With this she gave me one of her sweet smile.
The area we had chosen had a long twisting trail through the woods. It was very scenic and beautiful. "Tim I care about you a great deal, she said. I would like this to work between us. It's like you don't realize what's going on in my life anymore. I know your under a lot of pressure right now . What with it being your senior year."
Liz was marketing major but in the last year she had doubts if this had been a wise choice. "It's not about college. It's about life," she said. "Everything's so confusing, hell I can't explain it." Most people don't even look at life. They find ways to avoid it. Like those drunken binges you go on," Liz said. "I need more purpose to my existence. I want to feel life. I want to engulf it. I need to sense the astounding beauty of every moment. Realizing the true essence of my being. Tim do you even know you're alive. Do you feel the wonder and amazement you had as a child. I want to share my life with you but first you must feel your own."
" I understood what she was saying and it scared me. Her perspective on life seems very beautiful. It was so beautiful it could probably never exist. I felt she was setting herself up for a big fall. With this new "live for the moment philosophy." This was also very unlike her. Liz was practice and level headed. Now she was sounding like a hippie ready to find a commune. Liz was definitely right in one regard. I didn't know what was going on in her life.
"Tim, I don't thing I want to get a career in my major, "Liz said. "I want to become a writer and travel. See our country, every road, every hamlet, everything." "Than I want to travel to foreign lands. " See the different people and their cultures." "When I die I want this world a better place because I was here." " Through my writings I want to help people." "I want the suffering to know there are people out there that care." "I'm not sure it matters to them I said quietly, to myself."
"So a writer that's interesting, I said." "Have you written anything yet"
I've written poetry and I'm trying to write a short story," Liz replied.
"Well that's great, you will let me read some?" I said.
Liz said, that she had brought some with her but not to read them till I was alone.
We had been walking for about an hour and it was now becoming dark. I asked Liz if she would join me for dinner, she told me she needed to go home and study. Liz was to graduate, with honors, in another month. Liz had always been conscientious in her studies. At least that had not changed.
On the drive back to my apartment, I began to wonder if I would be included in the future that Liz was planning. I could not get over how Liz was changing. When I first saw her today I thought she was sad about something and needed to talk. I was still not sure if this impression had not been correct. Although she acted happy and full of life, perhaps there was something she was not telling me.
When I got back to my apartment. I realized Liz's poems might help me to understand what was going on better. From our conversation today I was expecting some sweet flowery poems. When I open the first page I realized how wrong I was. The first of Liz's poems I read was:
There is nothing here;
Just a desolate barren ground.
Old men mumbling profanities;
Nonsequential thoughts roaming freely
On hidden highways.
Frozen innocence lost forever;
Inside a child's eye.
Love, Hate, Passion Fury surging inside the same vein
Time is irrelevant and nothing will change
There is nothing here!
This was not the type of poetry I had expected from Liz. It was in complete contrast to her bubbly mood at the park. I immediately went to read the next poem:
Like wild animals caught in a cage;
We bite, tear and claw at our flesh and bones
Desperately! Destructively!
With madness and rage.
Seeking to escape the steel prison;
That's captured, tortured and brutalized;
Our souls.
Screaming in agony and delight;
We pry for something, anything!
To appear or change.
Moan! Grown! Howl!
Like animals gone insane.
This did not seem to be poems of a happy person. I knew nothing about poetry but these were very grim. For the poems themselves though I actually thought they were good. This was the first time I read a poem and knew what the author was writing about.
The poems made me think of Dan again. It had only been days since I watched his grisly end. For all practical purposes Dan was dead. His life was over at twenty years old and it happens in a blink of an eye. Perhaps Liz was right we should all live for the moment. She was probably correct about my lifestyle. I was afraid to face life head on. At least I couldn't live by the rules that had been laid down. At this stage of my life I think the words that described me best were, hedonistic and narcissism I guess realizing it was a beginning to eliminating these traits.
Well Liz was defiantly doing one thing right. She was at home studying. I had not been to classes in a week and had not opened a book in two. Tomorrow was Monday the beginning of a new week. If I wanted to successfully complete the semester now was the time to study. I had a duel major in Sociology/Philosophy. So there was lots of reading. Liz and others had warned me that these degrees would not help me economically This probably was true but when I chose the major it was to gain knowledge not money. It was already beginning to occur to me that this was a naive notion. I studied from 8:00 p.m. to 1:00 a. m. that evening. In a way it felt good to be getting back to a normal routine.
