EMP Causality

by Michael Kravitz

  A few years later, Ann received a call. It was her brother’s friend at the LA police department. He had been shot while off duty, at a restaurant with his wife. When they were outside, they were confronted by a gangbanger. The guy drew his gun for a robbery. Her brother stepped in front of his wife to protect her. A shot rang out. Dean fell to the ground. He couldn’t move his legs. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

  It was a long time before Dean would let anyone visit him in his wheelchair. When Ann finally arrived at his apartment, she rang the doorbell. It took a long time before her brother came to the door in his wheelchair. Ann reflexively put her hand on her mouth. The apartment was a mess. Her brother wreaked of his own urine. She asked him where his wife was.

  “She’s out,” that’s all Dean would say. Ann helped clean up the place. When the wife came home, Ann could see she was up to no good. Ann tried to talk to her, but she told Ann to mind her own business. Her brother did not want a fight. In order to keep peace, Ann decided to go home. Before she left, she hugged Dean and said, “I love you very much; you are my only real family”

  He replied, “Don’t worry about me, little sis, I have this.” But Ann knew better. She flew back to Boston. It was less than six months before she got the dreaded call. Her brother’s friend told Ann that he just gave up. He lost way too much weight. When all hope is gone, a tormented soul can sometimes only see relief by giving up the effort to their struggle. Although suicide is never the right answer, it is their only solution. They stop expending energy to keep themselves afloat. Sad, but it happens too many times.

  At the funeral, Ann was there with her two other brothers. Dean’s friend gave Ann his police badge. The flight home was long and lonely. Ann’s life was profoundly changed. As she tightly gripped her brother’s badge, she made a vow to become a state trooper. She knew if accepted, she could excel in law enforcement.

  Ann qualified, passing the requisite physical evaluations, and scored high on the written exam. She was accepted to the Massachusetts State Police Academy. It was there that she met her future husband. Like herself, her future husband (now Officer Ryan) was striking out without any family support. Although Officer Ryan’s father and grandfather were police officers, he was different from them.

  His grandfather had moved to Boston from New York City. As an Irishman, they were dealt with unkindly. When coming from Ireland, brutality and getting a job was a constant challenge. Many people of Irish decent relocated to Boston—South Boston, to be exact.

  Their friends, and the Irish Catholic Church, became a social network for housing and jobs. Soon many of the Irish had populated South Boston. It was a “safe place”—all outsiders beware. The Irish took to their own.

  Soon they became a dominant factor in the unions, workforce, and politics. It was an unwritten truth. If you were Irish, a registered Democrat, living in South Boston, life was your oyster. Getting a good-paying job or entering into the political field, being Irish gave you a real bargaining chip. Today things have vastly changed. It was the prejudice and bigotry that drove Officer Ryan from his father and grandfather. He decided a long time ago not to get into family arguments. It is hard to change the spots on an animal. Maybe it was a blessing to Officer Ryan. He lived with bigotry his whole life and he wanted to break the chain.

  At the state police academy, Ann and Officer Ryan became close friends. They both came from dysfunctional families. She saw in him the qualities of her older brother. At the shooting range, fitness tests, and classroom, they both excelled. Ann, with her emotional scars (caused by her two other brothers), had a hard time committing to any man. Ann informed Officer Ryan that she only wanted him as a friend or confidant. After graduation, they still remained close friends.

  One day Officer Ryan came to Ann and informed her that he joined a dating service. She told him that was great. He also told her that he met someone special. Her heart sank as he was talking; she was filled with countless emotions.

  Why does life throw these firebombs? She was finally getting into a serene state of mind without therapy; Ann was becoming emotionally normal. Why can’t Officer Ryan just go at the slow pace Ann was traveling? To her this made no sense. Several minutes into the conversation, Officer Ryan, being sensitive, saw a frown on Ann’s face. He was puzzled. Why? he thought. Why she is not overjoyed? Please, why? He kept quiet for a moment. Ann gathered all her emotions in one tight bundle and grasped at her next sentence. Officer Ryan was always attracted to Ann emotionally and physically. Ann could sense it. Being stoic and a gentleman, Officer Ryan accepted his role with Ann. Now he was puzzled.

