A Short Departure from the Sanctuary by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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A Short Departure from the
Sanctuary
by Edward Drobinski
Including “A Travelling Companion”
Copyright © 2013 Edward M. Drobinski All rights reserved
Foreword.......................................................I
A Travelling Companion ........................................ 1
CHAPTER ONE AGAIN ............................................ 56
Coarshon Coldbury’s Consistent Cowlick Problem ............... 59
In a Nutshell ................................................ 97
An Oddball Trip .............................................. 98
The Grand Prize ............................................. 102
Got Those Socio-Economic Blues Again, Mama .................. 105
Blues in Light Green ........................................ 110
The Revisions ............................................... 113
Scenes from a Post Modern Barber Shop ....................... 119
A Very Slight Nod to the Greatest ........................... 121
Early Autumn Drizzle ........................................ 125
Buster’s Last Stand ......................................... 130
True Medicine ............................................... 140
Chance Encounter ............................................ 145
Dating Directives ........................................... 160
Last Call ................................................... 165
Standing Pat ................................................ 173
The Unnecessary Trip ........................................ 176
Ulysses’ Prompt ............................................. 179
Superman .................................................... 186
Why? ........................................................ 210
Foreword
The king is dead. Long live the king. Young King David. Few of us knew him, certainly not me. I only knew what he wrote and said publicly. On occasion he wore robes and crowns as the audience hung on his every word. I suspect he found that necessary, but discomforting. Though I normally cower near judgmental statements, he produced an exception and I have to say that he was, without a doubt, one of the best writers of all time; perhaps the greatest. For me his legacy is that he brilliantly, humorously and bravely, as no one else could, opened paths of dialogue, which lesser men avoid in cowardice, though they often chuckle out a few words, thinking that they are fooling someone other than themselves, about discretion being the better part of valor. He called it as he saw it. Was he the post-modern King Arthur? I think not, but maybe Sir Lancelot. More importantly he was sufficiently shortsighted to be born into a democracy. But, the King Arthur’s yet to come will acknowledge a debt to the pioneer. Some song, whose title escapes me now contained the lyrics; “The original is still the greatest.”
Am I saying he was some sort of saint? Again no, but I really don’t have the slightest idea. I could say that he was the most intellectually gifted, emotionally constipated cross between Doubting Thomas, John the Baptist and Hermes. He had the demanding audacity to believe that the OTHER shouldered the burden of proof, I suppose consciously or not, considering himself, obviously, above it all. In his tower it would be easy to simply assume that. Who would dare argue? All wannabe peers backed off when they thought they might be close to inviting his eloquent and precise evaluation. The many had no clue as to what he was saying and were incapable of refutation.
Though he always was a member of some church, it seemed obvious to me that he was an agnostic, seeking the new in a junkyard, partially blinded by his own imperfect illumination (Who is perfectly illuminated?) to the possibility that something long forgotten would suffice nicely. I hope that it was not the case that he was willfully lost and confused in his own thick forest of outstanding and incisive rhetoric, which he utilized as a reason to stop acting. I think not.
Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I consider myself equal or his judge in saying what I have.
These avenues of thought would have remained covered with spike infested bushes, if not for his brave and genius clearing. It boggles the mind to consider what more would have come, had he the time. What would have next happened to Gately after he was awakened on his back on the beach’s freezing sand, rain coming from a low sky when the tide was way out, my candidate for all-time greatest closing line?
So, with this book I say goodbye to the friend I never met.
All truly creative writers would be benefitted by reading him. I wish I could hear his evaluation of this book, as it’s really only one of a very few that matters at all to me. If he were here I would merely request that his assessment focus on the ideas and not the universally unequalled standard of prose that was so simple for him. Goodbye. I wish I knew you.
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A Travelling Companion
On his first day out he had named the place “Tranquility,”
as he chose to put a positive name spin on the dry, barren territory, seemingly abandoned by anything capable of movement.
He could see no obstructions ahead. Flat, off-white, sandy terrain extended as far as he could see in front of him. An undulation would have been a visual delicacy and a source of inspiration, but he was satisfied with what he could get.
Sporadic big chief cactus was an excellent cup of hallucinatory water for his frequent thirst replenishments and presented no hazard, provided he didn’t fall into one while tippling. The light blue open sky stared at him from all directions. He was only aware of it whenever he managed to keep his head off the ground. The stationary sun generated its callous, persistent heat while positioned directly overhead, casting no shadows. He had just arisen and thought it strange that the same surroundings he encountered prior to rest were still those precisely in evidence now. He supposed that would be the most logical scenario, but thought that the desert’s quiet stillness and solitude defied reason, its irrationality the object of his desire. This was the third sleep break he had taken, so he
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presumed he was starting out the third day of his long awaited escape. He picked up his bag of secrets, slung it over his shoulder and walked what he thought was west, though he really had no way of being certain. He was also under the gleeful impression that he was alone until he heard a mildly assertive, female voice not far behind him call out; “Hey, what are you doing here?”
He shuddered and visibly cringed. “Oh no,” he murmured as his shoulders dropped in resignation. He had been lucky enough to have three days, or periods between sleeping, to himself and now it was over. “I was looking forward to this all my lousy life, picked the most undesirable place in the world and someone had to follow me here. She probably is pushy and dumb enough to think I owe her something for gracing me with her unwanted presence. Three days. Three good days after a lifetime of boring stupid females asking why. And it’s over already. If there’s any god he’s cursed me, so I return the favor. Do your worst. You pathetic sadist; you already have. Here comes a stupid barrage of; “Why this? Why that? Don’t you think that blah, blah, blah and more blah have to be considered when blah, blah and more blah is the case?” He found bleak humor in his last few unplanned words; “Now that some person no one else wants has to
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park next to me, coincidentally of course she’ll say, more blah will certainly be the case.”
