by Tom Corbett
“Well,” Morris sighed. “I never read them. Sorry. Truth is that there was a lot of bitterness at first and just not wanting to deal with stuff. I mean, I knew you had doubts, concerns about where we were headed. We all could see that. But then you just disappeared. I felt abandoned, I guess, we felt abandoned. No warning, no explanation.” Morris glanced at Carla, who nodded.
“I felt guilty. I wasn’t man enough to face you, any of you.” Josh looked stricken, fighting off the moisture forming in his eyes.
“We all were struggling…I suppose.” Morris looked abashed.
After a moment of silence, Carla spoke up. “And I know you had no idea who I was.”
“No kidding,” exclaimed Josh. “You went from this fierce revolutionary to…to…”
“A gray-haired old granny, you can say it, Josh.”
“Well, yeah, but still an attractive old granny.”
“Sure, nice try. And you even got the name wrong.”
“Wait, let me guess,” Josh jumped in. “That name I used to call you…”
“The raven-haired Valkyrie?” Carla threw out.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“No longer,” Carla corrected him. “My name is now Carla Greenstein.”
That stopped Josh. He looked at the couple. “Wow! Go figure.”
“And I’m a grandmother, can you believe that? I am a granny.”
Josh looked skyward. “Right now, I’m checking out whether flying pigs are about to attack us.”
Peter had been looking on with a broad smile. “Josh, you have no idea how close this came to not happening. Until I got them in the car, Mo was backing out. He really thought you would not want to see him again, that you despised him. Carla was much more optimistic. But what finally worked was when I found out that you named your dog after him. He is most honored, though Favulli would have worked much better.”
“How could I not? The dog is ugly as sin, though not ugly enough to curse him with an Italian moniker. Listen, we have a lot to talk about, but not here.” Josh turned to Connie nearby. “Can you lead them out to the common area? There will be no students around now, and we can find a comfortable place. I still have some people to see here, but I’ll be out as soon as I can. Wait, better still, take them home. This may take a while. Oh, and use my car, I’ll walk back.” He handed Connie his keys.
Josh went through the motions of shaking hands and exchanging small talk with those that had remained after the ceremony. He paid attention to the students that stopped by. He cared about them. Some he had not seen for years, and he truly was interested in what they had accomplished. His heart was touched by many of their words. Several mentioned how he had changed their lives. He wondered how that might be possible, but not for long; the blanks often were completed as they rushed to fill him in on their successes. “You shared principles for life that I have never forgotten” or “You excited me about public policy” or “You helped me see things in an entirely new light.” Then they would add what they were doing now. That sometimes surprised him. The long-haired hippie student now looked like a banker and served as the CEO of a major nonprofit organization.
He recalled how he had looked upon a few professors so long ago in college. They seemed so prescient and all-knowing. But when he was behind the lectern himself, he realized that those fonts of wisdom were real-life people just like him. They had problems and uncertainties and dimensions of their lives that were beyond their full command. Yet he would look out over the faces in his classrooms and just knew that some, not all, but some were hanging on his words. Why didn’t they realize he had feet of clay? Talk about being an impostor. But they did not know that. They saw intuitively what he could not. He was a thoughtful and insightful man. He did have things to share with those coming behind him. They had been correct in their decision to pay attention to him.
“You were an inspiration to so many of us, believe me. So many have shared how you influenced them.” It was a middle-aged woman whose name he retrieved from a brief glance at her name tag.
“Thank you, Joan, you’re too kind.” He felt himself flushing with embarrassment and quickly moved on, only to hear similar sentiments. It really did make everything worthwhile, but he still found praise very hard to accept.
Finally, after he could bear no more embarrassment, he was free and started to walk home. He took a somewhat longer path along the shore. He wanted to decompress. The sun was lowering in the western sky, reflecting off the mountains to the north and the city skyline ahead. He loved the way the bay waters sparkled and the sun’s diffusion shimmered off distant windows in downtown Vancouver. He needed these moments to clear his head. There had been so much this week. He was fine with crowded schedules; he had always been known as someone who could juggle different tasks simultaneously. But those were professional challenges, all this was personal and emotional. He had kept smiling and joking, but if he were honest, it was taxing him.
