THE FLAW

Every family has its legends and mythology. Ours was no exception. Some of the stories about my grandparents had always seemed silly to me. But the assertions and claims about us were sacred texts, not to be violated or scoffed at. Stories that supposedly made us who we were, meant to define us as a family. For the most part they succeeded.

-Within our large group there was bound to be a hero among us. My two brothers and three sisters all grew up feeling proud of their superior emotional and intellectual birthright. After all, we came from great stock! It took years for us to realize our own hero had a fatal flaw. All of us took that eventual realization differently.

-Our parents were social activists so, from an early age, we followed. Naturally when we made statements that jibbed with what we were taught, we were praised for our insight, though sometimes it was just a broad smile and a nod. If we believed what they believed, we were told that it was wonderful that we knew how to think for ourselves and that we made them proud. When you are praised and coddled for following your parents’ lead . . . well, you keep to their rules and their worldview as if those views sprung from your own mind instead of theirs.

-I suppose it was natural that all of us looked up to our eldest siblings, Zeke and Samantha. They pretty much excelled at everything they did. Zeke was captain of the football team in high school. He was a star player. And not just that, he was also captain of the debate team. Samantha was a cheerleader and a true beauty. She was a straight A student and besides being one of the “popular people,” she had just as many friends who were nerds. My two younger sisters followed her everywhere and emulated every move. But there was a mixture of jealousy and resentment that flared up when Samantha started regularly dating a guy in her class. It wasn’t the same with me and my brother Hart when Zeke took girls out. We just thought he was too cool. No matter what, whenever they could, Zeke and Sam were ready to join my parents in any political marches or rallies.

-The best thing about my big brother though was that he always had my back. One time one of my classmates, Bubba Dinkin, started arguing with me about a local politician running for office. Bubba was bragging about how his dad and this guy were friends and how great he was. I said I thought the man running for office was a jerk and that he had some really bad ideas. Bubba got mad. His face turned bright red and he started shouting that I was an idiot and that my family had a reputation of being stupid bleeding hearts, and idiots too. Then he pushed me. So I punched him in the face. Bubba punched back and soon we were on the ground fighting. I got the upper hand and was sitting atop Bubba’s chest when someone grabbed me and pulled me off.

-Zeke put his hand on my back and led me away. “What the hell are you doing?” It was not really a question so I didn’t answer. We slowed down. Zeke stopped and turned toward me. I was already starting to feel bad about the fight but was surprised by Zeke’s expression. He looked as if he might start laughing. But I could see he was holding it in. He said, “Troy, we’re going home and you’re not going to tell anyone about this.”

-“But you should have heard what he was saying!”

-“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in big trouble if Mom or Dad find out you've been fighting.”

-“But he was going on about how great Dean Carlson was and when I argued with him he said a lot of bad stuff about our family.”

-“You know how we feel about violence!”

-So we walked on. After a few minutes Zeke said, “I saw you pop him in the nose.” He chuckled. “Good punch. Sounds like he deserved it. Don’t ever repeat that though.”

-I smiled, glad he understood.

-“Your right eye is already starting to swell,” he said. “Just say you fell down.”

“They might not notice.”

“They’ll notice.”

-He was right. They didn’t fall for the “I fell” bit. That only made it worse. You know, taking personal responsibility and all that.

-The next year Zeke and Amanda enrolled in college. Both got into the same college on scholarship, which was no big surprise. All went well, as expected. However one night a few weeks later Mom got a call from the police.

-Apparently Zeke was in jail for assault. I happened to be at the kitchen table cramming for a test and heard Mom’s side of the conversation. “No, that isn’t possible. There must be a mistake.” Mom hung up the phone and called to Dad. She turned to me and said, “Don’t mention this to anyone, Sweetheart until we get this sorted out.”

-Zeke was our perfect sibling! I agreed with Mom. There was no way. A few minutes later both my parents got in the car and left.

-The guy that Zeke fought inexplicably dropped the assault charges. He had gone to the hospital but was only there for a couple hours. Zeke came home with my parents. He was too old for them to preach to but he told them it wasn’t as bad as the other guy said. Just a spat in which they’d both shoved each other around. He didn’t tell them what the argument was about. After an evening of a thousand questions everyone went to bed and Zeke bought a bus ticket and went back to the school.

-Amanda and Zeke came home during the last two days of spring break. Once again, I was in the kitchen during a conversation between her and our parents. This time I was eating a bowl of cereal with my science book open on the table beside me.

-“I’m sure the whole incident was just an aberration,” Dad said. “Zeke assured me that it wouldn’t happen again.”