Going back to Trimitive State (everyone called it Primitive State) was very strange. It had only been a week since I was last there. Still, much had happen in that time. There was only one more month of classes to attend before summer break. I would be a senior next semester and Liz will had already graduated. Time just kept moving forward. It seemed like yesterday that I was a child. Now it was time to graduate college and the funny thing is I didn't feel that much different.
My class schedule for that day consisted of: Sociology of Law, Political Philosophy, and Social Psychology Quite a hodgepodge of information for one day. It was difficult to focus on the theories of people who had been dead for over two hundred years dead. When you had one friend who was now a vegetable and your girlfriend was becoming a free spirited beatnik .
I saw Bill at lunchtime. He had already heard about the accident. Bill was never close to Dan but he knew I saw him semi-regular. Howard wanted to know all the details. This was the last thing I was in the mood to re-tell but Bill was a good friend. Hell, Howard was probably my best friend. In fact when I thought about it Bill might be one of my only friends, now.
I told Bill the story of the accident in all its graphic details. He asked me if I was getting over it. I told him of a nightmare I had the previous night. Only in the nightmare I was the one on the bike that went down. Somehow it seemed like what was suppose to have occurred. It was hard to explain but something was telling me I was to have gone down on that motorcycle. Perhaps this was because I told Bill at the last moment that I would not ride with him. If not, it would have been me laying on the highway in a bloody heap, along side him. Somehow I cheated what might had planned for me. Bill asked if I thought this might make me scared to ride my own bike. This is something I had not considered. I decided that I would take a ride when I got home. Bill and I said good-bye. I went to attend my final class of the day.
Liz answered her door crying.
"What's wrong," I asked her.
"Everything, nothing, who knows," she said.
" Will, can I help"
" Sure, anyone can help but few do," Liz replied.
Her dorm room was a mess. I had never before seen it where everything wasn't cleaned, straighten, and spotless.
"So what's up," I asked. " This does not seem like you those poems you wrote did not sound like you."
"Tim, I thought you liked them," she replied.
"I did but that's not the point.",br> "Of course that is the point" Liz said.,br> "The poems were very dark and depressing," I said.
"They're just ideas Tim they don't mean anything."
I may have been young but I knew everything, meant something. "Well, why are you crying now," I asked her.
" I'm not sure probably just PMS," Liz said. Liz lit up a joint and asked me to have a seat. This was the only drug I had ever known Liz to do. She had said she hated chemicals but pot was natural. I remember trying to explain to her that there were hundreds of drugs that came from natural sources. She had just smiled and said will this is the one I like.
Liz was a strict vegetarian and refused to buy products that used animals for testing. She mostly bought organic foods and was one hell of a cook. Even though I was a meat eater myself Liz made some of the best dishes I had ever tasted. Liz and I had known each other since my junior year in high school. There were a lot of changes we had lived through together. It really was an accomplishment that our relationship had lasted four years since I was only sixteen when we met. Now I was not sure it was going to last much longer.
"One month till graduation and I don't give a shit," Liz said. Why? I asked.
"I don't know, what meant everything to me three years ago means little to me now," Liz replied.
"I'm sure it's just nerves, everyone gets them before graduation." "Facing the real world shit and all" I said.
"It doesn't feel like I'll be joining the real world, it seems like I'll be leaving it." Marketing, the art of coning people into buying things they really have no use for." This is what I've spent the last four years of my life learning" Liz exclaimed.
Liz, had been one of those persons who completed everything they had been told with out ever questioning it. Now though she was questioning and not just one thing at a time but everything. I stayed at Liz's place till her roommate got home at 2:30. We had gotten high and laughed at some of the foolish things we did when we were younger. I believe me being there cheered her up a bit. At least I would like to think it did. When I left I still had no idea if we were going to stay in a relationship or not. It was the most important thing in my life and I had forgotten to bring it up.
