This Other Eden

by Michael Hemmingson

  “"Let’s go to my place then,”" he said.

  “"Right now?”" she said.

  “"Right now,”" he said.

  ***

  They took a taxi. The taxi parked in front of the Harbor Twin Towers. The night was chilly and there was smoke in the air. Something is burning, Harry thought.

  “"Why are we here?”"

  “"You’ll see,”" Harry said with a sad smile. Why sad? He was sure she would be mad at him, break up with him; he figured that day would happen no matter what, so why not now? Let the pain come home, he figured, let it happen now and not later.

  “"We can’t go in here,”" she said in a small voice, “"rich people live here.”"

  Something inside him died and he shrugged.

  “"Harry,”" she said.

  “"It’s all right,”" he said.

  In the lobby, the two night security guards, wearing dark blue suits and red ties, stood up from the bank of video monitors.

  “"Good evening, Mr. Evans,”" they both said.

  “"Evening, Joe...Frank,”" Harry said, nodding and smiling and putting his arm around Denise’s shoulder. “"This is Ms. McNamara, she’ll be going up with me tonight.”"

  Both guards nodded, smiled at Denise and said, “"Good evening, Ms. McNamara.”"

  She said, “"Hi,”" and hid behind Harry.

  One of the guards turned the proper key to open the elevator doors.

  “"Harry?”"

  “"We’ll be there in a minute.”"

  “"I don’t understand.”"

  “"You will.”"

  They got off on the thirty-third floor and he took her home.

  “"Home,”" he said.

  Denise looked around, walked around, stopped at one of the window and stared down at the city like a tourist. She sighed and put her hands on her hips.

  “"You like?”" he asked her.

  “"What’s the story,”" she said. She turned and glared. “"Harry? This is weird. I mean, this is weird.”"

  “"I live here,”" he said. “"I own this.”"

  “"Ha ha,”" she said.

  “"Yeah,”" he said.

  “"You’re serious,”" she said.

  “"Yeah,”" he said.

  “"Oh, come on; are you house sitting?”"

  He told her about the lottery.

  She said, “"Whoa.”"

  She said, “"Why didn’t you tell me before?”"

  She said, “"Why didn’t you say anything?”"

  “"I’m not sure.”"

  “"You’re ‘not sure’?”"

  “"No.”"

  “"Bullshit.”"

  “"I can’t explain it,”" he said. “"I wanted to tell you, but it didn’t seem important.”"

  She hit his left arm with her small fists and it hurt.

  “"That’s crazy.”"

  “"I know.”"

  “"People brag about this shit.”"

  “"I know.”"

  “"And all this time...after all this time...you had me thinking...”"

  “"I didn’t want you to think anything,”" Harry said.

  “"I thought you were,”" she said, “"I thought you some regular guy.”"

  “"I’m the same guy,”" he said.

  “"No, no,”" she said, “"no, you are not.”"

  “"Don’t say that.”"

  “"Ugh.”"

  “"Look.”"

  “"Did you think I would judge you?”"

  “"I was just waiting for the right time.”"

  “"Oh Harry,”" Denise said and she turned to the window and played with her green hair.

  “"Are you mad at me?”"

  She laughed and shook her head and tugged at the hair.

  “"You are,”" he said.

  “"I’m not mad,”" she said. “"I don’t know what I am.”"

  “"You could be happy,”" he said.

  “"I could, I guess.”"

  “"You should.”"

  “"Why?”"

  “"Because you love me.”"

  “"Well, yeah.”"

  “"Yeah?”"

  “"Yeah, there’s that,”" she said.

  ***

  The sun in his eyes; it woke Harry up. Denise was sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheets wrapped around her lightly freckled skin like a cape.

  He said, “"Hey.”"

  She said, “"Morning.”"

  He touched her leg. “"What’s wrong?”"

  “"Did you dream?”" she said. “"I had a lot of dreams.”"

  “"What did you dream about?”"

  “"My father.”"

  An awkward silence sat between them.

  “"I was thinking about him now,”" she said, “"and all his crazy-ass ways. He was obsessed with winning the lottery. When I was growing up, he played it every week and that’s all he ever talked about. All he talked about was - was how life would be different when he ‘won it big.’ When he’d get those millions. A new house, new cars, all the clothes I wanted, everything in the world. When I was nine, I believed him. I believed every week that he would win and I would dream about all the things he could buy; I would tell other kids my dad would win the lottery soon. I mean, he played all the time and people did win so the odds were good that one day he would win. ‘This week is my week, I can feel it,’ he would always say. And when he didn’t win, he would get dark; he would drink; he drank a lot and got mean. He’d yell and cuss and hit my mother.”"

  “"Did he hurt you?”"

  “"No. Never.”"

  “"You can tell me.”"

  “"No.”"

  “"Tell me.”"

  “"It was never like that.”"

  “"Is he still alive?”"

  “"He’s alive, and he still plays every week, talking up his stupid promises. This is why I hate the idea of lotteries. Everyone can’t win. Everyone dreams they do. People play all their lives and they never get crap. It’s not fair. Tell me, were there special numbers you picked?”"

