ended. Ramon could not pronounce and english 'j'.... and so always had used the name of a Nintendo character. Almost endearing if I haddn't been convinced he was an evil serpent.
"Dude... I don't even know. You have to be careful what kinds of shampoo you use... and there's alot of chlorine in city water in the US." I would shrug and stare at him wide eyed.
All of my things were tucked away safely in the suburban. I knew that sooner or later he would have caught on to what i was doing. Low IQ, does not equal no IQ. I had left one bag of mostly pencils, pens and notebooks in my room. It was the last thing I'd have to retrieve before walking away from school. I thought about that bag as I sat through the graduation service. I sat with friends but thought how that one item of my personal belongings was left un-protected from last minute pranking. As soon as the service was over I ran back to the room to find no-one there.... but in the middle of the floor, there was that little brown canvas bag. Someone had up-ended an entire bottle of hair gel on it. Poop.
I scraped off what I could and joined my family for the trip home. "What's that on you're bag?" Mom had asked as I climbed into the car looking slightly angry and perhaps a little odd. I was still wearing the suit that was required for the end of year services... and carrying a canvas bag covered in blue goop. "Oh... it's.... nothing. I accidentally broke open a bottle of hand sanitizer on it...?" I said un-convincingly. They didn't challenge my story. I asked that we stop at a little community car-wash that we saw on the way home. So i could spray the bag off. I dumped the contents of the bag out in the floor board and marched over in my suit to ask a stranger if I could borrow her hose pipe. I did so with an un-blinking expression and the tone of voice that suggested i was on an important mission for MI6.
We drove home and talked of other things and I closed the door on the cubicle that I had put bullies in. Goodbye school.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Collusion: Part XII
Words. Powerful words. They take shape and leave our mouths. Such harmless little things made out of carbon dioxide. Little puffs of a toxin and a bit of vibration made with teeth and tongue. Or little symbols on white paper. These are the tools that we use to fabricate community. How odd that stubby doses of poison should give us so much... should become a deity of sorts making so many choices for us.
Collusion celebrated 1,000 page views this week and I cant think of a better way to slide into Christmas than by inviting my friends and my foes to collude with me. To follow the pied piper. To admit to ourselves if only for those moments that we share with our thoughts and a computer screen that corruption is everywhere. It is who we are. It's the one thing that you can be sure of in any new person that you meet. And why is corruption so pervasive, you might ask? That's simple! because its so delicious.
Christmas break droned on. We chopped wood for the fireplace. A great hulking thing that's the centerpiece of the largest room in my house. Enormous 13 and 15 foot logs my dad had chainsawed into submission were piled up in my back yard at the edge of the woods; and every other day or so my brother, or my dad or myself would take an axe and cut away enough wood for the next couple of cold nights.
I'm from a very close-nit community. In a town that cant have a population of more than 3000 people. Its so rural as to be cliche. As ive mentioned before, people farm there. They have all their lives. Their fathers did, and their father's fathers did. Our neighbors all came to church with us. A church which my father had left the sins of his wild youth to found, and one which he continues to lead to this day. As i consider it, most of my early musical training was intended for use in worship. As a result, I have a mental database of hundreds of hymn tunes that I can play with my eyes closed, in any key. When I was home over Christmas break I fell neatly back into the roles that I had played before. At home and at church as well. All told it was a congregation of about 40 people. The number changed from season to season as southern people tend to have disagreements about such highly important religious matters as women who wear pants and those obviously diabolical members of the congregation who attend movie theaters. No joke. Anyways, our church services met twice on sundays and once on wednesday nights. We all met in a beige corrugated metal church building in the middle of a seven acre field of green lawn, behind one of those stone and metal church signs that you can rearrange letters on. You can make them say whatever you like...
My dad was mostly responsible for these messages. One could always rely on them to be inspiring. The members of the church were the most fascinating group of people on the planet. All ok, plain folks with thick syrupy accents. Loud women who wore too much mascara, and ate too much red meat. And quiet men who sat beside these women.
I liked church. I loved the routine of it all. The ritual. We gather... sing old old songs about christ's blood and its power to make us perfect. We'd pray, or be lead in prayer... and then my father would preach a message about sin. Faith. Or the evils and destructing force of extra marital sex. His sermons were all peppered with his own brand of gawdy obvious humor. I have so memorized the lilting pace of my fathers sermons that i can predict what he's going to say next. It's a type of relationship that not many people have the opportunity to experience with their fathers and as such I feel quite lucky to have grown up that way. Each facet of my fathers belief system was made plainly evident written out in hour after hour of monologue. Layers and walls. A labyrinth of hedges looping and twisting into a maze of 'do' and 'do nots.' Sermon after sermon I received a powerful view of this bank of rules.... Fascinating and complex.
The music leader at my church is named Charles. Charles McMillan. He's a man of colossal girth. I estimate that he weighs very close to five hundred pounds, and oddly enough is still mobile. He's been a friend of the families for as long as i could remember. Apparently at one time he was quite average size, but from what ive been able to gather; a love interest in college left him with emotional scars that he had tried to patch up with lots and lots of brisket. Charles is roughly 46 years old. He has been in charge of all the songs sung, and all the notes played at our little community church for very close to 10 years i suppose. Charles and I had been cordial to one another since I had met him until one day when I had prepared a little piano piece for church, he told me that i was "never going to be a good pianist unless i learned to read music." As you can imagine... the comment did very bad things for a cordial relationship. My playing from sight was remedial at best. Lessons had been cast away patch work things with hit or miss training from country bumpkins who owned pianos. Ah well.
