The Sons of Liberty

by James Tow

of Liberty

  By James Tow

  Copyright 2011 James Tow

  I crept over the rocks in an attempt to startle him. I perched over the last couple of rocks that stood in my way and looked down. He sat there, watching each wave crash upon the shore. I pressed my hand over my mouth to suppress my severe giggling. I was failing for my body started shaking. It’s now or never.

  I grabbed the bottom of my dress and positioned myself to pop-up. I took one last peek. I slowly peered over the rocks to see him looking to his right with a big grin on his face.

  Crap! And I ducked back down. I can never catch him off guard. Then I heard footstep coming from the right.

  I heard him laugh under his breath and call out, “Watch your step!” Curious, I slowly peeked to see his brother stumbling over a few rocks.

  I lowered my head and turned over on my back to look at the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

  “Beautiful day,” Paul said as I heard him shuffle over to a seat next to Gabriel.

  Gabriel takes a deep breath and said, “Yup. One of those ‘feel good’ days. Especially since you’re graduating.”

  I could only hear the sound of the water washing up on shore. I always assumed Paul couldn’t wait to go to college, but now that doesn’t seem the case judging from his silence.

  “It’s going to be high school all over again: school, work, school, work. I keep thinking…I can go the same route you took,” Paul said.

  “You don’t want that,” Gabriel murmured before Paul could go on.

  “Why not? Every time I see you, you’re so happy.” Gabriel sat there silent. I sat up a little, concerned that my husband to be isn’t as happy as he seems.

  Paul continued, “You have a beautiful fiancé, you love your job…”

  “I never said I wasn’t happy,” Gabriel murmured as Paul went on.

  “You just seem perfectly content with no regrets.”

  Silence again. Only, I can feel Gabriel smiling. “She is beautiful isn’t she?” Gabriel said. They both laughed.

  “I am very happy,” Gabriel said. I slouched in relief.

  “See?” Paul pressed, “So why would you not want me to do as you did?”

  “Because you’re capable of so much more than I am,” Gabriel stated. Paul stuttered in trying to find his words.

  Gabriel continued, “You have the capacity to do great things, Paul. A man of your caliber can only be so.” His words echoed over the crashing waves. Paul sat in silence. I turned around and peeked over to see his response. They both sat there, looking at the horizon. Gabriel grabbed Paul’s shoulder and said, “I’m proud of you. But that doesn’t mean you stop.” Paul nodded and Gabriel let go of his shoulder to pull out a cigar and some matches from his pocket.

  “Though…” Gabriel started as he was lighting the cigar, “you’re pretty damn ugly. So I’m sure you’ll be single the rest of your life.” Paul slugged him in the arm and they both laughed. “What?!” Gabriel exclaimed. “If my dog was as ugly as you, I’d shave his butt and make him walk backwards.” They continued to laugh. I shook my head and plugged my nose.

  “Dad would kill you if he found out you were smoking Cubans without him,” Paul said.

  “She doesn’t like the smell,” Gabriel explained. I smiled and turned back over as the smoke burned my eyes.

  “On another note, I do have regrets for things I have done. And those who say they don’t are liars,” Gabriel said. “And those who say not to dwell on your past are wrong.”

  “With the past, I have nothing to do; nor with the future. I live now.” Paul quoted.

  “Ah, though I agree with the individualist on several other ideas, not with this,” Gabriel replied. “Say you were racing through the woods and the finish line was coming up. You and another runner were neck-and-neck and you came up to a forked road. He went right and you went left. The left trail ended up being a dead end and the other runner won.” Gabriel paused and let this sink into Paul.

  “You can’t say you don’t regret your decision for going left because it caused you to lose. And when that same race comes around next year, you know where to go because of the past. Those who don’t learn from their past, who don’t regret the decisions that made them dead last, are losers. And those losers are useless and are only a waste of the limited space we have.”

  Paul shifted his weight and seemed to take this in with a grain of salt.

  “Your past is the bond that holds the pieces of your individuality together, and makes you the weapon that you are today.” Paul didn’t say anything. I turned over to see him squinting out into the distance.

