Cinnamon Girl

by Lawrence Kessenich

  I got to the corner just in time to see Jonathan and Tony, a few hundred feet away, lift a large piece of broken pavement and throw it through a plate-glass window. I stopped dead in my tracks. Demonstrators streamed by me. The ones around Jonathan and Tony cheered. Dozens of them picked up small rocks and pieces of pavement and attacked adjacent storefronts. Others leapt up on traffic signs and bent them down to the sidewalk. I watched from the corner as most of the rest of the demonstrators joined in the destruction, as if it were a party game. Only a few others refused to join.

  The police just looked on. I heard sirens in the distance and suspected they were waiting for reinforcements before following the mob. All at once, a group of demonstrators turned and threw rocks at them. I saw them look to their commander, who nodded grimly. Then they took off down the street after the rock-throwers. The crowd continued to surge down Prospect, stopping traffic and breaking virtually every store window they passed. The street glittered with broken glass. I could still see Tony in the lead with Jonathan, pausing to tear things up as he went, but I couldn’t quite believe I was seeing it. Only then did I realize how angry and bitter he’d become.

  I stood rooted to the spot as the mob continued down Prospect, harried by the police, but unstoppable. I watched until they disappeared over a little rise about half a mile away. Then I listened to the rise and fall of wailing sirens as the riot squads moved to outflank the mob, farther down Prospect. Finally, that ceased, too. Then it was quiet. The street looked like a London street I’d seen among pictures of the Blitz. It had not been hit directly, but the explosion had been near enough to blow out every window and had shaken the ground hard enough to topple street signs and light standards. I couldn’t quite believe I was looking at the same thing on a familiar street in my own neighborhood.

  Something crumbled inside me as I surveyed the scene. It suddenly seemed as if the whole “youth movement,” the struggle that was supposedly for freedom and political justice and against war was just a big, self-indulgent sham. First, the student strike had turned into a struggle for free passing grades. Now, this protest over use of a beautiful little urban park had turned into an orgy of pointless destruction. Was anybody willing to give up anything, to practice any sort of discipline, to achieve the noble goals of the movement? It didn’t look that way to me.

  Feeling empty inside, I turned away from the scene of destruction and walked back up the street. I entered the now-deserted park and sat on the edge of the fountain and stared into it. I tried to let the sound of falling water calm me, but adrenalin was flowing through my body, and my mind was racing. When somebody tapped me on the shoulder, I jumped. I looked up to see Carl Lindstrom standing over me, looking as disturbed as I felt.

  “I can tell by your face you saw what happened,” he said. “How are you taking it?”

  I looked down into the water and ran a hand through it before I spoke. “I feel as if something died inside me down there. It made me feel as if the whole movement was stupid and pointless.”

  “Try not to judge the whole thing by the actions of a few.”

  “But the strike was the same way. People are such assholes.”

  Carl sat down beside me and sighed.

  “I have to admit I’m feeling the same way. I was talking to myself as much as to you when I said don’t judge the movement by this. But this isn’t the only place it’s happened. I wonder if we’ve all gone wrong somewhere.”

  “You know what I think at times like this,” I said. “I think maybe my real job is to go off and work on myself, get my own head together. Maybe that’s what all of us should be working on, instead of trying to change the world out there.”

  “The civil rights movement would never have happened with that kind of attitude.”

  “I know, I know. But this feels different, somehow. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I need a break from political action. I just don’t feel like there’s anything worth being part of, right now.”

  “Well, you can always help people directly. That’s one of the things I love about my work at the Social Action Center. It lets me alternate between participating in political actions and participating in programs that feed and clothe and house people. I may just focus on those programs myself for a while.”

  “I’ll keep helping out, too,” I said. “I do get satisfaction from that. But I think I’m going to hang up the protest signs for a while. People get too crazy in big groups. They turn into selfish mobs.”

  “Not always. But the danger is always there. If you need to get away from it all, do it. But don’t forget that you need to act on the outside as well as on the inside. We can change ourselves individually, but we can only change the world together.”

  I smiled at Carl.

  “Didn’t I read that on a poster somewhere?”

  “No. But if you’d like to produce it, I’ll take some for the Center.”

  “Speaking of which,” he continued, standing up, “I’m going to head back there. But I think I’ll avoid walking down Prospect. Keep in touch.”

  I said I would, and then watched him as he walked away toward the lakefront.

  13

  ISAT FOR A LONG TIME BY THE FOUNTAIN, letting the sound of the water slowly soothe me. By the time I got up to walk home, I was feeling calm and resigned. Something had changed inside me, but it would take some time to figure out what. When I walked into the house, Claire was standing in the kitchen doorway, talking on the phone. She seemed relieved to see me, and only then did it dawn on me she could have seen accounts of the riot on television and been wondering if I was okay.

  “Look, Tony,” I heard her say, “We don’t have that kind of money. Everybody in this house put together doesn’t have that kind of money. I’ll call your dad. He’ll—”

  Tony apparently cut her off. She listened for a moment, then spoke again. “If you want to get out of jail tonight, it’s the only choice we have. Okay?” She listened for second. “Yes, if your mom answers, I’ll ask for your dad. I’ll see you later.”

