A Changed Man

by Francine Prose

  It had felt great to hit Raymond. Like nailing a mosquito that’s been torturing you all night, like stretching when you’ve been stuck in the car, like scratching a nasty itch. Phoning Bonnie, scaring the kid—Raymond had it coming. And then taking a swing at Maslow. Raymond was asking for it. Peace Through Change is fine, but it’s a gradual process. Sometimes you need to move faster. So, actually, if you look at all this from an Old Testament point of view, Vincent’s become more Jewish, more eye-for-an-eye than Maslow. Now that’s a thought that would never have crossed his mind all the time he was in ARM.

  But why wasn’t Maslow grateful to Vincent for jumping in to protect him? Why didn’t he say thank you? When they finally pulled Vincent off Raymond, Vincent caught Maslow’s eye. And Maslow looked away.

  Right then, Vincent knew beyond a doubt that his days at Brotherhood Watch were numbered. All they had to do was figure out how to cut Vincent loose. They already had the Iranian waiting in the pipeline.

  Vincent got the message. And now he needs some quiet time in order to think things through. R and R. Rest and recreation. Retreat and reconnoiter. Maslow, more than anyone, will understand why there are times when you have to keep a low profile. Too bad Bonnie will never figure it out. Vincent always wondered about those guys the foundation helped. Didn’t they have the instincts to get the hell out of Dodge before the showdown began? Why couldn’t the Iranian dude have split before things got heavy? If it had been up to Maslow, he would have left Europe when the going was good. Too bad his family made the mistake of sticking around.

  And now, in Vincent’s humble opinion, Maslow should leave Brotherhoood Watch if he plans to stay alive. Get away from those women breathing down his neck and pickling him in their goodness. Their care. The guy can’t even take a dump without running it by his whole staff. Vincent and Maslow both need to get out. The difference is that Maslow has a golden parachute the size of Manhattan. And what does Vincent have? What allowed him to make his break when he slipped out of Chandler?

  The Warrior keeps his vehicle running. So maybe Vincent does have a shred of instinct left. He came to Chandler prepared with Raymond’s truck keys and the money to pay the parking fee. It had only been a few days since he took the Chevy out for its weekly spin.

  As he sneaked out of the studio and headed for the garage, Vincent felt very cool and controlled, considering that he’d just pulverized his own cousin on national TV. For just a few seconds, the memory had made him dizzy. What cured him was getting into the truck and sailing up the highway to Bonnie’s.

  The bridge wasn’t even a problem. That’s how much momentum he had. He flew across the Tappan Zee, hardly noticing the part where it nearly dips into the water.

  He’d driven to Bonnie’s house and taken what was his. Only what he had brought with him or bought, not one thing more or less. Which means he is a better person than the guy who left Raymond’s. He even thought he should leave them something. But what? Money would be an insult, and anyway, Vincent would need it. A note? Saying what? Thanks for everything. Best of luck. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. See you in some other life.

  That he hadn’t stolen any of Danny’s weed also proved how much he had changed. He knew it would break the kid’s heart, and a joint or two wasn’t worth it.

  When Vincent checked into the HiWayVu, he’d signed in as Jesse James. He could have written anything. The desk clerk was reading Dianetics.

  For two days, Vincent lay low. Stayed in bed, watched TV. He bought a fifth of Jack Daniel’s, mostly to wash down the Vicodin. He ignored the maids when they knocked. Eventually he made himself get dressed and cleaned up enough to order out for pizza.

  There was still a surprising amount of coverage about Tim McVeigh. Vincent had been so busy, he’d missed most of it when it happened. Now it struck him as strange that he hadn’t noticed the bizarre coincidence of his own nearly dying on the same night the poor bastard was killed by lethal injection. Vincent got the good needle, and McVeigh got the bad one.

  Lying on top of the dirty spread in the HiWayVu Motel, Vincent had plenty of chances to make up for his inattention to Tim McVeigh’s sad fate. The networks kept airing the shot of him leaving the jail in leg irons, that lizard thing he did with his head, that trapped baby-ferret twist. Vincent found it fascinating, but almost too depressing to watch. The reporters outside the prison where McVeigh died were like sharks snapping their jaws in the bloody foam.