He heard a louder “Hey,” and for the eight millionth time learned that he could not wish away or ignore away unwanted people. He was stupid and desperate enough to be looking for miracles in a very un-miraculous and tedious world. Resigned to the lifelong inevitability of being pestered by stupid boring people, he reluctantly turned back to see a crazy lady, garbed in hobo clothes; a simple button-up, short-sleeved, red shirt, tattered blue jeans and sandals. Her secret bag appeared the same as his, perhaps a rip or two superior. It looked as if she was sleeping in the same clothing for some time. She was attired just as him if they changed shirts, his being a faded dark blue that because of age and use now appeared light. He thought further; “No, that wouldn’t work. Then I’d be red and she’d be either dark or light blue.” He realized that he had made his first incorrect thought of the day. Despite the stupid misinformation generated, for some unexplainable logic, he continued the process and thought what passed for pragmatism;
“Drat, but no drat. I came out here to be alone. I guess that’s ruined. I can’t believe anyone else would want to come to this bastion of nothingness. The Indians thought that the only true
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ownership of land was when no one else wanted it and look what happened to them. The best thing to do under the circumstances is to be cordial, but a bit pointed and hope she goes away. The most positive way I can view the intrusion is to be happy that it’s not an enterprising guy looking to take over by force or a
“friendly” guy looking for company. Small solace though it is; if I’ve got to get stuck with company best it is that of a crazy lady. They’re the most interesting.” He unemotionally and without inflection answered; “Hey yourself.” Getting no response and suspecting his first offering was too vague, he decided to answer her first question and hope it wasn’t the overture to a long shrill opera. He added; “Walking.” He extended his arm to the ground, nodded at it, as if to say; “Can’t you see?”
Her face softened the slightest bit by the time she caught up with him. She said; “Me, too. Where do you think you’re going?”
Another stupid question. He pointed ahead and quizzically said; “There, painfully obviously.”
She said; “I know it’s obvious, perhaps not of the painful variety, but I know what you mean. What I asked you was a little
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test. I wanted to see how much bullshit came with the package.”
She ran her blue eyes up and down his torso.
He felt violated and that if anyone should be giving a test, it was rightfully him, as his 60 years exceeded her seemingly 55. He said; “If bullshit gives me a failing grade I’ll give you bullshit if my big penalty is that you will leave.
I do mean to sound antagonistic and I’m surprised that a test is required for me to be here, especially since I got here first.
Will you be kind enough to tell me the parameters and purpose of your test?”
She decided to reserve commentary regarding longevity, raised her voice, though in a kind way and said; “No, I really can’t.”
He looked in her eyes, shrugged and dejectedly said;
“Typical female. All questions. No answers, not even to the easy stuff. All right. I’ll respect that since you can’t help it.”
Fearing an impasse, while suddenly desirous of knowing something of her, after viewing her pleasant face, long wild hair, what was revealed by her shirt’s opened buttons and extremely tight pants, he asked; “Can you at least tell me if I passed?”
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She bobbed her head up and down and waved her hand as if to say; ”Silly boy.” She verbalized; ”Oh, sure,” but didn’t disclose that this was the easy part of her test.
He was annoyed with himself as he saw that in the space of two minutes he already had started to care what she thought of him. In an effort not to be obvious about it and probably inducing the opposite effect, with possibly undetected sarcasm he said; “What a relief. You wouldn’t want to venture a more precise grade, would you?”
She rattled her throat as a de-fanged one of the species might and laughed; “No .......... Not yet, anyway. Maybe later.”
He spit and muttered; “Typical.”
Despite his initial reticence he was already getting used to her and he was almost glad to hear that there would be a
“later” if he could convince her to stop questioning him. He glanced at her slightly-larger-than-average breasts and was noticed prompting her to adopt an overly erect posture maximizing the twin peaks causing him to look away. He thought that meant, in real terms, he was doing okay, so far. He thought it also had a friendly connotation, so he thought he would say something intended to be friendly, but also right to the point
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and hope for a not-too-negative response; “Most of the time I haven’t got the faintest idea of where I’m going. But I figure that it couldn’t possibly be worse than the stuff I’m leaving behind.” He pointed back with his thumb, not turning his head.
She smiled and said; “I’m with you.”
“I should have asked before, but, have you been through here before?”
She rolled her eyes and mock ominously said; “No. This is our adventure. Who knows, maybe we’ll find some witches out here.”
“I certainly hope not. I thought that I might have left them back there.”
She looked at him as if he had said the wrong thing and was silent. She continued keeping stride with him, but seemed to veer slightly leftward.
He realized that she had already succeeded in getting him to play her word games without even directly asking any stupid questions. He wanted to back off, but her jeans were so form-fitting he re-considered his initial response, intending to find common ground, without refuting his previous response. He
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glanced sideways at her and made an obvious glance into the three open top buttons of her shirt and said; “Well, I guess it’s all right if we meet the ones that are sexual demons.”
She snickered and thought; “Typical.” She assumed a professorial tone and informed him; “There are all kinds of witches. Your viewpoint is ridiculously simplistic. Everything comes in a package. A sexual demon type of witch, for instance and to use your parlance, will almost invariably be mixed with one of the brooding variety, at the very least.”
Pleased with her response, as he never minded being educated, he mimicked his first grade teacher and said; “Of course I was simplistic in the cause of simple conversation. I can kick it up a few notches when you’re ready.”
She looked at him admiringly, but displayed a discerning face, biting her lower lip and saying nothing.
He was not unaware of the probable meaning, but, to remain safe, he took the conversation in another direction and said; “I haven’t been able to see anything ahead, except some lunatic big chief cactus. Have you seen anything?”
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She thought; “He’s shy. I like that......to a point.” She articulated; “Mmmmmmm. I haven’t really seen anything in the traditional sense. But, I have some ideas.” She knew he would follow her lead.
Without thinking about it, he did and, in a curious tone said; “Like what?” proud to have taken the lead in the stupid question category.
She intended to sound somewhat bored, which he interpreted as complacent and responded; “It’s more like what and what and what, on and on. I got a lot from books.”
Intending to sound equal, he said; “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. Me, too.” Upping the ante, he added; “I’m actually placing the highest probability on it being worse than what we left behind. Not 50%, mind you. The last piece of misery that got laid on me back there topped everything. I never would have imagined anything so diabolical. If he tops that one, I’ll have to admit that he is a god.”
She smiled, sadly and knowingly and said; “Yeah, tell me about it.”
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Though he knew that she didn’t mean that literally, he proceeded to and said; “We had things going so well that it would take five oddball events to screw it up. It would take like everything to go wrong and...”
She looked at the ground, shook her head in an affirmative fashion and interrupted him to say; “And everything did.”