  “"No. Random, done by the computer.”"

  “"My dad plays the same numbers, the same goddamn numbers for fifteen years. He’s convinced those numbers are bound to come up sooner or later. Tell me, Harry,”" she said, turning around, “"have you done anything good with this money?”"

  “"Good?”"

  “"Right,”" she said.

  Harry bought Denise a new car, a Hyundai, and she didn’t say no. He wanted to give her all the things her father had promised year after year. Clothes, jewelry; he said she could quit her job and he’d take care of her forever.

  “"Forever is a long time,”" she said. He asked if she wanted to live with him in his castle in the sky; Denise did not give him an answer but she did pack up her possessions and took them to his condo.

  “"What do you really want?”" he asked her.

  “"What can your money do to make me happy?”" she said. “"Is that what you mean, Mr. Harry Evans?”"

  “"Yes,”" he said.

  “"What a question.”"

  “"Tell me.”"

  “"What if you don’t like the answer?”"

  “"I’ll like any answer,”" he said, sounding like a man very much in love.

  “"Well,”" she said, acting like she was thinking: a finger to her chin, her eyes looking up.

  “"Well,”" he said, pulling her to him and kissing her cheek.

  “"Give some of it to the homeless shelters,”" she said, “"to people who need it more than I do.”"

  “"Okay,”" he said.

  “"Yeah?”" she said.

  “"Yes,”" he said.

  “"Awesome,”" she said.

  ***

  One day, Harry took Denise and Isabelle to La Jolla Shores; they walked around on the beach and through the big rocks and looked at the sea lions lounging on the sand. It was the first time his girlfriend met his daughter. It was the first time that Harry realized that his girlfriend was only fifteen years older than his child. He felt suddenly old.

&
nbsp; The two got along; they laughed and giggled and whispered and gave Harry funny looks.

  “"I hate her,”" Joanna said on the phone, “"I hate her and I want you to get rid of her.”"

  “"Where do you get off?”" said Harry. “"Where do you get off saying something like that to me?”"

  “"I have every right.”"

  “"You’re crazy.”"

  “"Don’t call me that!”"

  “"You are! What else is there to call you?”"

  “"She’s around my daughter,”" Joanna said, “"and that gives me the right. She’s a bad influence.”"

  “"You don’t even know her.”"

  “"I don’t need to.”"

  “"Did Isabelle say something bad?”"

  He listened to Joanna’s breathing on the other end.

  He said, “"Well?”"

  She didn’t say anything.

  He said, “"Isabelle said all good things. Isabelle likes her. They get along magically. So that’s it; that’s it, isn’t it? You’re threatened.”"

  “"Fuck you,”" said Joanna, “"why would I bother?”"

  “"That’s what I wonder. Why would you care? It’s not like Denise is taking your place; it’s not like we’re ever going to get back together.”"

  “"Fuck you, Harry.”"

  She hung up.

  She called back thirty seconds later. He knew it was her.

  He said, “"Joanna...”"

  “"I hear you’re giving money away left and right.”" She said, “"You’re just a regular saint, aren’t you?”"

  ***

  “"I feel bad,”" said Denise. “"I’ve never met her...”"

  “"It’s nothing. She’s just venting.”"

  “"So can I ask,”" Denise asked, “"why you don’t give her any money?”"

  “"She doesn’t deserve it,”" he said. “"Do you think I should?”"

  “"I don’t know. What about your daughter?”"

  He told her about the $5 million trust he’d set up through his lawyer.

  “"She won’t get the full amount until she’s twenty-one.”"

  He took his daughter out for dinner and she said, “"Daddy, I want to live with you.”"

  “"What’s going on?”"

  “"I don’t like living…with Mommy anymore. I don’t. Can I live with you?”"

  “"What’s going on?”" he said. “"What’s wrong?”"

  “"She’s always mad, she’s always yelling,”" Isabelle said. “"It’s like she’s going crazy or something.”"

  ***

  He had to deal with the lawsuit; it was bogus, of course. Tran Vo just wanted an easy settlement, which Harry wasn’t about to give. He had the money to hire the best attorneys in town, and seven weeks later the lawsuit was dismissed.

  ***

  ***

  Isabelle was sick on one of the days he was supposed to have custody of her, so he went to see her. Isabelle was wrapped up in her blankets, in her bed, safe. He kissed her forehead.

  “"Daddy?”"

  “"Yes.”"

  “"Can I come live with you yet? I don’t want to live here anymore.”"

  “"We’ll talk about that later, okay?”"

  “"Daddy?”"

  “"Yes.”"

  “"Can I have an ice cream cone? From our favorite place? I’ve been wanting one all day yesterday.”"

  “"I’ll get you one right now.”"

  “"A double! MarshmellowMarshmallow and chocolate chip!”"

  Joanna was standing at the bedroom doorway, watching. She followed Harry. She stopped him, grabbed his arm; her fingers dug into his skin and that hurt.

  “"She’s not going to live you with, ever. I want you understand that.”"

