Ordinary Obsessions

by Tom Corbett

  His two female siblings were disciplined and focused and had clear vocational and life ambitions. Kay was a dedicated healer and hands-on humanitarian while Kat loved the creative challenges that the business world provided but in a socially conscious way. All four children had rejected their father’s vision and philosophy, but the girls had inherited more of his traits. Much is hard-wired, he mused. It does not dictate who we become but the way we become who we are meant to be. It bothered Chris just a tad that he might have more of his older brother in his makeup than he liked to admit. Did he also possess his darker demons?

  Still, he mused that the milk bottle reflective of his soul must be mostly full. After all, he had gone off to save the world. He could have led a life of leisure and indulgence, continuing the chase of compliant women. Had not he done more than most to make the world a slightly better place? Why now confront windmills against which he had no chance of prevailing? He did not possess that kind of hubris, such arrogance or inflated sense of importance, to believe for one moment that he might stem powerful political interests or the tide of history. If America was doomed by its own selfishness and stupidity, let it go. Empires rose and fell all the time. Assign it to the ash heap of history, who cared? It was not his responsibility to save a people so selfish, narcissistic, and moronic that they could not figure out their own best interests. In the end, he was not his brother’s keeper. They must take responsibility for their own destinies. He merely was the keeper of this family that played on the Oxford green that fine morning.

  When that did not work, he tried a different tack. He could contribute to the greater good through his writings. He had just published an acclaimed book that blended his academic understanding of international challenges in vulnerable parts of the world with accounts from his foundation’s on-site experiences, both obtained first-hand and through his staff. It was a rare work that appealed to both scholars and educated laypeople. He had hoped for some cross-over success - a book with substance and readability. This was his gift he had concluded, something special bestowed by the Celtic muses. He could pull this kind of thing off. Most chose either a scholarly or a popular audience. The academy had a rigid culture, he had decided. It forced you to choose between having a broader impact or appeasing the whims of the intellectual elite. He loved being around smart people but found their myopia off-putting. But he just might be able to pull it off, perhaps reach many to inform and inspire them while not alienating his colleagues by seeming too concerned with the real world. It was the book that April Song had praised. Yes, this was a noble endeavor to keep his milk bottle white and yet permit him to remain in Oxford.

  A decision was right in front of him, ready to be plucked and embraced, when he became aware of two small bodies hurtling toward him. He was back in the O’Hare terminal as his daughters grabbed onto him. He dropped his bag and deftly lifted both up into his arms. All he could hear were the words “Daddy”, “Daddy”, as he smothered them in kisses. “How are my two favorite girls? Were you good to aunt Beverly?”

  “We were very good,” the older one shouted and the younger sibling nodded.

  “Well, should I check with auntie Beverly?”

  The older child became a bit uncertain. “Noooo, no need to.”

  Chris laughed as Beverly reached him and managed a kiss on his cheek. She smelled good, he thought. Yes, he could see how his brother had fallen for her. In his head, he calculated how long until he might be reunited with his wife. His thoughts wandered to an image of Jules, but he fought off the sense of raw need that elicited. “Were these urchins good? I have my doubts.” He tried to sound gruff.

  “They were perfect angels.”

  “See, I told you daddy.” His daughter beamed.

  “When they were asleep,” Beverly added.

  Then Chris laughed even louder as they walked to find Beverly’s car. “That is okay, girls, I have some gifts for you in my bag, which you can have when we get back to the apartment.” The apartment was a luxury suite on the Gold Coast of Chicago with a view of Lake Michigan. Chris loved the location. Then he added for Beverly’s sake: “I could have easily arranged for my own transportation. Schlepping out to this hell hole of an airport was not necessary.”

  “Are you kidding? The girls were half crazed to see you. They insisted we come. Besides, they think O’Hare is a great adventure.”

  “Hah, I knew I wasn’t the main attraction.”

  “No, they still love you to death, but I am sure they will grow out of that soon enough. Besides, your father returned to town yesterday and wanted me to accompany him to some fancy event today. I am like a public companion for him, now that your mother has nothing to do with him. I used your return as an excuse. By the way, he will be coming over one of these days to see the girls. He is trying to sound like the concerned grandfather.”