He looked in her eyes and for the first time thought he detected real sadness and thought; “Oh, no. Not you too?”, but said; “We ought to form a union. You know, like the labor unions that started in the 20’s and 30’s. I mean, I understand that human beings need a good kick in the ass, but this is more like;
‘You’re still kickin’ and my ass ain’t there anymore. You’re hitting bloody bone, bastard.’”
She thought; ”No shit. What did you expect?”, but said;
”Big things always pick on small things.”
As she was tiny, he was again saddened. He thought; ”Where I grew up it was the exact opposite. But, I don’t want to yet say that. It could hurt her in some way.” So, he said nothing, his shrug and sigh, indicating pretty much, more or less, no contest and the like. He knew that in the part of the world where he worked and spent his adult life that big things do
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indeed pick on little things. In business, it seemed the littler the better. What world was she in? She is watching out for witches and warning me about them, so that narrows things down a lot.” He looked directly at her and said; “Well, I don’t. What’s your name, anyway?”
“It’s Pearl. I never liked it.”
Mine’s Herman. Can you believe that a parent would actually do that to a child? The kids used to hum the theme song, call me Herman Munster and walk around like a stiff geek.”
She laughed and said; “Okay, I’ll call you ‘Hermie,’ as long as you don’t tell me any funny jokes about pearls of the orient or lilies of the field.”
“I think I’d rather stick with ‘Herman,’ if you don’t mind.
No offense. And, I don’t know any funny jokes about pearls of the orient or lilies of the field, anyway. Isn’t that the horse shit about neither reaping nor sowing, that god will provide?
That’s funny enough in and of itself.”
She wasn’t certain, but considered the possibility that he had just purposely done precisely what she explicitly asked him not to. She mumbled; “Yeah, something like that.”
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He missed his cue and continued; “I hope the non-reapers and non-sowers are not holding their breath.”
Pearl nodded demurely, shook her head “Yes,” and looked at the sun shining off each grain of sand differently. She sternly said; “We may as well get something cleared up right now.” He looked at her with apprehension and realized that he should have shut the fuck up entirely about the lilies. She noticed his contriteness, was pleased by it, but in the interest of truth continued and said; “Back a few steps you said that you were here before me. No, you weren’t. I had my eye on you as soon as you entered the desert. I just held back to see if you were a homicidal maniac.”
“So, you think you got here before me?”
She made a brief smile and said; “It’s a close call. Let’s be magnanimous and say it was at the same time.”
“Fine with me. I don’t understand why it’s any big deal, though.”
She stared at him. She was both incredulous and annoyed.
She finally said; “Herman. Some people, including you a few minutes ago, try to pull seniority and act like a ‘boss’ without
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the credentials and without admitting it.” She shook her head, looked away and veered a bit more to the left.
Herman was afraid that he had said something to sadden and anger her. He saw the truth of her observation and contritely said; “I promise that I won’t do that again. If I mess up you can punish me any way you desire. Let’s try to think and act positively for a while.”
Still cranky, she said; “I don’t think you can get here on that route. What path did you take?” She was sorry as soon as the words exited.
He made a self-effacing grin and head bob. He shrugged his shoulders and softly said; “I don’t really know. I think I made a series of at least five major wrong turns and somehow that all added up to a correct destination. How’d you pull it off?”
She smiled and moved closer to him and responded in kind, saying; “I think I only made four wrong turns and then got a map for the rest.”
“More pessimistic than me?”
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She sighed, not really wanting to respond, but was somehow compelled to and whispered; “Realist, mostly. The back nine are the worst.”
He moved in her direction and said; “You have my testimony on that one. In retrospect I should have gotten your map.” He paused a moment, as he sensed some kind of contradiction, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. Very unsurely he thought out loud and said; “But, I didn’t know that a map existed. I found that out from you. So, if I had obtained a map, from someone somewhere, I’d have gotten here years before you and I never would have met the person who told me about the map in the first place. I’m getting confused. Are all the maps the same?”
Pearl liked his confusion and said; “Of course not. It depends on where you get it, who made it, how much they knew about the territory, whether or not it’s a fake. I could go on.”
“Where did you get yours?”
“That’s hard for me to say. Someone told me to keep a secret.”
Herman felt the tide turning in his favor and risked being considered too pushy and simply said; “Who?”
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Pearl did think that he was being a bit too pushy, but liked his interest and decided to give him one more response in that direction and said with an air of indignation, in a raised tone; “My mother.” She viewed him mock defiantly.
He pushed his luck and offhandedly said; “You always listen to your mother?”
She pushed him, but not too hard and raised her voice to say; “What do you think? Did you always listen to yours?”
He decided he liked the trail and continued honestly, against his better judgment. He said; “I always listened to her. I just usually thought that the opposite of what she said was the right answer.”
She saw and appreciated the sincerity. She also detected an opportunity to end this conversation, at least for the time being and sighed; “Case closed.” Her eyes panned the outdoor scene and were not fixed on anything, as there was nothing moving, not even a breeze, to command her attention. Big chief cactus, sand, stillness and a huge uniformly light blue sky. She thought; “There must be something alive out there. Maybe not.”
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He touched the top button of his well-worn Levi’s and said;
“Well if we’re going to walk together, we’re going to have to establish some protocols.”
She came back to her current reality and with a trace of indignation said; “I beg your pardon.”
He understood her attitude, but felt a need to persist. He grimaced and said; “Like where does one go to have bathroom privacy? It’s kind of urgent.”
She felt like saying; “Believe it or not I’ve seen a few of those before,” but decided against it. Instead she offered;
“There’s no place to hide, so just turn your back to me.”
“I think you’re assuming it’s a number one.”
“I’m not assuming anything. Do whatever you have to do. We have no choice. I’ll try not to laugh at the funny part.”
Herman gave her a dirty look, turned and number one nature took its course. As he re-zipped he thought he detected a giggle. He looked at her and she put her hand over her mouth and said; “Little cough. It’s extremely dry. Haargh. Haargh. Shit.
Do you have any preferences as to how I do it?”
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“Not really. I would like to see your face sometimes, though, if that’s all right.”
“No problem.”
They walked side by side and the baking sand gave off images that reminded them of water boiling. It came at them as if they were in an oven, but it was more akin to heat waves. The source was not visible. They didn’t notice how weary they were until the steam entered their nostrils. They briefly sat on the torrid sand and were unable to find a comfortable seat, despite numerous position changes. They stood up, faced each other and brushed the sand from their bodies. Herman helped out with the sand Pearl missed and she returned the favor.