The next morning I decided I better call my parents since it wasn't a holiday, it may be something important. Dad told me there was to be a family reunion and I was to attend. This is how it was presented not a question but a statement. He told be everyone would be attending and we were all to meet in Virginia Beach. Dad made it quite clear to me that this was not his choice of locations. We talked a little small talk after he had informed me of the reunion. Since graduation was on my mind and I knew Dad was an executive before he retired, I thought I get his opinion.
"So Dad I said, I'll be graduating in another year any advise on starting a career.
"What possible experience do you think you have." You've been trained to do absolutely nothing. Your time would have been better spent leaning how to operate a truck or something."
Good old Dad even though he had aged he could still be that cold, hearted, bastard I had known as a child. What the hell concern was it to him what my major was. He never paid a fucking dime toward my school anyway. My entire college had been financed by loans, grants and part time jobs.
I did agree to go to the family reunion if for no other reason than to see my brother and sister. The last time I saw my brother it was obvious he was developing a drinking problem but then so was I. My brother, Don, was still holding a good job. He had recently gotten divorce and it was possible that the rest of his life was also falling apart. Amy, my sister was a reclusive, never married and living in the mountains. She had some strange ideas about politics. It was rumored that she was becoming a survivalist.
I attended classes the rest of the week and saw Liz every other night. When I finally talked about the status of our relationship. Liz informed that for now she wanted to stay friends only. Still, she said she had no plans of seeing other people and hoped I wouldn't either. This was definitely a good sign.
On Saturday I called Bill to ask if he wanted to go and see Dan at the hospital. We agreed to meet there than go out for some beers afterwards. The Frostburg's were at the hospital when we arrived. I introduced Bill to them. They had never met him before, but like him instantly when I told them he attended the same college as me. No one in the Frostberg family had ever attended college and they were always impressed when they met someone who did. After exchanging greetings we all went in to see Dan. He still looked about the same, like someone who was already died. It was sad to see the Frostberg's by their son. They still wept as they had the fist day after the accident.
Before leaving the hospital I asked the Frosteberg's if there was any change in Dan's condition. No and the medical bills are adding up fast. The doctors say he will probably never come out of his coma. So after much deliberation we have decided it would be best to let Dan go. This was to be our last visit with him. With this news I became watery eyed and wished them the best.
Bill and I headed for the "Drink and Drown" but this did little to lift my spirits. I talk to Bill about the different things that Bill and I had done together. Even though Bill did not know Dan personally he had heard stories from others. Dan in fact was a very good friend of mine. I often did not like to admit this since he was often getting into trouble. I mentioned the story of the flying JellyFish to, Bill. As I was telling him the story something seemed left out. Someone had screamed look at the tentacles on it. Who was that? I could not remember. This meant that it was not just I. At least one other person had seen the same thing. If it was Dan who saw the tentacles I would never find out. As for Howard I had no number or address so that was a long shot too. Bill said it was a wild story but he was sure it was just the drugs.
Bill asked what I was planning for the summer. I wasn't sure of what I would be doing probably working at some crap, ass, minimum wage job I guessed.
"Well listen Bill said, I have a friend whose uncle is a foreman of a fishery in Alaska." My friend said he would not be going this year and there was two opening if I knew anyone who would be interested." Well I'm one who is interested Bill said, you the second, Tim."
"It sure sounds wild, what does it pay," I replied.
"That's the really cool part Bill said, fourteen bucks per hour."
This was more money than I had ever made and probably more than I would when I graduated.
"What's the catch," I asked.
"Near as I can tell Bill said, not many women, bone chilling cold nights and the smell of fish on you at all times."
"Sounds like a bargain I said, when do we go."
"June 3rd and I was hoping to travel by bike."
"Are you nuts? A Ninja to Alaska I can't travel in that position for thousands of miles."
"No of course not, that's the other surprise," Bill said.
"I know someone who will rent you a "Hog" for two hundred for the entire summer."
"Yea what's the condition," I asked.
Prime, Bill said the guy doesn't ride it much any more and makes some extra bucks renting it out."
"I got to come up with two hundred bucks, plus travel money but I think I can handle that, lets do it."
"Great where on are way, Bill replied."
"What exactly is a fishery and what will we do there, I asked."
"Cutting off fish heads, cleaning them, that kind of stuff."
"Well it doesn't sound to glamorous but fourteen an hour who cares."
" Plus I was leaving extra time for the ride there, Bill said." " Canada is suppose to be beautiful and Alaska even more so."
