aaron_the fall of america_chapter_40

Chapter 40

Bang.

"Ah!"

"Eddy."

"What?"

"Are you all right?"

"Oh shit," I said. "I'm sorry."

I ran to get a new bottle of ketchup for the customer. Shelly had finished packing the bags when I got back to the counter so with the ketchup, the customer left.

Using two pieces of cardboard, I had nearly scooped up the glass and tomato jelly before Bob arrived. When I looked up at him, I wanted to kill him. I knew I could before he knew my intentions. I could pound his jaw up into his head, smash his nose back into his brain, then twist his head off his spine. It would be over in a few seconds.

"Well, Eddy?"

"I dropped a bottle on the floor."

"That I can see."

"What's your question, Sir?"

"Why did you drop it?"

"It fell."

"Why did you yell?"

Had I yelled? A noise from the street had startled me. It sounded like a gun, I thought it was in my hand, it was only the bottle.

"It startled me."

"What did?"

"A noise on the street."

"A noise. That was quite a startle for a street noise. You could have given our customer a heart attack."

"I'm sorry," I said reasoning that was the only way to end the reprimanding quickly.

"I worry about you sometimes, Eddy. I hope you're not going crazy on us."

"No, Sir."

Bob shook his worried head and went back to his office. Shelly seemed worried. I looked to Pattie who pointed to a pile of groceries. Quickly and mechanically, accurately, I packed the bags and helped the older lady with them to her car.

"Things aren't all as they appear, are they?" she asked.

"What?"

"Ignorance may make you feel safe but it's a cast where therapy is needed."

"Do you think I need therapy?"

"You don't belong here, only a fool would not see."

"Oh."

"Don't bother with your boss. He's just an asshole but you..."

I didn't hear what she said because of the noise of a truck passing by. I wasn't sure what she was getting at anyway so didn't ask her to repeat it.

"Bye, for now," she said.

"Bye."

The idea of a conspiracy hit me when she left. I wondered if it was her I would have to kill. I would have to kill someone. It would have to be decided soon before I started venting my anger randomly.

Bob was back to the front of the store when I returned.

"What was that crazy witch yaging about?"

"Huh?"

"That lady you just helped to her car."

"She was complaining about the eggs here smelling like fish and not being how then used to be."

"Is that right?"

"I guess so. I wouldn't know how they used to be."

"If she doesn't like our eggs, tell her to shop somewhere else."

"Yes, Sir."

Bob, I just remembered, was on the committee in my previous night's dream. They had decided I wasn't a suitable father for the boy. They paid no attention to my pleading and reasoning.

But I didn't have a son.

"Eddy, are you all right?" Shelly asked.

"I don't know. I thought so but I don't know how to determine it."

"Are you still going to make supper for me?"

"Oh, most happily."

"What?"

"Most happily."

"What are you going to make?"

"How about spaghetti?"

"And we'll sit in the bath tub and eat it out of a big bowl?"

I was a little surprised by her remark. I looked at her questioningly.

"Just a silly thought."

"So I did hear you correctly?"

"Yes, Eddy."

"Okay."

It was a thought that kept me occupied for the remainder of the day. It was only occasionally interrupted by the old lady, and Zizith who had called me Aaron. It crossed my mind that the things I didn't know were not only much more numerous than the things I knew but possibly much more important.

I told Shelly to meet me in the park after she had cashed out rather than me wait around with Bob looming about.

"See you tomorrow, Sir," I said on the way out.

"Good night, Eddy," Bob replied with arms crossed tight against he chest.

He appeared too stupid to be dangerous.

"Maybe that's why he is," a voice said.

When I looked around and saw no one near me, I reasoned I had heard myself speak.

"Now, the first thing to remember is not to start acting crazy."

In the park, I sat on the grass and calculated. Things were missing. Trees sere scarce. The only birds were pigeons and there wasn't even an old man to feed them. The benches didn't look used and there was no garbage in the wire mesh cans. The sun was shining but it seemed more ominous than comforting.

A police car stopped at the side of the road. Nothing happened for a few minutes. Though I couldn't see through the window because of the reflection and glare of the sun, I felt eyes were returning my stare.

The two front doors opened and shortly there after I was greeted by two uniforms. One of the heads, one that was hidden mostly under a hat, spoke.

"Are you all right, Son?"

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

"Eddy."

More questions were asked with the voiceless uniform noting my answers in his little book. When they knew everything about me and what I was doing in the park, they ceremoniously departed, bidding me to have a good evening.

