| ON HIS way home from
work, John stopped by the park a couple of blocks from his house.
He stepped out of his car and stretched a bit. He looked at the sky,
the trees, and the grass. Then he spotted a rock. He walked
to where it lay, bent over, and picked it up.
He studied it carefully. It seemed like an ordinary rock.
However, John wasn’t satisfied with that conclusion. He felt it was
more than just an ordinary rock. He stared at it intently.
It was special.
He knew that in terms of physical appearance and composition, it was ordinary
as far as rocks go. But to him it was something more, because it
had been there, and he had seen it and had picked it up out of the millions
of other rocks.
He thought about it longer. Perhaps the rock’s entire purpose of
existence was for it to be picked up by him, at that particular spot, at
that particular time.
He dumped the rock into his pocket and walked back to his car.
JOHN felt the keys in his
pocket, but didn’t feel like using them. He pulled his hand out and
pressed on the doorbell twice.
After
a moment’s wait, the door opened to reveal a visibly irritated woman.
“The food’s cold,” she said.
“I had extra work to finish,” he said.
“You didn’t even bother to call,” she said.
“I was very busy,” he said.
She let him in. He loosened his tie and untucked his shirt.
He entered the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out a pitcher
of water. She had followed him into the kitchen.
He poured water into an empty glass on a nearby table.
“By the way,” she said, “I’m going out tomorrow night.”
He put down the pitcher. “I thought we were going to stay home and
rent a video,” he said.
“Tomorrow’s the only night when we’re all free,” she said.
“Including me?” he said.
“No,” she said, “my friends.”
He took the glass of water and drank. He looked at her. “I
thought we were going to stay home and watch a movie.”
She kept silent. Her eyes were flaring up.
He said, “I was really looking forward to spending the evening with
you.”
“I haven’t seen them in a long time,” she said.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time,” he said.
“That’s your opinion,” she said, slightly raising her voice.
“Don’t shout,” he said, also raising his voice.
“I’m not shouting,” she said, even louder, “I’m whispering!”
His grip on the glass tightened. “Do not shout!”
“Okay, okay,” she said, at a decreased volume, “I’ll shut up-- that’s what
you want me to do, anyway.”
He stood there for a moment, looking at her gravely. He tried to
hold back the flood of emotions. Then suddenly, he hurled the glass
at the kitchen floor. The glass shattered into many pieces.
Tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks as she stared furiously at the mess.
Simultaneously, John stormed out of the room.
“Clean this up!” the woman screamed at him, “Clean this up!”
He ignored her. He slammed the door of the house and went straight
to his car.
He started the car and drove hurriedly. At first, he had no destination
in mind. Eventually, he slowed down. He glimpsed the barely
visible outlines of objects hidden by the night as they quickly passed
by his car. Why did he say that? Why did he say anything at
all?
Soon, he arrived at a gray building that looked just like the other buildings
around it, except it had a bright neon sign above its entrance. He
parked his car in a nearby alley.
He entered the building and sat at the bar. He was immediately recognized
by the man behind the counter. The man reached for a bottle, poured
its contents into a glass, dropped a couple of cubes of ice into the glass,
and presented the finished product to John. John forced a smile.
The man said, “It happened again.”
John nodded.
The man said, “What can you expect from women?”
John nodded again, then drank from the glass.
A woman sat beside John. She had short, black hair, and was in dress
that was as short and black as her hair and that hugged at her breasts.
John could see her in the mirror behind the bar. He pretended to
stare at the bartender and at the liquor bottles that lined the bar.
The man behind the counter asked the woman what she would be having.
She could not make up her mind. She told the man to name all the
drinks the bar had.
Although John could not see the two directly, he could hear them.
All this indecision, John thought to himself. On the other hand,
he knew what he wanted, like he always did. However, he tried his
best to ignore her.
He drank again from the glass. After a while, he could still hear
them. He felt he should intervene by suggesting a drink for the woman,
but decided against it.
Eventually, she settled for a dry martini. After delivering her order,
the bartender went up to John and whispered in his ear, “What can you expect
from women?” John could barely make out what he had said, but he
smiled anyway.
It was a typical late midweek night. The establishment was almost
full. In order for a person to be understood, that person had to
raise his voice. Neither could one breath normally. Everyone’s
cigarette smoke had accumulated and engulfed all the clean air.
John swallowed what remained in his glass. He held up the empty glass
and stared at it. He looked in the mirror.
The woman drank from her glass. She opened her purse and took out
a cigarette. She turned to John. She said, “Do you have a light?”
He was caught off-guard. He had not expected her to talk to him.
It took him a moment to answer. “No,” he said, “smoking is bad for
one’s health.”
“Yes,” she said, looking at her cigarette. She put it back in her
purse and said, “I’m trying to quit anyway.”
He said, “Is this your first time here?”
She said, “Yes.”
He said, “How do you like it, so far?”
She said, “It’s okay.”
They paused for a moment. She noticed his empty glass. “Another
drink for the gentleman,” she told the bartender. Before John could
protest, she added, “It’s on me.”
The man behind the counter took away John’s glass and brought a new one.
John drank from it. “That’s a nice dress you’ve got on,” John said,
“it looks good on you.”
The bartender gave him a look.
“Thank you,” she said to John.
He glanced back at the bartender and said to the woman, “Let’s get a table
so we can have more privacy.”
She nodded. They both grabbed their drinks and occupied a table at
the other end of the room.
“By the way,” the woman said, “I’m Natalie.”