-My sister shook her head. “But it will Dad. It will happen again. Zeke is out of control. This isn’t the first fight he has been involved in. He drinks with the guys and, eventually, he gets mean. My friends and I go to the same pub and I’ve seen it!”

-Mom said, “we’ve met his roommate, Matt. He seems like a real nice boy.”

-“Ugh, Matt,” she said with disgust.

“Why do you say it like that?” Dad asked.

“She studied her fingernails for a minute as if trying to decide how to answer. Finally she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

-“So you think these frat mates and Matt are a bad influence?” Mom asked

-“That’s just it,” Amanda continued. “They aren’t bad guys. I mean, sure they drink and get loud and annoying, but it is Zeke who gets belligerent and nasty.”

-After a pause, Amanda said, “and Matt is gay.”

-Mom and Dad looked at each other. Then Mom said, “we don’t judge people Amanda and I’m glad Zeke is his friend.”

-“Ugh,” Amanda repeated. “I’m not judging but his friendship with Matt is the problem! Zeke thinks it is his job to protect Matt . . . even when it is not necessary.” Amanda sighed as if she weren’t being understood. “That is why Zeke got into this last fight. The guy said something sort of insulting to Matt and it was as if Zeke was just looking for a reason to fight somebody.”

-There was a long silence. Finally Dad said, “I’ll talk to Zeke.” That was it -- end of conversation.

-Dad left for work and I immediately went to find Zeke. He was in his bedroom reading. He closed his book when I entered.

-“Hey dude,” he said, “I’m going downtown. You want to come?”

“Sure. I got something to tell you anyway.”

“Uh-oh. Bad news.”

-I laughed and we headed for the door. After he got on the road, I said, “Amanda was talking to Dad and Mom about you.”

-He suddenly looked serious. “What’d she say?”

-“It was about your fighting at school. She got them riled up and now Dad says he’s going to talk to you.”

-“Oh,” he shrugged. “I’m not worried. Dad hears what he wants to hear and I’ll let him hear it.” He looked over at me “So what have you been up to Buddy?”

-“I didn’t want to talk about myself so I said, “Oh, nothin,’ – Zeke, why do you get into fights?”

-“Look, kid, there are some real assholes at school. It is hard not to react – to just ignore them.”

-I was shocked by his language but I just nodded as if I understood the problem.

--------------

-Zeke and Amanda returned to school and we didn’t hear much from them. Well, Amanda called twice a week, but Zeke didn’t bother.

- Besides the usual soccer practice and stuff at my school, nothing much was happening. I went to a couple of political rallies and marches with Dad. Mom took us all to a demonstration at the local college – I hated those things but that is what our family did. It seems like we were involved in every protest in within fifty miles of our house. All par for the course and it wasn’t until my senior year that something bad shattered everything.

-I came home from practice and everyone was sitting in the living room. Dad was white as a sheet and it looked like Mom had been crying. “What’s going on?” I said.

-Hart blurted out, “Zeke’s been arrested again!”

-“Quiet Hart!” Dad said and looked at me. “This time it is serious.” Dad added.

-“But Zeke told me he was done with fighting. Is that why he’s been arrested? -- fighting?”

-“Well, we’re not sure what happened,” Mom said, “but . . .” she

burried her face in her hands and started sobbing.

“Someone died,” Hart said.

“Hart!" Dad yelled. My heart raced. Dad rarely raised his voice and I knew this situation was really bad. Our hero had murdered someone.

-----------------------

-We all sat through the trial which was an open and shut case. Zeke hadn’t simply got in a fight and accidentally killed someone. According to witnesses Zeke had mercilessly pummeled the man. The pub was a bloody mess. It was overkill.

-Although he was spared the death penalty, I knew I’d never see Zeke again outside of prison. It made me sick to my stomach. We were all heartbroken. At least I thought we all were. Time revealed that my two younger sisters were angry and basically disowned their heretofore beloved big brother. But there was only silence for a several months. We just didn’t speak of it. I knew my parents saw it all as a failure on their part. The crux of it being that their son committed murder supposedly over a religion or some damn spiritual principle! A contradiction, an unfathomable paradox, that was impossible for them to understand.

-In the ensuing years I visited my favorite brother about once a month. Sometime Hart went with me and I often saw Mom and Dad there in the waiting room. As far as I know my sisters, accept for Amanda, never went to see Zeke nor did they write to him. It was as if the boy we had all looked up to simply vanished. Hart eventually lost interest too. He visited every Christmas but his strange and juvenile pride in Zeke’s fighting in general died when he finally realized Zeke wasn’t coming back.

-It turned out that Matt, the college roommate, had been more than just a friend. I suspect this information which should not have fazed anyone in our family added a shadow to the already dark picture. Imagine Zeke a homosexual. The secrets he kept finally crippled the family mythology and left my parents, especially, wounded.

