by Tom Corbett
Everyone chuckled. Connie Chen piped up. “We can see who got all the looks and wit in the family, and surely the smarts.”
Josh decided he needed to change the conversation’s direction. “Before we get into this Rachel Connelly fan club adoration, did you hear the one about the two dutiful sons?”
“Oh no,” came from around the table. “Stuff his mouth with naan.”
“I’ll take that as a no, that you haven’t heard it and not that you don’t want to hear it.” Josh was in his element. “Two sons living in rural Kentucky were wondering what they could do for their dad’s eightieth birthday. They concluded it had been a while since Dad had enjoyed any. So they hired a fetching twenty-year-old vixen for the task. She arrived at the old man’s cabin one evening, knocking on his door. ‘What can I do your you, dearie?’ he asked. ‘Hey, handsome, I am here to offer you some super sex.’ ‘What’s that, dearie, my hearing ain’t so great anymore.’ The young beauty raised her voice and said in her best sexy purr, ‘I am here to offer you some super sex.’ ‘Oh good,’ the old man said. ‘I think I’ll take the soup then.’”
A loud groan went up. Looking around the table, Connie decided to stop the jokes before he went on. “I had the pleasure of getting to know Rachel earlier. It is clear she survived the trauma of growing up with a demented older brother quite well.” Everyone chuckled louder except for Josh. For him, there was a bit of truth buried in that quip. “Tell us,” she continued, “what was he like as a young man?”
Rachel had them laughing with stories of Josh as a young lothario growing up in an Irish working-class neighborhood. Everyone was laughing when the waitress appeared. “My sister will have the shrimp vindaloo,” he ordered for her.
Connie piped up, “Rachel, are you familiar with Indian food? If not, I would go with tikka masala or tandoori. Your dear brother is seeking revenge.”
“Thank you, Connie, please order for me.” Rachel liked Josh’s former lover. She knew that they could be good friends if given the chance. Why didn’t her brother marry someone like her? She obviously loved him, or at least liked him. The man she was with now seemed monosyllabic and almost invisible. Connie had to settle with this guy, Rachel concluded, but immediately kicked herself for being so judgmental.
When everyone was settled, Rachel picked up the conversation again. “Okay, really, Josh is such an easy target, maybe that’s why I have always loved him so much.” God, she thought, why did I use that word, love, and right in front of him? She paused, but decided to continue. “For much of my early life, he was sort of a demigod for me, though I’m aghast that I am saying that out loud.” Her voice softened. “Even as a young kid who did not know very much, Josh clearly was just about the most sensitive, smart, and passionate guy I knew, and I mean passionate about ideas. He might have been passionate about women, but that is a tragedy we will save for another time. Sure, we were different. I never had his zeal for politics and issues of social justice, but he did teach me a few critical life lessons.”
Josh was blushing when someone asked, “Like what?”
Rachel frowned slightly, wondering how the conversation suddenly had gotten to this place. “Well, he taught me about caring even when you don’t always show it. Despite all my best efforts to ingratiate myself on him, I thought he detested me, totally. And then one day I was hit by a car. He…he raced me to the hospital and never even yelled at me for bleeding all over this piece of junk he had just bought and totally loved. Now that was a miracle. Still, his actions probably saved my life, my brain was swelling. He surely prevented irreversible brain damage.”
Wait,” Josh interjected, “the jury is still out on that one.”
“Bite me,” she responded quickly, “my mom told me that Josh never left my side. I can still recall seeing him looking at me when I came to. I panicked—if he is here, I surely must be in hell.” People giggled a bit. “More importantly, he taught me bigger lessons, about how to be true to yourself and your principles. Without knowing it, he showed me what courage means and how to sort out what’s really important.”
The table was quiet. “Okay,” Josh broke in, “too much wine, cut her off.” Inside, though, he was marveling that she was reflecting on the same vignette that had crowded into his mind earlier.