In his mind’s eye, he was back home as a young man. Was it his last visit before he fled? He was not sure, but it was close. It was a moment when not everyone was impressed with him or his virtues. His father’s face was creased in anger, his voice choked with bile.
“You’re goddamn useless,” his dad raged. “Fucking useless. What are you doing with those criminals?”
“Criminals? Are you kidding me, Dad? Criminals? You are accusing me of hanging around with criminals. You have been breaking the law all your life. If I went downstairs to the bar right now, all I would find are a bunch of Mick hoods and some old IRA assassins.”
Jim’s face, flushed with alcohol, burned bright with anger. “Don’t you dare, don’t you dare, you ungrateful son of a bitch. Sure, I broke the law, but for something worthwhile, for Irish freedom. The rest is a harmless diversion, no one gets hurt. People want to gamble, goddamn it.”
“Oh my god, you do everything for noble principles and what I do is not. I am not getting rich fighting against a war that I feel is stupid and whose costs are incalculable both in terms of life and treasure. This goddamn war is tearing the country apart. Can’t you see that we are the same, fighting for what we believe is right?” Josh’s voice lowered to a plea.
“The same,” Jim raged. “The same? I don’t think so. You are no more than a worthless pile of piss. I raised a coward, a sniveling coward who fled from football, his church, and now his patriotic responsibilities. At the first sign of trouble, you shit in your pants, run away from anything tough. You’re weak, and I hate weakness.”
“Well, Dad, thanks for being so understanding. I appreciate the support.”
Drunk as he was, Jim could still identify sarcasm. His right arm shot out. For some reason, it caught Josh by surprise. When he saw it finally, the moment for evasion was past. A broad fist landed on his left cheek and nose. “Shit,” he exhaled as he spun back to the wall. He shook his head clear and thought about retaliating. He could take his intoxicated father, that was certain. But he leaned against the wall mute, blood leaking from his left nostril. “Come on, you little shit,” Jim spit. “You turned out to be such a coward.” With that, Jim moved forward and grabbed Josh by the throat, pushing his head hard against the apartment wall. He cocked his right arm back while Josh passively waited for the blow.
Ora screamed, “Jim, stop, for god’s sake, stop! Do you want to kill the boy?”
Rachel had burst from her room at the sound of violence. Her voice, thin with terror, joined her mother’s. “No, Dad, please!” She rushed to him and tried to pull the big man from her brother.
Big Jim lowered his arm and roughly pushed his daughter away. He stared another few moments at his son, clearly teetering on the edge of another attack. Then imperceptibly, he relaxed. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” He turned and went down to his bar.
Ora quietly got up and began dabbing away the blood with a damp towel. “Son, just tell me one thing. Why are you doing this?”
“What do you think I’m doing, ma?”
; “You have joined up with some damn Communists.” She said the words with great sadness.
“Communists! No, Ma. Why do you say that?”
“Don’t tell me that.” There was a distinct tone of anger he had not heard before. “I know Communists. They did unspeakable things to my family, things not in your imagination, things I can still see each night, things from when I was a very young girl.”
“Ma, I’m fighting for what’s good in the country.”
“Bullshit!” she screamed. Josh recoiled; he had never heard her swear before, ever. “Don’t say such things to me. You’re being duped. That’s how they work. They fill your head with silly words and dreams. Then…then twist and turn things around until you’re no longer the same person. You’re no longer my son.”
“Ma, please.”
“The Communists, those animals, I cannot believe what has happened to you. Just go away.”
“Ma.”
“Get out!”
Josh recalled being totally exhausted at that moment. He went over, hugged his sister who continued to sob, and walked out. Was that the last time he saw them? He could not recall a later image. How could he not remember exactly when this happened? Too much pain, he concluded.