-Our family story, at least in my mind, resembled a Greek tragedy and the heartache and resentment that reverberated through our family was deep. The ancient Greeks had nothing on us once our hero’s fatal flaw was revealed.

The end of boredom

THE END OF BOREDOM

The club was called The Red Door.  The décor was retro eighties, complete with sparkling disco ball hung in the middle of a large dance floor.  The floor itself pulsated with lighting from beneath.  The colors garish and the music loud.  Everything pulsed with yesteryear’s glamor and excess.

Lorenzo had not been there before but he liked it.  Nevertheless he could not shrug his usual boredom.  It seemed like yesterday that he had frequented clubs like this one.  Although he looked to be in his early thirties he was much older – an ancient creature.  He hadn’t been sitting at the bar more than a few minutes before the bartender brought him another drink. “I’m not ready for another,” he said.

The blond shirtless bartender smiled.  “Someone just bought it for you.”  He nodded toward a group of young guys sitting across the room.  One of them was looking at Lorenzo and, with a dazzling smile, tipped his glass.  Lorenzo smiled back and mouthed a silent thank you.

A few minutes later the young man approached.  “Hey,” he said, “how’s it going?  I’m Mike.”

“Nice to meet you, Mike.  And thanks for the drink.”

“Sure. I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave before I had a chance to come say hello.”

“Well, thanks!  I wasn’t planning on leaving though.  I like this place.  It reminds me of my past.”

Mike laughed.  “Oh yeah you remember the seventies and eighties -- back when you were a bar-hopping infant?”

Lorenzo raised his eyebrows. “I’m older than you think.”

“I’d say you’re in your late twenties.  I’d also say you don’t get out in the sun much.”

“No, I’m pretty much a night owl.  What about you?  Do you come here often?”

Mike nodded.  “Yep, I come here a lot and then I go up the street to The Stuck Pig.  You ever been there?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo lied. “Once or twice.

“Cool,” Mike said, “You want to walk over there later? But, oh fuck, I love this song!  Let’s dance.”

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

Mike laughed again.  “That’s okay you can just stand there and move your hips, right?”

Lorenzo smiled despite himself.  He liked this kid’s enthusiasm and self-confidence.  “Sure, why not?”

Lorenzo was not accustomed to being surprised or interested in most people but Mike was different. 

They stayed on the dance floor through several songs then, gradually moved toward the place they started.  The club had gotten crowded.  “Let’s walk over to the other place,” Mike said.  “It’s bigger and we can sit down over there.”

As they walked they fell into easy conversation.  Lorenzo was surprised at Mikes intellect and interests.  He had assumed he was just a party boy like the rest but it was obvious that he was wrong.  Mike was very interesting and knowledgeable.    The conversation continued as they sat at a table by themselves.  Mike ordered drinks and shots and even after they’d had several his mental acuity did not diminish as quickly as Lorenzo expected it to.

“Where are you from?” Mike asked. “I detect an accent.”

Although Lorenzo hadn’t lived in Greece since ancient times he said, “I’m Greek.”

“Wow!” Mike exclaimed.  “That’s fucking awesome!”

Lorenzo laughed at Mike’s reaction.  “Why is it awesome?”

“I’m a student of antiquity.  Well, not really.  It’s just a private passion.  But Greece!”  And from there he directed the conversation toward the ancient world.  He knew a lot about ancient Greek religion as opposed to mere popular mythology.

“How do you know so much about these things?” Lorenzo asked.

“Jane Ellen Harrison and Camille Paglia,” he answered.  But his speech was becoming impaired and Lorenzo offered to drive him home or hail a cab.

“I only live a few blocks away,” Mike slurred.  “Let’s walk and I hope you’ll come in so we can continue our conversation.  Come up and have a drink.”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“Yes,” Mike laughed.  “That’s the trouble with alcohol.  I don’t want the fun to end but more would make me sick.”

“Or comatose more like.”

Lorenzo was amazed at Mike’s apartment.  It wasn’t at all what he expected

There were books everywhere, not just on bookshelves but stacked all around the place.  The art on the walls was dazzling and there was a well-stocked minibar in one corner of the living room.

Mike led Lorenzo to his bedroom.  Then he clumsily turned and pulled Lorenzo into an embrace.  He kissed him and they stood there kissing for a few seconds.  Finally Lorenzo put his hands on Mike’s chest and gently pushed him away.  “Another time,” he said.

Mike protested.  “But why?  I want to make love.”

“And I want the same.  But not tonight.  I’ll call or text tomorrow.”

“Fine.  Be that way.”