I was starting to get a buzz on at the bar, and this was some thing I hope to avoid this evening. So, I bid farewell to Bill. He had been eyeing up some girl so he was happy to see me leave. Bill stayed at the bar and I returned to my apartment.
I started attending school regularly and studying. As final approached I was sure my grades would be fine. Despite what Liz had said about me not taking college seriously. I always managed to maintain a B-average. I think this semester I might actually even have a higher grade point average then Liz. My overall grade point average was still far behind hers.
Bill was also going into his senior year next semester. His major was business and his GPA was a 3.3. So, all three of us were all three of us had above average grades in a college with a fair reputation. The only significant difference between us was are majors and that made all the difference in the world. Bill and Liz would probably be able to start a career in their fields upon graduation. While I on the other hand would probably be wearing a nametag and asking customers if they needed assistance.
The whole idea of a career seemed so un-real to me, that the prospect of a low salary did not even bother me. The notion of me spending forty plus years working day in and day out, was just to unbelievable after all I was only twenty-one so we were talking about over twice the number of years I have been on the planet. I had no career in mind and limit dreams. One position I always felt I might enjoy was to be writer of some kinds. Defiantly not poetry like Liz, this was an area I had no talent whatsoever in, perhaps some kind of journalism or other nonfiction writing. Most likely I would attend graduate school so I could have another couple years to decide and more importantly avoid work.
I spent more time considering such matter of why was I alive, then how I would survive. Was there some cosmic purpose or meaning? The theory of evolution certainly appeared to be true. What I couldn't understand was if evolution was still continuing shouldn't humans be growing more intelligent?
As a whole, human civilization seemed to be regressing not evolving. Perhaps one-day humans would turn back to apes. This would not necessarily be a bad thing. Humans had done some major damage to the planet in their short reign. Thousands of animals had become extinct, the rain forest was being destroyed, the hole in the O-Zone layer, global warming etc. It seemed it was just a question of which would cause our demise first.
It was my belief that nature had a way of protecting itself against our threats to it. My guess was some deadly virus would wipe out most of the world's population. Aids were already spreading fast but I felt some more lethal virus would be released. I didn't believe in a God so I wasn't holding out for anyone to save us. This may sound like too pessimistic but in my book humans had their shot. Human's mistake was trying to control nature rather then living in harmony. It was natural for nature to protect itself, regardless of the enemy.
This theory was excluding the possibility that we might just destroy ourselves. People seemed more violent then ever and were regularly killing each other on the streets. Politicians were becoming more aggressive toward the so-called enemies from within. The war on drugs was being used as an excuse to ignore everything in the Bill of Rights. Even though the cold war was over and major nuclear threats were unlikely in the U.S. It was more likely then ever that terrorist would use a nuclear device somewhere in the world. Of course the U.S. would need to show the insanity of this action by detonating one of their own. Nothing taught people not to kill better then killing. This reminded me of one of Liz's poems, Animals Gone Insane, yeah that about pinpointed it.
Was this all my life would be watching love ones die and becoming increasingly cynical with age? Working some shit job for forty years and than going to Florida to die, just didn't strike me as much of an existence. There had to be a reason people were on this planet. I found it difficult to believe that the only purpose was to struggle through one crisis, just to have another obstacle placed before you. We seem to meaninglessly drift from one situation to another and the only common thread between them was that of unhappiness, longing, and pain.
What made be start thinking of all this shit? Was it the family reunion that was only one week away? Any time I was going to meet my parents I became nervous and would began to think of morbid ideas. Believe me this was nothing to some of the thoughts I had when I was still living at home.
The next morning my brother Marty called from Oregon. He had a contracting business that he started with a friend and was doing quite well.
"You hear about the re-union," I asked.
"Yea, you going," I said.
"You know I still can't stand them," he said.
"Old memories are hard to let go of," I said.
"It's still going on the same old shit," Marty said. "Did Dad ask you to come or did he tell you," Marty asked.
I had to admit I had been told to attend. "Still, it's the only Dad we got," I said.
"Thank God, I couldn't take two like him."
" Marty please go if only to see Amy and I."
"Amy last I heard she was becoming more of a nut than Dad. I told Dad I would not be attending so it would be kind of fun to show up. I doubt if Pops would have the balls to throw be out."
