CHAPTER SEVEN: TOO LATE FOR SAVING
Some people are born with a smile on their face, while others are born with a frown. Silvia saw Frank as one of the latter and she wanted to be sure to get his sad frown in her painting, with lips bent downward like a horseshoe. She was determined to finish her painting tonight. She saved Frank, the most complicated person, for last. She would start him, like she started every person she painted, with the feature that she considered to be the heart of their essence, the thing that made them who they were. For Frank, it was in his eyes. They were very dark and when he was drunk and angry, they got blacker than black and hollowed out like tunnels that go nowhere. So that is how she painted them.
She had thought of making the eyes less hollow, less dark, and less raging, because she knew that behind his warrior facade, he was nothing more than a frightened child still crying for the mother who had never been there for him. But that very night, when he had slammed through the kitchen, his eyes had looked just the way she had painted them. So, Silvia was glad that she had chosen to reveal him as the angry bulldog that she knew he could be. Sometimes when he drank, it calmed his anger and allowed him to pass out into oblivion. Other times, the booze stirred up inside of him and made the fire within him burn bright, fast, and furious. Tonight was one of those fiery nights, and Silvia could practically hear his anger even before he began yelling.
He opened the kitchen door like he was trying to break it down and slammed it shut so hard that Silvia could hear birds, perched on the roof of the house, fly away in fright. He then proceeded to walk down the hallway, with heavy footsteps that sounded like his feet might go through the floor. Silvia could hear him banging on Vince’s door, and opening it without giving Vince a chance to do so himself. She ran outside of her room, into the hallway, and could see her father standing in his fighting position.
“You’re nothing but an introvert and an ingrate!” he yelled. “I never see you or hear a peep out of you until you want something!”
“Isn’t that what you want? To never see me or hear from me?” Vince’s tone of voice was low, calm, and indifferent, and this indifference seemed to infuriate Frank more. He then raised his voice and said, “Well that’s it then, I’m not helping you with your tuition!” At this, Vince’s indifference continued, as if Frank was talking about something incidental, like the cost of tomatoes.
Silvia went back into her room and hid her painting in the closet where Frank would not see it. As she was doing this, she heard his heavy, determined footsteps coming down the hallway towards her room. Her stomach filled with nausea, as if she had just drunk a glass of old milk. Her head felt disconnected from her body, as if it was floating above the rest of her. Her fingertips tingled, and she wished that she were able to jump out of her skin.
“That brother of yours has nothing to say to me except when he needs something! I’m tired of being made into a fool! And you want to have a party for him? He’s a fucking ingrate! That’s all he is!”
“Dad, calm down,” she said, trying to have compassion in her voice. But this was the wrong thing to say, and although she knew that telling a mad man to calm down would probably not go over too well, she had not known what else to say.
“Get your stuff and get the fuck out of my house!” came right out of his mouth, automatic and fierce, like a bolt of thunder. Silvia’s response was just as automatic. She got her backpack and grabbed Vince, who was all ready to go, and together they made their getaway.
The two of them were synchronized like a flock of birds flying south for the winter, as they got in her car and zoomed down the driveway. They moved in silence as they drove away, and Silvia remembered all of the times they made similar escapes with their mother and two other siblings. Usually they would have to evacuate in the middle of the night, when they were all sleeping, or trying to sleep. They would awaken to the sounds of Frank screaming, and glasses and plates crashing onto the floor. Angie would get up out of her bed and get her overnight bag out of the closet, and Silvia, being her little sister, would follow. There was no shock in either of them. No words. No need for instruction. Almost as if they had intuited exactly what needed to be done, like an instinctual or inborn response. They would meet up with the other three outside, and then all five of them would pile into Donna’s car and flee the house. Donna would back out of the driveway, quickly and clumsily, with Frank chasing them down on foot, as if he, himself, was stronger and more powerful than the full sized car she drove. His limp seemed to vanish as he ran, almost as if the anger had somehow fixed him.
It was no wonder that Silvia was so good at running. She knew what it was like to always be ready, to never know when she might have to, once again, take flight. Perhaps because she had been trained in the battleground of uncertainty. This was why she could never be casual about moving. There was always some sense of urgency about her moves, like she was still running from her father.
She was sorry that she had moved any of her clothing into her old bureau but happy that she had not moved all of her clothes into the bureau and discarded her loyal orange crates. She was sorry that she had ever referred to that place as home and that she had temporarily stopped thinking of it for what it was and what it would always be-- her father’s house. She was sorry that she had ever considered living there with Frank or living anywhere near him, but she was glad that she had not taken any concrete steps towards settling there, like applying to schools in the area.
