Katherine's Prophecy

by Scott Wittenburg

  Some things were better left unsaid, he’d wisely decided.

  Hence, this mysterious woman had remained his own little secret; always there whenever he needed a friend and a little spiritual inspiration. His Dream Lady had become his “beacon in the night,” so to speak.

  But as the years went by and he grew older, this magical relationship began to drift in another direction. His Dream Lady eventually became more to him than just a mere nocturnal bosom-buddy. Lenny wasn’t sure if adolescence was to blame for this, or just plain insecurity. Whatever the case, his Dream Lady had in fact become the apple of his eye—his dream lover.

  In essence, it boiled down to this: he had held out his entire life for what appeared to be, for lack of a better term, a ghost. He’d placed all his bets on this intangible phantasm of the night, who most certainly was no more than a figment of his imagination.

  Oh well, he sighed . . .

  Like throwing a switch, he promptly tuned out the subject entirely and his mind began sifting back through his past—the highlights of his existence here on terra firma. The hopes, the dreams, and the scores of letdowns. But then, wasn’t that what life was all about? he thought. Certainly it was, and he knew it. Yet another fact that had to be acknowledged, accepted, and dealt with accordingly.

  He really had no right to complain. He’d had a damn good life for the most part. Quite eventful, and at times very gratifying. Enjoyed a rich and well-rounded childhood with loving parents and strong family values. Did above-average in school; avoided Viet Nam by going to college then subsequently by lucking-out with a high draft lottery number when they jerked his college deferment out from under him. Dropped out of college his junior year to pursue a career in music, moved to the Big Apple eight years ago in search of the Big Time, flopped miserably then became a professional photographer. And most likely failing at that, too.

  But hey! It ain’t over till it’s over, right?

  The significance of his life, he’d come to realize, had been the things that went along with living it more than the actual events themselves. Things like the people he’d met along the way, the situations he’d found himself in as a result of those events—some so bizarre it was scary—and those life lessons one learns as the result of being flung around and jerked around by the balls until one finally gets the point, like it or not. One eventually acquires a certain wisdom after awhile, he’d learned; a sort of “inner feeling” about what to get into and what to avoid like the plague when approached by something or someone which could be labeled as “questionable.” New Yorkers referred to it as being “street-wise.” But on a grander scale, it was could be referred to as being “life-wise.”

  But being life-wise had its drawbacks. One begins to think he has everything all figured out after a while. And before he knows it, he’s in trouble. He makes the Big Mistake and pays for it dearly; by losing life, liberty, or the pursuit of happiness. Then he makes an even bigger mistake—that is, providing that he’s still among the living. He gets scared. He loses his self-confidence and before he knows it, becomes conservative. The Big “C.” No longer able to boldly go where no man has ever gone before, he finds himself unable to take any risks. He melts into the mainstream; perfectly content to take the safe route and sit on his hands while the rest of the world goes by, blazing new trails and getting things done. He becomes, in essence, a physical and emotional cripple. His aspirations go no further than his mind, actions go no further than words, and before he knows it, he’s become an aging, cynical fart who really can’t find a damn thing right in the world except the fact that he’s alive and that he still by God has his dreams if nothing else . . .

  And this pretty much summed up where Lenny now found himself. Between the proverbial rock and a hard place. At the crossroads of Life. Eat or be eaten. Seize the day, or else . . .

  Lenny stubbed out his cigarette with a vengeance. He at least deserved an “E” for effort, didn’t he? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried to make things happen, for chrissakes. He’d made some pretty damn bold moves in his time—taken risks that most people only talked about taking but never followed through with. Like moving to New York City, for example. How many people had he known who talked about dropping everything and moving to New York to seek fame and fortune and had actually done it? Most of them had only been dreaming—or just plain talking out of their assholes. But he had actually done it, by God! And now those very same people admired him for his intestinal fortitude. Never mind the fact that it’s been a living hell, and that he was living by the skin of his teeth. He, by God, had made The Big Plunge!

  Lenny was quite aware of what the big problem was here. He could nit at this, and pick at that, but it all boiled down to one little four letter word: T-i-m-e. Time was supposed to be the great healer, which may well be true, but it also was a very big problem. Basically, because he was running out of it. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He was a grown man. He could no longer put things off like he used to do. And what used to be an excuse for why things weren’t getting done was now in short supply all of a sudden. It was sort of like taking a long walk off a short pier. Suddenly, the concept of time put things into a whole new perspective. It was the way of the world. He was now forced to acknowledge the fact that whatever he did from here on out had to be taken more seriously and more carefully thought-out beforehand. He could no longer afford to continue taking chances on things with the attitude, “if this doesn’t work then I’ll just do that . . .” The luxury of time was fast fading.

  In other words, it was time to grow up. To face the music. Time’s a’wastin.’ You ain’t gettin’ any younger. All of those clichés -

  It was time to get out of New York City, he realized. No question about it. The place sucked, and he hated it. Too many people, too much steel and concrete. It was like living in prison, and it was the last place on earth he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

  But where would he go? Back to his economically deprived hometown in southern Ohio with his tail between his legs? “Hi, folks, I’m back! The Dream’s over. New York is swell, but I’ve decided that I need to get back to my roots. Know of any jobs available? Oh, really? You say it’s just been announced that this area has the second highest unemployment rate in the country? Gee, I didn’t know . . .”

