Antithesis

by Allison Crews

  There was a bit of strained silence. I waited a moment, then broke it with another loaded question.

  “What happened?” I asked. There was so much in that question, and I thought I’d let it sit and see how he would answer.

  “I will answer that question, but now, its time to eat,” he said.

  He let me out of his truck and led me into Giardinia’s. The place was lovely. It was in the Alluvian Hotel, in Greenwood, the heart of the Mississippi Delta. The Delta is considered an alluvial plain, which is flat land that was created by huge amounts of mineral-rich soil deposited for hundreds of years by the mighty Mississippi River. Although not from this part of Mississippi, I was drawn magically to it and its lore, the game, and the people.

  “Case, reservations for two, please,” he said.

  I felt a tingle of pleasure having him take charge – taking care of me. I really liked that.

  “Right this way, sir,” the hostess said, visibly reacting to his presence.

  She should see him on a horse. I smiled to myself and envied her for being able to admire him on the surface. I, on the other hand, had to go and plunge these depths. Who knows what I would find – and did I even want to know?

  As we walked to the table, I considered how much fun it would be to throw it all away and forget who I was, whose I was, and just get wrapped all up in his magnificence. But way too much was at stake, and I knew I had to be careful. I was no longer a carefree fifteen year old looking for a prom date and neither was he. I did want to marry someday and it was important who that person was through and through – and what kind of person I was to him.

  Our table was well placed for conversation, and I was glad to be in this quiet public place with him. My questions were so intimate – and so important – and the setting was perfect.

  “So...” I said when we were seated, “tell me what to order.”

  “Do you want me to order for you, or would you like to choose yourself?” he asked.

  “You pick,” I said. “See if you can order something that I’ll like.” He was so easy to be with – even something as simple as ordering at a restaurant was a game with him.

  “Would you like Coke or water?” he asked.

  “Actually, sweet tea,” I said. “You take it from there.”

  He ordered two appetizers, unshucked hot tamales, and Mississippi Delta catfish cakes to sample the regional selection. For entrées, he selected the fresh catch of the day for me topped with crabmeat, and for him, a rib eye with sautéed mushrooms. Once the menus were removed, he leaned back against his chair and sighed.

  “So, ‘what happened?’ you asked,” he said.

  He could take that question two ways, and I wondered which he would want to discuss over dinner. He seemed to be mulling his options, for he took a long time to answer. He leaned away from the table and looked at the ceiling weighing his thoughts. Then he moved back in and met my gaze. I did what I could to encourage him with my eyes.

  “When my father killed my mother,” he began, obviously having difficulty with this conversation, but going on in spite of himself, “I was very angry with God. So angry, that I blamed Him for not saving her and for abandoning me.”

  The server refilled our water, and he watched him while organizing his thoughts. He looked away for a minute, then back at me. “She was so good, she was my world, and she was gone.” He paused again to let that thought settle.

  “I was also angry that I was too weak to do anything to my father for killing her. I blamed God for that, too. And, I blamed God for making me my father’s son. I was terrified that I would be just like him. And part of me still is worried about that. In fact, a large part of me is very worried about that.” He took another sip of water, then continued.

  “I had so much anger and so many murderous thoughts in my mind. They were all directed towards him, but they were there. That made me think I was like him and made me even angrier at God.”

  I let him pause and said nothing.

  “So, the last place I wanted to go was church,” he said. “Especially our church, the church my mother and I went to so often.”

  “Do you still feel that way?” I asked.

  “About church, no,” he said. His eyes were far away as he continued. “My uncle changed that. In fact, I am very very grateful that I had him. I’m no longer angry at God. My uncle reminded me what my mother taught – to make decisions that would lead me to be someone she would have been proud for me to be – for her sake.” He paused again, collecting his thoughts, obviously uncomfortable with this topic but pressing on.

  “He made it his mission to show me the world and remind me that my life wasn’t all about me. And that my past is just that…past,” he said.

  “He sounds like an amazing man,” I said. “I would like to meet him someday.”

  “He is – he saved my life,” he said. “He made sure I saw that life was about the choices I make in spite of my past or my circumstances. It would be what I made of it. I had no parents to build hopes on, just me. And it would be up to me to make a way for myself. He taught me to focus on what I could give back to the world – out of gratitude for what I’d been given, not just obligation. Of course I always planned to go to college to figure out a way to earn a living, but that was not his focus.” He looked at me again, considered for a moment, then continued when I encouraged him with my eyes. He twisted in his chair a little, and looked away. Then he looked back at me, and continued.

  “Elliott, my uncle encouraged me to find my own way and to think beyond just how to earn a paycheck – think bigger than that – about working to fill my soul, not just my day to day whims…He taught me to open my eyes and get busy helping those who need help, and once I’ve developed some kind of relationship with them, to tell them about what God does for those who love Him,” he said. “And I’d have peace – could put the past behind me – and be comforted in these choices.”

  He paused again and smiled to himself. He looked at me, started to say something, then looked back at the table.

  “What?” I asked, trying to get him to continue.