  She hung up, but kept her hand on the receiver and looked me over.

  “What about you? Get your jollies breaking windows tonight, too?”

  “I hung back when it started getting crazy. Give me credit for a little sense.”

  “I thought Tony had some sense, too, but apparently not. Now I’ve got to get him bailed out of jail. You can tell me what happened to you when I’m done here.”

  She lifted the receiver and started dialing. I went up to the bathroom to wash my face and neck, which felt grimy. As I was drying my face, Claire appeared in the doorway.

  “Tony’s dad is going to get him. He’ll bring him back here. Tony’s going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I wouldn’t count on any explanations.”

  “Why not?”

  “He was there with Jonathan. My guess is this is part of some larger scheme. I doubt if he’ll share the master plan with us.”

  “I think he’s done with Jonathan. Jonathan got himself bailed out and didn’t offer Tony any kind of help. Tony said Jonathan was as scared as a puppy in a pound. Once the crunch came, all he could think about was himself.”

  “I could have told him that would happen.”

  “Any of us could have.”

  “What’s next?” I said.

  “We’ll see when he gets home.”

  “Meanwhile,” she continued, moving in close to me and putting her arms around me, “you get a big kiss for being smart enough not to start breaking windows.”

  We kissed long and passionately. Dared I hope the tide was turning? Was she seeing in me the stability and willingness to be there for her that was lacking in Tony? I didn’t want this to be a contest, but there didn’t seem to be any other way for it. How else do you decide between two people you love, unless you compare? Then I remembered Paint Your Wagon. I’d never broached the subject of that relationship with either Claire or Tony, but it suddenly seemed the perfect way to avoid a contest f
or Claire’s affections, to avoid the need for her to choose.

  When we stopped kissing and stood holding one another, I asked her about it. I reminded her of what had happened in the movie and asked her if she thought such a relationship was possible.

  “Do you think it’s possible?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but I’d be willing to try it, if it’s the only way I can be with you for the rest of my life.”

  She melted in my arms and we started kissing passionately again. I backed her up through the hall and into her bedroom. We tumbled onto the bed, where we continued our passionate kissing and started caressing one another all over. I was desperate for her. I made love to her as if it were the last opportunity I would have.

  We fell asleep with the bedroom door wide open. Luckily, I heard the car door slam outside when Tony arrived. I went to the window and saw him waving goodbye to his father. I closed the door and roused Claire. She had me toss her clothes into her closet while she climbed under the sheet. I gathered up my own clothes and, pausing to give her one short, intense kiss, went into my own room through the inside door. No sooner had I lain down on my bed when I heard Tony knock on Claire’s door.

  “Are you awake, Claire?” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied curtly.

  “Can I come in?”

  “I suppose.”

  The door opened and closed. I heard the click of a lamp switch.

  “We need to talk,” said Tony.

  “I’ll say,” said Claire.

  I heard her strike a match.

  “I could use one of those, tonight, too,” said Tony.

  I heard another match being lit.

  “What made you do such dumb thing?” asked Claire. “What would Jonah and I have done if you’d gotten yourself killed or maimed? Who would help support him? What will happen, now, if you have to go to jail and lose your job and can’t get another one because you’ve got a criminal record? Did you think about any of that when you went on your little spree?”

  “Look, I’ve been pissed off ever since I went to see Joe and let Jonathan talk me into doing some stupid things. This just happened to be the stupidest.”

  “What will happen when you go to trial?”

  “I can’t go to trial, Claire. That’s what I need to talk to you about. I’ve got a juvenile record. That’s not supposed to count, but I know it will. I can’t do time. Not even in a minimum-security prison. I’d lose my mind.”

  “But if you run away and they catch you, you’ll do more time, probably in a worse place.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Hawaii. There are lots of places to hide out there. I don’t think they’ll come after me there for this, even if they do find out where I am.”

  He paused.

  “I want you and Jonah to come along.”

  Listening on the other side of the door, my stomach seized up

  “Hawaii? Now? The three of us?”

  “Why not? You’ve always wanted to live someplace warm. We could start over.”

  There was a long, frightening silence. Could Claire really be taking seriously such an outrageous proposal? Then it occurred to me the proposal was coming from the man who was, as she herself had reminded me, her husband and the father of her child. Of course she was taking it seriously.

  “When will you go?” she asked, not giving any hint if she was considering his proposal.

  “Soon,” he said.

  Again silence.

  “I can’t just pick up and leave everything behind,” she said, “and everyone.”

  I was finally able to let out a breath. “Will you join me later, then?”

  Again, there was a long silence. I could picture Claire searching Tony’s eyes.

  “I don’t know, Tony. I want us all to be together, but I don’t know if you and I … I just don’t know. You’re making it a whole lot harder by doing this. How can you leave Jonah?”

  “I don’t know what else to do, Claire. My life is totally fucked-up. I miss you. I miss … us.”

