CHAPTER 17

17.

 

© 2010 GREG DUNAJ

              Thomas stared out into the road that edged by Utopia, at the cracked and blistered macadam that stretched and curved out away into the far hills. The sun was already strong at this early hour. It would be a hot day. He squinted at the morning mists and stared at the road and snaked his fingers through his black, coarse beard. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Thomas pondered his choices.

              He had come to Utopia to anchor himself in this world. He had washed up at this safe port rudderless and adrift. He had licked his wounds, mended his mast, and re-supplied provisions. He was ready to set sail again. The odyssey was not yet complete.

              For most of his life he had been an angry man. The anger had been a tool for him. He had used it to keep himself safe and secure and alive from all dangers, whether real or imagined. The anger was his edge, his advantage, his buffer. Like a shiv carried on his hip, Thomas had wielded his anger when necessary, which was often. His anger had helped him clear his path of all obstacles. Sardonic, sarcastic, blunt and invulnerable, Thomas once had the ability to protect himself from thieves and ruffians, ne’er do wells and strangers he passed on the street, as well as family members and a rapidly dwindling supply of friends. An audible crack would be heard, like thin ice snapping, whenever he smiled. No advantages were ever gained from him and nothing ever harmed him. He had been too strong and he proved again and again and again he had been the better of any man, woman or child.

              And, now, he was alone.

              Successful in clearing his way, Thomas was ill-prepared for the denouement. The battles he so gleefully fought and handily won now seemed like hallow campaigns. He was left with the very empty, very insecure feeling he had gone too far in protecting himself. Having lost all contact with family, friends and his wife proved to be too steep a price to pay for being correct. They had grown weary of his constant pitched battles and incessant harangues. He had won and now, he was alone.

              When he finally lurched and listed into Utopia Thomas was barely afloat.

              The loneliness that he had successfully brought upon himself was surprisingly devastating to the burly man. He thought he was tougher than this. He thought he could continue to thumb his nose at everyone but when presented with the abyss he found himself teetering and unsure. He pulled back, tried to reenter the world that he had mocked with his anger and discovered there was no one willing to listen to him. That was probably the hardest pill for him to swallow. The walls he had built up to protect himself had been matched by anyone who had been close to him. The finality of his attitude and acts now fully realized Thomas crept away into the night, adrift.

              Utopia changed Thomas. It was a new beginning, a second chance. Humbled and quavering when he arrived, he was put to work immediately. No one cared to know the reasons for the inner turmoil that led him to Utopia; there wasn’t enough time in the day. When he limped into the commune with a smattering of ideas of what to expect from this place, a layer of dust caked on his face streaked with sweat from his hike, he was given a knowing nod by someone at the community, but, no words were exchanged and instead Thomas was handed a broom.

              And, there the transformation of Thomas began. Humiliated by his past behavior, Thomas spoke less, listened more. He tossed himself fully into life at Utopia. It was a serene place, as if all the travails and endeavors of the outside world held little sway within the confines of the ranch.

              Converts to an ideology are more devout to the belief rather than taking a by rote approach and Thomas became as magnanimous and enthused as his protective self had been angry and cautious. From the day he stepped into Utopia, until this very morning, Thomas never had a crossed word pass his lips. His brow never furrowed in worry. Thomas never refused a task or favor, but he did not expect one in return. He became the workhorse for the community and a jungle gym to the children.

              It had been like a light switch being flipped.

              He willed himself to be a clean slate. The anger was let go. The angst was dropped. The shiv he had brandished with the alacrity of an assassin was tossed overboard. Now, years later, as he stood looking out at this morning’s mist, Thomas was still amazed with himself. He was amazed at how easily he had let go of that angry part of himself. And, that’s why he now had to leave.