Lorenzo chuckled and within minutes Mike was lying on his bed snoring.  He doesn’t know the danger he is in, Lorenzo thought.  He’s too trusting.  Lorenzo wouldn’t think of dispatching such a beautiful boy but how easily he could.  Instead he left, locking the door behind him.

By then it was almost dawn and he had to get home.  He felt the familiar sluggishness that would overtake him once the sun spread its light over the land.  It was a pity this nocturnal existence which he was damned to endure through countless years.  Down at dawn, up again at dusk.

He knew he couldn’t have a real relationship with this child of light he’d left peacefully on the bed, but he couldn’t help the glimmer of hope he felt.  He smiled as he prepared to die for the day.  Mike’s enthusiasm for life could be addictive.  It had been so very long since Lorenzo had been smitten.

Mike awoke with only a slight hangover.  He vaguely remembered Lorenzo leaving and now he wondered if it was because he was drunk or that Lorenzo just wasn’t into him.  But what a stud, Mike thought.  The guy is just so intense – like hot coals under cool ash.  Mike couldn’t wait to see him again.  It was nearly noon.  Not too early to text the guy.

--Good morning. Are you up?—

He waited for an answer.  Nothing.  Was he still sleeping, busy or just not interested in continuing their pseudo intellectual dance?  Luke texted again every hour, feeling more and more like a pathetic loser.  The last thing he wanted Lorenzo to think was that he was some needy guy with no life.  Just when he had given up on an getting an answer he got a text.

--Sorry.  I’ve been really busy and had my phone off.—

Mike breathed a sigh of relief Then another text popped up.

--I’d like to see you tonight.  How about dinner?  I can come by and pick you up around 7:00.—

--Sounds great.  I’ll be ready.—

They went to a pizza place, ordered pizza and beer.  “Well,” Lorenzo said, “should we continue talking about Greece and comparative religion?  Maybe we should switch to astrophysics or microbiology.”

Mike chuckled.  “How about Abnormal psyche or the history of sex?”

“Ooo, that sounds interesting!”

But their conversation was light.  Mike told Lorenzo about his life, his family, school, his philosophy.  Mike had plenty of ribald jokes that kept Lorenzo smiling.  All too new for Lorenzo whose days had been dismal and dark for so long.  Mike had a sort of rolling splendor about him that kept Lorenzo rapt and amazed.  Mike emitted his own light and it was stunning.  Lorenzo hadn’t had that much fun in decades and he was thoroughly enchanted.  Strong personalities carry others in their wake and Mike was one of those individuals that carried the sort of energy that Lorenzo was hungry for.

Lorenzo hadn’t fed in days though he barely touched his pizza.  Human food was edible but tasted bland and dead.  Still, he felt a mixture of hunger and lust toward Mike that was confusing and annoying all at once.  He wondered if his capacity for love was diminished by the hunger that ruled his existence.    He only had nights to offer Mike.  What possible future could there be when one person’s days were numbered while the other was fated to roam the world for eternity?

Later that night they’d gone back to Mike’s place and Mike pressed his warm mouth to Lorenzo’s soft but cold lips.  There was an instant spark which ignited in both men.  This lead to the bedroom where they shared one blanket and made love like animals.  As much as he wanted to bite Mike’s neck, Lorenzo felt he could easily survive on kisses and rolling like thunder in his arms.

Over the next few weeks Mike tried to make dates with Lorenzo during daylight hours.  Lorenzo always had an excuse.  Much to Mike’s dismay and growing annoyance Lorenzo only answered calls or texts after dark.  It was weird.  While it was true that they spend most nights together, Lorenzo was always gone when Mike awoke in the morning.  It was also odd that Lorenzo said he didn’t work yet always had money, nice clothes and classy wheels.

Lorenzo however, basked in Mike’s light.  He was oblivious to heat and cold but he could feel the warmth of Mike’s flesh and he reveled in it.  When he awoke each dusk he couldn’t wait to see Mike again.

Finally Mike’s annoyance and irritation got the better of him and he became angry.  He demanded they meet during the day.  Lorenzo told him straight out that he could never meet him during daylight hours.  “I’m a creature of the night.  You’ll have to be content with that or we can’t see each other.”

“But why?” Mike pleaded.  “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Look, my dear, when I say I’m a creature of the night it is not a figure of speech.  I truly cannot come out into the light of day.”

“That’s ridiculous!  You’re not a vampire.”

Lorenzo only raised his eyebrows but did not smile or say more.

Mike’s smile dropped.  “This isn’t a joke.”

“No.  It isn’t.”