She said; “Want to keep traveling?”
Surprised she had to ask, he questioningly said; “Sure,”
leaving off the “Why wouldn’t I?” part. After a few second lull, he added; “And you? Perhaps I should have said that quicker.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s find out if there’s anything further out.”
“Curious?”
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“Of course, aren’t you?”
“Very.”
She sounded a bit more subdued when she said; “I hope the hell it doesn’t think it’s some kind of god.”
“Doesn’t really matter what it thinks, if it does at all.
We’re not obliged to agree. Are we?”
“That’s a close call.”
He mocked her and said; “Worried about blasphemy? You remember those old horror movies where some religious pretender in a hood and prominently displaying a cross, chases after the good guy, with the whole town watching, yelling ‘Blasphemy!
Blasphemy! Blasphemy!” I used to crack up.” He looked into her eyes and thought he saw unease. It bothered him, so he added;
“Well, you know, that kind of stopped when I found out that this wasn’t only one demented film maker’s fantasy.”
Pearl made a noticeable, bent-at-the-stomach, genuine, uncontrolled laugh. She said; “You know the ones I like even better?” He mildly shook his head “No,” happy to hear her response. She said; “The ones with the zombie’s walking around the mall.”
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“Don’t you find that pretty close to reality?”
“Of course, idiot. That’s what makes it so funny to begin with.”
Herman saw, enjoyed, valued and appreciated her point, though he didn’t yet have complete agreement with it. He questioned; “Think positive, speak positive, act positive, everything positive? Right?”
Pearl failed to see any contradiction in what she said. She didn’t note any meaningful difference from her sense of humor and his. She didn’t like his turn to seriousness after initiating the humor. Was he trying to be merely and stupidly judgmental? She refused to get defensive, took the initiative and drolly said; “Why not? You got a better idea?”
Herman pointed his right thumb over his shoulder and said;
“I don’t have any ideas. All I know for sure is that I’m not going back there.”
“Then why question me?”
“Just testing to see if you thought it out well?”
“Did I pass?”
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“Oh, sorry. Sure. I sometimes forget that when I think something is understood.”
“May I know my precise grade, pray tell?”
“Oh, ummmm. I don’t know exactly.......I didn’t make deductions for anything.......So, I guess you got a perfect score........Mind you. That doesn’t equate to ‘I agree fully.’”
She eyed him sideways, squinted a bit and said; “I think I understand.” With an air of sarcasm and confidence she added;
“Thanks. Personally, I didn’t think it was that great. I’ve got better.”
“I think that I, too understand and I wouldn’t doubt it.”
He pointed ahead and excitedly said; “Hey. Did you see that?”
“What?”
“I thought I saw lightning.”
“Nah, that doesn’t happen here.”
“I thought you said that this was your first time here......Oh, right, a book told you that.”
“As a matter of fact....”
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He noticed a quarrelsome tone, cut her off, ostensibly to assuage and said; “I’m not knocking it. I wish I read more myself. Maybe you could recommend one for me.”
“Probably could, but it’s irrelevant, as there don’t seem to be any libraries out here.”
He glanced at the sack she carried over her shoulder and said; “Didn’t bring any books with you?
“I don’t think any of the ones I have are for you.”
“I thought you might be holding a little one in your pocket.”
She giggled; “No.”
“How do you remember stuff, like the maps?”
“It’s hard to explain. I kind of memorize the stuff that’s essential and forget the rest.”
“Essence?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. It makes me laugh when someone writes a long-ass treatise on something. Invariably, they’re disagreeing with the
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learned of twenty years prior. And no doubt twenty years from now there will be another treatise that says this one is horseshit. Using expert opinion, you can prove anything you want. They always leave that wiggle room. You would logically think they were written prior to Nostradamus’ masking.”
“They won’t say horseshit.”
“Small point conceded. But, they’ll say the proper equivalent.”
Pleased with the direction of things Pearl again returned to the elemental and said; “Isn’t it strange how everything is so still here.”
As if he had just become aware, which was not stretching the truth, he said; “Now that you mention it. Yeah. Is it peaceful or ominous?”
“Ultimate question. I’ll pass on that one. Is it the quiet desirable peace everyone says they want or is it a portent of an explosion soon to come.”
“I used to care about stuff like that back there, but out here I don’t give a shit.” Herman laughed, looked up, extended his arms like a prophet and said; “Do something, fucker. You’re
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supposed to spit out the tepid. Live by your own rules or resign your fuckin’ job.”
“You get a kick out of Blasphemy. Blasphemy. Blasphemy.
Don’t you?”
Before Herman could respond Pearl snickered and added; “Me, too.”
****************************
He opened his eyes, seemingly wider than they had previously been and stared at her looking ahead. He wished that she didn’t notice. She gave off every appearance that she didn’t. He saw a small face; attractive and pensive, with a peculiar bend in her tiny nose, host to thin and almost undetectable wire-framed glasses. Her lips were left as nature would have them and were together, the lower twin somewhat extended beyond its higher counterpart. Her blue eyes showed nothing, but, oddly didn’t blink in the savage, perennial sunlight. Her hair was long, just the way he liked it and was now gray, with tiny traces of the original black. Short bangs
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reached her eyebrows, testifying to her minimal forehead. He wasn’t sure if her overall countenance was one of contentment or despondency. His gaze followed her sloping neck down. Her partially exposed breasts leaned against her red shirt as ice cream rests in its cup. Round was an ample word to describe her hips, tightly caged in her well-worn blue jeans. His eyes rested there for a long, but too short a time. He worked his way to her small feet. He wondered how they were able to fully keep her on firm ground. They were supported only by the briefest of open-top, leather-thonged sandals, below the gently undulating ankles. She was curves, like a gracious Queen Anne piece of furniture. Herman’s daydream was rudely interrupted, when she looked at him and chuckled as she said; “Like my feet?”
Herman was completely off guard and embarrassed. He blurted out; “No....Yes....I mean no....Oh, damn it, I don’t know.” He saw her chuckle turn to a tight-lipped grin and was compelled to add; “You have nice feet.”
Pearl continued her Joker grin and said; “Are you one of those?”
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Still not recovered from his initial trepidation, he supplied a duplicate line of brilliance and said;
“No....Yes....Oh, damn it, I don’t know.”
Pearl smiled at him, put her left hand on his cheek and said; “I understand.”