  Vincent would never have done what McVeigh did. Brotherhood Watch didn’t save him from that. That wasn’t the path he was heading down when he detoured through their office. They’d started with a guy who, in return for a couch to sleep on, would smile and nod his head and go along with Raymond’s bullshit. And something or someone—Bonnie? Maslow? Bonnie’s kids?—had turned him into a believer. Or as close to being a believer as he is likely to come. The only hitch was that his ideas about justice and retribution and forgiveness will never be the same as Meyer and Bonnie’s. Let them turn the other cheek. Let them be the Christians.

  One problem—in fact, a major drawback, given his current situation—was that they’d changed him from a guy who made plans into a guy who let shit happen. After two days at the HiWayVu, Vincent found himself wishing he was watching the giant TV in the basement with Bonnie’s kids. Only a fool wouldn’t see that living at Bonnie’s house was better than hiding out in a cheap motel. Pretty soon Vincent began to notice that he was missing Bonnie all the time. Wishing she were there. Fat chance he could have persuaded her to leave the kids and share his swinging bachelor pad at the HiWayVu. What did he imagine them doing here? Having sex? Maybe. Sure.

  Watching Good Morning America, he jerked off thinking of Bonnie. He pictured Saturday mornings in bed, watching cartoons on TV. Except that Bonnie hated TV. He must have been thinking of someone else. Or maybe she would make an exception. Maybe true love would turn her into someone who liked watching cartoons with him on Saturday morning. True love for him? Unlikely. Still…Bonnie took off her glasses.

  By the end of the fourth day, Vincent was starting to think he’d been hasty. Possessed by that old devil fight-or-flight. God’s epinephrine shot.

  Okay, he felt guilty for kicking Raymond’s ass. But Maslow has stuff to feel sorry for, too. Maslow isn’t perfect. He didn’t say thank you. He’d made Vincent think that he and Bonnie would find some Iranian to take his place.

  Vincent had been hasty. Very immature. But people make mistakes. And Vincent’s brief break from the workplace and home doesn’t have to be forever. Taking a few days of personal time is not the same as cashing it in. Vincent hasn’t sent in his letter of resignation. He can still go back. Hang with Bonnie and the kids. Enjoy the perks of his brotherhood life until they fire his ass. Every month he spends there is psychic money in the bank that leaves him better prepared for the future.

  The question is how to jump back into the stream without making too many waves. Should he appear in Bonnie’s kitchen? Stroll into the office? It all seemed primed for disaster. The logistics were paralyzing.

  He paid for another night at the motel. He ran through the options again. Going back to a home and office where they know you stole your cousin’s truck and money and drugs, and then apologized by knocking his teeth out on national TV has got to be trickier than coming in from the cold as a recovering Nazi and saying you want to save guys like you from becoming guys like you. So far there’s been no evidence that Vincent saved one single human being from becoming him. Which doesn’t mean it can’t still happen….

  And that was when Vincent thought of graduation at Danny’s school. He and Bonnie were supposed to give a speech. Is any of that still on? What if Vincent showed up at the school in time to talk, and they could take it from there? Risky, but ideal. A public event had obvious advantages as a point of reentry. Bonnie would sooner burn in hell than embarrass the foundation. It was the ultimate version of what you heard about breaking up with a girl in some crowded place so she wouldn’t make
a scene. Margaret announced she was leaving him at the dinner table. She was picking chicken off a bone. Very cool, very surgical. She’d informed Vincent that he had to move out as if it were a mildly interesting fact she’d heard on the evening news. Strangely, the thought of Margaret no longer had the power to wound him. Now it was missing Bonnie that hurt.

  By the time he finished giving the graduates whatever brilliant advice he came up with, Bonnie would have fallen in love with him all over again. And he’d have her on his side when it came time to deal with Maslow.