Neither Vince nor Silvia spoke until they were safely out of the driveway, when Vince asked Silvia where they were going. She told him that she wasn’t sure, but that it would be “some place far away from that shit hole!”
It ended up, however, not being all that far away. They arrived at Cosmo’s apartment where she knew that they could sleep peacefully, without being woken in the middle of the night by a raging lunatic. Going to Donna’s would be a bad choice. It would just upset her. And besides, Silvia couldn’t stand to make herself into a fool after she had tried to convince her mother that Frank was getting better.
Her head rattled with the remnants of Frank’s tantrum, as she walked up the steps to Cosmo’s apartment. The familiar dinginess of the hallway in his apartment building had become a comfort since she had been living with her father, and tonight, after escaping the madness of Frank’s house, it was particularly comforting. She even began to see beauty in the vomit green colored carpeting and the peeling beige wall paint.
Cosmo came to the door, smart phone in-hand, playing some game that disabled him from saying a proper hello to them. Neither of them minded the lack of reception. They just walked in, sat down, sighed a bunch, and stared out into the space in front of them. Cosmo looked up from his game for a half of a second to say that he would be finished in a minute, but both of his guests seemed indifferent to having his attention and the pair just continued staring out into space as if they were asleep with their eyes open.
Silvia was sure that Cosmo knew why the two arrived together at this hour in a daze, but showed little concern. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but Cosmo was the one, who stood with both of his feet planted firmly on the ground. Because he had his feet on the ground, he knew what was coming at all times. So it would be no surprise to him that Frank showed up drunk and kicked them out of the house. There was no distortion in his sight, and he functioned like a perfect mirror for the very idealistic Silvia, who was beginning to think more of her older brother’s ability to live his life, and less of her own ability to live her life.
At this moment, she didn’t see him as a quitter. She saw him as someone content with the life he had been given. He went to work, played his video games, went for the occasional drink with his friends, ate without analyzing every bite of food he put in his mouth, and stayed clear of lost causes and the arguments that such causes create. He knew simplicity. His mind seemed pretty Zen to her. It wasn’t polluted with causes, beliefs, and ideas, like the rest of their minds. Unlike Angie, he didn’t care what anyone thought of
him. Unlike Donna, he would never get involved in some drama-laden relationship. He would never attempt to search for happiness in a bottle of scotch like Frank. He would never rant about causes like Vince. And unlike her, he didn’t try to change people, go on endless searches for perfect places, or try to make peace in a family that knew nothing but war.
“Dad had another one of his episodes tonight, I assume,” Cosmo said, putting his phone down.
“How did you guess?” said Vince sarcastically.
“Are you surprised?” said Cosmo.
“What do you think?” said Silvia.
“I think you thought you could change him,” said Cosmo to Silvia.
“So, what if I did? Does that make me a bad person for wanting to help him?”
“No,” Cosmo said, smiling deviously. “It does make you a fool, though.”
“Fuck off, Cosmo,” she said without the slightest bit of expression in her voice.
“People don’t change, little sister,” he said, flopping down in a chair without regard for her ‘fuck off’ remark. “Especially people like Dad.”
He was right. She knew it, but she still couldn’t resist telling her brother that their dad did, in fact, seem like he was changing. There was still the tiniest bit of idealism that flickered inside of her, like a candle struggling to stay lit in a drafty house. Cosmo turned to Vince, who then verified that their father didn’t seem any different to him. Cosmo needed no further proof, and his face bore a smug look of satisfaction. So he was right. He was always right, damn it! But there was no time for being mad at her brother for always being right. There were too many bigger worries that had hijacked her brain and were now pressing in on it with the force and strength of a jackhammer.
Where was she going to live now that she had been kicked out of Frank’s house? It was just like her father to wait until she was all situated to pull something like this. And what about the reunion that would save them all? She couldn’t possibly think of quitting this cause now. Cosmo must have been reading her mind at this very moment, for he said, “So, I guess there won’t be any dinner or anything for Vince’s graduation, huh?” He sounded greatly relieved.
“No,” said Silvia, looking up at the ceiling stubbornly. “It doesn’t mean that, at all.”
“Hey Silvia, I don’t mind if...” started Vince.
“We’re having a dinner, God damn it! And it’s going to be great! Just fucking great!”
“Yeah, I’m sure it will be,” said Cosmo as if he was trying to humor a mental patient.
“Do you still want to have it this Saturday?” asked Vince, like he was slightly afraid of his sister.
