by Tom Corbett
“Just racism, then,” Rachel murmured in a soft whisper.
“A deep, cultural divide of many layers.” Josh intoned. “This goes back to John C. Calhoun and the early 1800s. The South had more millionaires than the North, and great income inequality. The elite even then knew they had to control what was called democracy to maintain power, in effect prevent democracy from maturing. With poll taxes and literacy tests, they could ensure that only propertied whites would have power up through the 1960s. Harry Bird, and his dynasty, ran Virginia just before World War II with less than 20 percent voting in elections. Rule by oligarchy. In the 1960s, that was under attack, with the voting rights act and all. But we focused on the war while they continued to focus on keeping democracy from becoming a reality. They had to keep the masses impotent and they knew how to do it.”
“Sure, easy to see now.” Mo said.
“Think about this. Like I said at the ceremony, the top 1 percent of the pie has seen their share go from less than 10 percent to almost one-quarter in recent decades. That constitutes a tectonic change. The shift started when Reagan took power, but the groundwork was being laid after the big war, in the late 1940s. The right-wing elite saw collectivism everywhere, from the new Deal in America to the energized Labor Party in England, to the rampaging Russian Bear across eastern Europe. The met in Switzerland to alter the trajectory of history, to start a transformational process to ensure that free markets operated absent any government oversight. Common people were the enemy. F.A. Hayek, Ludwig Von Mises of the Austrian School, and Frank Knight of the University of Chicago were elected as the titular heads of an invitation-only group that had a vision. They would stamp out and eradicate anything that smelled of the public good in the name of individual freedom and the protection of private property and wealth. Knight subsequently mentored James Buchanan whom I mentioned earlier, then an economics student at Chicago. He founded the Virginia School of Political Economy, largely in response to so-called federal over reach in desegregating public schools. Back then, it was the William Volker fund, headed by Harold Luhnow, that supplied the money. Now it is the Koch brothers and the Mercers and the Adelsons and so many more. They have stayed the course decade after decade to cut away at democratic processes and convince folk that an economic elite will govern in their best interests. How sad is that? Today, we have those cute facts like the richest 100 families have as much wealth as the bottom half of the world’s population or that .00025 percent of Americans have as much as the 150 million poorest in their land. And yet, it still isn’t enough. The Koch brothers continue to spend enormous amounts of their treasury to further tilt the rules in their favor. When is enough, enough? Is there no limit to greed, to outright avarice? They won. We lost. How about a truce? But no! You would think that such smart guys would figure out that there is a limit to the share of resources that they can command. What will happen when the overwhelming masses cannot buy the things they produce, when their desperation becomes overwhelming? When that happens, the system will collapse in an apocalypse. If we were smart enough, that is what we should have seen coming. That is what we should have dealt with. But that would have been way too difficult for us to take on, way too difficult. The war was simple, insane, and right in front of us.”
Josh looked around the room. He saw Morris and Carla sitting together, Cate and Meena. Then he noticed Rachel and Usha together. For the first time, it struck him that this was not the first time he had seen them paired off. Was that just in his imagination? He thought not, recalling Usha’s question. Connie was next to him. She was looking at him intently. Only Peter sat off by himself. But that was okay. He had always been the sensible one, with the loving wife, three kids, and seven grandchildren. Josh realized he had fallen into a monologue. “I probably should apologize for the lecture.”
Several protested that there was no need for that.
“That’s okay, this material will not be on the final.” He smiled.
“Good,” said Peter with a chuckle. “I wasn’t listening.”
Josh went on. “Right or wrong, for good or bad, there’s something about those days that are unforgettable. Every insight seemed fresh and unassailable. Every emotion was hardened by a sharp intensity. All things and events since those days seem pale by comparison. It was our war, our crucible in which we were tested. I guess I needed to say that. Otherwise, what I want to say won’t make sense.” He paused before looking at Morris and Carla. “I love you, guys. You know, we picked the wrong target, used the wrong tactics, and screwed up our lives. Still, in the end, I would never give up those memories. We had something precious.”
“What, for god’s sake?” Mo looked puzzled.
“We cared. We gave a damn. I should’ve stayed, maybe tried to talk us on to a different path. I should have had the balls to stick with it.” He paused to realize he didn’t quite know what to say next. “You can just guess how much guilt I’ve carried with me all these decades.”
Those watching Josh could see the tear find its way down his cheek. He didn’t bother to brush it away.
Carla got up and walked over to embrace him. Morris was right behind her. Now, there was more than one person brushing away a tear. “Oh,” Josh added, “you aren’t bad either, Peter, for the slowest running back in eastern Massachusetts.”
Peter joined them. “I really should have let Olson throw your sorry ass in the pokey. What was I thinking?”