Lorenzo would be taking a big chance by telling Mike his secret.   At any rate it wasn’t working.  Mike, like most people, did not have the capacity or the willingness to believe in the supernatural.  What could Lorenzo do to convince him? Furthermore did Lorenzo really want to convince him?  Was it necessary? If he wanted the relationship to continue it would be.  Lorenzo was at a crossroad and he had to decide sooner or later.  If he did decide to make Mike believe, how would he do it?  Then there was the question of whether Mike would want to join him in this wretched night walking existence.  id Lorenzo even want a companion and would it be fair to Mike to ask?

Lorenzo hadn’t had such a conundrum for years.  He had simply existed without question or plan.  He looked at Mike with a feeble smile. “Why don’t we go out and have fun and talk about this later?”

“Fine,” Mike said petulantly. “Let’s have a drink first.”

The only way to convince Mike was to show some small preternatural power.  One which could not be denied or ignored.  But what power and how?  Happily he didn’t have to spend much time deciding.

They stood on Mike’s balcony admiring the full moon as they sipped their drinks.  It was an exceptionally large moon in the clear night sky.  Mike walked closer to Lorenzo and tripped on a throw rug laid out close to the rail.  He fell directly on Lorenzo who had his back to Mike.  In an instant of clarity Lorenzo decided to go with the momentum of the fall and easily flipped over the balcony.  It was a three story fall!  Mike screamed, “no!”  He moaned as he looked over the rail and saw Lorenzo sprawled out on the cement below.  He scrambled for his phone and called 911 as he ran toward the elevator.

When he arrived on the first floor he dashed to Lorenzo.  A small group of people stood around.  Strangely there was no blood and just as Mike knelt down beside him, Lorenzo stirred.  He’d been knocked out for sure but impossibly had survived the fall!  Mike was speechless as Lorenzo stood and brushed off the knees of his pants.  Then he found his voice. “Lorenzo!  Oh my god!  Sit down, the paramedics are on their way.”

“Come on,” Lorenzo said taking Mike’s arm and pulling him away.  “I’m fine.  I’ll be fine.”

When they had evaded the little crowd Lorenzo smiled at Mike.  “Now, you see?”

Mike’s eyes were big as saucers.  “Oh my god!  See what?”

“I’m not like everyone else am I?  I tried to tell you.  I’m a child of the night.  I can’t die or be hurt easily.  And we can’t see each other in the daylight.”

“But oh my . . .”

“Stop saying that, Mike.  God has nothing to do with it.”

It took Mike some time to calm down and for the truth to sink in.  Lorenzo was indeed something.  But Mike had a resilient and effervescent personality and it wasn’t long before the questions poured from him. How was it possible? How old was Lorenzo?  Did he kill for blood? Were there other immortals?

Lorenzo answered as much as he could but in truth he did not have all the answers and it had been years since he’d stopped questioning the unanswerable.  “What would it take for me to become like you?” Mike asked.

Lorenzo was afraid Mike might ask that very question.  He was not anxious to entertain the thought.  “It would take a lethal bite and a short death,” he said.  “but I wouldn’t recommend it.  It is a lonely existence and filled with boredom.”

“You haven’t been bored with me have you?”

“No.  But you’re an exception to the rule.  You are an exceptional person.  You’re a bright light and I’d hate to see you darkened.  I’d hate to see your enthusiasm snuffed out by immortality.”

“But if I was with you we wouldn’t be bored.  If you love me . . .”

“Love?” Lorenzo interrupted.  “I’m not sure I’m capable of that.  And besides, love depends on time and shared experience.  We’ve only just begun.”

While it is true that infatuation can end as fast as it started, it could just as easily grow.  But it had been so long since Lorenzo had experienced anything approaching love, he doubted that he’d ever feel such an emotion again.

“I might love you,” Mike said.  “I love being with you and that is saying something.”

“Yes,” Lorenzo chuckled.  “Yes, that is saying something.”

 

As fall began, the days grew shorter and the nights longer.  Lorenzo and Mike were able to visit museums early in the evening.  They were able to go to movies and plays, spend leisurely meals out and wander malls.  As time passed Lorenzo’s fondness for Mike bloomed into something deep and he wondered if it approached love.  He began to wonder if perhaps a companion was something that he wanted.  Mike’s desire to join him did not diminish and Lorenzo had decided that if this continued to Christmas and the new year he would seriously consider the change.

By the time Thanksgiving came around both of them were still enamored.  Mike was sure it was love and Lorenzo was nearly convinced as well.  Lorenzo’s long brooding existence was changing by degree and he felt infatuation was indeed approaching love.  He finally came to a decision to bring Mike over.

He bought a ring and after he’d woken from his daily slumber, he showered, dressed, grabbed the ring and headed out.  He was practically giddy with anticipation of Mike’s reaction.  When he arrived at Mike’s apartment he unlocked the door with the key Mike had given him and entered.

