by Thomas Melo
Tyler began to leave a message after the greeting message, the one filled with his mother’s sweet and exultant voice, had ended. That was when he heard a faint click on the other end of the line, followed by a physically and mentally weary “hello” from Cindy Swanson.
“Mom, it’s me. What’s the matter, are you alright?” Tyler asked, troubled by the fatigued cadence in his mother’s voice.
“Hello, Tyler. What’s going on?” Tyler could tell immediately that something was ailing his mother. Typically, his mother would be over the Moon when she heard his voice on the line, especially after the volume of his calls back to New York decreased significantly.
“What’s the matter, mom?” Tyler asked, but he knew.
“Nothing. You have a lot going on right now. Don’t trouble yourself with trivialities. How is your fighting arena coming along?”
“Actually, it’s coming along great…better than I could have hoped for!” Tyler started, trying to sound excited despite his mother’s tired tone. She hadn’t signed up for this. “I actually just came from the work-site; it’s almost finished and there is a huge buzz about the place. We actually hired Jayson–you remember Jayson, one of my friends growing up–to handle logistics, advertisers, and such. He told me that there’s already a waiting list of advertisers that are dying to get on board with us! This is going to be huge! So much for a typical state cop’s salary, huh?” Tyler told his mother good naturedly and quite clearly, excited. The excitement was now genuine after hearing himself describe such a promising business venture.
“That’s great Ty,” Cindy patronized in an insipid tone, which was not only intentional, but Cindy had hoped that it was blaring in her son’s face, impossible not to be detected. If she was ever going to speak her piece, now was the time, while she already half committed herself with her tone of voice and utter lack of enthusiasm for her son’s apparent imminent success.
“Mom, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ again. You forgot I was a cop a few years ago.” Again, he knew, he just wanted to hear her say it…to see if she would say it.
“And that was an honest living,” Cindy fired across her son’s bow.
“Excuse me? Is there something you want to say to me, mom?”
“Oh Ty, how could you? How could you create such an immoral blood-sport?” Cindy asked her son, nearly in an ululation of tears.
“Mom…it’s–”
It’s what?
“And don’t you dare try and deny it, Ty! It’s been all over the news, in the newspapers and even our neighbors and friends all over St. Anastasio feel like stopping by our house to give us their opinion of what you’re doing out in Las Vegas with that wife of yours! I’d almost have more respect for what you were doing if you told me that you invented a drunk pill that saved the person from drinking a bunch of calories! At least that would require some academics instead of just providing a place for brutes to beat the Christ out of each other!”
Cindy was rapidly becoming unhinged and now it was out. Both barrels were emptied in Tyler’s direction, and the words wounded deep. He was put in the unfortunate, and frankly awkward, position of having to defend his wife against the people who used to occupy that paramount position of defense. Tyler had given a fellow student a bloody lip for saying something about his mother in high school and now he was about to battle his mother just as hard–not physically, of course–but abrasive words against a parent can hurt just as severely. He wasn’t even thinking of rebutting his mom’s interpretation of the Super Chasm...back burner, Baby!
“What the fuck is yours and dad’s problem with Lilith?” Ty yelled into the receiver.
“Tyler!” his mother gasped. The only other time he swore in anger at his parents was back in high school when they forbade him to see Lilith.
“You and dad have had it in for her ever since we were in grade school and the only reason you’ve ever had for it is bullshit! That she is a bad influence on me, right?” Grammatically awkward, but the message came through crystal clear nonetheless. “I’m an adult and I can make my own goddamn decisions about my life!”
But he hadn’t. He hadn’t since he met Lilith years ago when he was a child. Whether it was the irresistibly enticing look she would give him or the physical contact that made him drunk with her biddings, he was a slave to her since day one…he just didn’t know it; and that was the greatest trick of all. I’m quite certain there is a saying about that trick.