When the car pulled away, I laid on the grass to continue calculating. Most of my figuring only led to the need to hypothesise, so I allowed myself to feel heavy and tired. Though I felt empty, a hunger drained me farther. I was lost. The feeling was oddly familiar. If I found the energy to open my eyes, I was certain I would wake up in a familiar darkness and not know who or where I was.

A shadow covered me. When I opened my eyes, there was a young woman with golden hair looking down at me.

"My God!"

"It's just me."

"Oh, sorry. The way the sun burned through your hair, I thought you were someone I had known."

"I am someone you know. You are going to make supper for me."

"You have no idea how weird it was to open my eyes and see you standing above me. It was like it had happened before. It's one of those thing they call de je vu only more frightening.

"Are you being crazy?"

"I doubt it, but just in case, don't heed any of what I say."

"Whatever you say, Eddy."

"There are many things in my head that I can't remember but I suspect I shall pull them out eventually."

"Be careful," Shelly joked. "There might be scary things in there."

"Some of them, I suspect, are. Let me tell you."

"Not now."

When we got to my apartment, I started creating a tasty tomato sauce. Shelly left me alone in the kitchen and didn't return until I was nearly finished.

"I filled the tub," she said.

"Jumping Jesus, look how sexy you are."

"Thank you, Eddy."

Shelly was wearing only a lace bra and barely concealing underpants. Her body was strong and her figure exceedingly feminine.

"You have a beautiful body."

"Have you not seen a woman before, Eddy?"

"Not in my kitchen."

"Do you like it?"

"Shelly. You're going to short circuit my brain. Why are you so bold today."

"I want to excite you into giving me a lot of attention."

"Let me just drain the spaghetti and I do as you desire."

"As you desire," she said and took the bottle of wine and two glasses to the bathroom.

After turning the television on and checking the street, I put the spaghetti in a bowl and joined Shelly in the bathroom. She was already submerged in bubbles.

"Just in case someone might be watching me, stay away from the windows."

"Get undressed, Eddy."

"Yes, of course."

"Why would anyone be watching you?"

"I'm not sure, it's one of those things I can't remember."

"Eddy, you're awful slow to get in the tub with me."

"Sorry. Where shall I be?"

"You sit between my legs and rest your head on my breasts and I'll feed you."

I steeped into the tub.

"I forgot the forks."

"Sit down."

I held the bowl on my chest while Shelly feed me. She didn't seem to mind dropping some on my head when she fed herself. She made me eat any that missed her mouth and fell on her breasts.

"The police questioned me today before you came to get me in the park."

"What did they ask?"

"Who I was, where I worked and where I lived."

"They are suspicious of people who are weird like you."

"What's weird about me?"

"You just act suspiciously."

"Maybe they think I'm suspicious of them and they want to keep am edge on me."

"Are you?"

"Of course I am, aren't you?"

"Many people are these days."

"Do you really think so?"

"It's the feeling I get."

"Isn't that weird though, that people should be suspicious of their own government, especially in America?"

"I'd be suspicious of people if they weren't suspicious of our government."

"But most people think things are okay."

"'Cause they don't know. Or care."

"Shelly, I don't want to sound paranoid but I think it's a big white wash. The television and the media is mostly there as a cover up."

"What's the cover up?"

"Nothing. And the nothing, the no authority, the nowhereness of it all, the foundationlessness of the unstable faulty superstructure that supports only those at the top, is nothing. It's not valid. It comes out of nothing and amounts to nothing.

"And so?"

"And they sugar coat that nothing and force feed us so that we will break our backs to work upward to get more and better nothings. They keep us entertained and stupid, scare us with ridiculous rules, arbitrary laws and a hypocritical, flat Earth, centre of the universe, God is a capitalistic, ego pathetic, American, old, jealous and vengeful man religion. Just to keep us from seeing their corrupted ways to make us a commodity. To keep us from seeing they are nothing. The plebeians are just another commodity on the market of money is power."

"You are a kook."

"Do you think so?"

"I think I have enough to have you put away."

"Are you serious?"

"Not that I ever would but that I could. Don't start including me in your paranoia. All I'm after is your company."

"That's okay."

"Eddy, you don't have to trust me all at once but I'd like it if you tried."

"You just want me to like you?"

"Oh, you can give me love and affection and physical attention as well."

"I can do that."

"I have to go in a little while, so why don't you save some of you worrying for later and give me some much needed and desired affection?"