Rachel continued. “I remember being at one of his football games in high school. Hard to believe it now, but he was quite an athlete back then. He was good, which is impossible to believe now that he is a frumpy old man. Our dad was already seeing him sporting the blue and gold of Notre Dame. I don’t remember many of his games, but one moment stayed with me. The other team was about to score. It seemed a sure touchdown. Then I saw Josh launch himself at this kid. Their helmets met. Maybe I’m imagining this, but I think I heard the crack above the crowd. This kid’s head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground. I can still see this moment where the crowd was still cheering, and Josh was kneeling over the inert body of this player.”
“Rachel, why…”
She knew why. Though he had reminded her, this was a moment from their childhood that had remained in her heart forever. “I knew nothing about the game. But immediately I knew my brother had crippled that kid. Everyone told him it wasn’t his fault, just the breaks of the game, bad things happen. But I could see the change in his eyes. He would not shrug it off. And a few days later, he came into my room. Now, seeking me out was a major event, he spent most of his waking hours desperately avoiding me. He asked me what Dad would do if he stopped playing ball. I…I literally did not know what to say. I’m not sure, but I guess I was a little adult in a girl’s body. ‘Dad will die if you stop.’ He told me he knew that, but he did not think he could do anything else. That moment on the field just made him so aware of the violence in the game and in himself. No, that is not what he wanted to do with his life, not who he wanted to be. And then he asked me if I would be ashamed if he quit. Instinctively, I knew what I said next was important. He never had asked my opinion before. What was this? All I knew was that the moment was momentous. I remember thinking very hard and saying to him, ‘Josh, I’ll never be prouder of you,’ and I remember throwing my arms around his neck.”
Josh reached over and took her hand. “Rachel, I remember that conversation. I remember warning you that I would no longer be the hero of the neighborhood, that your friends will give you a lot of grief because I was a quitter. There was nothing worse among the Irish than a quitter, except maybe a snitch. That’s why I came to you that night. It wasn’t just about me.”
“Oh, I could feel that,” she whispered, sensing that those farther away were leaning in to hear, “and that is when I started becoming me. Yeah, I was this little pest, following you around, sucking my worth from your life and reflected glory. At some level, it struck me. I will need to be my own person. That was scary for sure, but I realized what he was asking of me. He was saying that he was about to become his own person, whatever that was. He would not be what our dad wanted him to be. You had to know Big Jim, what everyone called our dad, to understand. But we would be in this together, and I guess he wanted to know if I was okay with everything.”
“Wow,” Connie exclaimed, “you two are really close.”
“Naw,” they both said at the same time. “We can’t stand each other.” Then they laughed at what must have seemed like a practiced routine to others. Rachel looked down at the table. “Well, sometimes yes, other times not so much.” Only those near her heard the words.
At that moment, the food arrived, and they sat in silence for a while. Then Rachel spoke up. “This is not bad, tasty actually. Listen, everyone, sorry to get deep there. Sometimes I think it is easier to say things to someone in a crowd. Funny, isn’t it.”
“Spot on,” Ellison, the department chair, piped in. He yet had a clipped British accent from his youth and training at the University of York. “Like everyone else, or everyone with any wit whatsoever, I give Josh a hard time. But that’s because we all admire him so much. Sure
, he is a competent scholar—”
Josh smiled. “Competent? Ellison, don’t go overboard there.”
“Anyways, I want to say something I’ve never publicly admitted. Josh, you have one of the best minds around this place, any place. Most of us are like monks, working away in our little cells on our tiny questions. But Josh always saw the big picture, how things came together. Not everyone can do that, at least not without becoming superficial. To Josh.” Ellison raised a glass and was joined by all.
The chairperson continued. “But I am becoming aware of something here.”
“Oh, oh,” Josh expelled.
“We really don’t know much about this man who has been among us all these years. Am I right? How many know that his real name is not Josh?” Most heads nodded that they didn’t. “No, his legal name is Jeremiah Joshua.”
“Well, you try staying in one piece in an Irish ghetto as a kid with a name like Jeremiah. You might as well take up the cello as a musical instrument or join the chess club.”