  It got quiet again, but then I made out the sound of Tony crying. Claire was probably crying, too, but silently.

  “I love you, Claire,” I finally heard him say.

  “I love you, too, Tony,” she replied.

  Then more crying. Then it was quiet. Then I heard Tony snoring. Then I cried myself to sleep.

  The next day, Tony made a reservation on a flight leaving within the week. The house was very tense over the next few days. Jonah cried a lot and had trouble sleeping. Claire spent a lot of time up in Tony’s room talking to him, out of earshot from me. I didn’t know if she was trying to talk him out of the move or exploring the possibility of going along. She wouldn’t tell me. She often came down from these discussions and went into her room to cry on the bed.

  Only Tony seemed relatively relaxed. I could tell he was excited to be going, though he tried to play it down. I don’t think he really believed he’d be staying there for long on his own. I don’t think he’d come to grips with what it would mean if he stayed in Hawaii, and Claire and Jonah didn’t join him. I think it also helped that his brother was still there recuperating and he’d been there himself. I think it felt more like the start of a vacation to him than the start of a new life. I wondered if that was all it would end up being. I couldn’t imagine how he could stay away from Jonah, even if he could live without Claire.

  The day of his departure, Tony packed a big Army-surplus duffle bag and got money out of the bank. Claire and Jonah took him to the airport. I offered to drive them, but Claire said no. I was relieved not to have to see that goodbye.

  Before they left, Tony and I shook hands and looked into one another’s eyes. Then we hugged, surprising ourselves.

  “It’s been a long year, buddy,” I said.

  “That it has,” he replied. “That it has. Take care of these two for me until … well, until whatever happens. Maybe you and I will see each other again, sometime.”

  “Of course we will.”

  I stood on the porch and waved goodbye as they drove off. I had a sinking feeling I wouldn’t see Tony again, but that was a reflection of my fear of losing Claire and Jonah. The house seemed frighteningly cold and empty with all of them gone.

  It did not warm up when Jonathan’s father unexpectedly showed up at the door. He was a tall, imposing man with a perfect haircut and manicured nails. He was dressed in a gray suit and was all business. He had a box into which he was planning to put all of Jonathan’s things—or all of Jonathan’s things he deemed worth keeping, I surmised. He told me Jonathan would not be coming back, but they would, of course, pay the next month’s rent to make up for his abrupt departure. He got Jonathan’s things, wrote a check, and drove off in his black Mercedes, all in the space of fifteen minutes.

  When Claire returned from the airport, she looked as depressed as I’d ever seen her. I took Jonah to a playground to give her time alone. As I pushed him on a swing, he kept saying, over and over again—almost singing—“Daddy fly. Daddy fly. Bye-bye, Daddy. Bye-bye.”

  When we got back, Claire was in her room with the door closed. We could hear her crying through the door.

  “Mommy cry,” said Jonah.

  I opened the door just enough to let him in, then closed it and had turned to go back down the stairs. Claire called my name. I re-opened the door. She lay on her back on the bed, holding Jonah in her arms. Her face was wet and red, her eyes swollen. Jonah was sucking his thumb, an old habit that had resurfaced that week.

  “I need you to hold me,” she said.

  I sat beside her and leaned against the wall. She shifted herself and Jonah so that she was leaning against me and he against her.

  “You two are my bookends,” she said, managing to laugh a little through her tears and sniffles.

  She pulled a tissue from the box beside her, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose loudly.r />
  “This is so hard,” she said, tears streaming from her eyes again. “Tony and I were supposed to be together for the rest of our life. What happened?”

  I took this as a rhetorical question—not that I would have been able to answer it if it hadn’t been. I wanted to say, “Don’t worry about Tony. I’ll stay with you for the rest of your life,” but I had a feeling it wouldn’t matter. She was missing Tony, and no substitutes would do.

  Eventually, both she and Jonah fell asleep. I was wide-awake, but my legs fell asleep. Finally, I had to move. I eased my body out from under Claire’s, stood up slowly, and nearly crashed to the floor. I stood in one spot as the blood rushed through my legs, making them ache and tingle. When I felt able to walk, I left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

  Shortly after this, Kolvacik arrived, looking for Tony. I had been dreading this conversation, hoping Claire would deal with it.

  “Tony’s gone,” I said as we stood in the entryway.

  “Where?” said Kolvacik.

  “Far away.”

  “Is he visiting someone?”

  “He’s going to live there.”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s he really doing?”

  “Do you want to sit down?”

  “I suppose. What the hell’s going on here?”

  “Let’s sit down,”

  Kolvacik took his customary place on the sofa. I sat next to him.

  “Tony was afraid of going to prison after he got arrested,” I said. “He’s gone to a place where he hopes he won’t be found.”

  “Just like that?” said Kolvacik.

  “Just like that. He didn’t even tell his parents where he was going.”

  “Did he tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can tell me.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Come on. You know I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Not on purpose. But you drink and smoke a lot. It could slip out.”

  “You bastard. He was my friend a long time before he was yours. I can’t believe the asshole left town without telling me. Where did he go?”

  I didn’t answer.