“Tyler, she is no good for you! Your father and I can’t put our fingers on it and we know it’s difficult to understand when we can’t articulate exactly what it is, but–”
“No! It’s enough already!” Tyler slammed his fist on his nightstand so hard he thought he broke his pinky. The pain only inflamed his tone with his fragile mother. “You wonder why I don’t call as much or come back to St. Anastasio as much? This is why! This bullshit is the reason why I prefer to stay on the other side of the country, otherwise I have to be the recipient of unwanted and unneeded advice like I’m still a child! And no matter how successful I am, it never ends, and I’m tired of it and it kills me that you’re making me say this to you. But I can’t stand by and have you and dad try to undermine my marriage and cause a rift between Lilith and I.”
“Tyler! You’re opening a fighting arena that allows the opponents to kill the other!” She yelled with the slow and careful diction you may use to get a simple point across to the less intelligent. “You don’t see anything wrong with that!? We always told you that we would be proud of you no matter what you did for a living as long as it was an honest and ethical living!” Cindy pleaded into the phone, hoping that this version of her son wasn’t that far gone from the son she and Ray had raised.
“It’s completely voluntary, no one makes them sign up, and we have a list of challengers a mile long!” Tyler spat, as if that magically made everything ok. “Look, you and dad are my parents and I love you both unconditionally, but you need to back off and let me run my own life and make my own decisions, or mistakes, according to you guys. I gotta go.”
With that, Tyler rigidly placed the receiver (he didn’t slam it, but it was not done gingerly either) onto the cradle before his mother could respond and lay back on the bed with his palms covering his eyes and his fingers gripping his brown hair, which was starting to show its first signs of salt and pepper…mostly stress related salting rather than age.
Outside the bedroom, just like outside of Jim Colabza’s classroom years ago, Lilith eavesdropped with her back against the wall and not only smiled, but had to stifle a sickening laugh with the back of her arm.
Chapter 15
At the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, final preparations had been made in anticipation of two renown state debate teams about to go head to head at the university for a 10,000 dollar prize. The pavilion in which the debate would be held could seat just over 2,000 people, which, during typical debate championships would be less than half full. However, on the night of the debate I’m telling you about, the pavilion was filled to capacity. There was more of a demand than the venue could accommodate. The university had no idea that such interest would be shown, therefore no inquiries had been made regarding a change in venue to accommodate the extra spectators, which would have brought the university more money.
Administrators were baffled as to what galvanized interest in the state debate finals to the point where the venue was booked to capacity. After all, even those who were part of the debate team, as well as the coaches, were aware that the debate team was about as popular as the chess club, which is to say, not very popular…almost a punchline, really. What could it have been besides the anticipation of the highly debated, highly protested, and highly embraced Super Chasm? Although it was impossible for the teams to be aware of debate topics prior to the competition, both teams prepared for this topic, as they knew that it was simply not feasible for such a perfect topic not to present itself in the televised competition.
Back at the
Swanson household–in Las Vegas, not St. Anastasio–Tyler and Lilith watched the debates, certain that they would encounter the free publicity of their new harbinger of fiscal security. There would be no yelling back and forth–until the Super Chasm was debated–like you see in British parliamentary hearings–or throwing of chairs, or overturning of tables–like in Russia–so, cocktails helped the entertainment value of an otherwise drab event…drab until approximately one hour into the event.
“Here we go! They’re going to debate the Super Chasm! Hurry!” Tyler called from the living room while Lilith fixed them both a drink in the kitchen.
“I knew it! How could they not talk about it? Well, either way this goes, there’s no such thing as bad press, right?” Lilith asked, as she perfectly balanced two tall cocktails while maneuvering her way to the couch with her husband, playing the part of ignorant flawlessly.
“Nope, I guess not. Just the type of press that’ll make family get-togethers and family holidays awkward,” Tyler chuckled. His laugh was good natured enough, but every joke or quip contains at least a small percentage of truth…know that well. The truth was that Tyler was feeling bad about his last encounter with his mother earlier that day. At the same time, he made valid points about how he was babied by his parents and as much as he wanted to call and apologize, he refused and made himself stick to his guns, and without anyone else’s (Lilith’s) input on the matter either.