  Ann clasped her hands and touched her nose. It was like she wanted to pray. Ah! She was unsure of herself. Did she care what’s best for Officer Ryan or what’s best for Ann? Her mind clashed with her inner emotions. She was in shock and stunned at how fast he wanted to move on. Officer Ryan was ready to settle down. You know, family, kids, white picket fence, and a dog. He wanted to drive his car with the family sticks on his rear car window. He was ready. Ann looked up at Officer Ryan. With all the courage she could muster, she stated, “Why are you going so fast?”

  Huh? was Officer Ryan’s response. They both looked at each other. It was not the look of brother and sister. It was a look of a courting ritual—a ritual that can’t be taught, only undertaken. It is hidden in our deepest inner sanatorium and is brought to surface in rare occasions. After a few stunned seconds, Officer Ryan looks at Ann and says, “Do you like fairs?”

  “No,” Ann said with her eyes fixated on him.

  “Neither do I. How about we both go this weekend? I really think it’s what we both need,” he said confidently.

  To Ann, it was as if Officer Ryan mounted a white horse. He stopped in front of Ann. She put out her arm. He grabbed her arm and swung her on top of his horse as they galloped off into the sunset. Ann was mesmerized; Officer Ryan took over the courting ritual. He was in complete control. She was now putty at his feet. He started to understand, and confidence just took over.

  That Friday night, they went out. Neither admitted that it was a real date. Both knew the stakes were high. For the first time in both their lives, they were on the same road. Somehow without regrets, they both had to take this journey on this Friday night. Being at the fair was incidental; it just filled in the blanks.

  Both wanted to put their best foot forward. Officer Ryan put on his designer jeans and cowboy boots. Ann had a more difficult time. She wanted to entice him. Then she had flashbacks of her two brothers and her late brother’s wife. No, she thought, I will not show cleavage, but I will put a nice fitting pants. After all, she mused, I do have a nice figure, don’t I? Perfume? Jewelry? After many tormented moments, she said to herself, Only a watch, with a hidden dab of perfume, just a hidden dab. She had to be herself. This was not a one-night stand.

  As Officer Ryan picked her up, he saw not a coworker but a beautiful angel, an angel that he wanted for himself. From Boston, they drove south to the fair. Neither one smokes. Both were only social drinkers and they both enjoyed their coffee. Coffee without the doughnuts keeps one up, not round. (Hmmm. I’ve always wanted to know if they left their pistols at home that night. You know, maybe instead of jewelry, they had his-and-her pistols.)

  At the fair, it started out like all the other times they got together. The conversation flowed naturally. Both were in sync with each other. Gads, Ann thought, he was here all the time; like her brother, it was everything she wanted in a man. Tall, sensitive, and physically fit. Damn, what was I thinking before? Ann asked herself. How can I let him go? As they tried the shooting range (Please! You know, they both were attracted to the shooting range), the smiles and feelings overcame them both. Both laughed; they went by the food concession stands and various rides. Officer Ryan stopped at one special ride. It was the one that you sit in a large teacup. It went in a circular motion. The teacup itself also did circles. You know, circles inside of circles. If you don’t understand, go back to sixth grad
e. It was the best three years of my life.

  “Let’s Go!” Officer Ryan announced as he extended his hand.

  “All right, Ann said as if she were a little girl again. As the ride was about to start, Officer Ryan made his move. (I know, I know, you were all waiting for the moment.) He put one hand on the bar rail and the other around Ann. She was succumbed by a feeling of being protected and loved. It was what has been missing in her life. First, she wanted to put her hands on the bar rail. Instead, she made a counter-gesture; she put her right hand on his thigh. Officer Ryan played his poker hand. He did not look at her but smiled. Now they were both traveling on a road that took them into the clouds. Most of us who were alive when JFK was shot knew where we were at that moment. Likewise, both Ann and Officer Ryan will never forget this moment. When the ride was over, Officer Ryan asked Ann what she would like to do.

  “One more time!” was her answer. It was sort of like asking her Will you marry me? And she said yes.