From that moment however Charles and I became mortal enemies. If the both of us were in a room you could feel the temperature drop. The water vapor in the air would instantly crystallize. Charles was part of the reason for my pursuing piano so decidedly throughout highschool... and undeniably had something to do with my two year stint with bulimia when I was 17 and 18.
During holiday services Charles and I danced our icy dance of cordiality and hatred like two quiet little pageant queens; needing attention much as daisies need sunlight. And so i passed away the few days that remained of my break from school. In a very few days i would return to what was sure to be hostile environment. I would be stronger than those boys at school though. They'd see. They wouldn't break me.
Collusion celebrated 1,000 page views this week and I cant think of a better way to slide into Christmas than by inviting my friends and my foes to collude with me. To follow the pied piper. To admit to ourselves if only for those moments that we share with our thoughts and a computer screen that corruption is everywhere. It is who we are. It's the one thing that you can be sure of in any new person that you meet. And why is corruption so pervasive, you might ask? That's simple! because its so delicious.
Christmas break droned on. We chopped wood for the fireplace. A great hulking thing that's the centerpiece of the largest room in my house. Enormous 13 and 15 foot logs my dad had chainsawed into submission were piled up in my back yard at the edge of the woods; and every other day or so my brother, or my dad or myself would take an axe and cut away enough wood for the next couple of cold nights.
I'm from a very close-nit community. In a town that cant have a population of more than 3000 people. Its so rural as to be cliche. As ive mentioned before, people farm there. They have all their lives. Their fathers did, and their father's fathers did. Our neighbors all came to church with us. A church which my father had left the sins of his wild youth to found, and one which he continues to lead to this day. As i consider it, most of my early musical training was intended for use in worship. As a result, I have a mental database of hundreds of hymn tunes that I can play with my eyes closed, in any key. When I was home over Christmas break I fell neatly back into the roles that I had played before. At home and at church as well. All told it was a congregation of about 40 people. The number changed from season to season as southern people tend to have disagreements about such highly important religious matters as women who wear pants and those obviously diabolical members of the congregation who attend movie theaters. No joke. Anyways, our church services met twice on sundays and once on wednesday nights. We all met in a beige corrugated metal church building in the middle of a seven acre field of green lawn, behind one of those stone and metal church signs that you can rearrange letters on. You can make them say whatever you like...
"POT LUCK THIS SUNDAY!"
or
"DO RIGHT 'TIL THE STARS FALL"
or
"CHCH. WHAT'S MISSING!? U R!"
My dad was mostly responsible for these messages. One could always rely on them to be inspiring. The members of the church were the most fascinating group of people on the planet. All ok, plain folks with thick syrupy accents. Loud women who wore too much mascara, and ate too much red meat. And quiet men who sat beside these women.
I liked church. I loved the routine of it all. The ritual. We gather... sing old old songs about christ's blood and its power to make us perfect. We'd pray, or be lead in prayer... and then my father would preach a message about sin. Faith. Or the evils and destructing force of extra marital sex. His sermons were all peppered with his own brand of gawdy obvious humor. I have so memorized the lilting pace of my fathers sermons that i can predict what he's going to say next. It's a type of relationship that not many people have the opportunity to experience with their fathers and as such I feel quite lucky to have grown up that way. Each facet of my fathers belief system was made plainly evident written out in hour after hour of monologue. Layers and walls. A labyrinth of hedges looping and twisting into a maze of 'do' and 'do nots.' Sermon after sermon I received a powerful view of this bank of rules.... Fascinating and complex.
The music leader at my church is named Charles. Charles McMillan. He's a man of colossal girth. I estimate that he weighs very close to five hundred pounds, and oddly enough is still mobile. He's been a friend of the families for as long as i could remember. Apparently at one time he was quite average size, but from what ive been able to gather; a love interest in college left him with emotional scars that he had tried to patch up with lots and lots of brisket. Charles is roughly 46 years old. He has been in charge of all the songs sung, and all the notes played at our little community church for very close to 10 years i suppose. Charles and I had been cordial to one another since I had met him until one day when I had prepared a little piano piece for church, he told me that i was "never going to be a good pianist unless i learned to read music." As you can imagine... the comment did very bad things for a cordial relationship. My playing from sight was remedial at best. Lessons had been cast away patch work things with hit or miss training from country bumpkins who owned pianos. Ah well.
From that moment however Charles and I became mortal enemies. If the both of us were in a room you could feel the temperature drop. The water vapor in the air would instantly crystallize. Charles was part of the reason for my pursuing piano so decidedly throughout highschool... and undeniably had something to do with my two year stint with bulimia when I was 17 and 18.
During holiday services Charles and I danced our icy dance of cordiality and hatred like two quiet little pageant queens; needing attention much as daisies need sunlight. And so i passed away the few days that remained of my break from school. In a very few days i would return to what was sure to be hostile environment. I would be stronger than those boys at school though. They'd see. They wouldn't break me.
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