Strange Animals

by Chad Kultgen

  She got dressed and headed back into the living room, where she opened her computer back up and checked the donations on her site again. Checking the number had become an obsession of Karen’s since launching the site. When she had trouble sleeping because of the pregnancy, sometimes she stayed up for hours, hitting the refresh button and imagining the person who had just donated a dollar or five dollars or ten.

  Since launching the site she’d heard nothing from Professor Noone about any expulsion or even reprimand, so she assumed that there was no reason to contact him. Karen decided that until any kind of real opposition from him or the other members of the philosophy school’s faculty materialized, it was best to lay low and go on with her experiment.

  Karen had also started a detailed journal of the process she was outlining in her dissertation, which she was working on daily. The work she was doing made her feel like all of this was serving a purpose, an empirical and intellectual purpose. She found it difficult to maintain this conviction sometimes, especially when she started thinking about Paul and what this entire ordeal might mean to the other relationships in her life, but the work made it seem worth it. Karen knew that ultimately her life was meaningless, and the best thing she could hope for was that before she died she would have done something that made people think deeply about what she felt was a great hypocrisy. She knew that she could die happy if at some point in her life she had had a hand in causing people to be more critical of religion, of speeding along its demise, which she knew was eventual but which she desperately wanted to occur in her lifetime.

  When Paul knocked, Karen shut her computer and answered the door. It was strange letting him into the place as a guest, but she knew this was a part of breaking up that had to be endured.

  Paul said, “You were right,” and gave Karen some hope that maybe he was going to admit he was wrong. Maybe he was going to admit that he made a mistake and maybe he was going to move back in.

  Karen said, “About what?”

  “About this thing being huge news. It’s on every website, every news channel. They even talked about it on The View today.”

  “Are you serious? What’d Sherri Shepard say?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Shit. I’ll have to find that online.”

  “Yeah, you’d like it. There are a bunch of tweets you should look at, too. Kim Kardashian’s was pretty good.”

  “I saw it. What a fucking idiot.”

  “I just like how she thinks anyone gives a shit about her opinion on this.”

  “I know, but honestly, the more people like her talk about this, the better.”

  “I really don’t think you need it to get much bigger. There’s not a person with an Internet connection or a TV who doesn’t know about it.”

  Karen hated how easy it was to talk to Paul, how easy it was to fall into old patterns. In those brief seconds of small talk it almost felt like they weren’t breaking up, like they were talking about someone else.

  She said, “Have you told anyone that you . . . that you’re involved in this?”

  He said, “I’m not involved in this, Karen. I’m not involved at all. That’s why I’m moving out.”

  “I know, but you know what I mean.”

  “No. I haven’t told anyone. I know we’re breaking up, and I know this is a shitty situation, but I still love you. I probably will for a while, and I don’t want people knowing this is you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Karen, I know it took either massive balls to do this or massive stupidity—and I’ve never known you to be stupid at all, so I assumed it was balls—but are you seriously asking me why it would be bad for your identity to get out there?”

  “I mean, I know it’s a big news story and everything.”

  “It’s not just a news story. You’re shitting all over the majority of this country’s religious beliefs. I’m pretty sure they think you’re going to burn in hell, and they’re probably all too happy to send you there A-S-A-fucking-P.”

  “Come on. The only people it will piss off that much are the lunatic-fringe Christians, and even they know killing is a sin. I’m sure they fear pissing off their God more than they hate me.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “So . . . I just need to get my computer stuff and the rest of my clothes, I guess. You can have the furniture and anything else I helped pay for that was for the apartment.”

  “Don’t you need furniture? You can have some stuff if you need it.”

  He said, “I don’t really think I can deal with using the things we used together,” then started to cry a little bit, which made Karen cry as well.

  She hugged him and he hugged her back. They stood crying in the living room, just hugging each other and crying for a minute or so. They both felt that they would very likely never meet a person with whom they would be more compatible than the one on whose shoulder they were crying. They both felt that the end to this relationship was avoidable. They both felt that they were losing something irreplaceable in the other person. But Karen knew what she was doing was bigger than personal comfort and happiness. It was affecting the world.

  Paul eventually pulled back, wiped his eyes, and said, “Okay, I’m getting my stuff and getting out of here.”

  Karen followed him into the bedroom where he started putting his clothes into a plastic trash bag. It was sad to see, but she felt she owed it to their relationship to witness every moment—especially the final one, for which she knew she was responsible. There was some penance in it. As she stood over him and offered to help, she smelled his shampoo. It was a smell that had always reminded her of sex, and she found that she couldn’t stop herself from imagining Paul on top of her, sweating as he was sliding his penis into her. Even as aware as she was of the facts of the situation, that she was watching the man she loved pack his clothes in what was likely the last time she would ever see him, all she could think about was having sex with him one last time.

  She said, “Um, I know this is going to sound insane and it’s probably just my hormones from being pregnant and everything, but do you want to, uh, have sex one last time?”