  “Fine,” Chris barked, “but don’t let him alone with them. I believe they are still too young for him but…” Then he switched directions. “I have to ask. I wanted to on the plane over from England.”

  Beverly cut him off, anticipating his question. “No, I don’t let him touch me. I doubt he has grown out of his various perversions, but he now knows I am no longer a vulnerable kid. Besides, he thinks he is using me to get information about what Kat is up to, and you. Mostly Kat, though. He may have finally concluded that you are a frivolous child that never grew up. Rather exciting, playing the part of a mole. Kat thinks it is dangerous but…”

  “Don’t underestimate him Beverly.”

  She looked at him sharply as they reached the car. “Like I said, I am a big girl now. And listen, I have this feeling he wants to come over when you are around. I thought he asked about your schedule so that he could visit when you were not around. I told him you had one more trip, up to Madison, right?”

  “Yup, I’m seeing people at the university there, they have an acclaimed poverty research center, a good international affairs program and a wonderful children’s hospital where Azita might intern. Honestly, I have been thinking about things, the Kat request, and I am not totally sure this Madison trip is necessary any longer.”

  Bev said nothing until they were all in the car. “We won’t talk about that now. I will beat the living crap out of you later, when the girls are asleep.” Looking to the girls in the back seat, she said excitedly. “Okay, back to my place where daddy will give you your presents.” The squealing resumed.

  “Jules,” Chris said as he slid into her car, “how nice of you to drive me up to Madison. This must be terribly inconvenient.”

  “So good to see you, and no inconvenience at all. I have some contacts up in Mad city I want to touch base with in any case. Besides, I owe you something for getting my brother to settle down into blissful married life. One of the Jackson kids has to meet our parents’ expectations.”

  Chris smiled and replied, “I really have to see your mother soon. She should know that one of their kids, her white son that is, has turned out well. She always told me her biological offspring were such a disappointment to her.”

  “Tell me again, just how did you seduce all those women? I just cannot see it,” she retorted.

  “Hmmm, I will skip that one. I know a trap when I see one, all possible responses are bad. I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday.”

  “Really? You believe you are such a clever boy. How delusional.” Jules broke out into a fetching smile.

  Chris looked at her. She was as beautiful as ever, ebony skin, perfect features, and eyes that would not permit you to look away. No wonder the network loved her. Even better, she was smart as a whip, not just a pretty face. Now, apparently, she brought more to the news scene. She had access to information that Kat’s team was digging up, political doings that took place out of public view. She had to be careful. She didn’t want to reveal her sources, which would embarrass Kat and inflict great harm on the Crawford empire. Looking at her now, it seemed impossible that he knew her as a slightly awkward teenager, befo
re her full beauty and sophistication blossomed. In fact, they never would have gotten together had he not met her brother on the basketball court. She and Ricky were from a poor, black area on the near west side of Chicago while he was from a privileged white enclave of the super wealthy residing on the Gold Coast. They had reached across a cultural chasm to connect. Chris decided to cut through the easy banter. “Listen Jules. I’m not exactly a clueless cretin. Kat put you up to this. She told you to drive me up to Wisconsin and work on me, right?”

  “Boy, you are not a Rhodes scholar for nothing. But you are wrong, smarty pants. She did not order me, she asked me. And by the way, I only agreed to do this since I love listening to you talk. Really, who else uses the word cretin in everyday conversation?”

  “All I am saying, gorgeous, is no games. Let’s be straight with one another.”

  “Okay,” Jules responded. “I must admit, you were always a straight-up guy. I suspect that is how you managed to survive all those women without getting your balls shot off. You never played games. You told them straight-up that you were a bastard, even when they didn’t ask.”