              Of course, over the years, Thomas did allow himself the occasional cry. He would steal himself away some time alone to remember where he had come from. The heartfelt sobs that coursed his thick body were for his loss, for despite his systemic change for the better, there was a deep sadness in his heart, a pang of unfinished business. Though he was finally able to breathe for the first in his life, glorious, chest-swelling breaths that made him dizzy with their emotions, he was suffocating still over the loss of his family and friends. Though he had moved on in his life, he still mourned the loss of those he had driven away. He would shudder when he thought of his past mistakes, and though he smiled warmly at the new life he had here in Utopia, a tear rolled down his apple-sized cheek and lost itself in the black hair of his moustache, for he knew he had to leave.

              As he pondered his direction in the thin air of dawn with the faint wisps of the morning fog dissipating like an empty promise, Thomas finally realized how he was even sadder than when he first arrived in Utopia. First interpretations of Dedalus songs had Thomas believing the artist was also angry and protective of his life. The central theme of his music seemed to be he was dismissive of others and wanted nothing more than to avoid them. That image had appealed to Thomas as he felt it had mirrored his own approach to life. Now, though, after he had grasped at the shards of his life and lived in the commune and had reconstructed himself into what he felt was a better person, he knew Dedalus’ words were not a call to arms. Because of this, Thomas knew he could not stay here. Like Dedalus had done throughout his life, Thomas now had to seek out what made him happy. He needed to seek out his family again to at least show them what he had become, never mind that their lives were now probably being lived entirely without a thought for him. Thomas now felt driven to explore the possibility of reconciliation. If anything, he wanted to test the new Thomas, to walk along the paths he had previously without angst or fear or anger. Could he do it? He had to find out for himself, and as Dedalus had done, Thomas had to do it alone.

              The road was open, it was where he belonged. Unfortunately, she loved him more each day, but he felt his newly found freedom deserved more. He had gone to the elders and told them this, but she did not know yet. He had said that he been locked up for so long, by his own accord, that he now needed to see what good he could accomplish out there. He had done too much damage in the past. He had lashed out indiscriminately at those closest to him, for he had been unable to think beyond himself. Perhaps he was grasping at memories, but Thomas wanted to move on, out, back, atone. He didn’t really know, except he had to go.

              Thomas shifted the weight between his feet and scratched his backside and pondered his options in the light of dawn. But, there was only one.

              “Hey,” her voice caught the big man unawares and he stood bolt upright.    He had not told her yet of his intentions, but, she knew. She had been abandoned too many times to not see the signs; the averted gazes, the empty talk, the kisses that were without passion, the slumbering man beside her in bed when she was afire.

              She walked up and put her hand inside his coverall and rubbed his back. Thomas’s stance softened though he did not turn around. He loved to have his back rubbed. He caught himself though and stood rigidly again. He did not hate her. He did not love her. There were conflicting thoughts within him. Thousands of options were his to take. She made it difficult to think though when she caressed his broad back. He asked her to stop. Thomas even took a step away from her. She stood there for a moment, her hand floating in the air, her fingers poised in mid-stroke, before dropping it in disgust to her side.

              “You going somewhere?” She rolled her eyes at Thomas’s broad back.

              “I dunno,” he said with a shrug. The heavens seem to tilt with the movement.

              She bit her lower lip and her eyes glazed with tears and she rolled her eyes towards the hills. Hugging herself with her arms she wanted to say something, perhaps pertaining to the need for love, but she knew her words would not find purchase in his heart. She knew.

              “When you the hell you leaving then?”

              Her utterance was sharp, much sharper than her teary face should allow. Just as she had been in the past, quick-tongued, burning bridges was her forte. There was no gray with her, but only black or white. She could never give a thought to compromise, even though it this case compromising was not an option. Out with him then, if he did not want to be there. Out!

              Thomas half-turned toward her, his girth casting a shadow across her set jaw in the morning light. He was surprised by her anger. He saw flashes of himself, his old self, in her demeanor. It worried him. Was he provoking her? Perhaps he had he not changed all that much?