Relieved, but not the least bit comfortable, Herman decided to change the subject and said; “What kind of things did you read back there?”
“Everything. Do you like the rest of me too?” She put one hand over the other at hip level, as a shy school girl, with a pouting face.
“Yes, I like all of you. Like is too neutral a word. I love all of you.”
She took four quick steps back, looked at him seriously and as if she were disturbed. “She said; “Don’t ever use that word around me.”
Now he was confused and disturbed. He thought; “What’s wrong with love? Was I too hasty? If so, she didn’t have to make a big issue of it. Or, did she have to make a big issue of it for reasons I don’t know?” He settled on that thought, but
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didn’t want to see the images it might have implied. He tried to get those out of his head and continued to think. “The best thing to do is respect her wishes. This is the strongest wish I have yet heard. I’m sorry for a number of reasons.” He silently approached her, touched her arm and before he could say anything, she said; “David Foster Wallace?”
He squinted, showing surprise and said; “What?”
She calmly answered; “You asked me what I read back there.”
“Oh, oh, yeah.” He didn’t add; “About a million years ago.”
Her silence prompted him to say something else, so he asked; “Do you have any of his books in your bag?”
“No. He may have technically been the best writer of all time, but he was for back there.”
“One of the real geniuses and he said the hell with the whole place. That’s pretty insightful and not very different than us.” He stuck out his tongue and added; “Haven’t you yet noticed my genius. I have yours.”
“He should have tried it out here.”
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“How do you know that he didn’t?” She said nothing and showed a smidgeon of anger on her expressive little face and adjusted the glasses that required none. He knew that he had asked her something unanswerable and that he was also extolling the virtues of someone not ever accused of being one who thought and acted positively.
Herman was stupidly drawn to saying the wrong thing and had to go on; “Nobody else could write like that, though. A camera’s precision with humor, some of which only he could see. The first time I read him, he found some absurdity in something I have looked at thousands of times, but didn’t see it until he pointed it out. Genius.”
“No argument. However, at some point it’s a matter of taste. He’s in great company, with others I like. Most of them are dead, too, but as a result of natural causes.”
Herman continued to desire to display his “genius,” or was too simple to shut up. He said; “Who says that it wasn’t a natural cause. Life is no doubt considered natural. Wouldn’t the ending of life be the flip side of the same coin? You know; like off and on, like male and female, like black and white, like yin and yang ....”
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Pearl interrupted him to say; “Your stated view on male and female is admirable.” He stuck out his tongue, as he disdained
“admirable” as condescending. She continued; “Of course you’ve heard of ‘Yin, Yang and Young,’ the law firm.
He considered a serious answer, but rejected it in the cause of frivolity, too often his weakest point. He said; “What type of law do they specialize in?”
She deadpanned; “The highest; Constitutional.” and laughed briefly at her quick comeback. He joined her out of politeness.
Settling down from the day’s guffaw, he said; “So, what authors are good for here?”
“I don’t know the place well enough to be sure.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Probably a few. Depends on my mood.”
Uncontrolled, questioning Herman wouldn’t quit and said;
“Like?”
Exasperated Pearl retorted; “If I say one it will attach too much importance to that one at the expense of all the others.” Her temperament improved to mild annoyance. She looked
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in his sincere face and recalled that guys could often be just plain dumb. She said; “Damn it. I know you’re thinking that I’m being evasive. So, one is George Saunders.”
“I don’t know him. What did Sanders write?”
“Shit. I was afraid of that. And his name is Saunders. He wrote ’Pastoralia’, for one.”
“Well, tell me something about it.”
She turned away for a moment, came back with her head spinning and said; “He’s crazy.”
“Like Wallace?”
“No, in a different way. He doesn’t look for answers. He laughs at the lack of them and writes rather childishly.”
“Well, if we get a library up there somewhere, I’m going to get one of his books.”
“Start with Pastoralia.”
“Pastoralia?”
“Trust me.”
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Herman nodded, pointed his patented thumb to the rear and said; “I wonder what the hell they’re doing back there now.”
“The monkeys are playing with microscopes and calculators.”
“At the zoo?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did you ever wonder what the zoo animals think when we stare at them?”
“I don’t wonder anymore. They told me. They turn their backs and show us their ass, except at feeding time.”
Herman laughed and said; “That’s great. You just pulled a David Foster Wallace on me.”
Pearl shook her head in a disparaging manner and said;
“George Saunders.” She laughed and continued; “Animals are great. I’m going to miss them.”
“Maybe we’ll find some up ahead. It’s really weird without any birds or insects right here though.”
“Maybe they’re dead.”
“Maybe we are.”
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She said; “Oooooh,” tickled him and he returned the favor.
****************************
She said; “I might have seen that lightning you were talking about.”
“See, I am right sometimes.”
“Sometimes being the key word.”
“Definitely. Don’t be too hard on me, though. The job was defaulted to me. Either I had to do it or it wouldn’t get done.”
“I could take that in at least two directions. I could say;
‘Long live anarchy,’ or I could say; ‘That’s not true anymore.’”
“Is that “A” or “B”, or can you choose ‘All of the above?’”
Pearl was perplexed. She said; “I’ll have to think about that one.”
“I’m in the same boat. But, I can tell you this. I’m all in favor of letting the others run things back there. Or even here in this new land. They couldn’t possibly make it any worse.”
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She hesitated, but was compelled to add; “I know them a little better than you and I think making things worse would well be within the realm of possibility.”
“Well, now I can give you two answers. One is that I’m willing to take the risk and, two is that we should unionize, overthrow the oppressor and all of that.”
“Who’s the oppressor?”
“God....Religion...Psychiatry, perhaps that’s redundant...The Grand Inquisitor...The Man in Charge.”
“How about the Woman in Charge?”
“No such thing. That’s the problem.”
Pearl looked at him warmly and said; “You’re sweet.”
He hoped she didn’t see the pink hue he felt on both ears and said; “Thanks, but it’s also the truth. Hey, have you yet detected any of those witches that are supposed to be out here?”
“Not a one.”
They continued their side by side walk and the temperature seemed about 85 degrees, the cloudless sky remained a uniform light blue and the wind was non-existent. He took her right hand
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with his left and got no objection. She asked; “Were you married back there?”
“Yes. Blessed by the church and everything, for all the good it did.”
