Unnecessary Noises

by Joseph M. Bianchi

  Later that evening it was quite difficult for John to enjoy the Spanish Stairs or any of the other attractions of Rome, being dogged by throngs of people. He asked his Washington escort to take him back to the hotel. Upon arriving Lawson halted John, who was about to bolt to his room, with a firm hand on his shoulder.

  “John, there is someone here to see you.”

  John looked up at him with a blank expression. “See me? Looks like everybody wants to do that!”

  “Sure. But this one is special.” John reluctantly agreed to the meeting and was directed to a room off the hotel’s main lobby. He was deposited in the room and told to wait while his escort disappeared. After what seemed like an eternity the door opened. Lawson entered first, trying to coax whomever it was on the other side of the door to come in.

  There was shock, tears and disbelief. It was Brian of all people. John didn’t know what to make of it. But there he stood, beaming with admiration and a Cheshire grin.

  “John, I had to come. I had to!”

  “Brian, what’s…what’s this all about. I thought you were…well...thought you lost it when made that speech back in…”

  Brian waved him off. “Yeah…but, then I realized that I had been bottled up over the whole situation with my father. I realized that it was, you know, like the cause of my anger. Basically, you cured me!”

  “Cured you? Um…I don’t think so.”

  “Sure did. I’m different. I’m a new man, really!”

  John forced a smile, “Ok…right.”

  Brian went on for a couple of hours about how all this had helped him overcome the death of his mother. He went on and on about the impact John was having and how even his sisters had caught the fire of John’s words. Finally, Lawson re-entered the room, obviously trying to suppress laughter.

  “Ok, Brian, time to go!”

  Brian looked reluctant to leave and gave John an almost panicked expression of surprise, as if leaving John was akin to turning off his air hose. “John…um, I’ll be in touch, OK? OK?”

  “Sure thing, Brian”

  The next day John was whisked away to other shorter-stay stops: Paris, where he gave an elegant speech on a platform right below the Eiffel Tower; Belgium, where he lectured workers at a chocolate factory on the merits of the simple life—and Great Britain, where he, very briefly, met the Queen and had lunch with the Prime Minister and his wife.

  All in all, it was a successful tour. But it did nothing to improve John’s state of mind. He got very little sleep pondering why so many people thought he was special when, to him, he had been doing nothing out of the ordinary; he was simply speaking what seemed to make sense. He wondered if people could possibly be that easily swayed by the chatter of a now newly thirteen year old boy. But apparently they could; and not only that, but that boy could possibly wield a lot of power. Power was not what John came looking for—but it found him. Now the question was what to do with it?

  Power means influence, and influence can be a very deadly weapon in the wrong hands. This was a lot for John to take in, but he had no choice: God had put this on his plate and he had to be true to whatever purpose He had for him. It was his own imperfections that haunted him. Indeed, he had many in his own family. Yet, it was his that were gnawing at him, especially when asked to give a speech; how could an imperfect, young teen impart wisdom to the masses of people and yet have it accepted by all of them? It was certainly a curious affair.

  When John arrived back in the states the furor over his overseas tour was in full pitch: photographers scrambled for his picture at the airport, people of all ages held out pieces of paper for him to autograph and, of course, he was swamped with book deals and movie offers. He felt besieged and lonely. His family seemed to be distant shadows in the tornado of activity that had cocooned him.

  All of this was not about to improve. John had been getting heavy pressure from one of the networks to have his own TV show. Reluctantly, he went along with it. Naturally, Uncle Bill was an instigator; he had been the liaison between the network and John’s family. He was quite successful in getting dad to sign the contract on John’s behalf. No sooner was the ink dry than John’s new handlers moved in. He was now told how he should present himself, how to dress—and how to conduct himself in public, you know, so the network looked good.

  All this was simply another blow for mom, who now moved in a very slow cadence with her shoulders slumped over, looking like someone walking the last mile to the gallows. This was not the life she had ordered, and this was certainly not the life she wanted for her son. It was as if she had lost him forever; as if he had been kidnapped in the night and she was now on a desperate hunt to get him back. She grew paler as the days moved on. Rather than celebrating his new TV show, she believed that this would be the end of her relationship with John as he had now been transformed into a creature of the media.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Don’t Touch that Dial!”

  The night of John’s TV show premier saw what seemed to be the entire neighborhood packed into his father’s house. John had requested that no family member be present in the studio, just in case things went badly. The show would be shown nationally. The producer was convinced that it would be an instant hit. It had to be; much money was spent on preparation, John’s salary and network advertising and promotion. The format would be simple: John would be the show. As per his usual habit, he would come out on an elaborate set, the house lights would dim and John, after taking his traditional pause, would launch into his speech. And so it was.

  The audience filed in noisily chatting with anticipation. The cameramen made their last minute check of their equipment. The director and producer sat nervously squirming in their seats in the control booth, talking about the technical aspects of the show, but really telegraphing to each other their anxiety about what would happen that night.