“Yeah. It’s still going to be this Saturday at the fucking Central Cafe after your graduation! I made reservations! Angie is coming down with Doug and Isabella!” She shouted every word, as if she were making an announcement in a sports arena. She then looked back at Vince offensively as if she was expecting him to make some kind of negative response. She appeared to be very ready and willing to deal with him if he would. Vince, seeing this, looked down at the floor and refrained from speaking a word.
In an effort to block the noise in her head, Silvia grabbed the TV remote that was on a small, dented end table next to her chair, and turned on the television. She was hoping for something comedic, like a Seinfeld or Simpson’s episode, but, instead, she got an update on the latest causalities in Afghanistan. This was even worse than the noise in her head. The war reminded her of her family, and her family reminded her of the war. Fucking war! Never ending fucking war! The thing that has always been and will always be. Arrows morphed into missiles. Sticks and stones turned into atomic bombs. No end and no beginning, just like the fighting that existed and would probably always exist within her family. She looked over at Vince, who looked like he wanted to jump into the television set and make everything right. She looked at Cosmo, who looked jaded, expressionless and complacent as a turtle. The person who knew how it all really was and knew that their family was just like the rest of the world. Too late for saving. A family of divisions and alliances. A family with so many lines that had grown thicker with time and would just continue to thicken as time went on. Lines that could never be erased.
“When will this war ever end?” said Vince.
“Whenever it does, you can rest assure that another one is right around the corner,” said Cosmo.
“Yeah,” said Silvia, her eyes transfixed on the television set.
“But why?” cried Vince. “Why does it have to be that way?”
“Because it is,” said Silvia, who was suddenly talking like a realist.
“As long as people have been around, they’ve been fighting with each other,” said Cosmo. “I mean, think of the cavemen. They fought with each other over buffalo and women.”
“As long as I can remember, our family’s been fighting too,” said Silvia.
“Well that doesn’t mean we all have to go on fighting for the rest of our lives,” said Vince, surprising Silvia with his sudden concern for the well-being of their family.
“I tried Vince,” said Silvia. “I tried to fix things in our family. Look where it got me.”
“Where?” said Vince.
“Nowhere,” said Silvia. “No. I’m worse than nowhere. I’m defeated.”
“Trying to make peace in our family?” said Cosmo. “You’d have better luck in the Middle East.”
“Well, I think it’s great that you tried,” said Vince to Silvia.
“I do too,” said Cosmo. “Just a tad idealistic though.”
“I wish I wasn’t so idealistic sometimes,” said Silvia.
“Why is that?” asked Cosmo.
“Because if I wasn’t idealistic, I wouldn’t search for things that didn’t exist. I wouldn’t try to fix people or to change things. My life would be a lot easier.”
“You can’t fight your nature,” said Cosmo. “I mean, you are who you are. I am who I am. I wouldn’t try to be a dreamer, and you shouldn’t try to be a realist.”
“That’s right,” said Vince. “And the world needs more people like you. Maybe you didn’t make peace in our family, but at least you tried. If you weren’t such an idealist, I’m sure you wouldn’t have even tried.”
Silvia could feel the look of disgust and anger melting from her face as Vince’s words settled inside of her, and she lifted slightly from her bad mood to thank him. He was so right. Only a dreamer like herself would attempt to make peace in a family that had never known peace, and even though she was feeling like a bit of a failure at the moment, she could still recognize the fact that she did, in fact, make some worthy progress. She did get Frank to an AA meeting. She did get through to Cosmo about how he should not blame other people for his problems. She taught Vince about the importance of peace starting at home. She taught them both about forgiveness. She got everyone to agree to go to the reunion. Truly, she had accomplished some important things. She wished that she could have enjoyed her feeling of accomplishment a little longer, but Cosmo brought her back to reality when he said, “So, I guess you won’t be living with Dad much longer, huh?”
“No, I guess not,” she said, her face filling with gloom once more.
“What about you, Vince?” said Cosmo, causing Silvia to turn away from Cosmo and towards Vince. Then a thought came to her. Maybe he would consider moving out to Portland with her. Together they could make a new, clean start away from the contaminated, stale, old part of their family. He could go back to school there and be completely comfortable amongst the other like-minded students, and she could have her younger brother by her side. In a matter of seconds, she had both her and Vince’s life planned as the dynamic brother-sister duo living in Portland-- the ones that got away, the ones that made it. And just as the sadness was beginning to float out of her body, Vince said that he would probably move up to New Brunswick and go to Rutgers in the spring semester. She felt a drop inside of her stomach, which hollowed and got cold and damp like a cave. When sh
e saw Cosmo nodding his head in agreement with Vince’s alternative plan, her head became light and distant from her body. She was alone once again. Completely alone. And it was probably this severe aloneness that caused her to make a spiteful remark to Vince.