"I must be obsessed if you have to tell me such a thing while we are together in the tub."

"Yes. You must be out of your cotton pickin' mind if you don't hurry up an ravage me."

When I reluctantly let Shelly go home, I took a chair and sat on the balcony. I had found out from Shelly that I was in a town in Florida between Orlando and Tampa. It wasn't far from the beach and we thought we might go there early Sunday morning and come back Sunday night. Pattie had a car and Shelly was going to ask her to take us. Or we could take a bus.

It was good to have a plan. It was almost like having a purpose.

I tried not to notice a man getting out of his car across the street but something about his car and something about him suggested he was coming to see me. I wondered if he had noticed Shelly leaving. I wondered if it was somehow incriminating to have visitors on an intimate nature. It was likely unlawful to take such liberties.

"What the hell do you want from me?" I asked aloud.

No one was close enough to hear me. I was twelve stories up.

Why hadn't they shot me if I was that much trouble to them?

I went back and sat in the tub and drained it. I showered the tub clean of spaghetti and took the glasses, wine and bowl of remaining spaghetti to the kitchen.

"Assholes."

I sensed the outline of the picture. I had a strange feeling that I knew I was me. The details were unavailable but I knew they would only support my unwelcome notion.

Two more days of work before Sunday. It would be good to see the ocean although what I really felt I should do was go to Bangor. I hoped there would be something to remember there. There was the problem that I didn't know where it was or how long it would take to get there.

"Fuck!"

I slammed my fist into the wall.

Someone was knocking at the door.

"Jesus Christ all fucking Mighty," I muttered as I hurried to my bedroom to get my robe.

I punched the bedroom wall to see if the pain would help me.

"Fuck!" I blasted in another dimension so that nothing existed outside of my scream. In the room where I crouched, with all muscles tense, there was only the sound of my strained breathing. And the knocking echo from the far room.

On my way to the door, I kicked a chair across the room and punched madly at the air a few times before reaching the door. There I stood and composed my civilised mask.

As grounded as a statue of a dead god, I reached for the handle.

"Shit," I whispered and ran to pick up the chair and turn up the television just enough to be heard in the livingroom.

I hurried over to the door. After reconstructing my statuesque composure and waving off the absurd sense of redundancy, I opened the door.

"Hello," I said.

"Do you always open the door before knowing who it is?"

"Huh?"

"How do you know I haven't come to rob you?"

"I don't know. Did you come to rob me? I don't have much."

"I'm sure you have some things."

"Am I supposed to ask who you are?"

"Yes. Always."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a government official."

"Did I forget to pay my taxes? I've forgotten many things lately."

"No."

"What is it then?"

"You haven't asked to see my identification."

"I'm supposed to do that as well."

"Yes."

"Okay. Can I see your identification, Sir?"

He showed me an official looking plastic coated card with his picture, In God We Trust, other official words and stamps.

"Okay?"

"Well, it looks pretty official but how do I know it's not fake?"

"Now you're getting into the spirit," he said.

"Thank you."

"There are ways for me to find out but I could just tell you lies to make you think it's real.

"So how can I know?"

"If you like, I can swear on the Bible that I am who I say I am."

"But what if you don't believe in the power of the word?"

"Then I wouldn't be a true American."

"Then I might be in big trouble."

"Yes, and I would have knocked you on the head and stolen your T.V. by now."

I thought of many more questions to ask him and finally decided we had taken the game far enough.

"I believe that I'll accept that you are an official and answer your questions."

"How do you like your job?"

"Good."

"Good."

"Did you have a few questions? I could make you some tea."

"Tea?"

"I don't have coffee."

"No coffee."

"No."

"Tea would be nice, thank you. Very generous of you."

"Not at all."

"Good."

"Have I done anything wrong?"

"No. Not that I know of."

"Oh. Then why are you here?"

"Just a visit. Mostly routine."

He came in and made himself comfortable at my kitchen table. I put the kettle to boil before sitting across from him.

"What are you watching?"

"Just looking at your tie."

"No. I mean on your television."

"Oh, I don't know. One of those family situation comedy shows."

"You weren't enjoying it?"

"Oh, I don't know. I missed most of it because I was taking a bath."

"Hence the robe," he said.

"Oh, yes. Should I get dressed?"

"No, no. It doesn't matter. I won't be long anyways."

"Do you take anything in your tea?"

"Just some sugar, thank you."