Debate Moderator:“The next topic up for debate will be the famed–and/or notorious–fighting arena slated to be opened to the public in the upcoming months: The Super Chasm, located next to Caesar’s Palace on the strip in Las Vegas, of course. The Super Chasm, as you know, has demanded worldwide attention and has sparked debates, primarily of morality. Team UNLV, you will debate in favor of the Super Chasm. Nevada State, your stance will be ‘not in favor’.”
“Even bad press is good press” was the mantra that echoed in Tyler’s mind as he prepared for the stinging impact of truths about morality that deep down he knew he was toeing the thin line of, if not leaping over it completely.
“Here we go, Ty. Get ready to taste success. Can you feel it?”
In fact, Tyler could, and it didn’t feel completely copasetic, but that nuisance was nothing that a laden bank account wouldn’t squelch over time…not much time at that. Tyler joined his wife in turning his attention towards the televised debate just in time to hear the opening opposing debate from Nevada State.
Nevada State Representative: “When I hear the words: Super Chasm, frankly, it makes my skin crawl and the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. When I hear the words: Super Chasm, I am also reminded of the Roman Colosseum. We’ve all heard of the Colosseum: the venue in which approximately 500,000 people, as well as one million wild animals, had been slaughtered, as part of these disturbing “games” or derivatives thereof. We have come a long way in this country in terms of civil rights, made evident with strides in women’s suffrage, a black ex-president who has served two terms, just to name two, and it sickens me that the entire population has not drawn back in disgust, fear, and disbelief when confronted with the question: will we allow a renaissance of the Colosseum? Will we allow the Super Chasm? This country has achieved greatness. Take the Space Race for example and all of the scientific and technological spin-offs that it spawned, which brought our country to the cutting edge of technology and innovation. And now, the Super Chasm? It sounds silly mentioning the profane venue subsequent to a source of pride in our country, doesn’t it?”
The representative from Nevada State took his seat. This gentleman was a fine actor because not only was he pro-Super Chasm outside of this debate, he would be present opening night.
“Oh, kiss my ass you geeky prick. The idiot doesn’t even realize he plugged the Chasm four times in his cute little diatribe,” Lilith pointed out as she drank the remainder of her drink. “Idiot,” she scoffed as she looked into her glass at the remaining ice cubes.
“The Colosseum stuff was just for effect. It’s completely different. Let’s see how well UNLV gets that across,” Tyler said, silently pleading that that sentiment did in fact come across clear.
UNLV Representative: “First of all, mentioning the Colosseum in the same sentence as the Super Chasm is ludicrous and vainglorious. What the opposing view failed to mention was that amongst the contenders who participated in the Colosseum “games” were enslaved citizens, foreign and domestic, criminals, and involuntary fighters. While this is debated amongst experts, at least some Colosseum connoisseurs argue that many Christians were martyred in the Colosseum. Perhaps you haven’t heard that involuntary fighters in the Colosseum chose suicide as opposed to participating in the Colosseum “games.” One specific involuntary gladiator chose to stuff a sponge, reserved for contenders cleaning themselves after going to the bathroom down his throat in lieu of fighting, or essentially being fed to wild animals. Some involuntary gladiators turned to murder/suicide pacts with their fellow inmates in lieu of participating. So, when my challenger here speaks of the Super Chasm in the same sentence as the Roman Colosseum, I have to laugh. Yes, it is true that representatives of the Super Chasm have confirmed that the combatants will engage in combat that is potentially mortal, but that will be decided by the fighters will to continue or not. If the fighter concedes, the fight ends. It is only in the case that neither fighter yields that extreme circumstances, such as death may occur–”
Nevada State Representative: “What about complications resulting from injuries after the fight?”