“My name’s John,” John said.
“Hello John,” she said.
“Hello,” he said.
“So John,” she said, “what do you think of the weather?”
He said, “It’s okay.”
She said, “Don’t you think it’s weird?”
He said, “Why?”
“I feel hot,” she said, “very hot.”
He looked at her and drank from his glass.
“So,” she said, “what do you do for a living?”
He said, “I’m an executive.”
“That’s boring,” she said. “What’s your favorite color?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “black?”
She said, “Like my hair and my dress.”
He said, “Yes.”
She said, “You’ll never guess what mine is.”
He said, “What?”
She said, “Guess.”
He took a sip from his glass. “Black also.”
She said, “No.”
He said, “Pink.”
She said, “No.”
“Yellow?”
“No.”
“Blue?”
“No,” she said, “try harder.”
He said, “Give me a clue.”
“Okay,” she said, “it’s the same color as my underwear.”
He stared at the cigarette smoke floating around and thought. “Black.”
She said, “You said that already.”
He said, “I did?”
“Yes,” she said, “try again.”
He said, “White.”
She said, “No.”
He thought harder. “Beige?”
“No.”
He said, “I give up.”
She said, “Come on.”
He said, “I give up.”
She said, “You give up too easily.”
He said, “What’s your favorite color?”
She said, “I have no favorite color.”
He said, “What?!”
She smiled and said, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
He said, “What do you mean by that?”
She took a sip from her glass. She said, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
Then she placed her hand on his lap.
He did not say anything at all. He just sat there with a blank expression
on his face.
She said, “Perhaps you want to move to someplace more private.”
He nodded.
They both stood and exited the building. Outside, she said, “Do you
have a car?”
He nodded and asked her to wait. He backed his car out of the alley
and passed for her in front of the building. Inside the car, she
told him where she lived.
He drove.
Initially, they were both silent. Then she said, “Are you married?”
Not turning his head to face her, he said, “You don’t have to speak as
loud.”
She said, at a decreased volume, “Are you married?”
He continued to look ahead. He said, “Does it matter?”
She said, “No.”
During the remainder of the drive, he did not look at her. Instead,
he concentrated on the road and on the outlines he had seen earlier.
Soon, they reached their destination. John stopped the car in front
of her apartment building. She got out and walked to the building’s
entrance. She turned to look at him. He was still in the car.
She said, “Aren’t you coming out.”
He said, “No.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He said, “I forgot to do something.”
She said, “But-- “
He said, “It was nice meeting you.” And he drove off.
JOHN arrived home just after
midnight. This time, he did not stop by the park.
He saw a small figure seated by the doorstep and thought it was a burglar.
However, as he drew nearer to his house, his fears were dismissed.
It was someone he knew.
He parked his car in their driveway, behind another car. He got out
and walked up to the small figure, which was actually that of a boy.
He said, “What are you doing up so late?”
The boy said, “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
John examined him. He was in pajamas and his hair was disheveled.
“I tried walking outside,” the boy said,
“but the door got locked.”
John smiled. The boy said, “I didn’t want to wake up Mom.”
John sat down beside him. The boy looked at him. John said,
“Is she sound asleep?”
The boy said, “Like a log.”
John watched him. He had witnessed him grow up. It seemed like
only yesterday he was a baby in his mother’s arms. Now he was nine,
and looked a lot like his mother.
The boy scratched his nose and said, “You’re also late.”
John said, “I know.”
The boy smiled at him.
John smiled back. He said, “Give me a hug.”
The boy hugged him.
John looked at the night sky. So did the boy. The boy said,
“It’s full of stars.”
John said, “Yes.” He pointed to the brightest star in the sky.
“Can you see that?” he said, “That’s the North Star.”
The boy looked with amazement to where he pointed. John said, “Sailors
in the old days used it as a guide.”
The boy looked at another part of the sky. He said, “How about that
group of stars?”
John said, “They form the constellation Cygnus, the swan.”
The boy examined them. He said, “They sure look like a swan.”
He looked at John. “Dad,” he said.
John said, “Yes?”
The boy said, “Can we go star-watching again soon?”
“Sure,” John said.
The boy was visibly happy for a moment, then he became serious. “Dad,”
the boy said.
“Yes?”
The boy said, “I can’t go with you to the basketball game.”
John said, “Why?”
The boy said, “I’m going to my friend’s house.”
John paused. “Sure,” he said, smiling, “Whatever you want.”
“Thanks,” the boy said and hugged him again.
John smiled.
The boy rediverted his attention to the stars in the night sky. He
became quiet.
John stared at the driveway. Then he stared at outlines different
from the outlines he had seen from his car earlier. Anything was
still more than nothing, he thought. Anything was anything.
It just was a wrong anything.
John turned to the boy. He said, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
The boy nodded.
John said, “Then you better get some sleep.”
The boy said, “But the door’s locked.”
John said, “I have the solution.” He stood up. He reached inside
his pocket and felt a rock. He took it out and realized it was the
rock he had taken earlier from the park. He stared at it, then gave
it to the boy.
The boy held it in his hands. “Dad,” he said, “what’s this?”
“Just a rock.”
The boy said, “We’re going to break the knob?”
“No,” John said. He reached inside his pocket again, took out his
keys, and unlocked the door. He said to the boy, “Come in after a
while.”
The boy nodded. John entered the house and closed the door behind
him.
The boy turned his attention to the rock. He studied it carefully.
Then he stared at it intently and thought.
|
