by Tom Corbett
Morris spoke up. “But this goes exactly to our point. Conservatives have thrived on non- thinking slogans. Government is bad, the private sector is good. There is an ism always on the shelf to scare the crap out of people—Communism, Socialism, Humanism, or Islamic terrorism. And there is a solution, safety in more killing, particularly if the people we kill look or believe differently. And of course, lower taxes will solve everything. Cure cancer, lower taxes. Don’t like the weather, how about another tax break? Didn’t get a raise, cut taxes for your bosses. Of course, the bulk of the rewards go to those at the top. Your average working stiff gets a twenty- dollar tax break while Warren Buffet, as he has pointed out many times, pays proportionately less in income taxes than the secretary who keeps his damn scheduling calendar.”
“And,” picked up Josh once more, “the elite see their share of income and wealth soar past levels not seen since the 1929 crash when government had far fewer tools to manage the economy. Yet Americans never look outside their own bubble. If it works in Canada or Europe, it must be tainted, everyone knows those Euros are damn Socialists. Boy, I have never come across any of my fellow Canadians wanting to move South for the American health care system. Who the hell wants to pay five times as much or more for the exact same drug? I never forgot the vignette about Eisenhower when he was pushing the interstate highway act in the 1950s. When he saw the initial plans, he dismissed them out of hand. They were designed as three- lane roads with alternating passing areas. He sent the planners packing with one piece of advice. He wanted the German autobahn. Think about it, the president wanted to copy the nation that he defeated in total war just a few years earlier. And then to get the Republicans in his own party on board, he had to justify the system as necessary for national defense. What was that all about? Here was an infrastructure investment that was essential to the future development and prosperity of the country, and he could only sell it to the conservatives as a plan to get our tanks quickly across the country in case Canada decided to invade. As if my fellow Canucks would want to be stuck with such a sorry lot of assholes. What in God’s name is wrong with right-wingers? Why do they so hate anything and everything that is for the public good?”
“I could see moving up here, however.” Carla mused.
Josh continued. “What really worries me is what happens after Obama. On the one hand, some challenges are approaching the apocalypse stage. Global warming is an example. Conservatives will deny science on the matter since to address it will demand public action on a scale not seen since the last total war. They will only sanction such a concerted effort if it involves killing on a monstrous scale. They love death among those who don’t look like them. But soon we will be past the point of no return. What scares the right even more is that demographics are going against them. Given current trends, we’re not that far away from the day when white America will be the minority. Your average working-class slug sees his economic world collapsing as globalization saps a way of life. Attacking free trade will just replace new problems for the old. A guy looks at his son, who may just be able to graduate from high school, and fear that his progeny will now be the member of a minority racial group and permanently underemployed. Can you imagine the fear that inserts into his heart? No political power. No presumed superiority. No gratuitous racial entitlement. No matter how crappy their lives were, they could always feel superior to the racial or ethnic groups deemed inferior. Talk about anxiety. Mark my words, someone will come along with a message of perverse populism that will sweep up the hopes of white working-class America. This demigod will tell them that they have a right to be afraid and that they have permission to hate again without any guilt. It will be 1930s Germany all over again.”
“Hey guys,” groaned Carla, “will you listen to yourselves? Another half hour and we will be back to plotting the revolution. After all these years, not a damn thing has changed.”
“And this time, I will arrest your asses before you can do something stupid.” Peter laughed. “Okay, this crowd is guaranteed to do something stupid, but I mean really stupid.”
Josh laughed out loud. “Not to worry, one lesson I’ve learned is that I’m not going to change the world. Few have. Sure, some make temporary ripples, severe ripples like the usual suspects—Lenin, Hitler, Mao. Severe but temporary.”
Peter asked, “Okay, does anyone make your list of significant contributors to change?”
“Well,” Josh considered for a moment “Hugh Hefner, of course. Oh, and Charles ‘the Hammer’ Martel.”
“Who?” Peter asked.
“The problem with Italians is that the only historical figure they know is Columbus. Charles stopped the armies of Islam at Tours in the eighth century. We might all be worshipping Allah if he hadn’t. But I will give you one Italian, Peter. Constantine. He made Christianity work.”
“That’s the only Italian you can come up with.” Peter feigned outrage.
“Yup. Oh, and there is that Russian sub commander during the Cuban missile crisis though there was no evidence he had even been to Italy.”
“Who?” This time it was Carla.
“Check this out. They were off Cuba during the height of the standoff, in an old diesel sub armed with nuclear warheads. The US navy was depth charging them to get them to surface or leave. The sub commanders had no contact with anyone on their side. For all they knew, World War III had already started. They had to decide, should they launch their nuclear weapons? Three people on the sub had to agree—the boat captain, the ranking political officer, and the sub group commander who happened to be on that vessel. Two of them agreed to launch. One held out. Again, it was like 120 degrees down there. They were under attack, they had no idea what was going on. But this one guy said no, he was not going to destroy the world. If he hadn’t exhibited that level of courage and reason, we might all be walking around sporting an attractive orange glow.”
