“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Yes”
“Are you attracted to me?”
She pauses.
“Yes.”
Newman feels his heart beating again.
“I am attracted to you, but I hardly know you. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? “
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your favorite book.”
“I like the book by a professor where he explains the importance of language in thinking.”
That sounds interesting.
“Yes, he explains that people are limited in their thinking by their language. For example, what if there was a language that you couldn't say the word ‘love’ in. How would you even start to define love and theorise about it and romanticise? You wouldn't be able to make the sentence "love at first sight". And if you can't say the phrase, the concept doesn't exist. For example, we have one word for 'snow', but in the Eskimo language they have closer to the region of 30 words for snow - white snow, fluffy snow, melting snow and more. They also have about fifteen words for friend. One of them meaning, "I like you, but I wouldn’t go seal clubbing with you."
Amber bursts out laughing.
“There is a country in the Far East where they can't say the words: “If only". Think about that. I may be sitting here thinking I want to hold her hand, 'if only I could get closer to her", but the only way that I would be able to say that would be either ‘I want to hold her hand, and I am not sitting next to her, so I will have to either move next to her or stay where I am.’"
Amber smiles: “I don't hold men's hands on the first date.”
Newman is a little embarrassed. “I am not trying to hold your hand; I am trying to illustrate a point.”
Amber still smiling says:” And your point is?”
“That man is limited in thought by his language.”
“And the significance of that?”
“All people of different languages think differently, they are limited by different paradigms.”
She asks, “And do you think that certain languages lend themselves to more superior thinking skills in the people that think in them?”
“I am not sure; I suppose it depends on how superiority is judged. For example, if a person was judged superior because they could navigate themselves through snow, then I suppose the Eskimos would be superior thinkers. On the other hand, if a person's superiority was judged on their ability to conceptualise and communicate about dreams and the future, then the people who don't have the words 'if only' in their vocabulary would be judged inferior.”
“That is an interesting concept, but it doesn't explain the fact that there may be people that may not have the word 'love' in their language but still have a very deep-seated capacity to love. Love has nothing to do with an ability to think.”
“Then why did you give me a whole psychological definition of love? You wouldn't have been able to do that if you couldn't even say the word 'love'.”
“Maybe I wouldn't have been able to explain or even come to the definition of love, because of my language limitations, but I would still have the capacity to love.”
They are interrupted by a man wearing a red sweater: “Excuse me I am looking for a lady called Amber. Do you perhaps know her?””
Amber replies, "No, sorry.”
The man walks off and they both chuckle.
Newman asks her: “Can I get you another coffee?”
“No, I have to go now, I am walking and it is getting late.”
“I really enjoyed our conversation tonight. Can I walk you home?”
“Ok, thank you.”
They walk through the people and the beating music and the door out into the cold. They walk through the Autumn streets of Brooklyn, and they chat and laugh at how you can just about go around in circles the whole night if you start philosophizing about love. They arrive shortly at her house and he walks her to the door.
Amber looks him in the eyes. “Thank you for a lovely evening, I really enjoyed talking to you.”
Amber kisses him.
“Can I come in? We can have some coffee and carry on our chat?”
“No, I don't know you well enough. Why don't you come past tomorrow and we can take a walk through the park, maybe we can feed the ducks or something?”
“Ok, I will see you tomorrow then.”
He watches her go inside safely and he starts walking off. He turns the corner and starts heading home. His heart is beating again. He really likes Amber. He passes a drunken tramp on the side of the road.
“Can you spare a coin for me?”
Newman walks a little faster. He gets home opens the door and goes inside. He switches on the light and gets himself a beer from the fridge and sits down.
Now that is a classy lady, intelligent, pretty and ladylike. If only I knew what made her tick. What was she trying to say? Why wouldn't she let me in? I enjoy chatting to her and I like it when she laughs at my jokes.
When I am with her I don't feel lonely, I feel special. I really like her. And if I play my cards right I can have her.
But how do I win her heart? She seems to have a predefined definition of love in her mind. She believes that the first thing that comes into play is the attraction, then the love script needs to be matched, then the man needs to portray his love through extreme acts of love and hardship.