Connie picked up on the theme. “You’re right, Ellison, I have been as close to this lug as anyone, and I know so little about his past. Hell, I think he knows when and how I lost my virginity and I know nothing of his past.”
“That virginity thing only happened a couple of years ago and with Josh, right?” someone piped in. Rachel noticed that Connie’s new partner, the quiet one, was not amused.
“As I was saying” the department chair paused as the laughter died down, “you really are a mystery to us.”
“Hey, come on, folks, how interesting a life can any academic have? I ain’t no Indiana Jones.”
Classic of him, Rachel thought, he would use wit and distraction to keep from opening himself to others. Typical of most Irishmen, you never revealed yourself. You just left them laughing. Then Josh managed to get the conversation directed toward neutral academic topics.
As they all mingled getting ready to depart, Rachel found herself next to Connie. “Can I be very forward?” she paused, uncertain how to put her question. “You…you and Josh seem so good together. I…I can’t help but wonder what happened.”
“No great mystery,” Connie responded in a low voice. “I couldn’t reach him, and I decided I couldn’t wait for perfection, time to settle.”
“Settle?” Rachel wanted more.
“For a colorless but stable guy who at least gives me all that he has. Oh my, perhaps that came out a bit harsh. It’s always that last glass of wine.”
“Ready, Connie?” the colorless man approached. As the couple walked out the door, Connie gave Rachel the universal hand signal for “call me.”
Back at the house, Rachel sat down at the dining room table and fingered the pictures she had arranged earlier that day. Soon, she heard a voice just outside the door. She smiled, recognizing Josh’s voice chatting away with Morris as they returned from the evening walk. What does a man need with a woman when he has a dog? she thought. Moments later, his presence was at her shoulder.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“For what?”
“For getting so personal, revealing a family secret. Wow, talk about violating an Irish taboo. I don’t know what the hell—”
“Forget it,” he interjected. “No problem, though there will be a whipping tomorrow morning in the public square.”
After what seemed like too many moments of silence, Rachel went in a different direction. “Connie loves you. Really, what is she doing with that guy? She is so engaging and attractive. He, on the other hand, is a cipher. Did he say anything all night?”
“He is a physicist. Funny tribe, they have their own language, probably their own reality that mere mortals are not permitted to see.”
Connie persisted. “But the two of you…maybe it would help if you would have someone to talk with besides Morris.”
“Hey, don’t let him hear, he is just warming up to you. Besides, that dog is more eloquent and sensible and—”
“Mute! No, I’m serious, you moron. I don’t feel it is healthy for a man to live all alone. You are a social being, look how you kept everyone entertained tonight.”
“Muteness—another positive attribute.” Josh chuckled. “Besides, isn’t the pot calling the kettle black here? I suppose it is natural for a woman to live alone. After Evan, have you even been with a man? Look at you, you’re well preserved, not bad at all for a gal on the cusp of her dotage. I noticed guys eyeing you tonight.”
“Oh bull.”
“No,” he argued, “you must get hit on fairly often, if for no other reason than you have a hefty bank account.”
Rachel thought for a moment. “I have Cate, my work…” And she came to a halt.
“Have you heard from Cate recently?” he asked softly.
“Given that she is living in Jordan, working at the embassy, I don’t see her often anymore. Who knew I would have a daughter with a passion for languages and travel? I barely knew we still had a foreign service. But you’re right…”
“I never claimed to be right.”
She pushed on. “You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out that she was running away. From her teen years onward, she kept saying she wanted a job that would require a passport, studying linguistics in school, teaching English abroad, then some work for international charities. Now she is posted to places around the world. Where next, outer Mongolia? Sometimes I feel like such a total failure as a wife and mother.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, that is my job,” he went to one of his standard one-liners.
“Josh, we never learned how to love. We’re little more than emotional eunuchs,” she wept softly. “Sorry about getting weepy.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She recovered in a moment and picked up one of the pictures. “I can remember a lot of the kids from the past, but this girl, she is so fetching.” Her voice yet caught a bit.