  He called the school to check when graduation was. All he had to do was show up. And he’d be in. Talking at graduation was not like crawling back to Bonnie’s house. They wanted him to appear at the school. He’d be doing a public service. Also it seemed sort of sexy, him and Bonnie speaking. They could take their show on the road. They’d see how it worked out.

  Of course, there was the question of what Bonnie thought of him now. She’d seen Chandler live, in living color, not the PG-rated TV version. She knows he wasn’t the guy she thought. Maybe she doesn’t want him. Vincent wouldn’t blame her.

  Bonnie took off her glasses. Vincent is betting on that.

  Meanwhile it felt terrific to check out of the motel.

  Too bad he couldn’t stash his duffel bag there. Leaving it in Raymond’s truck was going to be a problem. In post-Columbine America, tattooed white men are not encouraged to carry duffel bags into schools. So much for your free country. The bag had to stay outside. He just took the money and pills, which is also dicey in an educational setting.

  Vincent could have brought in a private arsenal and a pharmacy, that’s how pleased the school guard is to meet Chandler’s famous friend. He turns door patrol over to his buddy and escorts Vincent to the auditorium and opens the door and stands with him behind the last row.

  Bonnie is key. It’s Bonnie Vincent is looking for, from the back of the room.

  Bonnie’s at the podium, talking to the crowd. Or supposed to be talking. Her mouth is open, but no sounds are coming out. Poor Bonnie looks crazed as she pauses and wonders where to begin. Bonnie! Get it together! She’s talked to groups before. Vincent addressed a major crowd, and he happened to be dying. Vincent roots for Bonnie as if she were a horse he has money on. Come on, Bonnie. Come on. He wants her to look good up there, if just for herself and the kid.

  With each second Bonnie stalls, her pals on stage—wardens and prison matrons in black robes—seem more upset. No one’s looking at anyone. No one knows what to do. Bonnie has to pull this thing out of the fire.

  Bonnie says, “If I had to pick one word that Brotherhood Watch is about, guess what it would be?”

  Excellent decision: Bonnie’s quoting Maslow. How sweet. It’s sexy, that in this crowded room only Vincent and Bonnie—well, and maybe Danny—know that.

  Bonnie says, “I’d say that one word was: change. The man I work for, a great hero, Meyer Maslow, believes that the world can be changed. One heart, one person, one man or woman or child at a time.”

  It’s good that she’s saying something. But it’s not great to hear her repeating the tired crap the boss says all the time. Just don’t let Bonnie start preaching about forgiving without forgetting.

  Bonnie says, “I only wish you could meet my friend Vincent Nolan.”

  All right! We’re getting somewhere! Bonnie’s calling him her friend. So she must still like him. She must still like him a lot. This gets Vincent’s attention. And for some reason, everyone else’s.

  “But the fact is,” Bonnie says, “change is the one thing—the only thing—you can count on.”

  Where is Bonnie going with this? Get back to Maslow—and Vincent!

  Then Bonnie begins to ramble about how everything they expect to happen is not going to happen, because something else will happen, and about change being hardwired—a phrase he can’t believe she’s using—and even about their parents splitting up and…Vincent has to help her! He’s got to get her attention and shock her back into talking about something concrete. Talk about the foundation. That’s what Bonnie told him before the dinner at which he’d nearly died. Nearly died. Didn’t die. The difference is all that counts.

  The crowd of kids and parents wait.

  Bonnie looks back toward the last row. It’s as if she’s looking for him.

  She finds him in two seconds. She can’t believe it’s true. She’s overjoyed to see him. She doesn’t try to hide it.

  Which still won’t make this easy. But the brightness he sees in Bonnie’s eyes, sparkling behind her glasses, is the green light that makes it possible for him to start walking toward the stage.

  The crowd watches Vincent walk down the aisle. Mr. Changed Man has learned a lot since that first day he tiptoed into the foundation. Onstage, the blond guy with the nerd glasses shoots a worried look at Bonnie. Bonnie smiles and mouths Vincent’s name. Another key in the lock.

  Doesn’t Bonnie want to finish her speech? Apparently not. She says, “Here he is. Vincent Nolan.”