“Listen, everyone. Tomorrow, road trip to Whistler. It is a must-see for the out-of-towners. Time for some laughs.” A cheer went up.
Later, Josh drove Peter, Morris, and Carla back to their hotel where he spent some time catching up with what was going on in their lives. When he returned to his place, it was mostly dark though he could tell that a light was still on in Rachel’s room. Probably catching up on e-mails, he thought. As he pulled into his driveway, he noticed Connie’s car. She emerged as he exited his vehicle.
“Can’t find your way home?” he queried her lightly.
“Not sure I could fall asleep anyways.”
“And you thought you would harass me a bit.” He tried keeping it light.
“My favorite pastime, if you remember. Besides, it just struck me that you might need some, what shall we say, comfort tonight and it might be a little late to get one of your professionals. Besides, my prices are better.”
“Oh no.” He laughed. “You may not demand cash, but there is always a price. That’s the one lesson about women emblazoned firmly in my soul.”
“True enough,” she responded. “the question is, are you willing to pay my price?”
He paused, as if thinking deeply. “I might. Need to see what you’ve got to offer first.”
“You’ve seen it buster. Best offer an aging lothario like yourself will get these days.”
Later, they slipped into his bed. He merely held her, her head nestled onto his chest and their legs intertwined. Neither moved in a way that would signal that sex was imminent. It was more a moment of intimacy, not passion.
“I miss this,” he said.
“Me too. Then again, I don’t go around seeking the services of male professionals. I’m sure gigolo services are of higher quality, but you will do in a pinch.”
“Why did you dump me, by the way?” he asked.
“You were too detached. Perhaps I let my female protective instincts overcome my lapse of judgment. A temporary yielding to lustful fantasies unfortunately can short-circuit the brains of the best women.”
“Ow, then you didn’t stand a chance in the face of my Adonis-like body.”
“Shows what you know,” Connie whispered. “The truth is that I read some of your e-mails to this girl Eleni one day. I should not have, I am sorry, very bad of me. In any case, I realized how much you loved her. That was okay, but I also realized how little you would ever love me.”
He considered several responses before settling on a question. “Why tonight, then?” He realized that was not what he wanted to sa
y.
She snuggled even closer to him, kissing his neck and face. “With all my education and experience, I remain a dumb shit. Ultimately, there is no accounting for taste.”
“Why did you let me get in your bed?” she asked.
“As you say, there is no accounting for taste.” He smiled.
“I watched you over the past few days. I guess I remember why I…was drawn to you. But today, you looked different. How long have we known each other? No, don’t answer, it reminds me that I’m on the verge of becoming a fossil, just like you. But in all that time, I never saw the facial intensity that was there today.”
“Like what? Frankly, I thought I revealed little.”
“But inside?” she pursued.
“Inside, I died several times. Even I found it hard to come up with an occasional quip. With time, pain and guilt subside but never quite ends. It never goes away, but the sharpness mutes into a dull throb until it is pushed into your face. I could hardly look at Morris and Carla without falling on my knees…begging for forgiveness.”
“But they—” Connie started to protest.
“I know, I know, that made it worse. They didn’t betray a trace of disappointment, never mind hate. I could not believe it. How could they be so good? How could they so easily forgive?”
“Josh, listen to me.” She raised herself up on her elbow to look at him. “I am a scientist, not an expert in the human mind. But I have learned one thing that I sense you know all too well. Don’t judge others by what is in your heart and head. Don’t kick your psyche senseless because you believe they must secretly despise you. I looked at them hard. The only thing that I saw was anxiety.”
“Anxiety?”
“Yes, that you would reject them. My guess is that they saw themselves at fault. My guess is that they felt they somehow dragged you into something you did not really want to do. And my best instinct tells me that you didn’t want to do some of those things. Oh yes, your Irish blood was up, I’ve no doubt about that, but I don’t think you would have gone there just with your anger.”
“What do you think?”
“About?” She was not quite sure where he was going.
“What do you think about what I did?” Josh needed to know.
She leaned back into his chest and arms, tightened her legs around him. “It makes me like you even better, you are even more of a bad boy in my head.”
“Hah.” Josh chuckled. “I never understood that bad boy thing. I’m so lucky it comes easily to me.”
“So, Mr. Bad Boy, are you going to make love to me? I am practically jumping your bones here.”
Josh stroked her hair with affection. “Not tonight, but I’m so glad you’re here. Problem is, you’re a groaner.”
“What?” Connie asked with genuine confusion.
“You shout out when you orgasm, you might upset the houseguests.” She took her free arm and punched him in the stomach. “Damn, you have been talking to Rachel, that’s her favorite trick.”
“Rain check, then?” she asked.
“Rain check for sure,” Josh promised. “Just hold me tonight, if that is enough. Thing is, my head, the one on top of my neck is too full of stuff, preventing my other head, located between my knees to function as it should.”