  “What kind of a weapon are you? And how long will that bond last?” Gabriel added and Paul nodded in approval.

  As Gabriel’s words rang through my ears, I wondered if he thought I was…useful.

  “Well…” Paul started, “I wouldn’t be in that situation because I would have followed the other guy to eliminate the possibility of him choosing the right path and me choosing the wrong path.”

  “Nice,” Gabriel said.

  “What would you have done?” Paul asked. “What if you chose the wrong path?”

  Gabriel sat on his rock, smoked his cigar, and contemplated. “I would run through the trees,” Gabriel said. I laughed and shook my head.

  “You can’t do that,” Paul scoffed.

  “Who says you have to follow the paths?” Gabriel retorted. “In this case, it would only set you back, am I right?” Paul shook his head in disbelief just as I was.

  “There’s always the other option,” Gabriel said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Break the other runner’s legs.”

  Anna

  “I’m sorry Miss. Hound, but can you turn that down?” She said this with a pained expression. She must be working on something. The pencil was a twisting yellow blur in her hand with a pile of papers under her nose. I figured maybe it was the bass or the singer’s high pitch style that annoyed her. I doubt this is her ideal Thursday night. The professors here probably offered extra credit points for the students who sat through this lecture.

  I smile, “Of course. I’m sorry, but I was just getting in ‘the zone.’” I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

  I now know most of these kids are here for the extra credit. It’s easy picking out those who want to be here from those who are here on orders. Most of the younger group sat sideways, in their desks, or sat looking behind them to talk to their neighbors. Based on their body language and reactions I presumptively put together their conversations:

  “Last night was great.”

  “Did you hear what happened?”

  “This is boring.”

  Those who seem full of interest (most of them older) have notebooks open with pencils at the ready, and are staring intently at me. Others have laptops open with fingers in position. It is a bit unnerving, but I’m glad they’re interested.

  I noticed the auditorium appeared much larger with the seats occupied. I know it seats a thousand people, but it appears to hold twice that from my point of view. There were approximately two-hundred and fifty students diagonally to my left and right and five-hundred students directly in front of me. The auditorium’s ceiling reaches impressive heights, as it should, with the seats at such a slope. The seats themselves look comfortable. They were wrapped in red velvet with armrests and a small wooden platform that slides up and over to create a convenient desk. As I continued to gaze around the massive room, I noticed the clock; only five minutes until show time.

  I can’t seem to think of a way to break the ice and start my lecture. Should I do a one-clapper and say ‘Alright gang!’ or a ‘Settle down, now’ with my arms up and palms down motioning downward like some new h
ip dance?

  All the while, I’m telling myself not to look at the man sitting right in front of me—blatantly ogling. He’s wearing that silly half-smile and carries the familiar aroma of confidence. The man then shifts his weight and sits forward in his desk. Leaning on his elbows he continues to stare, still wearing the half-smile. I force a smile back, and he then winks at me. Who the hell winks? Pathetic really. Flattering, but pathetic.

  “So, how’re you Mizz Hound?” he said in a sly trying-to-be seductive voice. Frantically trying to get out of the situation I say, “Alright guys!” and do a double-clapper. That…was lame, but relieving. I would do anything to get out of a colloquy with Mr. Rapist.

  “Cut the chatter!” I quickly shouted and waited for them to turn down the hullabaloo. Only then could I proceed, “What do you all know about The Sons of Liberty?” Quickly, a young girl from the middle raps out, “The Sons of Liberty is a world policing organiza--” Another girl, from the left section, cuts her off, “That’s only legend. I seriously doubt anybody would let such an organization have so much power.”

  I raise my eyebrows at her and say, “So who or what do you think they are?”

  She replies, “I don’t think they exist. I believe the so-called ‘Sons’ are a myth brought up by resistance fighters of the War.”

  A tall, lanky, gray-haired man from the top right of the auditorium, clearly a professor, responds, “Nicole, I thought we made it clear, in class just now, that they did in fact exist.” Several giggles echoed throughout the auditorium.