“That’ll be great, Vince. You’ll be right near Angie and Doug.” She knew it was the wrong thing to say, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Why did you have to say that, Silvia?” said Cosmo. “You know he can’t stand Doug. You’re trying to start trouble.”
She stopped herself from saying anything back because she knew Cosmo was right once again. Instead, she just looked away from both of them and towards the ceiling with an indignant face.
“What’s wrong, Silvia? Why are you upset at me for going to Rutgers?” asked Vince.
“I’m not. I’m sorry,” she said, turning towards him and attempting to wipe the disturbed expression from her face. “I just thought we could move to Portland together. That’s all. Before what happened tonight, I was planning on living with that maniac. I guess I was fooling myself into thinking he was changing and wouldn’t be so bad to live with.”
“Why do you want to stay in this area, anyway?” asked Cosmo. “I thought you hated it here.”
“You’re right about that. But I was thinking of going back to school and getting certified to teach art, and I thought that if I went to school in New Jersey, I could get in- state tuition. I thought of staying at Dad’s because it would be free.”
“But would it really be free?” said Cosmo, repeating the same words that Donna had previously spoken to her. They were both right. The price of living with Frank was much more costly than rent would be in a penthouse apartment in New York City.
The feeling of being lost had taken her over once more. How she hated this feeling. She needed a plan she could depend on, a plan that kept her from falling down, and from having her world collapse on top of her. The feeling got bigger and bigger until it began to feel like an entity on to itself, a little ugly monster sitting next to her that looked somewhat like a grinning gargoyle. She needed to do or say something quickly to shake this feeling, or the monster would take her over.
“Cosmo, I really think you would love Portland. You need to get out of this fucking dump once and for all.” It was true. His life here was no good, and she was now seeing the dreariness of his reality all over again.
He just looked back at her cynically and said, “How many times have we talked about this? Sure, I’ll quit my job, so I can move with you to hipsterville. Maybe you enjoy poverty, but I don’t.”
She shrugged and said nothing. She wanted to say that she didn’t enjoy being poor either. She wanted to say that she didn’t enjoy taking dead end jobs so that she could earn enough money to move to the next place. She wanted to say that she didn’t enjoy sleeping on a worn down futon on the floor, dressing in second hand clothes that she kept in orange crates, and eating pizza slices and bagels because that was all she could afford. She wanted to say all of this; instead, she said nothing.
She wished, in fact, that she could make a life for herself like Cosmo had made for himself. She wished that she had not inherited the Greco gene for being malcontented. They were all malcontents, except for Cosmo, which may have been the reason for her hanging around him so much. He was a sturdy, old tree in her life, and one that would not fall over or even bend with the strongest of winds. Maybe she was hoping that his contentedness could somehow rub off on her. But it had not. Instead, she remained stubbornly malcontented, like a typical Greco.
“Why do you want to move there anyway, Silvia?” asked Vince. “I mean, what can you do there that you can’t do here?”
“It has nothing to do with what I can do in one place versus what I can do in another,” she said like the answer should be apparent to him.
“Well, then, why do you want to move there?” said Vince, like he was really trying hard to understand his sister’s rational for moving.
“It’s because this place sucks,” said Cosmo answering for Silvia. “In fact, the whole North East sucks as far as Silvia is concerned.”
Silvia didn’t bother defending herself out of lack of energy more than anything else. So Vince turned to her and asked, “Is this true?” She said it wasn’t completely true. She said it wasn’t all bad and that places like Burlington, Vermont might be all right if she was an old, retired hippie who didn’t mind the cold weather. She said that she felt stale, tired, and depressed here. But she didn’t say her feeling stale, tired, and depressed had anything to do with being Silvia. Nor did she say that if she lived in any place longer than a few months, she would get this same tired, old, stale feeling. She didn’t say that she was apt to finding something wrong with wherever she lived and that, given the opportunity, she could find something wrong with any place. She did know, however, in the back of her head, that all this was completely true. She also knew that place wasn’t the real issue at hand. Instead, it had always been her sadness that could make the most beautiful of tropical islands look ugly, the most exciting of all cosmopolitan centers seem boring, and the most inviting of small towns to be unfriendly. But what she knew in her mind and what she felt in her body had not yet come together. She hoped that one day they would.
Olive Branches Don't Grow On Trees Page 31