  “Damn straight,” Chris seemed reluctant to finish his sentence but then did, “but it also helped that I only dated women with terrible eyesight, and shaky aims…the ones that drank a lot. They were such poor shots, thank God. The sober ones that could see clearly wanted nothing to do with me. However, in the spirit of openness and transparency, let me be clear: I’m still not at all sure I want to move back to the States, despite all the compelling reasons. I left for good reasons. I now have even better reasons to stay away. Besides, what in God’s name makes me so critical? There are hordes of smart folk out there, people who have been paying attention to American politics. I can’t believe that Kat needs me to hold her hand.”

  Jules was silent for some time. Chris wondered if she would remain mute for the remainder of the trip. “I hate this,” She finally said, then more silence.

  “Hate what, being stuck with me for a day?” Chris asked.

  “No, you idiot. I hate giving you compliments. But here’s the thing: you are brilliant, have an encyclopedic knowledge of most of the issues, and are a writer of compelling talent. Even better, you can schmooze effortlessly with virtually any crowd and have an uncanny ability to BS with anyone. You could chat with Bill Gates and Warren Buffett in the morning and street organizers in the afternoon. You grew up in one world and learned the other world the hard way. What makes you unique is that you are not in any fixed orbit, neither by discipline nor technical skill nor social class. You are everyman and good at everything. And that is what she needs, we need. People look at your face and, once they get past the BS, they trust you. God knows why?”

  “Oh, Jules, that’s what all the girls trying to get into my pants say.” Almost immediately, her right arm flashed out in the direction of his rib cage but missed. The car swerved nearly clipping a Lexus to their right. “Jesus,” he exhaled. “no need to kill us to make a point. This is the interstate for Christ’s sake.”

  “Sorry,” she murmured, and then continued with more conviction. “You are going to have to come up with something better than I am not good enough. You are good enough. You want to hear something funny? There is not a day goes by that I don’t regret not saying yes when you asked. Trying marriage myself drove home the point of how godawful stupid I was back then. You are special, and don’t you ever forget it, you - cretin.”

  After a long while during which they both stared straight ahead, Chris said quietly: “You are damn special yourself. Really, I don’t know many women who would use the word cretin in a casual conversation.” After a pause, they both broke out laughing. As they recovered, Chris asked. “What did happen in your marriage, if you want to talk about it? I don’t know if Kat told you, but I was furious that you never called me. I hated hearing a fait accompli, and no comment on my fancy language.”

  “Sorry, I should have called. I just…just didn’t want to bother you with some typical whiny female crap.”

  “Jules, I am surrounded by women every day. All I hear are whiny female problems. Think about that. I am surrounded by women, all the time. It’s a living hell.” He broke into his crooked smile. “Christ, just what god-awful thing did I do in my past life?”

  “Oh, I cannot wait to tell Amar that one.” Chris was relieved when she chuckled before turning serious again. “I think, and I am being honest here, that there was nothing specifically wrong. In the end, there just was no spark. We didn’t laugh together. We didn’t stimulate each other, or at least he did not do it for me. And I don’t mean sexually, I mean intellectually, emotionally. He was fine in the sack but that does not do it over the long haul. Let’s face it. You and I could talk for hours. Sometimes, we would laugh ourselves silly. Hell, after a few months, my husband and I had little to talk about. It just was not there. He had already drifted on to other women and I, frankly, was at least looking around. We both decided that it was better to split than live out a life sentence.”

  They rode in silence for a while, each alone in their private thoughts. Occasionally, Chris would glance in her direction. Such beauty, he mused silently. They were heading west through what was now countryside toward Rockford where they would swing north toward the swelling rural landscape of southern Wisconsin. It was Chris who shattered the personal reveries. “The children, how are they dealing with this?”

  Jules seemed reluctant to talk about them but resigned herself that they must be acknowledged. “We have agreed that he will take primary custody. I do love them but hey, I travel a lot. It is not easy being a network star.” Her attempt at humor floated away in the ensuing silence. Then she continued: “I have thought about this whole ‘kid thing’, and how it has played out within our circle. Just consider this: Ricky and Kat are not likely to have any. They are too immersed, might I say obsessed, in what they are doing. Kay and Jamie both love their boys. But you know what? I am not sure Kay would have had kids were it not for Jamie. Truth is, I’m told, he is the primary caregiver. She loves to be around them but not quite as much as saving people and the world. She will never admit to this, of course, and she will be a decent mother. But she does not embrace the role, not all women do. I know her, and I know myself. She and I are more alike than you might imagine.”