He looked up to the sky. Dark clouds were blowing in toward Vancouver. Maybe a storm tonight. He tried reflecting on the good moments from the day, but the face of a young Morris Greenstein intruded. He could not shake moments from those decades ago when all seemed vivid and emotionally iridescent.
“Josh, you’re the glue that keeps this together.”
Josh remembered protesting, “That is silly, Mo, it is you that inspires everyone. You are the group’s Trotsky, Che, Malcolm X, Saul Alinsky, and maybe even Eugene Debs all rolled into one. Hah, I’m probably Kerensky, a hopeless and confused Socialist at best.”
“Listen to me.” Morris did not smile at Josh’s attempt to lighten the moment. “I can move people intellectually, in their head. But you can move them in their heart. They like you. They may respect me, but they respond to you.”
“Mo, this sounds like a pep talk. What’s wrong?”
“I worry, Josh, I worry about you. There is a lot of pressure on you with your family and that girl you never bring around, I forget her name.”
“Eleni,” Josh whispered.
Mo looked at him intently. “Remember when the two of us first met, you saved my ass. I never forgot. You were this tough Irish kid who whaled away at guys from his own people to save this skinny Jew. I knew at that moment you were a special kind of guy, that you would always have my back. That meant a lot to me. Do you hear me? That still means the world to me.”
“What could I do, you were so skinny they would have killed you.”
“No way,” Morris shot back. “They were Irish pussies. I can take six of them at a time.”
“Sure, tough guy.” Josh smiled. “Truth is, they would still be scrapping pieces of you off that sidewalk.”
Morris smiled warmly. “You’re my best friend. I feel closer to you than my brother. But what we are doing is above all that. Remember this, each generation selects just a few to hold to the highest values. For this generation, it is people like you and me. We can be a vanguard. What we do now is small and symbolic, but it is a start. It is only meant to catch their attention. No one is paying attention. Everything is business as usual. We need to inflict just enough pain to get them to listen. Do you understand? Then the bigger things.”
Josh recalled looking directly into Mo’s eyes as he said yes with confidence. But in truth, he did not feel that confidence, not in the least.
He jerked that image out of his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. The wind picked up, stinging the salt that the tears brought with them. He wiped his face with his hands. He was getting close to home, but his mind wandered off again. This time it was Sarah Kaplan who entered his mind’s eye. He recalled banging on her apartment door late, hoping she was still up. One of her roommates answered, looking decidedly unhappy.
“Josh, what the hell are you doing here? It is the middle of the damn night. Oh, never mind, come in and I’ll get her.”
When Sarah emerged from her room, he sounded contrite, which was exactly what he felt. “I have to talk, so sorry. I know it is late. I’m a shit, but- but…”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into her room. “This is for privacy, not sex.”
Josh had not thought of sex until that moment. They both sat on her bed, and her robe fell open a bit, revealing one of her breasts. Now the thought of sex rushed throughout his body. He waited for the moment to pass before starting.
“Sarah, I’m so sorry. Things are piling up, sometimes I feel I will explode. What’s happening to me? Remember when we joined that first antiwar protest? Sure, we almost got killed, but it was more of an adventure. We felt proud, superior to those throwing things at us. We saw realities that they could not. We were more insightful and certainly had higher principles and definitely superior IQs. At least we were not moral reprobates who got their rocks off killing scores of people whose biggest sin was looking different from us. Now…now it has all become so serious. Life is spinning out of control. I just know I am going to disappoint everyone, everyone. Used to be that everyone loved me. Now I’m becoming a pariah, the most despised man on the planet.”
Sarah tried a weak smile. “Wake up, you idiot, you’re not that important. I think Ho Chi Minh still got you beat but keep it up and you might have a shot at the title. Showing up at two in the morning is not helping your cause, you can cross Carol off your list of possible future conquests. She looked pretty pissed when she came in to get me.”
“Thanks, that’s what I needed to hear, and just when she was reaching the top of my co-ed conquest to be list.” He offered weakly, trying to counter his heaviness. “Do apologize to her. Now that I think on it, I’m shocked she did not slam the door in my face.”