  The show began and all seemed to be going quite swimmingly. John came out to wild applause, there was the dramatic pause, and then John enthusiastically went into a speech about how the old values were being pushed aside in the now loud and bizarre 1960’s. The producer stood up in his chair, his eyes large with excitement.

  “We’ve done it! We’ll definitely get the highest ratings!” He raised his hands over his head, “Touchdown!”

  Back at the house the reaction was about the same. The gathered neighborhood was hooting it up watching the events unfold. Mom and dad, however, sat in the back of the living room looking quite pensive. Mom bit her lower lip for a few moments, and then got up quickly and went into the kitchen. She placed her hands on the counter and hung her head, making sure no one could see her quietly weeping. Dad followed behind her.

  “Look, it’s not as if he isn’t doing some good.”

  “And what would that be? Being on display? Not being able to go anywhere without being tailed by a rowdy crowd. No privacy. No time with his family. No life.”

  Dad looked away. No doubt she was right, but there seemed to be no answer to this whole dilemma; the circus continued.

  “But, hon…I think…”

  “Hey, guys, get in here!” Something was awry. Someone had sensed a change in John’s speech; he seemed to be preparing to make some kind of announcement.

  Dad stumbled back into the living room. Everyone was on their feet—and looking worried. “What’s going on?”

  “Shsss! Listen!” several of them demanded, sounding almost on cue.

  “…and so, my friends, I know that many of you have followed me from the beginning. I thank you for your loyalty. I really don’t feel I’m special, or have done anything you couldn’t do. But I guess common sense is in short supply these days. But like all good things, they must come to an end…”

  The control booth went into panic mode; the producer shot out of his chair so violently that it flipped over. “No! No! He can’t do this! I won’t let him!” He opened the control room door and dashed down a small flight of stairs, tripping several times on the random wiri
ng that ran through the backstage area. He made his way to camera one where he knew John could see him and began waving his arms like a man pleading for help on a sinking ship. It was to no avail.

  “Therefore, I have decided to retire from my speaking career. I know it sounds odd for a thirteen year old to say, ‘retirement,’ but I can’t think of a better word.”

  The director tore off his headphones and threw them to the floor, but then stood in complete silence and disbelief.

  “No, Johnny, don’t do it. Don’t leave us!” someone from the audience shouted. There were “Oh, no’s” and “It can’t be’s” heard throughout the building.

  “So my dear friends, I bid you good night, and God bless!”

  With that John calmly walked off the set, down the studio corridor and out the back door.

  CHAPTER 15

  A Different Life

  The following days saw John trying to do his best at eluding the volcano of reporters and fans who mobbed him. The reporters begged for interviews trying to get to the bottom of John’s decision to quit, whilst the fans tearfully asked John to say it wasn’t so. It was a drama worthy of any Hollywood studio; but this was real and it obviously had implications for a lot of people. But like many things that capture the attention of the public, the excitement began to fade. The notoriety that surrounded John began to withdraw like the evening tide.

  Had it all been a dream? Of course, it wasn’t, but the whole thing seemed to be beyond anyone’s comprehension. John, for his part, was at peace with his decision—at first. He felt that he was being looked upon as more than just a young man, simply giving advice from the heart, and how he viewed people and the world. Rather, he felt that he had been turned into an oracle that could be consulted—and abused—by all. It was all too much, too heady and too overwhelming for someone his age, or perhaps any age for that matter.

  So, he had to step aside. Perhaps there would be someone more worthy who could take the mantle that he once wore. No matter, life would continue and hopefully at a much more normal pace.

  Dad and mom had settled down to their normal routine. Mom still looked bedraggled. She seemed have had her energy drained from her. It took a lot to get her to laugh; it took very little to get her to cry. Dad had returned to his drinking with a vengeance. His midnight drunken rants had become a thing of legend in the neighborhood. Despite this, he was still looked upon with admiration by some. In fact, many in the neighborhood dearly loved him.

  Sister seemed unfazed by the whole affair. Now, she could return to the center of attention, at least in her own town if not the world. Brother James was back to his writing, winning a college creative essay award. Yes, things were looking promising.

  The weeks passed and John busied himself with preparation for high school, and whatever that would mean. He determined just to fit in and not make waves. He also knew that this was going to be difficult; his prior fame and his now mundane life were going to be fodder for the upper class-men. He would have to somehow navigate these dangerous waters. He truly wondered if he could blend into the background after all the hoopla. All he wanted to do was be a normal teenager. If normal meant being ignored, but having peace, so be it.

  His introduction to high school was not what he thought it would be. Certainly, he had heard that this would be the great leap forward, a coming of age—the great passage into adulthood. But he found to his dismay it was none of these things. Instead, it was a prolonging of childhood; an extended time of irresponsibility unparalleled in western civilization. It produced a mosaic of rowdy, semi-literate and unrefined people totally unprepared for the real world.