“Me, too. But not blessed by the church or state. Didn’t seem to make any difference.”
Herman wasn’t surprised to hear that and said; “Thirty years of scorching misery.”
“What did you expect?”
“Something other than what it turned out to be......It’s hard to explain without telling the story of the two and then putting those two in context of a changing world. It would be like trying to write ‘War and Peace.’” He paused, laughed and said; “Maybe I’ll try it someday. The second half of the book will be extremely short.”
“Because it’s hard to write about nothing, or because there was little peace?”
“Kind of the same thought, I guess.”
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“Yeah, I guess. Same story here. I left one marriage for no real reason. After a while it was like he didn’t care one way or the other and neither did I. No animosity. That was the weird part. One day I came home from work early and saw him naked in the bathtub while his mother gave him a bath. A 25 year old man.
I said this is just too weird and left. I still wonder what that was all about.”
I’ve got a good guess; “Mommy was washing that dirty girl off her good little boy.”
Pearl wrinkled her brow at Herman, but made no response.
He felt a need to explain himself and said; “That was intended to be sarcasm directed at the attitudes of many.
Personally, if I was fortunate enough to get a dirty girl all over me, I wouldn’t wash for a month.”
Pearl was reticent to make any reply and searched for an alternative avenue of pursuit. Before she could come up with anything, Herman ventured; “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth, but produced no words. He grinned at her and waited patiently for a response. He hoped it would not be evasive, but that most likely it would be that or an
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indignant no. She read his mind and decided to throw the ball back in his court and said; “I haven’t bathed yesterday or today. Do you consider that dirty?”
He surprised himself and quickly came up with a retort;
“Depends on what you’ve been doing, I suppose.”
Triumphantly, she raised her voice and said; “I’ve been walking with you, stupid. Can I get dirty doing that?”
He smiled, shook his head and said; “No chance.”
Looking to make the game equal and more interesting, she asked; “Are you a dirty boy?”
He thought; “I’m totally unprepared. I’ve never been asked that before and consequently didn’t expect it. Let’s see. Boys are supposed to be dirty, aren’t they? Snipes and snails and puppy dog tails and all of that. That’s really not what she’s asking me though and I wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t another test. I definitely want to pass. Even more I’d like to go to the head of the class, so I need a good answer; one that says what she wants to hear. I don’t have the slightest idea of what she wants to hear, so forget that.
She said; “Come on, come on. Time is running out.”
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He decided to wing it and replied; “Boys are expected by boys and girls to be dirty and I’m not rebellious in that regard. I have to add, however, that whatever I do with you is not.”
“Didn’t you just contradict what you said before?”
“I don’t know. Are you writing all this shit down?”
She said a loud “No,” and he feared failure. He said; “This can get complicated. Maybe before I was trying to be humorous.”
“I don’t recall laughing.”
“I could say that you have no sense of humor, but I won’t.
One time I may have used the word “dirty” in the meaning that I think you ascribe to it. Another time I could use it in the sense that people back there have. Another time I might use it in my own sense.......”
She cut him off and said; “Which is?”
He realized that she had gotten him back to square one. He further thought that this must be very important to her. He said; “Nothing is dirty in love.”
“I told you not to use that word.”
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“Well, how can I answer difficult questions if you limit my vocabulary with forbidden words?”
She was as annoyed as him and said; “I give you one rule and you use it as some stupid excuse.”
He was very tired of the discussion, so he just said; “Yes.
I’m a dirty boy, no matter how anyone defines it. How’s that?”
She laughed and said; “Just fine. You had me worried for a while.”
“Then I passed the stupid test?”
“Yes.”
“What grade?”
“To be finalized on a field trip.”
He finally lost his exasperation and smiled back at her.
She looked him over and saw a desperate old man. His face was not flawed in any outrageous way, but it showed that he had been over-tired for some time, the laugh lines more of the grimace variety. His long, messy gray hair was reminiscent of a better time, but also showed how long it had been gone. His thin body was not unpleasing and probably was not very different from
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its appearance when he was a teenager. She thought; ”If only I could cut off that head,” as she admired his form fitting jeans.
She caught herself and thought that he should have segued long ago into something more appropriate. She quickly recognized that she could well say that to herself. She said; “When was your last bath?”
He utilized the lines on his face to scrunch up his mouth into a genuine, but also posed smile and said; “Just before I met you.”
Pearl looked up at the blue sky and lost interest in talk.
He made a thorough investigation of the ground and thought he found its similarity to that above it. Almost imperceptibly, he mumbled, also not much for more conversation.
****************************
Herman woke up and he saw Pearl beside him, with one leg touching his, under the non-existent shade of a big chief cactus. Hallucination? Same sun. Same sky. Same wind; none. He said; “Did we sleep through the night?”
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She rolled over, stretched and said; “Maybe. I didn’t see it either.”
He went into his bag, retrieved a hunting knife and easily removed it from its torn sheath. He plunged it into the cactus center and spread the slow stream onto his face. Pearl’s eyes widened in shock. She stood up, backed away carefully and said;
“What the hell is that?”
Herman held the knife in front of him and incredulously said; “It’s a knife. Haven’t you seen one before?”
Pearl continued to back up and said; “It’s a weapon.”
He almost laughed, but, as she seemed genuinely upset, he thought it not a good time to appear humorous. He said; “It’s no weapon. I use it to extract water and nourishment from the cactuses.” He again reached into his bag and she increased the distance between them, while watching him intently. He put the knife on the sand and pulled out a clear flask. He said; “How do you think I’ve been filling this? He offered it to her.
Her thirst overcame her fear. She took the flask and drank.
She said; “Don’t scare me like that again. What else do you have in that bag anyway?”
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He sighed, turned his head to one side and said; “Secrets.
Things I brought from the old world that I thought I might need here.”
“Like what?”
“Like secrets. My things.” He saw that she was not comfortable with that response, so he added; “What do you have in yours?”
“None of your business.”
He laughed and said; “See. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
She couldn’t help but make a smile she tried to convert to a grimace and said; “Okay, okay. I get the point.”
He said; “Take my word. There’s nothing in here that will hurt you. Can you say the same?”
She thought for a while and responded; “Not physically, anyway.”
“I stand corrected. I should have made the same distinction. I really don’t think there are any mental dangers to you, but I can’t be sure.”
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“I can say the same.”