She reached out to take his hands in hers. “So am I. Then again, she thinks you’re cute too. Apparently, there is an epidemic of poor taste going around. But tell me what’s going on inside that confused, complex head of yours.”
Josh acknowledged neither the compliment nor the insult. “I feel I am in such an impossible place. Remember that psychology experiment we worked on? We set up the maze wrong and the rats were shocked no matter which way they ran. The poor bastards ran this way and that. It took us a while to figure out what we did wrong, the current was too high I think. They could not learn because the pressure was too high. I can still see them going this way and that with no way out. I am the rat now. I feel there is no way out.”
“Can I ask you something? Why are you telling me? Why aren’t you sharing all this with Eleni? Why come to me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell her. I suppose I could run the following by her. ‘By the way, Leni, I’m fucking up my life totally, but I love you so why don’t you throw everything away and join this train wreck in motion?’ Wow, what woman would pass up an offer like that?”
“No, that’s not the suburban house or the white picket fence, just a bit short I would say. However, and this is a big but, females are known to evidence atrocious judgment when it comes to males. It is the only weakness in my gender of which I’m aware. If she loves you, she might accept anything.” He looked at her blankly, so she continued. “Damn, I can’t believe you’re making me say this. Just in case you’ve dropped off the turnip truck, she loves you. Got that, nimrod, she loves you. Even an idiot like you must see that.”
“She has never used those words. I don’t know if she does or not,” he said weakly.
“Well, have you?” Sarah asked as she rolled her eyes.
“What?”
“Damn it, don’t be so dense. Have you ever told her that you love her?” She was exasperated.
Josh paused. “Not exactly.”
“You, sir, are a dumb shit. No, not just a dumb shit but a colossally dumb shit. I have been with the two of you ma
ny times. It is obvious to me you love each other. It is obvious to everyone in this school. Hell, people in Mongolia get it. Oh, never mind.”
After some silence, Josh asked in a low voice, “Did you love me?”
“Why would you even ask?”
“I need more guilt. I don’t quite have enough yet.” Josh tried a smile.
“I should tell you that I burn incense to a shrine dedicated to you every night. But I won’t.” She paused to consider her next thought. “Josh, you were never disingenuous. You never promised me love or devotion or commitment. You gave what you did promise, companionship and intellectual stimulation and the sex was okay as well.”
“Sensational.”
“What?” She wasn’t sure what adjective he had inserted.
“The sex, it was sensational.”
“Ah yes, what was I thinking? But my point is that you were always honest. That is rare for a guy. And…I shouldn’t say this, but I could have fallen in love with you. No way would I let myself go there, no way. I held back. I had to. Who wants to be rejected, disappointed? I did not get to be top of the class by being stupid. Want my advice? Go to Leni, open yourself up. Ask her to be your life partner. If you don’t, you will be the sorriest-ass guy on the North American continent.”
“Can I lay next to you for the night, just for the human touch?”
After a very long pause, she lay down and pulled him after her. They snuggled together.
“Thanks,” he said. “I needed this.”
“Yeah, dammit.” She was irritated with herself. “This is rather nice.”
Soon, Sarah could hear a change in his breathing. He was asleep. “Yes, I love you. You really are such a moron.” She murmured softly.
Josh snapped out of his reverie as he neared his destination. He was on his street, just a few feet away from his place. He slowed his pace to cram in one more quick thought. He always was more comfortable with ideas and issues. It was people that bothered him. They were messy, inconvenient, and inexplicable. Still, he guessed he needed them. He would give that conclusion more thought. He took a deep breath and walked through the door. There was no greeting of the day’s hero as he expected, however. Rather, most were looking at Cate, who was engaged in an animated conversation on the phone. She was standing in the center of the living room, her face set in that look of determination he recalled from Rachel as a young girl. Suddenly, he was struck with that connection. She was her mother’s daughter.