  “I’m not sure I agree, and I really am losing your point.” Chris seemed to focus on the countryside.

  “Don’t play dumb, handsome, it is unbecoming of you. My point is that those of us who should have been the wonderful parents are not and those of us who were damaged as children are. You loved my parents, our home. That always puzzled me when we were young. What the hell was with that? My folks had love, but we struggled while you had everything. It took me a long time to get it. Wealth is nothing. Affection and support are everything. And yet…” She then paused as if to think about what she was going to say next.

  “Yet?”

  “Sorry, I just realized my hypothesis is flawed.” She wrinkled her face slightly.

  “I expected no less than flawed logic, considering the source that is.” Chris tried to lighten things a bit.

  “Careful kiddo, we are in open country here. No witnesses. Anyways, Ricky and I should have taken to parenthood. You should not have been a parent, at least if your childhood determined one’s aptitude.” She seemed to be thinking out loud at this point.

  Chris spoke up: “I suspect Chuck would have been a great parent, and Beverly. Yes, if Chuck had been allowed to be who he was, he would have been great. He had so much love, more than the rest of us put together. Ever think about that?”

  “Not until this very moment,” Jules responded. “Anyways, my theory almost works. Those who should have been the natural parents given their own childhoods are not. Losers, like you, turn out to be great at the job. Go figure. It is as if growing up in loving households makes the challenge too difficult, how can you match what you saw as a child? But Kay and Kat ruin my neat theory.”

&
nbsp; Chris quickly responded: “No, they don’t, well maybe just a little. Despite how much they hate the patriarch, they did inherit a lot from him. They are the tough ones. Chuck and I take more after mother, the Irish dreamers. Life is funny, biology rather a total crap shoot, or mere nurturing.”

  They rode in silence again, lost in thought and memories. “Shit,” Jules suddenly said, “Wisconsin already. I promised Kat I would give you my pitch on what I am finding out.”

  Chris leaned back and pretended to listen.

  At the end of the day, after many meetings and discussions with officials and potential colleagues for Chris, the two of them met up again at the apex of Observatory Drive on the university campus. Behind them remained the shell of a celestial observatory that had fallen into disuse decades ago as the lights of an expanding city encroached on this idyllic spot. Before them, the land fell away to Lake Mendota, one of five bodies of water that had been ground out by glacial actions thousands of years ago during the last ice age. It was a magnificent vista.

  “This is gorgeous,” Jules offered with sincerity. “How could you not move here? I recall coming to Madison during my college years for a football game or two and for Halloween. The Halloween celebrations here were legendary but I don’t recall getting to this spot. Then again, perhaps I did but I might have been blitzed at the time. But I repeat…how could you not move here? By the way, I just assume all went well.”

  “Piece of advice, my dear. Don’t quit your day job to go into real estate. You are not a born sales person. I still love Oxford and my life. However, I do have options now, damn it. I rather wished they hadn’t been so eager to get me, it would make life easier. Apparently, however, I could take a leave from university, come here as a visiting scholar. They have exchange precedents and protocols for such a move, all designed to make it as painless as possible. Damn them. They even have a scholar here who intends to spend next year at Oxford and we can even swap houses, if we wish. Then, to really screw me, Amar could get a position at the university hospital and Azita could intern at the children’s hospital on campus. There would still be some hoops for them, but promises were made and, more importantly, the usual hurdles have been magically bypassed. I have a very strong feeling that someone has been pulling strings behind my back, no names need be mentioned. I would not be surprised if some judicious financial contributions to certain cash-starved academic programs were made, which covers the circumstances of most public universities at present. Nothing in academia ever, ever works this smoothly. If you really want an advanced glimpse of hell, survive a few faculty meetings.”