Lorenzo threw his coat over a chair and looked for Mike.  Then he saw him on the balcony.  He was on a stool stringing Christmas lights along the eave. 

Mike looked so adorable up there getting into the Christmas spirit.  Lorenzo walked out onto the balcony.  Mike did not see him or even know Lorenzo was in the apartment.  He was on his tiptoes trying to nail in the last hook when Lorenzo said his name.  Mike jumped in fright and knocked over the stepstool.  As quick as Lorenzo saw what was happening, Mike tumbled over the rail and fell surely to his death.

“No!” Lorenzo shouted.  “No, no!”  He ran down the stairs with preternatural speed to Mike’s lifeless body stretched out on the snow.  “No, please God, no!”  This was all wrong.  So wrong.  He’d planned on turning Mike this very night and then, tragedy.  Was fate standing in the way?

There Mike was in the same spot Lorenzo himself had landed months ago.  Without thinking clearly Lorenzo knelt weeping and bit hard into Mike’s neck.  Then he started CPPR to pump the venom through Mike’s limp body.  He didn’t know if it would work but he had to do something.

No group surrounded them this time.  The night was quiet.  Everything was muffled by the recent snowfall.  Lorenzo gently picked up Mike’s body and carried it upstairs.  He laid Mike on the bed.  There was blood but the heart had stopped pumping so it only oozed slowly.

Lorenzo stayed with the corpse for two days and two nights.  Nothing happened and Lorenzo’s thin hope began to unravel.  But on the third night when Lorenzo awoke there was a change.  Although Mike still lie there dead to the world the gash on his head had begun to heal!  That was a good sign and Lorenzo laughed out loud.

Mike’s eyes opened in the wee hours.  Mike said nothing as Lorenzo talked to him gently.  Finally Mike arose from the bed and went to sit on the sofa.  He was still silent as a statue.  For seven nights Lorenzo stayed with Mike but Mike did not utter a word.  It was as if every spark had left him.  Mike may as well have been a zombie and Lorenzo wracked his brain about what to do.  Mike’s light was gone.  His personality extinguished. 

Lorenzo had plenty of time to think as he sat in Mike’s apartment.  No one called or came to check on Mike.  At least not in the evenings.  He checked Mike’s cell and there were no messages.  But then one early evening there was a knock at the door.  Mike got up and walked toward the door.  Lorenzo stayed seated on the sofa where he’d been watching TV.  He decided to simply sit back and watch what happened.  Mike opened the door and Lorenzo heard a woman’s voice.  “Mike!  Are you okay?  Were have you been?  Everyone at work is wondering what’s going on with you!”

Mike finally spoke.  “I’m fine.  I’ve been sick.”

“But, why didn’t you call in and let someone know?  I’m sure Mr. Emerson will let you come back to work once he knows you’ve been sick.  How sick are you?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated.  “Thanks for coming by.” 

Mike started to close the door but the woman stuck her foot in.  “But what about work, Mike?  Can I tell them that you’re sick and that you’ll be coming back?”

“I won’t be coming back,” he said flatly.  The woman moved her foot out of the door.  “Goodbye now.”

Lorenzo was astounded by the exchange.  Mike could speak and he could make sense.  Lorenzo was beginning to wonder if Mike would ever be functional again.

Mike came back into the room and sat on a chair.  “I’m hungry,” he said.  “What do I eat?”

“Let me get my coat,” Lorenzo answered.  “I’ll show you.”

Mike was indeed like a zombie.  He did not flinch at taking blood from a stranger.  He asked no questions.  He was completely disinterested in the world around him.  To Lorenzo’s great sadness, Mike was not the same person he had been in life.  He led him back to the apartment and said, “Mike, you can’t live here anymore.  Without a job how will you pay for the apartment?  You’ll have to move in with me.”

Mike shrugged and looked at the TV.  There was an inane sit-com playing but Mike did not react to it at all.  He just was.  He had no  life, no personality.  He was a non-person.  The gift wrapped ring still sat on the coffee table and Mike had not once asked about it.  He had not questioned anything.  Lorenzo finally understood.  He’d come to the conclusion that Mike would never be the young man he was.  That he would be a dead weight around Lorenzo’s neck forever.

Years later the men could be seen walking down the street of any given city.  There was no conversation, no smiles, no laughter.  They were just two beings existing without hope.  The older man was bored to tears.

FATAL

THE FATAL FLAW

Every family has its legends and mythology. Ours was no exception. Some of the stories about my grandparents had always seemed silly to me. But the assertions and claims about us were sacred texts, not to be violated or scoffed at. Stories that supposedly made us who we were, meant to define us as a family. For the most part they succeeded.