She has had relationships before, that didn't work out. She must have been attracted to them, but they never passed the next test. The test of sustainability. The test that they could only prove through an extreme act of selflessness.
I don't want to fail her test.
We agreed that the most extreme action that can be done is to either kill one's self or kill someone else. Maybe in the time of the conquerors it was acceptable to go and kill people as a sign of love, but we are living in the 21st century. She would be really happy, and her love script would be fulfilled if I killed for her. It would prove to her that I am prepared to do anything for. Why are times different now from the times of the conquerors? It was still taking human life. It was barbaric, but still justified in its time. Why was it justified? Because they were doing it for love.
I don't want to be lonely again.
Newman gets up and walks to the kitchen, and gets a butcher knife. He puts it into a bag and walks out. He is going to her house, but he must make a little stop first.
He finds his way back to the drunken tramp.
“I have one question for you?” Newman takes out the knife: “What is true love?”
The tramp looks at him in fear.
“Answer the question or else I will kill you.”
The tramp starts to stutter emotionally. “I had a wife for 43 years and every day when I got home we used to lie in front of the fireplace and make love. She used to massage my feet after a hard day’s work, and I helped her with everything around the house. We shared everything - every little moment. We used to laugh together and cry together. When we were together, there was no other place that we would rather be. We completed each other.
“You see, the key to our love was that I respected her and she adored me. She adored every word that I said. We understood each other. After 43 years, we were just as in love as the day we met, and when she died I started drinking and I couldn't stop. Today I have nothing, except my whisky and my memories. I live each moment treasuring the memories of her. It's simple, if I can't have the simple pleasure of being with her and cherishing her then I can't live, and that is what true love is.”
The tramp pauses.
Newman stabs the man brutally: “You have a sick definition of love.”
A little later Newman arrives at Amber's house and rings the doorbell. Amber opens the door and is in her pyjamas. She is a little nervous as she looks out to see that Newman is back.
“I am back - and I have something for you - a declaration of my love.”
He reaches into his bag and pulls out the head of
the tramp and throws it onto the floor. It rolls to her feet. She collapses onto her knees and starts sobbing hysterically:
“That has got to be...”
She carries on sobbing and shaking.
“That has got to be the single most…romantic thing that anyone has ever done for me!”
Chapter seven
Newman is in darkness. “Ah, true love,” mocks the clown. “How touching.”
“How do I get back to her? Please …”
“You say you loved her then, and maybe you did. But it’s what happens after the honeymoon is over that really counts. Isn’t it Nu-nu? How was life with her? Was she happy? Did you make her happy? Did you neglect her?”
Newman is a little shaken up now. He shouts, “Am I dead?”
The clown takes out a gong and clashes it, creating a resounding clang.
“I thought you would never ask. But, Nu-nu, I want to ask you, would it actually make a difference whether you were dead if Amber was here with you?”
“You said that if I loved her I could get back to her.”
“Ah, I did. Let’s see what happened after you met.”
He snaps his fingers and everything goes dark.
Chapter eight
Newman wakes. He shakes dreams from his eyes, to see her still there. Amber slowly opens her eyes, gathers focus, and smiles at him. Her gentle gaze is hypnotic, and as she sits up her voluptuous breasts are momentarily exposed.
There is nothing more attractive than a woman that exudes confidence. Some of the most beautiful women that I have ever known have been ashamed of their naked bodies. And because of that hesitation, I have wondered, what they are hiding? Some hidden flaw - that will soon be apparent - that will soon revolt me. And then some of the most modest women I have known have had such an air of confidence, strutting around naked - an inner beauty emitting. What I love about Amber is that not only is she so naturally beautiful, but she is confident as well. She has no blemishes to hide and she knows it.
The music from the clock radio plays on.
“Today is going to be a fantastic day”, he says as he hops out of bed, t-shirt on and bottom bare.
His butt is perfect. Round where it is supposed to be round, and firm where it is supposed to be firm.
He makes his way to the mirror, Amber staring at his behind with intense concentration. She loves watching his bare bum as he walks, and he knows it.
Newman gazes deeply at himself in the mirror. “Today I am taking you somewhere special”, he says.