“I get it, you men are just so emotionally complicated.” she murmured with a small laugh as they sank into sleep without making love.
CHAPTER 12
DAY 6 MORNING
Rachel could not sleep. At one point, she heard voices. One sounded like Connie, but that was probably her imagination. It must have been the TV in Josh’s room or maybe Cate and Meena finally were enjoying noisy sex. Funny, she squirmed at that thought, which was silly. After all, intimacy was natural for those in love.
Mostly, her thoughts returned to her brother. All afternoon and evening, she had examined his face looking for clues into his deeper condition. She realized at some point that their separation had weakened her confidence in her ability to plumb his depths. She could yet see him as a child. So much time had passed since then, however. Now, at this point in his life, she was not sure about the idiosyncratic tells that might reveal his inner thoughts and feelings. It is possible to pick these tells up easy enough, but you need exposure to the target, and she had spent so little time with him since they were teens. On the surface, he revealed very little aside from his occasional soliloquies which reflected his political views and not his emotional character. She wanted more than public words that might, after all, be staged to obscure deeper feelings. That, however, would have to wait until they were alone.
She turned over, trying to get her mind to settle down. She sometimes could work on her breathing, slowing the pace and trying to sense various parts of her body relaxing. She did this on nights before heavy surgery schedules, when REM sleep was particularly desired. For some moments, it seemed to be working. Then suddenly, the image of Usha flashed through her mind. What’s this all about, she wondered. She liked Usha from the first introduction. But now they were talking more, particularly around the situation of her daughter and the young woman she had chosen as a life partner. She was so grateful that Usha was willing to bring her considerable legal knowledge. Though she knew Canadian law best, Rachel assumed that Usha could navigate computerized law files for the UK and the US. Besides, she had many contacts who could fill in the blanks.
But gratitude for her help is not what was keeping her awake now. It was her smell, the periodic touch of her hand on Rachel’s arm, the look that lingered longer than it should. Once, when they were attending to a computer screen together, Usha brushed up against her, her breast resting against her back. She expected the woman to pull away slightly, but Usha hadn’t. Rachel was glad; a warm sensation suffused through her body. Rachel also decided not to pull away.
She jumped out of bed, confused. What was she thinking, feeling? She had assumed control over her body years ago. She was irritated when she could sense men beginning to circle about her, seeing an attractive single professional woman who was affluent and unattached. She was a catch or, at the least, a wonderful target for a dalliance. But she would shut them off; her shields were unmistakable. Rachel thought her capacity to want another person was gone. She had convinced herself that she was self-contained, that her independence was to be valued and protected. Perhaps she was more like Josh than she realized.
She needed a distraction. She looked around the room for the place where she had stashed Josh’s file that she had stored earlier in the morning. Every time she considered peering into his private life, she felt more than a twinge of reluctance. Then again, he had kept her out of his life for four decades. The hell with him. Besides, hadn’t he given the file to her? He must be ready to let her in. But what further secrets lie inside the magic kingdom? Some of what she had learned has been less than pretty. Then an image of Usha intruded again. She wasn’t ready to confront that intriguing uncertainty, so she plowed ahead into her brother’s past.
She picked up the latest material, the bread crumbs as he put it, that he had scattered in front of her. The first thing she noticed was that this was not the distant past, but rather recent. These were copies of e-mails from the past few years. They were all with Eleni. How strange. That was an ancient, almost mythical relationship. These must be from the period after they had reconnected somehow, through cyberspace he said? Still, he had never mentioned Eleni in her recent memory, not once. No one else in his orbit seemed to know about her. She was certain that Cate knew nothing of her. What secrets lie in his life, in this portion of his world? What was going on in her brother’s twisted head? Perhaps a clue or two was in these exchanges somewhere.
She picked up some of the pages and rifled through them, looking mostly at the dates. No order, she cursed her brother’s lack of discipline. Typical male, one reason she preferred to work with female colleagues, especially in her research and writing. Males wanted to use her as a highly talented administrative assistant mostly because
they were easily distracted and lacked all discipline. Their hubris prevented them from acknowledging the intellectual contributions from female associates. How sad of them. Could they not see that medicine was the next profession to be dominated by women? If you looked at medical school rosters, it already was. Hah, she mused to herself. The male gender quickly was becoming irrelevant. She wondered if they might become obsolete, with a few being preserved as a source of sperm until procreation can be turned over to machines when the singularity was realized. Then she shook her head clear. She grabbed a couple of letters with earlier dates and started reading.
To Leni:
I thought I might respond to your comment about being perplexed by our time together, how the “we” was such a mystery, and looking for clarity. I have thought on these questions from time to time over the years. I doubt I have any insights, but I thought I would start an answer. Bear with me, this may be a bit “stream of consciousness” style.