“Okay,” Carla intoned. “That’s it. I am going shopping. And the first guy with a wisecrack will become a great candidate for the Vienna Boys’ Choir.”
“Now, that is the Carla I remember,” Josh said affectionately.
Not far away, Rachel had spirited her daughter away from the rest of the group. They sat outside a Starbucks drinking those expensive, fancy drinks. The sun was warm and comforting now. They had peeled off their sweaters and enjoyed the warmth.
“Cate,” Rachel started hesitantly, “a question.”
“Sure, Mom. The answers are that I don’t do drugs and always use protection, though the latter is rather a moot concern.”
Rachel laughed. “Oh my god, I did always ask you about those things. But hey, it was Madison after all, Mad Town as they say. Many a young girl went the way of all flesh. Guess I didn’t have to worry about the sex thing.”
“Not entirely, there was pressure to look normal and a lot of boys willing to whip out their weapons at the slightest invite.”
“Weapon?” Rachel tried not to react. “I suppose you have a point, guys do come up with some suggestively aggressive names for their genitals.”
“Yes, they do, but to your question. The others will realize we are missing soon.”
“Yeah…wow, this is difficult, it was easier in my mind.” Cate waited. “You ended your story about Meena and you with asking her to your place. So…what happened there?”
“Ah, we had wild sex after a bit of fumbling around and never got to the food I had prepared. You never taught me how to cook so the sex seemed a better option.” She thought of extending her remark into a risqué area but backed off.
“I knew I let you hang around with your uncle too much—his so-called wit spilled over on to you, and I tried so hard to raise you right. Okay, let me start again, what I’m getting at is how exactly did you get through the fumbling? I mean…” Rachel stopped, uncertain.
“Hey, Mom, I know what you’re asking, and I’m glad you didn’t know what I was thinking of saying to you. Never mind about that. I think I lost some of the det
ails even though it was not that long ago. I was such a wreck that day, so nervous. Several times I almost backed out. I kept thinking of reasons why I should cancel. I was so nervous I even had a couple of dry heaves waiting for her. Seems funny to me now. But at the end of the day, I understood one thing. I had to go through with this.”
“How…why?” Rachel was not sure what question to ask.
“My body was telling me what I needed to understand in my heart, why I reacted as I did when she was near? It was a sense I had felt dozens or hundreds of times before but never with such compelling force. I could no longer push it away, no longer deny it. What’s the old saying, ‘know thyself ’? Wise counsel indeed. Just before she arrived, I looked in the mirror and told myself that if you don’t do this now, find out for sure, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
“And you did…”
Cate smiled. “I did. Mom, I felt what eroticism means, what a complete love means. Every day, I must pinch myself. Sometimes I recognize that little bit of Irish coursing through me, the Irish curse that uncle always talks about—you worry when you are happy because you know it probably will be taken away, somehow you don’t deserve it. But I do deserve it, and so do you.”
Rachel embraced her daughter. “Honey, I love you so much.”
“Mom,” Cate whispered as they embraced. “I love you as well, more than you know. But listen to me. Time for me to be the parent in this relationship. I need to practice for the day when I’ll be changing your diapers. Go after it. Don’t cheat yourself. Do you hear me? You’ve raised me. You’ve done all the good doctoring stuff. Now it is time for you to find some complete love.”
“What are you talking about, dear? I’ve had love.” Rachel, however, knew exactly what her daughter was talking about. Her protest sounded stupid as the words escaped her mouth.
“Mother, I have a brain. Don’t try to be cute here. I doubt you have ever experienced the love of another, and I don’t count and neither does your brother. I’m talking about full-out romantic, erotic love, the kind that causes your blood to rise and every sense in your body to explode. Be honest—you never loved Dad. Shit, I knew that as a kid. The two of you went through the motions like a terrible country song. And face it, you’re no spring chicken anymore. If not now, then when?” Cate paused to take a deep breath. “Look, I’ve watched you and Usha, the way you look at each other, the way you respond to each other’s words, presence. I know what all that means because I have been there.”
“Oh, Cate,…I don’t know.”
“Nonsense! I can still remember the moment. We had eaten some of my terrible meal, and I decided we needed more wine. I got up and went to pour two glasses. Then I sensed her behind me. I could smell her, feel her breath on my neck. I struggled not to faint. Then she said something like ‘Catherine’—she still called me by my full name then—‘please, oh please forgive me if you are offended.’ I was about to ask what she meant when she lightly kissed my neck, her lips just brushing my skin. I remember whirling around so quickly that she jumped back, thinking I was angry. Before she could say anything, I walked to her, took her face in my hands, and kissed her. It was an uncertain, tentative effort, but the flood was about to be unleashed. Softness became sensual became need, all in a matter of moments.”
“And then?”
“I’m not sure you want to know or that I want to talk about it with my mother.” Cate laughed lightly. “Let me just say that we did not even reach the bed for quite a while and that miserable meal went uneaten. That was one blessing. The other blessing was the sex. I thought my body was on fire and that my head might explode. But maybe that’s too much information.”