Amber is a little curious, but she knows that he likes to surprise her, and she likes the surprises. Newman believes in surprising a woman. He says surprises are like laughter to the soul. Whether it is a new bottle of perfume on her dressing table when she walks in, or a bunch of freshly picked flowers, he always has a trick up his sleeve.
She discovered very early on that Newman is prepared to work on their relationship, and she likes that. Too many men take a woman as their own and then stop all effort to impress her. Thank God, he is not like that.
Over a strong cup of coffee, they get dressed and start heading for the front door. “Where are we going?” she finally asks.
Today I take you where I have taken no woman,” he answers, capturing her attention immediately.
He has dated lots of women, where is he taking me? She loves it when they do something for the first time together, because she knows that no one else has done it with him before, and she knows those moments are rare.
They head outside hand-in-hand, and with Newman in the lead they bustle their way to the train station, and board a train of his choosing.
The suburbs start whisking past the window and Amber finds that they are headed on a route she has not been before. There are more and more trees passing by now, and rays of light are flashing through. She once read that if you are exposed to a certain sequence of flashes of light you can have an epileptic fit, so she closes her eyes anxiously and grasps his hand tighter.
They are heading out of town.
She remembers when she was a child. She used to travel on trains with her Dad from time to time. That was before he was killed. He was murdered in a robbery at a bank.
Two robbers entered with guns and pointed them at the cashier - demanding cash. Her father tried to protect his daughter and stepped forward. He was slain in a hail of bullets, and it took him several minutes to die. Needless to say, that day changed Amber’s life forever.
At the tender age of six she used to wait for her Daddy to come home every night and tuck her in bed as he always did. When he didn’t, she just wanted someone to tell her that he didn’t want to leave her - that he had no choice - but no one ever did.
Amber’s mother never recovered. She went into a state of panic. Each new day she lived waiting for the next tragedy to befall her - this time she would be ready she told herself. And then 10 years later it did, when she was diagnosed with advanced lymphoma. She was dead within three months.
After the loss of her parents Amber never waited for tragedy to strike anymore. It had. She grieved the loss of her mother for two years, and then she met Newman. He was her first serious boyfriend, but he meant a lot more than that. Not only was he an end to her grief, but he was the first serious male figure in her life since her father, and she swore never to lose him.
After an hour’s travel the train comes to a stop. Amber looks around and for as far as she can see there is forest. They are at the last stop on the route. “Follow me,” he says as he starts heading for the trees. Maybe she followed because she was young and stupid, or maybe she followed because she was in love, but that September morning she followed, and her life would never be the same.
All that could be heard for about ten minutes as they followed a path into the thick forest were twigs breaking and dry leaves cracking below. Suddenly Newman stops and turns his head. He smiles and looks at her. “We are nearly there,” he says, looking at her as if seeking some sort of approval.
“Where are we?” All that she can see is trees and grass. There are singing birds. “Just a little further,” he says. They come to a clearing. They near the edge of a cliff, and as she looks closer she can see a steep drop to the bottom - a few hundred feet. In the distance she can see the horizon stretching before her in all directions. She pauses. The view is magnificent.
“We are here my love”, he says. The wind stirs. She looks down into the crevice and feels a little dizzy. He takes her hand and smiles shyly. “This is the place I will take only you.” Her dizziness passes. She looks up. She knows that she must seem impressed, not to disappoint him, but she is unsure of the relevance of where she is. She smiles.
“Let me explain,” he says.
“We have been together for some time now. We have laughed together, we have talked, and we have talked some more. The more we have come to know each other the more I want to spend time with you. Our conversations have been the fuel of our conviction, and every waking moment I yearn to be with you.”
He slowly gets down on one knee still holding her hand.
“You see,” he continues, “before I met you my life flashed before me with the thunderous velocity that loud music and bright lights bring. From one party to the next I reveled. It was one kick, one high, too many. And I was headed for disaster. I pushed the limits and at times crossed them. I was in search of a greater high. Life must be enjoyed is what I told myself as I gathered up each new hedonistic rush.”
He looks up at her. “And then I met you, and everything changed. I realized that true happiness does not come from a syringe or a bottleneck pipe, but that there is something much more valuable. It is the love that I have found for you, and it lasts far longer than anything else I have tried. You are the ultimate rush - the ultimate high.
Unraveling Newman Blake Page 3