  Paul looked up from where he was kneeling in the closet, stuffing his trash bag full of clothes and said, “Are you serious?”

  Karen said, “Yeah. I’m really fucking horny right now.”

  Paul said, “Are you really serious?”

  Karen said, “Yes.”

  Paul put the trash bag down, stood up, and kissed Karen. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pushed him back onto the bed. She slid his pants off and performed fellatio on him until he was erect, then took her own pants off, slid her panties to the side, straddled him and slid his penis into herself. He said, “Jesus, you weren’t kidding.”

  She rode him, rocking her hips back and forth with his penis inside her as quickly as she could. Karen had always enjoyed sex, but this was something different. Beyond the normal pleasure she experienced, this time it felt like an itch was being scratched, one that was so deep she couldn’t find its exact location. And the orgasm it produced was one of the best she’d ever had.

  She climbed off Paul once he finished and said, “I know that was weird, but thank you.”

  Paul said, “It was pretty weird. Now I have to pack the rest of my shit and leave. That’s even weirder.”

  She said, “I know. I’m sorry, but that . . . I really fucking needed that.”

  He said, “You know it’s not too late to stop this, right?”

  She said, “Don’t. It is too late. I’m doing this, Paul. I’ve already done it. It’s out there in the world now. Even if I wanted to take it back, I couldn’t now.”

  “But you could. Your site did what it was supposed to do. People are talking. You could just take it down. No one would ever know it was you, but they’d still be talking about it.”

  “I can’t do that. I have to see it through. This is important, and I understand why you d
on’t want to be here for it. I do, seriously, and I don’t hold it against you or blame you at all, but you have to understand why I’m doing it and that I can’t quit until it’s done.”

  He said, “And what after it’s done?”

  She said, “I don’t know. What do you mean?”

  He said, “I mean, after it’s done and you’ve done this crazy thing, you just go on with your life, find some other guy, get pregnant again, have another abortion ransom website?”

  She laughed. Even in the worst situations Paul could always make her laugh. She’d miss that. She said, “No. I’m hoping to never get pregnant again. But when it’s over, it’s over. I’ll turn in my dissertation. Based on how the media is treating this, I’ll probably be able to publish it, maybe expand it for a book or something, and I’m assuming it’ll start my career as a philosopher who actually means something to the world. I mean, when was the last time a philosopher was seen as an important contributor to culture, or to anything for that matter?”

  Paul said, “To publish a book, you’ll have to go public with your identity.”

  Karen said, “I know. Once it’s over and things calm down, I think it will be easier to do.”

  Paul said, “I know. You’re right. I know that objectively. It’s just hard for me to think of the rest of my life without you. But I just can’t do this with you. I just can’t.”

  She kissed him on the forehead and said, “I know,” then put her pants back on and went into the living room, leaving Paul to collect the rest of his things alone. She didn’t feel like they were breaking up, like this was the last time she would see Paul. She hoped that once things were over, once this was done and its effects had taken hold, maybe there would be a chance to reconcile. If the financial goal was met, however, then Karen knew that Paul’s child would be somewhere in the world, living a life that might never involve him. She didn’t know if he could ever forgive her for that. She had hoped from the beginning of this that the financial goal wouldn’t be met. She had hoped for this outcome for a variety of reasons. It would prove her point. She wouldn’t have to go through the agonizing experience of child labor. And she wouldn’t be responsible for bringing another life into the world. But in that moment the only reason she hoped for that outcome was so that she and Paul might be able to work things out.

  Eventually Paul emerged from the bedroom with a few bags of clothes and a small cardboard box of various items, including books and an iPod. He said, “I got everything.”

  Karen said, “Okay.”

  He said, “I just really can’t believe this is the last time we’re ever going to see each other.”

  She said, “It doesn’t have to be.”

  He said, “I think it does. Goodbye, Karen. I love you and I hope this all works out the way you want it to.”

  She said, “Thanks,” and watched Paul walk out the front door. Karen smelled her hands. She’d had them wrapped in Paul’s hair when they were having sex. They smelled like him. She inhaled deeply, in case she’d never have the chance to smell it again, then flipped her computer back open to check the current donation total on her site. It was unchanged, but she did see that she had a few emails.

  There was one from her mother, asking when she and Paul were coming to visit. Her mother insisted that she and her father should see more of Paul, because they believed it was only a matter of time before he would be their son-in-law. Karen deleted the email without responding and checked the next one. It was from someone Karen didn’t recognize. The suffix was cnn.com.

  It read, “Hello, Ms. Holloway. We’ve been covering the story of your website for a few weeks now and we’d love to hear your side of the story if you’d care to comment. Please reply as soon as you can, as we are planning on running a story that includes your name within the hour. Thank you for your time. Sincerely, James Shoemaker.”