“Yes, you are a wise daughter, that would be way too much information.” Rachel laughed at this point but was thinking hard on her daughter’s words. “Let’s go back and find the others.”
“One last thing, Mom. You cannot run away from what is in your own heart. Deny your own feelings and I’ll put you over my knee. Face up to it, dear Mother, you are getting a bit long in the tooth. I am sure I can take you on now.”
“You probably could.” Rachel smiled. “But remember that I can always change my will.”
Cate let out a belly-laugh.
Later in the afternoon, Josh and his group found the rest after Carla stopped at a few shops and made several purchases.
“Where were you guys?” Connie asked.
Josh responded, “We would have found you sooner, but Carla has decided to boost the Canadian economy all by herself.”
“Careful,” Carla growled at him.
“And we Canadians are most grateful.” Josh smiled. “Besides, I’m most interested in keeping my testicles attached to my body.”
“What?” Connie asked.
“Private joke, Connie. Are we ready to head back?”
“We could, but Rachel and Usha have disappeared.” It was Cate, and Josh noticed an enigmatic look on her face as if she were privy to a private confidence.
Josh grabbed his phone to call his sister to let her and Usha know they were thinking of heading back. Cate saw him. “Are you calling Mom?” She already knew the answer and shook her head back and forth while giving him the look.
He caught himself immediately. Think, you idiot, he said to himself. Just give them a little more time. Instead, he looked around at the group as they shared small talk about the day. It was an eclectic composition of past and present. Yet they were melding together. More to Josh’s amazement, he reflected on the conversation with Peter, Morris, and Carla. It suddenly struck him that in some important respects, little had changed. They were the same as they had been forty-plus years earlier. They had slipped seamlessly into a substantive discussion of deep issues that meant so much to them. The back-and-forth, the mutual respect, the intellectual spark, all were the same. Yes, the early connections and discoveries are the most compelling. He could engage in similar conversations with contemporary colleagues but it was not the same. There was a qualitative difference, the character of which eluded him.
Then the analogy struck him. How obvious. It had been the same with Eleni. He had fantasized about reconnecting with her for years after the letters stopped and he lost track. But he had always been reluctant. His reservations were several. She would resent him. Or she would barely recall who he was. And most of all, she would not be the same. He would be disappointed in what he found. He always joked internally about finding that fat toothless harpy with a half-dozen kids, most of whom belong in some public institution of one kind or another. Worse, he would find her outwardly unchanged but totally uninteresting. He would now find a woman who was pedestrian and ordinary and wonder what in god’s name had attracted him in the first instance. But no, the magic had never left, the passion was undiminished almost from the first words. He did not have to be with her, touch her. It was Leni, the same woman who once captured him totally and did so again. Some connections are eternal.
It had been similar with Morris and Carla. He had been in contact with Peter from time to time over the years. He knew when they were released from prison and could have followed up with Peter on their doings and their whereabouts. Contact had always been possible. But he never did. He was afraid and for similar reasons. They would hate him, or he would find them insipid and disappointing, or they would reject him. But none of that was true. He was changing his mind about Virginia Woolf. Perhaps she was wrong, and you can go home again.
Not far away, in a reclusive area where few would interfere, the two missing persons sat on a bench. Rachel was talking. “Usha, I want to share something with you. My daughter told me more about her first moments with Meena, how scared she was, how uncertain. It really is rather amusing…The daughter suddenly becomes the parent. You look upon her as a child long after she is grown. Then one day, you see the person you created. It can be amazing.”
“That’s not what you wanted to tell me, is it, about Cate being so wonderful, which is obvious to all of us.”
“No,” Rachel admitted. “It isn’t. Of course, it isn’t.” Usha waited patiently. “She shared with me what it felt like the first time Meena touched her, kissed her. It revealed a new world to her, physically and emotionally. My god, she was so like me in that way. We’re way too Irish. We stuff feelings in and then hide from them. I retreated into medicine while Cate ran around the world, never slowing enough to give human contact a chance to take root. She knew who she was for a long time. I guessed and should have asked. Damn it, I failed her once again. I should have paid more attention, been a goddamn mother for a change.”
“Rachel, stop it.” Usha took her hand. “Just stop it.”
“You’re right. I guess, in the end, it does not matter how you get there or how long it takes. The only thing that matters is finishing the journey.”
Rachel took a deep breath. Then, slowly, she leaned over and kissed Usha on the lips. It was soft at first before subtle movements explored different possibilities and settled upon an emotional connection that spoke of meaning and possibility. Eventually, Rachel drew back as a tear coursed down her cheek. She sighed deeply. “Usha, what’s happening between us?”
“I think we are discovering love. I thought I had it once.”
“With my brother?”
“Heavens no. I love Josh, but as they say, not in that way. It was Rose, the woman I left him for. But I now know that there was nothing there. That proved to be little more than lust. This, this thing that has possessed me over the last couple of days is something beyond my understanding. I am very articulate, the best legal education in Britain. But I’m mute now. There is no sense to it.”