              “Liz,” he said, his eyes averted from hers, his voice the sound of distant thunder rumbling in the far hills. “I can’t explain…”

              “Forget about it,” she said, her voice shrill, her eyes glinting in Thomas’s eclipse. She rubbed the tears away. “I don’t want to hear,” she said, her anger rising from deep within her, rising up from some reservoir that she always had within her and able to summon when necessary. “Just get out already. Leave. Please…go. I don’t want you around me anymore.”

              Thomas’s face was a tortured mess. He was angry at having been rebuffed and yet happy that she rejected him before he had to explain himself. It made it easier. He could now take the quick exit here, knowing she herself was angry. But then, that was his old way; get the other person riled up and then walk away, the martyr. A self-satisfied smirk snaked across his face and he snorted, happy with the results. But, then he caught himself. Frightened by the ease and quickness he fell into his old pattern of thinking, he immediately took a deep breath and turned around to face her. This was not the way he wanted to start out his journey.

              Thomas was immediately attracted to Liz when she first arrived at Utopia with her son Robert. Few men were able to resist her. She was pretty, her face a pleasing array of freckles. Short and thin she looked far younger than the years she had behind her and yet, if you looked deeply into her eyes you could see the deep sadness hidden just beyond the green irises. Liz wore her long brown hair gathered in a loose pony tail. Tendrils would escape their moorings with any movement and get caught on her high cheekbones. This morning, one lonely length of hair had plastered itself against her tear-streaked face. Sometimes Liz wore her hair up, she would gather it and pin it up, exposing the nape of her slender neck.

              In their lovemaking Thomas often kissed that glorious, sensuous part of her body.

              A tractor trailer had pulled up to the gate that fateful day, causing a big commotion in the commune. Its noise and size were much too great for the rural setting. Liz’s son, Robert, was the first to emerge from the truck. He leaped out of the cab and without a nod backwards he immediately ran for the rail front gate and began swinging on it. Liz emerged from the cab of the truck, legs and butt first. She stood on the step of truck and hanging onto the handhold she reached for a duffle bag and pulled it to the ground where it landed and kicked up a cloud of dust. She then leaned in again to the truck, kneeling on the seat and kissed an enormous man in a trucker hat. She put her arm around his shoulder as she kissed him. She slid back out of the truck and dropped to the ground, a big smile on her face. She turned and blew a kiss at the shadowy figure in the semi as it the tractor trailer strained against its breaks, impatient with this delay. The truck snorted until the driver put the semi in gear and with a lurch it began to roll along the road and out of Liz’s life forever. She turned back to the gathered crowd and waved her smile broad and beaming.  Thomas walked up to her and introduced himself. He offered to carry her bag and even reached down for it, but with the smile on her face never faltering she said, “no.” She then asked if she and her son could stay awhile.

              Thomas nodded his head and smiled. He stepped aside and watched as Liz grabbed the duffle bag that held every single one of their worldly possessions. She lowered her shoulder and maneuvered her head under the strap. She lifted it with difficulty. Leaning into the strap, it was all she could to keep the sagging bag from dragging along the ground. Again, Thomas offered to help, but Liz instead yelled for her son to help her.  Robert leaped off the fence, did a somersault and righting himself ran headlong into Liz and the duffle bag, nearly knocking them all to the ground.

              “Robert!” Liz yelled, though the smile never really left her face. It only sagged a bit like her bag. She stumbled back from this pint-sized tsunami and Thomas reached out to catch her and kept her from falling.

              “Hey,” said the boy, taking a defiant stance, his jaw was set, his arms held akimbo, “leave my Mom alone.”

              “Robert!”

              Thomas did not laugh at the boy, nor did he simply dismiss him. Assured Liz was not going to fall, he let go and nodded respectfully at the boy and then his mother.