"I can't remember having a government official visit me before, though the police questioned me today."

"Why did they do that?"

"I don't know. They just asked me who, what, where and told me to have a good night."

"That's nothing to worry about, I wouldn't imagine."

"You wouldn't?"

"No, they probably just hadn't seen you around before and wanted to know who you are."

"Oh."

"It's a small town."

"I guess so."

"The police knows who most people are and what they do."

"I forgot to notice your name when I looked at your identification."

"Frank Pizarro."

"Pizarro. That sounds Spanish."

"No, no. I'm full blooded American."

"Of course. You're a government official. What was I thinking?"

"Maybe you're thinking of an author by that name?"

"I can't remember the last time I read a book. I've barely enough time to read the paper and watch the news."

"Your job keeps you busy?"

"Oh, yes. I guess I'd have time to read if I watched less T.V. but it's easier to watch T.V. than a whole book."

"More entertaining, anyways."

I wanted to explain about plural infinitives. I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I wanted to rip his throat out.

"And it's much quicker."

I couldn't decide how much of a manipulated idiot he was. If he was only a pawn in the game, he might be as stupid as he appeared. What I feared was that he might be very smart and was acting a dopey roll to put me at ease so that he could catch me off guard and extract incriminating evidence.

"What do you usually like to watch?"

He didn't seem to be getting around to official business. His note pad wasn't even opened. He appeared more interested in his tea and what might be on my television that he could partly see and almost hear.

"Eddy?"

Had I told him my name?

"Sorry. I was drifting off a bit, I was up early."

"Okay."

"Um. Hockey, I guess and movies."

"What's your favourite team?"

"Boston."

I never thought I had a favourite team. It struck me odd that I should have such a quick answer. It made me wonder if I actually remembered that.

"Boston."

"Yes. Boston. What about you?"

"I'm more of a baseball fan."

"I like baseball as well. What team do you like?"

"Indians."

Indians. I couldn't remember what city that was. I couldn't remember if there were any Indians who played baseball. I couldn't even remember seeing an Indian. Who were the Indians. I couldn't remember the home of the Indians.

Frank pulled a file out of his briefcase. I hadn't noticed he had a briefcase. I had the feeling he was going to be a little more serious soon.

"And you?"

"Sorry?"

"Your favourite?"

I couldn't think of any. I would just have to say a big city and hope they had a team. I could only think of one big city.

"I'd say Washington."

"Ah. The Red Skins."

"Um."

Was he trying to trick me or did Washington have a high rate of sun burns. I wanted Frank to go away. Maybe I should yawn.

He opened his pad and clicked his pen.

"Let me ask you about your job again."

"Sure."

"You said you liked it."

"Yes."

"Do you get along with your boss?"

"I dropped a bottle of ketchup today and he was a little upset but he told me another time I do a good job."

"That's good to hear."

"He's a good boss," I added.

"What do you do there?"

"Stock shelves and help pack bags for the girls."

"The girls?"

"The women."

"Are they nice to work with?"

"Yes, they are nice."

"Do you like girls?"

"I guess so."

"Why do you have to guess?"

"I haven't spent much time with girls."

"Or women?"

"Or women."

"Do you like boys then?"

"I guess so. But I haven't spent any time with them either."

"You don't go out much?"

"I haven't been here long enough to get to know people. They have meetings Friday night at the church but I work Saturdays. I usually like to get to bed early whenever I can. I run in the mornings."

"The church just down here?"

"Yes."

"Where did you live before?"

"I can't remember?"

"You can't remember?"

"No."

"Why cant' you remember?"

I was very puzzled. I wondered how long I stared at him with my mouth opened wondering what to say but only having my tongue fill up my mouth.

"Are you trying to remember?"

"Um. I can't remember."

He opened his file and turned it around to show me a picture of a man.

"Do you remember this man?"

"No. Should I?"

"It doesn't matter."

Why did he show me if I didn't matter?

"It's better you don’t remember him anyways."

I suspected I never knew him.

"A man came to see me before. I remember that."

"This man?"

"No. He was a doctor, I think. When I first got here. He said I wouldn't remember my life before my accident."

"Amnesia."

"That's the thing he called it. He said I had that. I would have to start a new life. I was in an accident or something. He was with the government as well. He said I had been with them. That must be why they were so helpful finding me a place to live and a job. Shit."

"What's wrong."

"I might have worked with you before. Frank, is that for Francisco? Francisco Pizarro. Are you a friend. Have I not even recognised an old friend?"