  No way!

  So where to, then? Another big city—smaller than New York but economically sound like say, Atlanta, or Phoenix? And live in yet another booming metropolis? Thank you, no. That would be like taking a leap out of the frying pan into the fire.

  So, perhaps a small town—somewhere in the boondocks. And do what? Start a fucking farm, for chrissakes? C’mon!

  Feeling his frustrations mounting, Lenny decided to try and get his mind off his plight. Recalling that he had some printing to do, he stood up and headed determinedly over to one of two doors located at the other end of the apartment. He switched on the overhead lights and entered the former spare bedroom, now a fully equipped darkroom. As his studio in Manhattan was little more than a subdivided loft space without running water, he’d been forced to set up a darkroom in his apartment. This had been a prudent decision in the long run; allowing him more time at home and less time making needless trips from Queens into the city. His recent decision to add call-forwarding to his studio phone line afforded him yet more time away from the studio which ironically, was being utilized less and less anyway.

  Lenny remained in the darkroom for the next hour or so, completing the print orders for his clients. Afterwards, he ate a light dinner then stretched out on the living room sofa with an ice-cold bottle of beer. Dear Prudence, from the Beatles White Album, was playing on the stereo and had just faded out when the telephone rang. He went over to turn the volume down then picked up the receiver.

  “Studio,” he said into the mouthpiece.

  “You aren’t really at the studio this late, are you?” he heard Julie Adams say.

  “Oh, hi, Julie. No, I’m home,” Lenny replied in a slightly ag
itated tone of voice.

  “Are you busy?” she asked.

  “No, not really. Just sitting here sipping on a brew.”

  “Something new and different,” she quipped sarcastically.

  “Right. What’s up?”

  “Well, I was sort of wondering why you haven’t called me.”

  Lenny stalled for a moment. “I’m sorry. This is really the first chance I’ve had to sit down all day. I was just getting ready to give you a ring in fact.” he lied.

  “You’re a terrible liar, Lenny,” she accused.

  “I was going to call you, Julie. Really. It’s just been a hectic day, that’s all.”

  “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

  Lenny wanted to say no, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d all but run out of excuses to give Julie these past couple of weeks. “Yeah, I’ll be there. What are we having?” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “Stir-fried chicken and vegetables, salad, and homemade bread. How does that sound?”

  “Delicious. You want me to bring a bottle of wine?”

  “No need, I’ve got it covered.” Julie replied.

  Feeling a twinge of guilt, Lenny wished she would have at least let him supply the wine. But this was typical of Julie. She made it too easy for him; always rolling out the red carpet and serving herself to him on a silver platter. Ideally, he’d be enjoying this royal treatment had he been receiving it from someone whom he had a genuine love interest in. But Julie Adams was not a love interest. She was not his Dream Lady.

  “I’ll bring the beer then,” he insisted.

  “Okay. How does six o’clock sound?”

  Lenny thought for a moment. He had a shoot scheduled for three-thirty tomorrow. That should give him plenty of time.

  “That’s fine,” he replied.

  “Great!” Julie exclaimed. “I’ll see you then. What do you think of this snow, by the way? I Know how much you like this yukky stuff.”

  “I think it’s great—I’d like to see about a foot or two fall as a matter of fact.”

  “You’re crazy, Lenny. But I love you anyway,” she giggled.

  Lenny hated when she spoke those words to him. She might as well have scraped her fingernails across a chalkboard.

  “I’ve never claimed to be a sane person,” was all he said.

  “You’ve got me there,” Julie said, her disappointment evident. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your beer. See you tomorrow, Lenny.”

  “Okay. See ya, Julie.” he said, hanging up the phone.

  His relationship with Julie Adams was yet another fact he was going to have to deal with someday. To him, Julie was just a friend—virtually his only friend in New York in fact. To her, however, he was apparently more than that. At least she wanted him to be more than that. Julie Adams was friendly and attractive—tall, blonde, had a great body. Lenny had met her a couple of years ago while doing a photo shoot for the annual report of the Meigs Corporation. She’d been one of the hundred or so employees he’d taken headshots of for the report, and they’d sort of hit it off in the brief time it had taken him to snap her picture. Julie had suggested that they get together some time then had scribbled her home phone number on her business card and handed it to him. Lenny had found her invitation too hard to resist and had called her later that week.

  At first Lenny had enjoyed their relationship. A self-confessed loner, he discovered that having someone to hang out with once in a while was a welcome change at the time. They went out frequently for the first few months or so, hitting the nightclubs and occasionally taking in a movie. But he soon came to realize that Julie was viewing their relationship as a romantic venture leading up to an eventual commitment-type thing; the furthest thing from his mind.