  * * *

  Ben noticed that Ann was wearing her pistol. He had his tucked in his belt. The difference is that Ben does not wear a pistol at home. Ben does not need to wear his gun in his collaborative. He has several neighbors and three Dogs, all whom would sound an alarm of any unwanted quests.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” Ann asked.

  “I am not sure if you can, but maybe,” Ben commented in an unsure way. He had to collect himself. He did not want to insult Ann, but at the same time, she might be insulted if he did not confide in her. After all, she went on a road trip with his wife. Ben was losing confidence in himself. Everything he has done lately has gone wrong. His ego was so low, he needed a shovel to find it.

  “It’s about William and Fred,” Ben just spurted it out.

  “Did something happen?” Ann said with alarm in her voice.

  “Nothing like that, they are still okay,” Ben said without much confidence.

  “That’s good,” Ann quipped.

  “William is getting really concerned about Fred’s welfare. He should be seeing a doctor on a regular basis. The insulin is old and not the right type. He also needs to be tested for sugar levels. And a much-needed full blood test should be performed. William really wants to take Fred on a road trip to Tent City.”

  “Oh, I see, I see,” Ann said as she pondered a response.

  Instead of immediately replying to Ben, Ann walked side to side. Ben stepped back, somewhat doubting himself. Damn, he thought, did I just blow it again? Man, if he were in Vegas, he would be a sure winner. If he put his money on red, everyone else should bet black. The ball would land on black. You know, when Charlie Brown would walk around on a sunny day, there would be rain clouds over his head. This is how Ben felt.

  Finally Ann stopped. Without looking at Ben, she raised her right hand up. With her index finger pointed at her temple, she made a gesture pointing down several times with her finger. Like hitting the C note on a piano.

  “There is something coming up. We are trying to put all the pieces together,”

  Ann said as she shook her head side to side. She was in a trance, as if she were watching a Jumanji board. Seeing how the pieces move. “Ben, my husband, has the highest regard for you. In this nightmare quagmire, you arose to the test. He feels—no, we feel you are one of the reasons that all of us will survive,” Ann said in a heartwarming response.

  Ben was in complete shock. His confidence and ego were spiraling downward, faster than a speeding train, faster than a speeding bullet. “It’s a bird, it’s a plane. Nope, just Ben’s ego dropping like a giant corkscrew drilling through the earth’s crust. First through the outer bedrock layers, then downward, into molten lava.” As Ann spoke, Ben’s ego started to rise.

  “Captain Kirk here! Reverse all engines. Turn this corkscrew around,” screamed the captain of the corkscrew vessel, carrying Ben’s ego. “What’s going on, Scotty? Why can’t you turn this vessel around?”

  “It’s the GPS system, captain. It’s melted in the molten lava,” an alarmed Scotty replied.

  “Captain, please! Let me be so bold and take it from here,” Spock said stoically. And with his Vulcan instincts, he righted the corkscrew vessel toward the earth’s surface.

  As the vessel neared the earth’s surface, Capt. Kirk yelled out, “We will attach a booster jet to our vessel so we can carry Ben’s ego into the clouds.”

  “Booster jet, attach, not logical,” a stymied Spock retorted.

  “Yes, I ordered one from Priceline.com,” Captain Kirk said proudly.

  Indeed, as the corkscrew vessel was safely on the Earth’s surface, the crew then attached booster jets and continued upward toward the clouds. Ben’s ego was not only returning to normal, but maybe inflating a little. As the vessel penetrated the cumulonimbus cloud, it started to stall dramatically. It seems they miscalculated the weight by several pounds.

  Right at that moment, Bones came up to Capt. Kirk. With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he looked at the captain.

  “Put on a few pounds lately?” Bones said with his own touch of sarcasm.

  “What? Can’t a man enjoy the fruits of his success?” Capt. Kirk interjected, with his arm out, his palms facing upward, and his head shrugged. “On the ship Enterprise, all I got was this small size. Nutri-system meals. Really? I wanted to call the ship ‘The Empty Prize.’”

  “Fruits, you mean cheeseburgers,” a disgruntled Bones quipped.

  Slapping his forehead, Spock commented, “Wasn’t he making enough money doing those infomercials?”