-Within our large group there was bound to be a hero among us. My two brothers and three sisters all grew up feeling proud of their superior emotional and intellectual birthright. After all, we came from great stock! It took years for us to realize our own hero had a fatal flaw. All of us took that eventual realization differently.

-Our parents were social activists so, from an early age, we followed. Naturally when we made statements that jibbed with what we were taught, we were praised for our insight, though sometimes it was just a broad smile and a nod. If we believed what they believed, we were told that it was wonderful that we knew how to think for ourselves and that we made them proud. When you are praised and coddled for following your parents’ lead . . . well, you keep to their rules and their worldview as if those views sprung from your own mind instead of theirs.

-I suppose it was natural that all of us looked up to our eldest siblings, Zeke and Samantha. They pretty much excelled at everything they did. Zeke was captain of the football team in high school. He was a star player. And not just that, he was also captain of the debate team. Samantha was a cheerleader and a true beauty. She was a straight A student and besides being one of the “popular people,” she had just as many friends who were nerds. My two younger sisters followed her everywhere and emulated every move. But there was a mixture of jealousy and resentment that flared up when Samantha started regularly dating a guy in her class. It wasn’t the same with me and my brother Hart when Zeke took girls out. We just thought he was too cool. No matter what, whenever they could, Zeke and Sam were ready to join my parents in any political marches or rallies.

-The best thing about my big brother though was that he always had my back. One time one of my classmates, Bubba Dinkin, started arguing with me about a local politician running for office. Bubba was bragging about how his dad and this guy were friends and how great he was. I said I thought the man running for office was a jerk and that he had some really bad ideas. Bubba got mad. His face turned bright red and he started shouting that I was an idiot and that my family had a reputation of being stupid bleeding hearts, and idiots too. Then he pushed me. So I punched him in the face. Bubba punched back and soon we were on the ground fighting. I got the upper hand and was sitting atop Bubba’s chest when someone grabbed me and pulled me off.

-Zeke put his hand on my back and led me away. “What the hell are you doing?” It was not really a question so I didn’t answer. We slowed down. Zeke stopped and turned toward me. I was already starting to feel bad about the fight but was surprised by Zeke’s expression. He looked as if he might start laughing. But I could see he was holding it in. He said, “Troy, we’re going home and you’re not going to tell anyone about this.”

-“But you should have heard what he was saying!”

-“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in big trouble if Mom or Dad find out you've been fighting.”

-“But he was going on about how great Dean Carlson was and when I argued with him he said a lot of bad stuff about our family.”

-“You know how we feel about violence!”

-So we walked on. After a few minutes Zeke said, “I saw you pop him in the nose.” He chuckled. “Good punch. Sounds like he deserved it. Don’t ever repeat that though.”

-I smiled, glad he understood.

-“Your right eye is already starting to swell,” he said. “Just say you fell down.”

“They might not notice.”

“They’ll notice.”

-He was right. They didn’t fall for the “I fell” bit. That only made it worse. You know, taking personal responsibility and all that.

-The next year Zeke and Amanda enrolled in college. Both got into the same college on scholarship, which was no big surprise. All went well, as expected. However one night a few weeks later Mom got a call from the police.

-Apparently Zeke was in jail for assault. I happened to be at the kitchen table cramming for a test and heard Mom’s side of the conversation. “No, that isn’t possible. There must be a mistake.” Mom hung up the phone and called to Dad. She turned to me and said, “Don’t mention this to anyone, Sweetheart until we get this sorted out.”

-Zeke was our perfect sibling! I agreed with Mom. There was no way. A few minutes later both my parents got in the car and left.

-The guy that Zeke fought inexplicably dropped the assault charges. He had gone to the hospital but was only there for a couple hours. Zeke came home with my parents. He was too old for them to preach to but he told them it wasn’t as bad as the other guy said. Just a spat in which they’d both shoved each other around. He didn’t tell them what the argument was about. After an evening of a thousand questions everyone went to bed and Zeke bought a bus ticket and went back to the school.

-Amanda and Zeke came home during the last two days of spring break. Once again, I was in the kitchen during a conversation between her and our parents. This time I was eating a bowl of cereal with my science book open on the table beside me.

-“I’m sure the whole incident was just an aberration,” Dad said. “Zeke assured me that it wouldn’t happen again.”

-My sister shook her head. “But it will Dad. It will happen again. Zeke is out of control. This isn’t the first fight he has been involved in. He drinks with the guys and, eventually, he gets mean. My friends and I go to the same pub and I’ve seen it!”

-Mom said, “we’ve met his roommate, Matt. He seems like a real nice boy.”

-“Ugh, Matt,” she said with disgust.