  Below the email was the CNN logo and general contact information for the network. Karen had no idea how they’d discovered that she had created the website, but they had, and she felt that this very probably was not a good thing.

  chapter

  sixteen

  James woke up Friday morning, showered, brushed his teeth, and then checked his email to find out his work schedule for the weekend. He was usually required to work two nights out of the three from Friday through Sunday, as dictated by his supervisor. He preferred working Friday and Sunday nights so that he could get enough sleep Saturday night to be well rested for church on Sunday morning.

  He opened the PDF file that contained his schedule and found that the days from Friday through Sunday were blacked out. At the bottom of the schedule was a note that read: “There will be no weekend work this week. Dillard’s is laying a new floor. Work will resume on Monday. The new schedule will be out Sunday night.”

  James closed the file, logged out of his email account, then sat back in his chair. He hadn’t had a weekend off in a very long time. The last one he could remember was when the entire mall was closed because of a flood. He wondered if this was a sign from God but found it hard to decipher the possible meaning. After praying for some help or guidance in knowing how he should use his weekend off, he heard nothing and came to no greater understanding. It was in this silence, this lack of response from God, that James realized the answer was obvious. God had cleared his schedule so that James would be able to listen for his voice without interruption.

  James got up from his chair and started making a mental list of the things he’d need to buy at the grocery store for his weekend in. He completed the list as quickly as possible, excited and anxious to begin the three days of focused concentration that were ahead of him. But as he put the list in his pocket, got his car keys, and went to his front door he stopped. He was disappointed in himself, on the verge of disgust. He realized that if God eliminated his job for those three days, it must have been because God didn’t want James to be distracted at all. God would supply anything he might need over those three days, and he admitted to himself and to God that he had fallen victim to arrogance. If only for a moment, James thought that he knew better than God what he would need for that weekend, and he sought to supply it for himself. He apologized to God, put his car keys back on the table by his front door, ripped up the list, and took his jacket off before sitting down on his couch in the living room. If God didn’t want him to have any distractions, then he wouldn’t have any. He wouldn’t watch television. He wouldn’t check his email or answer his phone. He wouldn’t buy food and he wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t even sleep. He would just pray and listen as closely as he could to the sound of nothing, until God decided to fill that nothing with the sound of his own voice.

  James sat on his couch and looked out the window. He could see some cars in the parking lot. He noticed a few people coming and going, a cat walking near the dumpsters, some birds flying overhead, and an occasional airplane. After roughly ten minutes of looking out the window, James realized this was just as much a distraction as going to the grocery store would have been, so he closed his curtains and sat on his couch staring at the wall and listening as intently as he could for any sound of God’s voice.

  He could hear his neighbor’s television, but not clearly enough to make out any words. He could hear people talking in the parking lot below his apartment, every now and then, but not clearly enough to understand what they were saying, either. He could hear music coming from cars as they passed by. He could hear washers and dryers in the laundry room turning on and off, and he could hear the low electrical hum of his own refrigerator. None of these things was God’s voice, however, and he began to wonder if God’s voice was loud enough to be heard through the ambient noise of the world. He realized, even as he thought this, that he was being absurd. God could obviously make his voice as loud as He wanted. So he dismissed the notion that maybe he should unplug his refrigerator.

  He looked at his wall, and as the hours passed he counted the small inconsistencies in the paint. They made tiny bumps and inde
ntations that he never noticed before. James watched the shadows crawl across them, and he couldn’t help seeing shapes and faces in them. He looked at his phone’s clock and saw that it was a little past noon. He had been sitting on the couch listening for God’s voice for four hours. Hunger had crept up on him sometime during the morning, and by lunchtime James could feel his stomach starting to gurgle and churn. This was just a distraction, though, one that had to be put out of his mind. He forced himself to think of the pain that Jesus had endured in the final days of his life. It was far more than just hunger from skipping breakfast. James apologized to God for giving his hunger even a second of attention.

  When thirst set in, he thought about getting a glass of water, but felt shame at the thought of giving up so easily, after only a few hours into the three days God had given him. He knew that God would provide him with water if he needed it, and he knew that God would reward him only if he was diligent, if he followed God’s plan. So he put the hunger and the thirst out of his mind and he sat.

  James closed his eyes so he wouldn’t be distracted by the sight of anything, and he thought about what God must have been doing in heaven at that moment. In his mind’s eye, James saw God sitting on his gleaming golden throne, looking down through the clouds. God was watching him and deciding whether he was ready to be spoken to. James imagined Jesus there, too, at his father’s side. He thought that, although God spoke to different people all the time, each time was a moment of great import, because every person had a part to play in his plan. The moment a person heard God for the first time, and learned of his or her role in his plan, was the most important moment in that person’s life. God knew this, and so those moments must have been equally important to him.

  With his eyes still closed, he began thinking about all the events in his life that had led him to that moment sitting on his couch waiting for God to speak to him. He knew that all those events were part of God’s plan. The various foster homes, the teasing and rejection in most of the schools he had attended, the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his peers as well as his caregivers—it was all part of something he knew was far too complex for him to ever understand, and yet he knew he was an integral part of the functioning of whatever that thing was, whatever God had designed for not just him, but for all humanity.