  Before the corkscrew vessel dropped, Ben’s ego softly exited the vessel. Doing a graceful pirouette, Ben’s ego tiptoed on the clouds. Below the clouds, there were thunderstorms and a falling corkscrew vessel. The last noise from the corkscrew vessel was Lieutenant Uhura. She was screaming, almost wetting her pants, as the vessel disappeared from sight.

  At that moment, Ben’s ego only saw sunshine. His first impulse was to step in toward Ann. He wanted to hug her and kiss her on the cheek. On second thought, maybe she might pull out her gun and shoot Ben. As he lay on the ground in pain, she could shoot him twice more just like the Mafia would.

  Reining in his imagination, Ben composed himself and thanked Ann. He said, “William’s spirits will have a glimmer of hope. With all of his thoughts and emotions squeezed tightly inside of him, Ben exited. He did not want to turn around. Maybe she would change her mind? Or maybe . . . just shoot Ben? For doubting her (only kidding). Leaving her driveway, his aura was glowing. It felt like he was gliding on a pair of Expensive Air Jordan sneakers.

  The trip was successful. Now the gates of his tormented mind opened. The pressure oozed out, the wrinkles on his face relaxed. It’s good to feel like a human being. There was a bounce in Ben’s step. Not too much though. He still had a loaded pistol in his pants. All he needed now is another incident. If it went off, it could take out his pride and joy. Not been in use much since his family’s cold war, he thought.

  On the return trip, some of the neighbors—not yet part of the collaborative—came out of their homes. They have not yet met Ben. Like a new puppy, these neighbors were unsure of Ben’s intentions. They saw him walking to Officer Ryan’s house with a pistol in his pants. Now as he walked backed, they figured out he belong in the neighborhood. Most thugs were young and in packs. Ben was a middle-aged man and so did not come across as a threat.

  Even though Ben engaged them in a conversation, he did not extend an offer for them to join the collaborative. First of all, he already had too much on his plate. Secondly, it would be tense to bring them into the fold during his family’s cold war. Thirdly, and more pragmatically, they were protected on both ends: the collaborative on one end, and Officer Ryan’s house on the other; thus forming a “safe place” where they resided.

  Ben was in a cheerful mood as he came into view of William’s house. In the background, Fred was feeding his birds but still yelling at the squirrels. Those pesky squirrels always seem to steal th
e bird’s food. Fred did not like that. But at least it took Fred’s mind off his girlfriend. William was sitting on the front steps with his long frame and a pair of clean but wrinkled khaki pants.

  It was till early in the morning, but one could feel that it would be a warm day. But somehow William always seems cold even though he had two layers of shirts on. Maybe because of his being too thin, he was more adaptable to warmer temps.

  From the manner of Ben’s walk, William sensed Ben had some positive news. William would make a good poker player. He kept his emotions in check. Ben always had an admiration for William. He saw not only a kindred spirit but a human being of an above-average intelligence. Just like Ben, William had a high-pressure job, but in the insurance business. Something dramatic must have happened to William for him to leave his profession. To work as an executive in downtown Boston requires a high-level skill set. But that mental aptitude often gets tossed into a grinding, pressured job environment.

  When William talks, his words are usually measured. He listens carefully, taking in everything like a giant mulching machine. No need to repeat oneself. Like a detective, lawyer, or diplomat, William’s approach is very calculated. He senses body motions, inflections, and word uses. Ben feels William has shortchanged himself. There are certain people who possess a high IQ—surgeons, scientists, even many types of artists. Unlike most people, William was set for life, financially. Although his domestic needs were simple, he still had an above-average house, clothes, and car. Well-organized, he only owns items he actually uses.

  It is odd that William lived with Fred and his wife. They were a polar opposite to him. Perhaps opposites do attract. Fred was a pack rat constantly collecting anything he can: magazines, pens, used clothes, souvenirs—any item he could claim as his own.

  Confrontations, yelling, and always being at odds with someone, accomplishes nothing. Even William’s wife is not very neat. In William’s mind, he accepts Fred for what he is. Although his room looks like a scene Sanford and Son. William keeps the rest of the house clean and tidy.