  He’d never forget that night when, out of the clear blue, Julie announced that she loved him. He’d sat there speechless and in shock. In retrospect, he should have leveled with her then, but hadn’t. Instead, he’d merely smiled at her like an idiot and said something like, “I like you, too,” hoping that she would get the hint.

  She didn’t.

  In fact, Julie had taken his response as a green light to pursue this nonexistent romance even more vehemently than before. She began calling him day and night, asking him over to her apartment incessantly, and going out of her way to do nice things for him. Like springing expensive gifts on him—which never failed to embarrass him. And cooking him gourmet meals, as she was planning on doing tomorrow night.

  He was beginning to feel quite suffocated.

  It wasn’t as though he hadn’t dropped hints on several occasions that he wasn’t interested in a serious commitment. But Julie always managed to blow them off somehow—like he was just kidding around with her. It was slowly but surely becoming a sort of “fatal attraction” type thing. One night when he’d been totally blasted, he came right out and told her the truth; that he just wanted to be friends. Julie had gotten that incredibly hurt look in her eyes then proceeded to tell him that she didn’t care, that she loved him anyway. And that’s what had kept things going on as long as they had. Lenny’s conscience was clear, more or less, since Julie at least acknowledged and accepted his position in the relationship. So why rock the boat? he’d decided.

  But the whole thing had gotten old and stale. Like everything else in his life, time was beginning to play into this in a big way. It was time to be honest about what was happening here. This woman loved him and no doubt wanted to marry him someday. Lenny didn’t love her, and basically, was just wasting her time. And the longer he let it go on, the more crushed she was going to be when the big ax came down, which was inevitable. Then he would feel even guiltier.

  Why was he putting this off? he wondered.

  Because he had become weak. It was just like everything else in his life right now. In limbo. This was what being in the middle of the road was all about. Sitting around letting everyone else make the calls; waiting for them to do or say something which might push or pull him in some definite direction. In other words, letting fate make his decisions for him.

  This is certainly a scary way of doing things, he thought. He no longer had time to just sit around waiting for a fair wind to come along and set him back on course. He needed to start doing things, for chrissakes! Take some initiative for a change. Just take the fuckin’ bull by the horns and do something!

  Tomorrow night, Lenny resolved, he was going to break it off with Julie Adams. Period. It wasn’t gonna be easy, but it had to be done. The poor girl deserved that much. He had no right to toy with her feelings as he’d been doing. Yes, it meant the end of his sex life for a while, but that’s how the old cookie crumbles. He’d get by.

  Suddenly, he felt better. The mere fact that he had actually made a concrete decision about something left him feeling utterly jubilant. One of the major things that had been weighing heavy on his mind for months had suddenly been vanquished; a great weight had been taken off his shoulders.

  Lenny drained the rest of his beer and went back into the kitchen for another one. He popped off the top and returned to the living room, pausing to glance out the window as he passed by. It was still snowing steadily. He went over and turned the volume back up on the stereo then sat down on the sofa and took a swig of beer.

  The fleeting image of Julie’s face when he gave her the news suddenly overshadowed his elation. The look of pain, the welling up of tears in her eyes. He would no doubt feel like shit. He’d try and console her by telling her that everything would be okay, that she deserved someone better than him anyway. She would disagree and tell him that he was the only man she could ever love. Then he would feel even shittier, because at that point he’d have run out of things to say. And Julie would go on crying like a baby.

  Just then, a light went on in his head. It was brilliant.

  He would tell Julie that he was moving away!

  Why hadn’t he thought of that before? And he wouldn’t be l
ying to her either; because he was going to do just that. He was going to get the hell out of New York City!

  A broad grin came to his face. Things were finally beginning to make sense at last. In the course of one snowy evening, he had actually managed to resolve two major problems that had been eating away at him for years. He was liberated!

  Lenny stood up and strode over to the window. The snow showed no signs of letting up as he felt a warm glowing feeling inside. He was going to take that sleigh ride, after all. Not literally, perhaps, but at least figuratively. He was about to take yet another plunge in his life—one that may well be his biggest yet. Moving to New York had been a daring move, granted. Ironically, moving out of New York would be even more diabolical. And the reason for this was now quite clear. By moving away, he was accepting a plain and simple fact which had been holding him back all along; one which he had refused to accept until now . . .

  He had failed. Simple as that. He’d come to New York for a purpose and it had never materialized. Worse yet, he’d not only failed at his initial pursuit, music, but he’d also failed at his alternate pursuit, photography. A two-time loser, one might say.

  Oddly, this didn’t bother him now. It was much easier to simply accept than go on pretending it wasn’t true. It was high time to get on with his life. Before it was too late.

  He took another healthy belt of beer. The world outside had become bone-white. The ugliness of the city had been transformed into a clean, white, perfect beauty. Its flaws were no longer visible, hidden by nature’s handiwork. It made him yearn for the country again, where nature still called the shots and presented the world as it was supposed to be. Clean air, blue skies, crystal clear lakes and streams. Far and away from the mass of humanity that was screwing everything up. Rape the land, eat up the profits. Fuck tomorrow. Fuck the generations yet to come who would be stuck here trying to clean up everything the greedy bastards have left behind.