He picked up his bag and said; “How about we just dump everything on the ground and get it over with?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Glad you said that. I don’t think so either.”
He picked up his knife and put it back in its sheath, simultaneously saying; “Now, if we ran into some snakes....”
Pearl just gave him an “Ooooh you” look and returned the flask.
He took a swap and said; “One of the things that used to annoy me back there was when I’d say something to someone and they’d give me a queer look and say; ‘It goes without saying.’”
“I hated that, too. It’s just a conversation killer.”
“It translates to; ‘I don’t know a damn thing about it and don’t want to advertise my deficiencies.’ As a kid my room was right near the front door. So, sometimes, when I came home my parents didn’t know I was there. One time I heard my mother tell my father; ‘When I married you I thought you were the strong silent type. Now I know you’re just stupid.’”
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“What did he say?”
“He remained the strong silent type or mumbled. I always thought that he was kind of stupid, so I was glad to find out that I wasn’t the only one who thought that.”
“Still think he was stupid?”
Herman thought a bit and replied; “Kind of. Now, I’d probably use the word limited. He seems to have known how to do things, but was totally incapable of explaining what he did.”
Pearl laughed to Herman’s surprise and said; “I think that’s pretty common. My father had a ‘military intelligence’
job, if that’s not an oxymoron and if you asked him to explain it, it would be like talking to Forrest Gump.” Upon saying that she realized that she might be missing something, but probably not.
“Is he still alive?”
She shook her head wistfully and said; “No. He died when he was younger than I am now. They flew his body back to the US
from Panama when he was 52.”
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“Mine also died on the young side, but not that bad. Heart attack at 62. It wasn’t really a surprise, as he never exercised and smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. He said he picked up the habit under Patton, in Europe during World War Two. The supply lines couldn’t keep up with the combat troop’s movement, but curiously coffee and cigarettes found their way. So, the commanders used to say; ‘Drink ‘em and smoke ‘em. It’ll kill the hunger.’”
“Did it?”
Herman shrugged and replied; “He said ‘Yeah,’ but it killed him too.” He paused a while. Pearl was quiet and stared at the painfully consistent, uniform, light blue sky. He felt a twinge of anger and continued; “You know, everything they tell you back there turns out to be wrong. The experts discover that ten years later and then someone tries to sell you a remedy. And this strong, silent type of god proves useless. The one thing the imperfect religions have in common is that they equate life with suffering ....”
Pearl interrupted him to say; “Well, somebody got something right.”
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“Yeah, but, why should we accept that pitiful situation? We should form a union and go out on strike. Management unfair to workers.”
“It’s been done and the results are very questionable.”
“No, we need something different. If we are destined to suffer anyway, let’s completely stop playing the game, something on the lines of 60’s left wing radicalism.”
“Another ism.”
“Maybe. But, what the hell do we have to lose? Those in charge have already exhausted their arsenal.” He put one foot up on his sack, aping George Washington, crossing the Delaware River and laughed to her.
She smiled and thought of him as consciously absurd and unconsciously useless, a combination currently pleasing.
He ponderously pronounced; “There shall be certain inalienable rights. Boss ≠ Master, Boss = Caretaker. Worker ≠
Slave, Worker = Partner. Both Caretaker and Partner shall be beneficiaries of a profit sharing plan.” He paused and saw, what he thought was interest in her face and then continued in his
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mock-authoritarian manner of speech; “Tell that to the mean spirited fucker upstairs.”
Pearl clapped her hands and said; “I will. I will. As long as you do.”
Herman said; “I think I already did and will continue to, because I don’t give a fuck. Are you my Partner?”
Pearl excitedly exclaimed; “Yes..........As long as I can also be co-founder.”
Herman shrugged, smiled at her and said; “That’s the only way it can be.” They moved to each other and embraced. He thought; “Celebration. Exhilaration. Hope. Reality. Pearl.”
****************************
Herman opened his eyes and felt the grainy, sun-bleached sand beneath him. He fretted when he couldn’t see or feel any part of his companion. His slumber produced a dream that was at the very least, unsettling. In it, he knew that Pearl didn’t want to see him. He went to her house on a pleasant fall morning
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and thought that he’d surprise her waiting at the front door. It wasn’t fastened properly and in the space provided by the shoddy workmanship, inattention and overuse, he saw her, already fully dressed, scurrying around the kitchen at breakneck speed. He remembered that she had told him not to come looking for her and tried to think of some excuse to be crouched at her door, of course, coming up with nothing. He scanned the neighborhood and saw that the block consisted of similar houses; two stories with basements, wood frames and pitched roofs forming attics which faced the street, contrary to what aesthetics might demand, but efficient for their use on narrow plots of land. They were probably built when the craftsman style was popular and had been subjected to plebian repairs and additions in subsequent years.
Colors were numerous, with most displaying a mixture. Pearl’s was green and cream, with a pink trim and doors. All of the colors were well faded and resulted in a diminishment of the shock produced when the trim and doors were freshly decorated.
The street was lined on both sides with mature elm trees, which were still in bloom sufficiently to produce shade from a weak morning sun, off and on obscured by fluffy, white cumulous clouds, which moved slowly across the blue sky, propelled by a gentle breeze, which he also felt on his ground level. He thought that she might exit another door, in which case, he
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could get behind her, then catch up at some point and say something stupid, like; “Fancy meeting you. I was just out strolling. Do you live here?” and hope she didn’t smack him.
Fantasy. He watched her through the crack as she continued to move quickly gathering up some things and putting them in a light brown, leather bag strapped over her shoulder. Triumphant classical music with horns on their way to crescendo emanated from somewhere inside and she danced vigorously and sang indecipherable words in a mocking, but cheerful fashion. She glided to the front door, opened it and saw him. She made no reaction, shut the door and bounced down the street. He was saddened at the lack of recognition, but relieved that she didn’t scream at him or call a cop. He followed, keeping his distance thirty feet behind. She did not look back. On the third block of her journey she met a female friend, with oddly and shortly cut bleached blond hair, parted in the center. The two stopped for a brief moment, looked back at him, laughed and then went their separate ways. She continued on one more block to a high school where she taught, went in and, again never looked back. He stopped across the street from the three story brick structure, knowing that he couldn’t go in, but not knowing what to do next.
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Upon awakening he got extremely depressed over her desire not to see him and her ability to be blasé about it. This stayed with him a while, until he re-interpreted the dream from her point of view. She was effervescent and happy. She sang and danced. This is what he most wanted for her and he was content.