  “You don’t look good,” David said, neatly placing his coat on the hanger inside his locker. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “Fine,” John replied, rather lethargically. “But, this high school business can deaden your brain. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Sort of. I guess you mean what we are learning is not important?”

  “I didn’t say that. It’s not what we are learning; it’s what we are not learning!”

  “Like?”

  “Well, like life for instance.”

  “Life?”

  “Yeah…life. Real life. I’m talking about what life will be like when we leave here.”

  David scratched his head and then adjusted his glasses. “Hey, John, I can’t think that far in advance. I’m just worried about the here and now. I know my folks have things sort of planned out for me. I mean, what they would like me to do. I guess that makes things a bit easier.”

  “I think we are going to find out that nothing is easy. The past year was not easy. Believe me!”

  “But, Johnny, you were able to do things people only dream about. That’s something, isn’t it?”

  “Not really, I was just explaining things as they are—real life.”

  At this, David shrugged and headed to his math class. John turned and headed down the hallway. He disappeared in the jungle of adolescents.

  CHAPTER 16

  John Encounters a New Culture

  They stood out in the back of the school by the basketball courts, huddled against the cold, and looking very wary. When John trotted by after gym class they quickly closed ranks and began to move like one organism down toward the chain link fence that separated the courts from the grass by the school rear entrance. John noted their hushed tones and paranoid behavior but thought nothing of it—until he noticed a girl approach the group from the court gate.

  There was no doubt about it, it was his sister. What was she doing here? Was she visiting friends who hadn’t graduated yet? Surely, she wouldn’t hang out with the lower class-men. And why did she look so suspicious?

  “Hey, sis!” he yelled not knowing what kind of response he would get. She turned and, surprisingly, began to walk toward him. She had a peculiar smile on, and it was apparent she felt uncomfortable. She stopped in front of John and there was an awkward moment of silence.

  “Hi, Johnny, what’s up?”

  “I think that is what I have to ask you.”

  “Oh, you mean those guys. Just some old friends.”

  “Old friends? No, now really tell me what is going on.”

  In a moment her continence changed and she was a viper: “Hey, I don’t have to tell you anything. Why should I?” And with that she attempted to make her escape, but John grabbed her arm.

  “Listen, you’ve been acting strange lately; very nervous—out of it. What are you involved in?”

  She pulled her arm away. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” She moved swiftly away in a trot toward the street. John watched as she disappeared in the direction of home. He decided not to pursue her and figured he’d do research on his own; getting information out of his sister would be next to impossible and would most likely lead to a climactic confrontation—and nothing would be resolved.

  It did not take long for John to discover what the little troupe that his sister was seeing was all about. They were classic trouble makers. All were known to school faculty as people to steer clear of and, no doubt, they were involved in drugs. His sister, involved with the likes of them? John was pained at the thought that this could be possible. His heart denied the obvious, but his logic propelled him into action.

  One by one, he confronted the consortium of miscreants. They playfully brushed aside his accusations and tried to make light of the situation. But when John stayed on them the situation started to take a dangerous turn; he was threatened, and not too subtly. This lead him to believe the situation with his sister was critical. Mom and dad were obviously clueless. Yet, how could that be, since there were so many markers pointing to trouble?: his sister’s lack of interest in men, her increasingly sloppy work habits—and her disheveled looking appearance from a person who simply could not stand to have a hair out of place.

  Apparently, the darkness in her soul that he thought had lifted had grown deeper. He had seen the creeping loneliness in her eyes and the despair in her actions.
The really sad part was that nobody seemed to be noticing or taking an interest. It was a sad affair, and John wanted with every atom his being to be there for his sister, but he had to figure out how to reach her; how to connect with her before it was too late.

  That night over dinner John said very little, having gone into his observation mode. Sister sat across from him looking sullen and tired, but still maintaining her edge. John saw her eyes, although pained, looking back and forth like an automatic sentry.

  “My, we are talkative today,” mother said, trying her best to inject some conversation into an otherwise silent gathering.

  “I guess we are all just thinking about how busy we are,” John said, trying to manage a smile.

  “Oh? I see.” Then mother made the mistake of engaging sister. “And I suppose you are busy at work, right?”

  Sister made a stab at her meatloaf a bit too hard and a portion shot off her plate and onto the table. “Um...sure. I guess.”

  “You know, I don’t like the way you look. Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  John drew back. This was the first time mom had actually taken notice of her daughter’s disintegrating condition and actually said something about it.

  “Hey, just leave her alone. I think you are worrying too much,” was dad’s standard contribution.

  James had barely picked through his dinner. He seemed genuinely concerned about the matter. “I think mom is right. I mean, sis is…well, not looking good.”

  “I’m fine. Let’s get the conversation off me, shall we.”

  “James is right, sis,” John said cautiously.

  She looked over in disgust and placed her fork down. “I think I’m done.” Up she shot from the table and without another comment walked out of the kitchen. They could hear her heavy footsteps going up the stairs to her room. The door slammed behind her.

  “So what’s new at school, son?” dad said, trying to erase the last half hour of tension.