  “"Isn’t it her decision?”"

  “"No,”" Joanna said, “"it’s not.”"

  “"Please let go of me,”" he said, “"please.”"

  She didn’t.

  “"You may be able to hire a dozen of the best attorneys in the universe,”" she told him, “"but you will never have custody. You got that?”"

  “"My turn...there’s something I want you to clearly, and without a shred of doubt, comprehend.”"

  “"And what’s that?”"

  “"Isabelle will be moved in with me by the end of the month,”" he said. “"This time, do the right thing. Just tell me what you want. I think I know.”"

  “"I want money,”" Joanna said. “"I’ll need it to start over somewhere. A lot of money, you know…”"

  “"You’ll get it,”" Harry said, “"and now, I have to get some ice cream.”"

  “"Get the damn ice cream,”" she whispered, “"you get it and then we have arrangements to make.”"

  She let go of his arm and he went out the door and walked down the street for two blocks and came to the ice cream parlor. Kids were sitting around, laughing and talking loudly and calling each other bad names.

  He paid for two cones, one for him and one for Isabelle, and started to walk back. Someone from a passing car yelled, “"YOU!”"

  The car was a beat-up Ford station wagon and the driver was Tran Vo, the liquor store owner. The station wagon came to a fast stop, tires screaming for vengeance.

  “"YOU HAVE MY MONEY! YOU GIVE ME MY MONEY!”"

  “"Well, shit,”" said Harry, and he knew there was nothing he was going to be able to do.

  Tran Vo jumped out of his car, brandishing a screwdriver. He approached Harry, yelling something in Vietnamese.

  “"I’m not in the mood for this,”" Harry said.

  “"YOU GIVE ME TEN MILLION DOLLAR NOW!”"

  “"Take a hike.”"

  “"YOU HIKE ON THIS!”" and Vo raised the screwdriver and lashed out, plunged, and swiped.

  And then it happened. He was being stabbed first in the neck, then in the arm; then twice in the chest and once in the stomach.

  He was lying on the sidewalk, bleeding like a broken fire-hydrant. He’d dropped the ice cream cones. Vo dropped the screwdriver, pointed at Harry and said: “"This all your fault!”"

  Vo returned to his station wagon and drove away.

  Harry lay there and figured this was it. He looked at the sky. Some kids from the ice cream parlor stood over him and they gawked and pointed with all the expected morbid curiosity.

  “"Is that real blood?”"

  “"He’s bleeding all right.”"

  “"Why did that other man stab him?”"

  “"That’s not real blood!”"

  “"Eww, it is!”"

  Harry tried to say help.

  Next, Joanna was kneeling next to him, touching his forehead.

  “"Harry?”" she said.

  “"Hey,”" he said.

  She picked up the screwdriver. She looked at the bloodied point, then at him. He forgot about her blue eyes. They were always so piercing.

  She said, “"I should finish you off,”" placing the screwdriver above his heart. “"Isabelle would inherit all your money.”"

  “"Okay,”" he said, “"do it.”"

  “"I'll have control of that money, all of it.”"

  “"Just do it,”" he said, “"do it.”"

  And so she did, plunging the screwdriver into his heart and killing him.

  Well, no, that’s a lie. He imagined she did that, and what would happen. She was probably having that fantasy, too.

  His ex-wife reached into his pants pocket and found his cell. She called 911.

  “"They’re on the way,”" she said.

  “"The ice cream,”" he said. “"Isabelle…”"

  “"Oh Harry,”" she said, “"you just don’t get it, do you?”"

  In the paramedics van, hooked up to an IV drip, he asked, “"Am I going to die?”"

  One paramedic said, “"None of your major arteries were punctured; this is a good thing. What the hell happened to you?”"

  The other paramedic said, “"You’ll make it. You’re a lucky man.”"

  Harry said, “"I’m a winner.”"

  Michael Hemmingso
n lives in Southern California. His previous books include The Naughty Yard (Permeable Press), Wild Turkey (Forge), The Rooms (Blue Moon), Comfort and Motion (Olympia Press), Star Trek: A Post-structural Critique (Borgo Press) Zona Norte (Cambridge Scholars) and William T. Vollmann: A Critical Study (McFarland) among others. His first feature film, The Watermelon, was released summer 2009 and his short documentary, Life in Zona Norte, screened at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival.

  * Later, Gerrick would tell Edmond how Bradford Barryman obtained these choice offices. “"Brad got the digs, five years rent free, in a poker game. He won the space and free rent. Can you believe that?”"

  “"Must have been some high stakes,”" Edmond said.

  Gerrick said, “"Bradboy always plays it high risk.”"

  Much later, of course, Edmond would wonder if the story was true; if it wasn’t just another tall tale that Bradford Berryman told to secure the heroic wonders of a life riddled with falsehoods and misinterpretations.

  * “"When inward life dries up,”" once wrote Rollo May in Love & Will, “"when feeling decreases and apathy increases, when one cannot affect or even genuinely touch another person, violence flares up as a daimonic necessity for contact, a mad drive forcing touch in the most direct way possible.”"

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