  “This is not exactly a comfortable topic for a first date,” he smiled awkwardly and looked down. “God must have quite a sense of humor...setting me up like this. I’m not sure why I’m saying all of this to you.”

  My heart melted. He was struggling to tell me things I already knew but was not yet acting on to his degree – and I was astounded that he was raised the same way I was – in spite of his…history. And, that he had been spending the past year checking up on…me. Unsettling. He’s had quite a head start...who’s he been talking to? William? It is all making sense now.

  “Because I’m asking,” I said. “And, I want to know. I understand what you’re talking about, Griffen. We’re speaking the same language here, for once.” I grinned at him and he visibly relaxed. I decided to move the subject away from this, slightly.

  “Your uncle is very wise. That’s the same thing my parents have always told me about choosing a worthy purpose,” I said. “So, besides foxhunting, Jet, and Panzer, what else is it that you love?”

  “When I traveled with him, I saw kids – kids that had nothing – they did not have anyone like my uncle to save them – they had no parents – no hope. I was raised in the church, but it took my uncle, and my…situation…my gratitude…to bring it to life for me,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Those trips to South America for my friend. I met him on a duck hunting trip with my uncle in Argentina. He told me what he was doing for orphans in Buenos Aires and how we could help him. I knew then that that was something I wanted to do to help, so I did. My uncle encouraged me to work with him and turned me loose. He said I had to raise all the money myself – including the airfare, but it was a challenge I was ready to try. So many of those kids had nothing and didn’t have the chance that my uncle gave me. I’d never seen that kind of poverty in our country. And I’ve been spending a
month there over Christmas with my friend ever since,” he said. He stopped for a minute and took a sip of his water, then continued.

  “I help him raise money and get things done here. He and his wife live there all the time now. I can’t tell you how great it makes me feel to give those kids some hope for day to day things – and eternal things,” he said, his face now animated – lines gone. He was radiant when he talked about the kids.

  Unexpected. And unsettling. I didn’t know what to say. That was the longest speech he had ever made except the one in the meadow to me after he surprised me with his kiss.

  “So, you decided you were complete without female complications, then?” I asked, smiling my most teasing, evocative, smile.

  He got that – but only for a moment. Then his face darkened.

  “Elliott, at fifteen, I saw my father and mother argue so violently that it ended up in her death…and it was his fault. He killed her with his own hands…he took her life right in front of me…I watched the whole thing…and did nothing to stop him. I know now that trying to stop him would have only gotten me killed, too, but it took me a long time to realize that and get over the shame of not doing anything to prevent it,” he said sitting back, all radiance gone from his expression. He now looked dark again and very dangerous.

  The words jolted me back to my conundrum – his perception of how a family worked, how men and women related, was the antithesis of mine. I knew he knew I was shocked. He had to know. But there were still so many questions. Why was he so guarded with me – why had he avoided me? I sat very still and waited.

  “I told you I was mad at God. We’ll, I got through that. But, I’ve never wanted to live like my parents – in a place where there was always fighting and arguing. So, making choices that led to that life has never appealed to me. They had no common interests and they married very young. There was none of that at my uncle’s, and I guessed it was because my aunt was gone,” he said.

  This was beginning to make some sense at last; I smiled to myself.

  “So, I enjoyed Jet, Panzer, school, spending time in the woods, working on worthwhile projects to help people, and have been very satisfied with my choices,” he said, and his face softened into a smile. “The best way to resist temptation is to avoid it altogether. So, I decided there’d be no girlfriends, in that sense, for me. If I ever did have a desire it would’ve been for something far more meaningful – I didn’t see the point in dating just to have someone around. For everyone I knew, those attachments just brought them misery. As for something more meaningful, like marriage, raising a family…with my history, I thought, and still may find, that it would be impossible. Remember, this is all new to me.”

  “With all the beautiful girls in college, how did you stick to that decision?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t all that hard. Filling up my days with everything else worked fine. It’s amazing how trivial all the other seems – when you give your life to something larger than yourself. I was doing what I was born to do – and I was happy.”

  What a strange turn on the conversation. How fast his moods swing – in a flash – when we bring the subject back to…this. I could see the waiter approaching with appetizers, and I was starved. He put them on the table, or rather, he presented them to us, and Griffen put a finger to his lips to delay my next question.

  “We eat the first few bites in silence, so you can contemplate the food,” he said, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

  The enjoyment of properly prepared food was an event to him. I just wanted to get it down to stop my aching, noisy, belly from rumbling in romantic places.

  The tamales were spicy, but perfect. I had never been a fan, but these were exceptional. The catfish cakes were so light that they fell apart on my fork and practically dissolved in my mouth. Excellent choices!

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “Fabulous,” I said. “You picked perfectly. May I continue my inquisition?”

  “Certainly,” he said with his gravelly voice.

  I blinked to clear my head. Breathe – don’t lose your focus!

  “Griffen, why then, once we met, did you vanish?” Grand was now kicking me under the table. I’m not supposed to let him know I noticed that and it hurt, yet. But I had to know.