Josh sighed deeply. “That is Eleni.”
“Shit,” she said softly. “I thought so, is this the girl you loved.”
“That’s her. Eleni Zahra. Okay, before you ask. Her dad was Egyptian, her mother Greek though a lifelong American. They met when he was studying engineering in the States. Eleni was their only child, and very protected.”
“She looks, what,…exotic?” Rachel stared at this young woman with olive-toned skin and jet-black hair. “Her eyes are particularly striking, oval and dark. Even in the flat picture, they had special quality, that deer-in-the- headlights look.”
“Nicely put. If you just looked at her, you would think she was worldly. But in truth, she was quite innocent, even naive. Yet she had a razor-sharp wit, almost as good as you in going head-to-head with me. I’ve gone around and around in my head, what was the fatal attraction? I think it was this mix of innocence and insight. She knew so little about life yet so much about me.” After a pause, Josh said almost mechanically, “I had one love, what about you?”
“But wait,” Rachel countered, “if you loved her, why is she such a mystery to me?”
“We did not know each other long, never even had sex. Then I lost her…at the same time I lost…you.”
Rachel thought about what he had said for a moment. “Did she come to despise you with the same white-hot hate that I did.”
“Not now, Rach, it is late, but you might be on to something. I thought she did, for a long time, I feared as much. Another weight of guilt to pile on the scale. But what about my question? Have you loved anyone in your life?” “You,” she whispered, “until you threw me and the rest of the family under the bus.”
CHAPTER 4
DAY 3 MORNING
Josh was suddenly awake. It was dark. His face was drenched in sweat. Was it time for Morris? He listened carefully and could hear the heavy breathing of Morris accompanied by a low snoring grunt. Okay, too early for his walk. Mo was better than an alarm. At the appointed hour, he would awaken, shake his entire body, and then stare intently at Josh. If there was n
o movement, “he who must be obeyed” would walk over Josh’s body while issuing forth a low whine. If that failed, a frontal attack was in order including a full-throated bark. Josh would soon surrender, complaining that he would trade in the damn dog for a hamster later that day, and the morning walk would begin. On this morning, the dog was still dreaming at this early hour and his hind legs were thrashing about. Josh wondered what his dreams might be about—cute female dogs, winning a dogfight, finding a better home? The last one was stupid; what home could be better than the one he now enjoyed?
Now he remembered the source of his nocturnal anxiety. He had run through the traditional nighttime frights. There was the usual one where he faced the end-of-semester final exam in a course for which he had missed every class and failed to buy the required texts. What was he to do? What would happen? Fear and panic gripped him. Then he segued into another classic. He had an appointment or a destination of some sort; the end was never important. What was critical is that he never made it. He would get so close, and then one diversion and obstacle after another would impede his progress. So damn close yet he could never make it to the goal line. These were classic academic nightmares, at least he believed that. He had never asked his colleagues whether they shared such an internalized torture. The academic world was based on anxiety, never doing enough, never achieving enough. No matter what you did and how hard you tried, only the ever- present possibility of failure and disappointment were your companions— the anxiety that someone else was better, or worse, further along the academic treadmill.
He wondered if these frights were merely extensions of his youthful terrors, which usually involved being isolated in a field or jungle where he would find himself lost and alone. A few snakes would appear, then more, and more until they were all around him. The snakes might even morph into more sinister creatures if that were possible. As they crowded about him, he realized there was no escape. Concern melted into fear which turned to panic and then into outright terror. The creatures would be at my feet, nibbling at my ankles. In moments, I knew I would be smothered and devoured. Then through sheer exercise of will, I would levitate, slowly. These monsters continued to snap at me as I hovered just out of their reach. But could I continue? I was not sure. The effort took so much out of me. What was I to do if I were to lapse my concentration or fail through exhaustion? Would I fall back to earth and into the gaping, hideous jaws that awaited me? Just as this horrendous end was upon me, I usually awoke, the terror yet present but the fantastical nature of the fear apparent.