“Why do you say it like that?” Dad asked.

“She studied her fingernails for a minute as if trying to decide how to answer. Finally she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

-“So you think these frat mates and Matt are a bad influence?” Mom asked

-“That’s just it,” Amanda continued. “They aren’t bad guys. I mean, sure they drink and get loud and annoying, but it is Zeke who gets belligerent and nasty.”

-After a pause, Amanda said, “and Matt is gay.”

-Mom and Dad looked at each other. Then Mom said, “we don’t judge people Amanda and I’m glad Zeke is his friend.”

-“Ugh,” Amanda repeated. “I’m not judging but his friendship with Matt is the problem! Zeke thinks it is his job to protect Matt . . . even when it is not necessary.” Amanda sighed as if she weren’t being understood. “That is why Zeke got into this last fight. The guy said something sort of insulting to Matt and it was as if Zeke was just looking for a reason to fight somebody.”

-There was a long silence. Finally Dad said, “I’ll talk to Zeke.” That was it -- end of conversation.

-Dad left for work and I immediately went to find Zeke. He was in his bedroom reading. He closed his book when I entered.

-“Hey dude,” he said, “I’m going downtown. You want to come?”

“Sure. I got something to tell you anyway.”

“Uh-oh. Bad news.”

-I laughed and we headed for the door. After he got on the road, I said, “Amanda was talking to Dad and Mom about you.”

-He suddenly looked serious. “What’d she say?”

-“It was about your fighting at school. She got them riled up and now Dad says he’s going to talk to you.”

-“Oh,” he shrugged. “I’m not worried. Dad hears what he wants to hear and I’ll let him hear it.” He looked over at me “So what have you been up to Buddy?”

-“I didn’t want to talk about myself so I said, “Oh, nothin,’ – Zeke, why do you get into fights?”

-“Look, kid, there are some real assholes at school. It is hard not to react – to just ignore them.”

-I was shocked by his language but I just nodded as if I understood the problem.

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-Zeke and Amanda returned to school and we didn’t hear much from them. Well, Amanda called twice a week, but Zeke didn’t bother.

- Besides the usual soccer practice and stuff at my school, nothing much was happening. I went to a couple of political rallies and marches with Dad. Mom took us all to a demonstration at the local college – I hated those things but that is what our family did. It seems like we were involved in every protest in within fifty miles of our house. All par for the course and it wasn’t until my senior year that something bad shattered everything.

-I came home from practice and everyone was sitting in the living room. Dad was white as a sheet and it looked like Mom had been crying. “What’s going on?” I said.

-Hart blurted out, “Zeke’s been arrested again!”

-“Quiet Hart!” Dad said and looked at me. “This time it is serious.” Dad added.

-“But Zeke told me he was done with fighting. Is that why he’s been arrested? -- fighting?”

-“Well, we’re not sure what happened,” Mom said, “but . . .” she

buried her face in her hands and started sobbing.

“Someone died,” Hart said.

“Hart!" Dad yelled. My heart raced. Dad rarely raised his voice and I knew this situation was really bad. Our hero had murdered someone.

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-We all sat through the trial which was an open and shut case. Zeke hadn’t simply got in a fight and accidentally killed someone. According to witnesses Zeke had mercilessly pummeled the man. The pub was a bloody mess. It was overkill.

-Although he was spared the death penalty, I knew I’d never see Zeke again outside of prison. It made me sick to my stomach. We were all heartbroken. At least I thought we all were. Time revealed that my two younger sisters were angry and basically disowned their heretofore beloved big brother. But there was only silence for a several months. We just didn’t speak of it. I knew my parents saw it all as a failure on their part. The crux of it being that their son committed murder supposedly over a religion or some damn spiritual principle! A contradiction, an unfathomable paradox, that was impossible for them to understand.

-In the ensuing years I visited my favorite brother about once a month. Sometime Hart went with me and I often saw Mom and Dad there in the waiting room. As far as I know my sisters, accept for Amanda, never went to see Zeke nor did they write to him. It was as if the boy we had all looked up to simply vanished. Hart eventually lost interest too. He visited every Christmas but his strange and juvenile pride in Zeke’s fighting in general died when he finally realized Zeke wasn’t coming back.

-It turned out that Matt, the college roommate, had been more than just a friend. I suspect this information which should not have fazed anyone in our family added a shadow to the already dark picture. Imagine Zeke a homosexual. The secrets he kept finally crippled the family mythology and left my parents, especially, wounded.

-Our family story, at least in my mind, resembled a Greek tragedy and the heartache and resentment that reverberated through our family was deep. The ancient Greeks had nothing on us once our hero’s fatal flaw was revealed.