But, where was his companion? He got up and canvassed the area. She emerged from the opposite side of a cactus and he called out; “Pearl, you scared the hell out of me. Don’t ever do that again.”
She looked at him strangely, furrowing her brows and wrinkling her forehead. He took a few more slow steps in her direction, as she stood still. He said; “Pearl,” in somewhat questioning manner.
She shook her head in apparent disbelief and softly said;
“I’m not Pearl. My name is Dusky.”
He wasn’t sure if she were playing a trick on him or not.
She had not done so, up until now. He wondered if she had consumed too much cactus juice. He wondered if she had totally lost it. He decided to look for physical evidence. She looked a lot like Pearl, but now that he was scrutinizing, he thought that the person standing in front of him had markedly smaller
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hips and somewhat larger breasts. She wore similar blue jeans and sandals, but her shirt was a light green button up. Pearl always preferred red. Her long, gray hair and small, attractive face seemed identical and she wore wire-rimmed glasses.
He wasn’t certain if this was Pearl or not. How did anyone else get here? How could Pearl disappear on the flat terrain with twenty mile visibility in all directions? He looked back for the first time and saw nothing but sand and cactus. Maybe she was hiding behind one of those. Maybe she went back and died along the way. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. He thought the best approach was to play “Dusky’s” game. He said; “How did you get there?”
She replied; “I think I made five wrong turns,” and giggled.
“All right. Have it your way. I’m Herman.”
She giggled again, saying; “Like in Munster.”
“Like in hermit. You’re a real giggler, aren’t you?”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because of all the things we’ve been speaking of.”
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“What are you talking about? We’ve just met, and that’s only because you’ve been following me around.”
Herman was lost. He shrugged and said; “I’m sorry. You looked like someone I once knew. I must have been mistaken.”
Dusky silently nodded agreement. She walked away.
Herman stood still and said; “Just tell me one thing. Where are you going?”
She pointed at a smokestack that made him think of urban New Jersey. She said; “Back there.”
“How could you? Why?”
With her back still to him she answered as if she had just heard the dumbest question of all time, saying; “I’ve been out here long enough. She kept walking as if she were in basic training on methamphetamine. Herman was too weary to keep up if he wanted to; so he sat.
****************************
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Herman’s sleepy eyes opened to be rudely greeted by the undefeatable blare of the persistent sun, seemingly angry in its malevolent desire to shed glorious illumination on everything too dumb to hide. He nervously scanned the ground level and found no sign of Dusky. He sighed. He was well practiced at the art. He was disappointed, but far from surprised, as her recent conversations put a direct and indirect emphasis on “social”
considerations. That was her merry word, as he would gloomily substitute “Back there shit.” There was no way he was going back. It took him 60 years to escape and he felt it only logical that it would require a minimum of 60 years in the wilderness to give it a fair day in court. He realized that he used the words
“felt” and “logical” in the same sentence. There had to be something wrong with his train of thought.
With the audacious, nervy, golden orb constantly standing guard he had lost complete track of time. How would he know when he was here 60 years? Maybe he already crossed that threshold and just didn’t know. What did it matter anyway? His original goal was to be out here by himself and, at times including now, he was successful. So, why wasn’t he in the mood for a celebration? Easy. Herman had grown accustomed to the grief
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poured on him by Pearl, Dusky, or DuskyPearl, the spirited and brisk contradiction.
He gazed at the soot belching ugliness of what was now before him and pictured her there. He wasn’t sure if he was looking at a new area or if he had circled around the globe and was again near his point of departure. From a distance it looked exactly the same. He wondered if he should turn back and go the other way. He promised himself that he never would, but now he didn’t know east from west, anyway. If only the god damned sun did its job and moved, he might get an inkling of where he was and perhaps even be privy to the correct time. He further thought that going back was a poor practical option, as his knife had probably damaged his big chief cactus water supply. He realized he was the last of the great medieval thinkers as he wanted the sun to move, while he remained comfortably ensconced in the world of his earlier choice.
The merciless clarity constantly ensured by his uninvited, now undesirable companion made him have second thoughts. He never anticipated “out there” would be reminiscent of the jeering audience he endured playing baseball. Maybe he had made some core error. Was clarity, of necessity, merciless? But wasn’t truth what he thought he was desirous of when he left the
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belching gray clouds of smoke “back there?” Does “merciless clarity” infer “merciful obscuration?” Does “merciless clarity”
need, or love, to risk using a forbidden word, “merciful obscuration?” Semantics? Sophistry? He seemed certain in one observation. The trillions of seeds waiting to bloom below this dry, barren ground are not sun worshippers.
He looked at his bare arms and thought he could see the blood pulsing through the ugly, irregular veins. He wished he had observed Pearl and Dusky this closely. Or perhaps that was exactly what he should not have done. Maybe his incuriosity allowed him to luck out, at least on that one.
He became aware that he was certain of another thing. He didn’t know anything more than he did at the outset of his journey. He merely had more questions, on which, the supposedly illuminated one upstairs deigned to shed any of its glorious light.
He defiantly laid on his back in an effort to fully demonstrate his steadfastness to any potential observer. He immediately thought of Pearl and Dusky. He recalled all of his time spent with both of them; the warmth, the worry, the misunderstanding, the talk, the joy, the unbearable sorrow and
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most of all, the movement of mind and body that now eluded him.
He realized that he was wrong on at least one score. He knew he missed her, whatever name she called herself now. He had vowed to never go “Back There” and didn’t want to be just another liar. Maybe there was room for maneuvering, as at this point he truly didn’t know back from front, or east from west. But, even if he chose to walk forward to the “civilization” ahead of him, how could he be certain that he would be able to again find her?
Or, was it she who originally found him? Maybe that was her job.
With a weathered, squinting, yet determined face he struggled to look up at his taciturn nemesis and softly, but resolutely said;
“I’m not moving until you do.” His tears nourished a few waiting, fortunate, dormant seeds as the water cascaded through the miniscule grains of sand below him.
Herman lost track of the time he spent there. Shade providing, white, gray and black clouds silently moved in from the east and delivered a warm drizzle. The accompanying breeze brought a long forgotten scent of flowers he could no longer name. The earth moved and his imperfect eyes told him that it was the sun.
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The Beginning?