Debate Moderator: “Nevada State, you will wait your turn for any rebuttal in accordance with the rules!”
UNLV Representative: “Thank you, moderator. Just to rebut the point you just made, even though you rudely interrupted, boxers, and mixed martial arts fighters, football players, etc., have died from complications from their sport, yet they remain legal and unprotested. Furthermore, the most important differences between the Super Chasm and Colosseum are that the combatants will not be using any weapons of any sort, no wild animals will be used in the combat, potentially resulting in extinction of entire species of animals such as in the days of the Colosseum, and every single combatant will be participating voluntarily and for generous compensation should they win.”
“Amen. People will still have a problem with the Chasm, but what can you do? You can’t please everyone. Fuck them,” Lilith concluded as Tyler looked into his empty drink glass.
“I’ll go freshen up our drinks,” Lilith said and walked to the kitchen.
For the first time in years, Tyler began to worry, but fear not: Lilith would suppress that worry in due time, otherwise our story would simply end here. Tyler was no different than a car that required a tune-up every so often… and Lilith was a master mechanic.
Chapter 16
A warm front came rolling into Copake from the distant Catskill Mountains to the north. The haunting front could actually be seen rolling towards the town from Sunset Rock as it engulfed the surrounding towns in a viscous miasma that would have put the notorious fogs of London to shame.
The first rumbling of the southbound storm came at around one in the morning, two hours after the late edition news covered the debates in Nevada, over 2,000 miles away, and sending Jim Colabza to his bed with thoughts of the imminent brutality and savagery that the Super Chasm would soon bring.
Jim had never been a sound sleeper, easily woken up by the occasional bed partner who would awake in the middle of the night to quietly shuffle to the bathroom. The fact is that he could be woken up by even less, but these days the precariousness of his balance between sleep and consciousness was even more exaggerated. Perhaps it was the loneliness of his house, or the creepiness (regardless of how far into adulthood he was) of how dark it got upstate at night and the copious house-settling sounds that would scratch and creak by in the tranquility of the night.
Jim was somewhat justified in his mild terror though, wasn’t he? Granted, he had not seen his “ardel
io-friend” since that one night back in St. Anastasio, but that did not change the fact that he had seen her…or it. Of course he would never know with complete certainty–although he did–but an event like that stays with you.
Jim’s alarm clock struck that mystical and ominous hour of 3am with a clap of thunder that shook the panes of glass in Jim’s house, as well as Jim from his sleep. Jim awoke from his sleep with a gasp from the thunder clap; not because he was plagued with malignant dreams or because he saw anything hovering above his bed with its nose less than six inches from his, for which he was eternally grateful. Jim decided that while he was awake, there was no harm in turning on the light on his nightstand and he strangely found himself chuckling at the faint recollection of his dream.
In his dream, he was attending a party that was being held in his honor, (most likely a retirement party) in the Alan B. Shepard High School gymnasium. It was not being held in contemporary times, rather it seemed to be taking place back in the 1950’s based upon people’s fashion sense and the music that was playing in the background. Everyone was engaged in a fast paced swing-like couple’s dance to Johnny B. Good (Jim had watched Back to the Future about a week ago), but Jim wasn’t dancing. He was playing with the band, and as the last chord rang out, the singer, who was his close friend and confidant from work, Russ Morovich, announced to the energized crowd of Jim’s well-wishers that in honor of Jim’s leaving, they would perform one more tune called “Moon Tree.” It was at this point that the venue in which Jim’s dream was taking place morphed abruptly (as dreams tend to do) into Jim’s backyard in Copake, where he, Russ, Tyler, and other assorted friends had joined hands around the Apollo moon tree and were walking in a tight circle and while singing to the tune, and more or less the rhythm, of Ring Around the Rosie: “Moon tree-moon tree-talk-to-me. Tell-me-things-I-cannot-see. Moon tree-moon tree-change-his-fate. Touch me-Jim-before-it’s-too-late.”