He was a bit embarrassed or bothered. He might conclude I was brain dead. I was tempted to tell him I was stupid and there wasn't much I could tell him so if he wanted to just write that in his book and go, I'd go to bed and remain a happy and good, stupid citizen. They needn't worry about me.

He was staring at me. He seemed to be out of questions.

"Would you like more tea?"

"No."

I was going to get myself some but I couldn't move.

He was saying something and I couldn't understand him. I couldn't even look at him. I could only look at the picture and think how much I hated the man. He looked like he deserved to die.

"You have some more tea," he finally said something I heard.

"Oh. Good idea."

I got up and made a few noises to remind me where I was. I filled my cup and sat down.

"Do you like tea?"

"Yes. It's soothing?"

"Is your job hard on you?"

"Oh, no. I love my job. It's just that my throat gets dry from the air."

"Do you think there is something wrong with the air?"

Other than the fact that it's almost dead. There's less oxygen every year because of deforesting. The stale air is full of poisonous gasses and there's not much ozone above the atmosphere and too much down here. But should anyone care? No, of course not. It doesn't matter if it's the only planet we have, industry, consumerism, power and wealth are much more important than air. I'd much rather die knowing a few people had tones of gold rather than having to spend years and years just wandering around breathing. Breathing is rather tedious anyhow.

There was no response from him. He was just as the man in my dream who was examining a small lizard. He was one of the government owned scientists involved with an experiment that would determine that short term effects of radiation from burning nuclear waste. It was an odd experiment for a sun bleached city park.

"Eddy."

"I'm sorry. I think I'm tired. No, the air is dusty sometimes, that's all."

"We can't help that, can we."

"I guess that's up to God. When he makes it rain, than the dust settles down," I explained.

I thought I should tell him that I was an idiot.

"It's good to trust in God."

"Oh, yes."

"And remember to pray."

"Oh, yes. Prayer gives me strength."

"Prayer makes our nation strong."

Fuckin' lucky thing God's American.

"It sure is," I said.

"What sure is?"

"A strong nation. I wouldn't want to have to live anywhere but America. It's sad to think some must."

"Must what?"

"Live outside of America."

"Are you sure they do?"

"Hum. I don't know. Don't they?"

"I don't know. Do people live on the moon?"

"I've never been there."

"Me neither."

I yawned.

"Okay, Eddy. It's a bit late and you're a busy man. I didn't ask the questions I was supposed to ask. We got side-tracked with other things. But it's good to see you're doing well."

"Thank you."

"Thanks for the tea."

I led him to the door.

"It's a treat to have someone to visit. You're welcome to visit unofficially if you'd like. We could watch a game on T.V. or something."

"You're a good man, Eddy. You should do well. Don't be afraid to get out once in a while and meet people. Get involved in something."

"I should."

"It would be good for you."

"Okay."

"I'll come by again. It's never too official, we just want to see how you're making out."

"Okay, till then."

"Till then. Bye now."

"Bye."

I picked up the bottle of wine and threw it against the wall. It smashed. It left a large red spot dripping to the floor. It pleased me. It relaxed me to pick up the several hundred pieces of glass scattered over the floor. Little spots of blood came from my fingers and knees.

It was good to know what I was doing but I soon lost interest and lay on the floor.

I thought about my job and my future. Neither was mine. It was safe and comfortable, yet nebulous and lifeless. I preferred terror and uncertainty. I longed to have something to fight against.

Lying on the cold floor reminded me of an event. I was a young boy, playing hockey. I was the goalie. The first thing I remembered of the game was being carried up a concrete stairway. It was a short glimpse. There were many people about me. The next thing I remembered was lights. I was in an ambulance, lying down.

A man wouldn't let me be. He kept asking me questions. The first question, my name. Someone could have told him that. He needn't bother me. He persisted. I considered the question and managed a correct answer first guess. He continued asking questions. They got increasingly harder. He wanted to know where I lived and other personal things.

I lost sight again until I found that I was in a hospital bed. The coach and my grandmother and her friend were there talking to me. They were funny to look at. The coach informed me that I had kept the puck out and that Dave had finished the game in net. He played well and we had won. It didn't seem to mean anything. None of what anyone said.

That was amnesia. A blow to the head or a shock can cause it. To forget who I am must have been serious damage to my head.

But I remembered that. I would remember more.



read on. book_03 chapter_41



by Joanne B. Washington

© 2001 | the jose wombat project