  “Can’t you see, Elliott? I was drawn to you from the first time I saw you on Viva,” he said. “Surely you knew that! I could see it in your eyes, too.”

  “I was covered in mud!” I said trying to cover my embarrassment at being so easy to read. “And surely I wasn’t that obvious. I’m sure you get those looks all the time from women when you’re, well, on your horse.”

  “You were not covered in mud – not in the beginning,” he said. “I thought you were with Ben and heard this was your first hunt. So I watched you and Ashley, mostly for amusement – to see how horses like yours and riders like you would handle hunting.”

  “Why did you bother with us when you had so much going on with the hounds?” I asked.

  More food arrived, so he paused again for the waiter to present the plates and for us to relish the first few bites.

  “How’s yours?” he asked.

  “Melting in my mouth, just like the cakes. What kind of fish is this?” I asked.

  “Flounder,” he said. “We’ll have to go catch some one day. They are really fun – especially since they taste so good,” he said and smiled broadly.

  “So, why did you bother with watching us at that hunt?” I persisted.

  “People like you and Ashley usually provide us, those that have been hunting a long time, with much amusement,” his sad eyes glinting at the thought. “Most of the time newcomers are over mounted and miserable, and you two looked like perfect examples.”

  “We looked that green, then?” I asked, thinking all that hard work with the wardrobe did not matter after all.

  “You and Ashley were perfect – and your horses were about to explode – that’s what was so obviously wrong,” he said laughing and flashing his brilliant smile. “I could not wait to see what would happen.”

  “You are so bad!” I said.

  He leaned over the table, then looked at me directly in the eyes. Hand throbbing again…here we go…

  “Elliott, I told you I’d written off relationships, and I did that by focusing on other things and regarding women in general with disdain. Pure arrogance. That made it much easier not to get involved and to remain aloof. I was above those things, and thought I’d be much happier for it,” he said. “I was happy. My home life was peaceful and predictable, at last.”

  “My uncle and I didn’t talk about girls. His wife had been gone a long time, and he mostly looked at that as now being free to do as he pleased with his friends and the rest of his family. So, I figured, if he could do it and be happy, so could I,” he said. “I didn’t see the point in having some other person dictate what I did and when, especially since I had such a clear idea of what I was doing. I had plenty to do and most did not involve anything a girl, or rather, any girl I had met until you, would be interested in.”

  “You really were happy?” I asked.

  “Very,” he said. “I thought I didn’t need anyone, much less you, or any girl, in my life. I was just fine. Doing everything just right…or so I thought. I still enjoyed looking, though, which brings me back to that first hunt watching you and Ashley.”

  Of course I blushed before I realized it. How could we have looked so obviously new? He leaned in for effect…and it was working.

  “Watch it, danger…keep your distance!” Grand was saying.

  “You both are quite impressive to watch, on and off a horse, as I’m sure you know, and I was certain you were ‘attached’ to your dates, so there would be no harm in looking,” he smiled when he said this, his grin changing the mood much for the better.

  I felt myself blush again and looked at my plate. I am sure the food was delicious, but this revelation kept me riveted. I kept swallowing and eating mechanicall
y, Grands’s and Mother’s admonitions about murderers’ sons not being Raised Right were silenced by his words.

  “But you,” he leaned in closer and took my left hand in his. “You, I could not resist watching. I was drawn to you like I’ve never been drawn to anyone…or anything. It felt like a trap – all the more sweet in that you had no idea of what you were doing to me.”

  He was rubbing his thumb on my snakebite again, and I wanted to leave immediately and crush his lips to mine. Murderer father or not, this was too much to bear.

  I looked down, gently withdrew my hand, and let my eyes fall to my plate. Then I looked up and met his eyes.

  “Oh, but you were so confident that you could tell you were affecting me, were you?” I said trying to regain some dignity.

  He gripped my hand before I could remove it from the table and I kept my gaze level with his.

  “I could tell at the party that evening that although you were with Ben, you were not ‘with’ him. He was still pursuing you, and you weren’t really responding, or so it looked to me. That’s why I left. I was getting way too interested,” he said. “Then you looked at me across the room, lifted your chin, and marched away. Something was definitely going on with you, but I knew I had better not hang around and find out.”

  Chocolate fountain! I blushed, but not for the reasons he assumed. At least he hadn’t seen why I had marched off…I composed my face as best as I could so he would continue.

  “The more I watched you the more I questioned my decision to remain aloof – to stay away from women – from you. The way you rode that horse, your reaction to being covered in mud – I could tell you were someone I had to get to know. You were so perfect, so beautiful, so happy, so – but with my history…I couldn’t risk it, and I wouldn’t,” his eyes bored into mine looking for a reaction.

  “Griffen, you big chicken,” I said. “You just spent this whole time telling me how much your uncle taught you about choices. You of all people should know that you choose to be who you are – that part is left to us when we’re created,” I said, relief washing over me not only for him having not witnessed my social debacle, but also realizing that he was hardly a raging lunatic.