"So you're going," I asked.
"Yeah, got to make sure my little brother is behaving himself."
I was glad Marty would be attending we had always been very close. Since his recent move to Oregon we had become somewhat out of touch. Neither of us was much in to phones or letters. It would be great to catch up with events in his life and see for myself what kind of drinker he had become.
When we were children Marty and I were best of friends. Whenever Dad would be in one of his strange moods Marty and I always had each other. We had developed our own little world to escape from Father's horrors. When Dad would spank us, which was often, we had discovered that if you didn't cry it would infuriate him. So, we both had learned not to cry during these beatings. This would make the beatings more extreme but on some level we had beaten Dad, and he knew it.
The instrument he used for his paddling could not be called a paddle. It was a sawed off piece of lumber, measuring 21"in length X 5" in width. When the beating was over your ass usually had the skin broken and was bleeding. On the less severe ones you would be left with only large bruises and welts. No matter why he was paddling us he would always paddle both. In his mind we were interchangeable people and if one had done something wrong then we both had.
I remember one day my brother and I received a beating and had no idea why. Dad stayed mad at us for days after, and we never even found out what we were supposed to have done. Dad wanted to make sure he controlled all aspects of the house. When you were taking a shower he would often turn off the water. I think this was to let you know that he controlled it. If he felt the TV was to loud you were not asked to turn it down. Dad would simply turn off the electricity for that room of the house. More then any thing Dad was in to respect. He never felt he was being given enough. I remember one morning when he entered the room when I was eating breakfast. I forgot to say good morning to him and received the worst beating ever for it.
Dad had his own means of special mental torture for each member in the family. My sister Amy was slightly over weight and was thus bombarded with every fat joke known. I saw remember sights of her running out of the shower crying with shampoo in her hair because Dad had turned off all the water. Dad would stand outside the door and scream look at that blubber roll as she ran past. I remember another occasion where Father had Amy trapped between an open door and the wall. Dad was laughing and saying I got me a wild fat water buffalo.
Marty and I usually suffered the same abuse, since we were considered the same person by Dad. We were most often referred to as the good for nothing, free loading, worthless bums. Dad would often attempt to attack our manhood, since we only were four this did not have much effect on us. Dad often called us much of sissy girls. Dad said this was worst insult you could receive. Marty and I were wrestling around one day and Dad snatched Marty up by the scruff of the neck and held his arms behind his back. Go ahead he told me punch him in the face. Instead I kissed him on the cheek, I was only four and Marty looked like he was in pain. At the time it seemed like a nice thing to do. Father went in to a rage it was the only time I remember him ever using his fist on me. I was sent to my room for the rest of the day without any food. Laying on my bed crying I could not figure out what I did to make Day so angry with me. Till this day I still don't know what caused him to become so upset.
In some ways my mother received the worst of the mental abuse. To my knowledge she was never physically abused. At least he had shown some control. My mother's role was that of the traditional wife and then some. She was as much his servant as his wife. She raised the three kids, did all the cleaning, cooking, laundry, errands etc.. Mom was also at Dad's beck and call at all times. From the day he came home each night till the time he went to sleep. Dad would scream orders at her on things that needed to be done immediately. When she would serve his meal before he sat down he would inspect the table for any missing items. If he found there was no lemon for his tea or no mint jelly for lamb. Dad would go in to a tantrum. Screaming at my mother how stupid she was and how she could never do anything right. There were few nights where Dad would go without uncovering some flaw in mother's behavior.
Dad would assign weekly tasks along with her daily duties for Mom to perform. Certain nights it would be to shine his shoes or to clean his brushes and combs. If one of these tasks were not performed to his satisfaction, all havoc would break lose in the Webster's house. The other children in the neighborhood were very much aware of father's odd behavior. We were considered strange and different because we were the strange man's children.
Life was not all bad growing up Marty and I were best of friends. It has only been in the last year after he moved to Oregon that we have kind of drifted apart. As children Marty and I create magical games to escape from father's abuse. Grand figures of mythical knights and great dragons would fill our days. We were heroic and strong; father's words could not harm us. He was not of our world and never would be. I realized today that in many ways he never did become a part of our world.(Continued on Delta VI)