  Vincent feels like Elvis again. The crowd is going nuts. As Bonnie gives him the podium, he kisses her on the cheek. It’s total theater. And totally real. The crowd loves it. Everyone’s clapping. He catches her eye as they separate. He almost starts to say something, but what? How happy he is to see her.

  Vincent waits for the applause to die down. He says, “I’m really glad to be here. But I have to say, I’m getting a little nervous about public speaking. The next to last time I talked to a group, I nearly died. And the last time, someone nearly got killed.”

  There’s a tiny stir of unease from the folks behind him onstage. Maybe they were hoping to pretend that no one knows what happened on Chandler. They know a little part of it, which is bad enough, and it’s created a tiny charge, but Vincent has defused it. He’s not saying who nearly got killed; no one is going to ask. The crowd exhales another sigh. Another wild burst of applause.

  Now he can move past that and tell them what they need to hear. Which is…what, exactly?

  He’ll give them the basic love message. A duck could be somebody’s mother. He’ll tell them they have to do something. Get off their butts and get moving. Do good. Be good. Love your fellow humans. Be conscious. Change one heart at a time.

  Everything he says will be true. He’ll believe it with all his soul. He’ll make it up as he goes along.

  It will come to him when he needs it.

  VINCENT’S CHASTE LITTLE PECK on the cheek is the public kiss that an exuberant kid might give the favorite guidance counselor who helped him make it through high school. But as he pulls away, their eyes lock. And even Bonnie can see that he has come here because of her. It’s as if they have a second or two to find out everything in the world they need to know. The glance is like a conversation, or like the promise of one. Bonnie can’t imagine what they will say, but she’s looking forward to it. She’s looking forward to everything now. How much can change in a heartbeat.

  The crowd rips into a round of applause. What are they applauding? Would they be cheering like that if they’d seen what really happened on Chandler? Probably they wouldn’t care. They’re cheering for a guy who was on TV and who is taking time from his busy famous life to come here and to talk to them.

  And probably they’re right to applaud. So what if the guy screwed up? The fact is that Vincent has come out of hiding and shown up here because he’s trying again. Trying to be a human being. As is Meyer, and Bonnie, and, she hopes, her kids. Shouldn’t Vincent get credit for trying?

  Everyone’s a mixed bag. That’s why they call it human. What was it that Vincent said about Raymond and his friends? They couldn’t deal with the gray areas. But that’s where they all live, all the time. Add up all the virtues and failings, they’ve all got something in each column. Even Raymond. Hate is a serious minus. But at least he’s clear on the fact that it’s wrong to steal from your cousin. Which is a plus in Raymond’s column, and a minus in Vincent’s. The problem, thinks Bonnie, is
how efficiently love erases the calculations.

  Vincent waits for the applause to die down. He says, “I’m really glad to be here. But I have to say, I’m getting a little nervous about public speaking. The next to last time I talked to a group, I nearly died. And the last time, someone nearly got killed.”

  No one knows how to take this. A tiny shiver goes through the crowd. If they hang on, the moment will pass. A few people laugh nervously, but not the people onstage. They have a different view of Vincent. They’re observing him from behind. They can, if they want, watch his right foot rubbing, like a cat, against his other shin. It’s pure little-kid nervousness, and the sight of it moves Bonnie more, she knows, than it should.

  Vincent stands behind the podium, gripping it with both hands, leaning forward as if he’s trying to reach every kid in the crowd. The parents can listen in if they want, but this is between him and the graduates.

  He says, “I can bet that when I say just one word—future—everyone in this room will imagine something different. And have a different feeling about it.”

  Obviously, two safe bets. But what future does Bonnie imagine? Domestic bliss with a former skinhead who beat up his cousin on Chandler? Stranger things have happened. He gets along with Danny and Max. He’s nicer to them than their father, who, unlike Vincent, has all the surface makings of a perfect dad. Dear God, what would Bonnie’s parents think now? Maybe they would see beyond the surface to what she admires—what she loves—about Vincent. Who cares what anyone would think? It no longer feels like a choice. What happens now will happen.