              “Yes sir,” Thomas said without a hint of irony. “I was only trying to be helpful…”

              “WE don’t need your help,” said the boy, hooking a thumb into his chest. “We have each other. We’re traveling partners and we don’t need your help.”

              “Very well,” rumbled Thomas, the small chuckle he allowed himself caused small stones nearby to dance a little jig. “That’s fine sir, I will heed your warning.”

              Robert looked up at the tall man before him with one eye squeezed shut and gave him the once over. “You’re a wise guy, huh? Don’t think I got what it takes, huh? Why I oughta…” The boy bounded into pugilistic form.

              “Robert!” Liz cried out. “Don’t do that.” She wobbled over as quickly as her heavy load allowed and tried to pull him away. But the boy feinted and weaved, his fists held chin high. “I’m so sorry,” she kept saying over and over. “I’m so sorry.”

              “Don’t worry ma’am,” said Thomas, chuckling. “They say never raise your hands to a child…. Because it leaves your groin unprotected.”

              Thomas said this very line, just as Robert threw a roundhouse at his mid-section. He deftly thwarted the blow and pitched the boy unto the ground with a quick move of his own. Thomas may have changed his demeanor, but he still had all the moves.

              From his perch on the ground Robert spit dirt out of his mouth. He was giggling. Pinioned by the weighted duffle bag slung over her shoulder Liz did not know which person to turn to, her son or the huge man that was really just trying to be kind. The smile was long gone from her face and other members of the commune crept closer. This was not the sort of entrance she wanted to make. The loud noise of the truck and the ruckus her son was causing would not sit well with the commune, she was sure of it.

              “Uh, I… I’m here…we’re here… to meet Dedalus…,” said Liz. “We don’t want trouble. We’re here to talk to Dedalus. Do you know where I can meet him?”

              The snickering and laughter slowly tumbled through the gathered faithful before her. They inched a bit closer, more curious than menacing. One man shook his head and laughed openly and walked back to his chores. A few others followed him.

              “I had heard he’s here,” she said. “Do you people work for him? You work a ranch for him? What’ya call it…you’re ranch hands? Cowboys?”

              The snickering stopped. The sudden silence was alarming to Liz. A bead of sweat trickled down out of her hair and into her eye and she wiped it away with the heel of her hand. The duffle bag suddenly felt extremely heavy and she leaned over and rested it on the ground and pulled her head out from beneath the strap.

              “Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t expect this kind of reception. I mean I know I’m trespassing but I figured I could still stop by. You want me and my son to leave?”

              Thomas leaped forward a bit, looming over the petite woman. “Oh, no,” he rumbled, “you can stay; it’s just that no one ever gets to see Dedalus. I mean, we see him, in a sense,” he waved an arm at a hill. “He lives over there, but we never get to see him.”

              Liz was puzzled and cocked her head in thought. “You work for him, but you don’t ever see him? He has an overseer like, someone to watch things for him? He doesn’t do any of the work himself. Hell, why should he, right?”

              Thomas looked down on Liz and slowly blinked once or twice at her. Robert got up and walked over to his mom and smeared some dirt on her white t-shirt when he hugged her.

              “Do we have to leave?” Robert whispered.

              “I don’t know darling,” she said, as he traced her fingers through Robert’s hair.

              “I’m tired,” said Robert.

              “I know darling.”

              Thomas gestured a bit with his large hands. His fingers tittered against his thighs and then scratched his beard.

              “We’re a bunch of misfits here,” he blurted out and immediately wished he had not been so quick with his tongue. He was unsure of how she would take that statement, but he continued.  “Everyone, er, everyone here, doesn’t want to be anywhere else.  Or, they have nowhere else to go.  We’re not here to necessarily meet the man… Just want to be in that same sphere of thought…We don’t need to see him to feel him… We just want to be … here.”

              He patted his thighs and little clouds of dust twirled into the air.

              Liz stroked her son’s hair. Her eyes passed from the massive man before her and trailed off into the hills and then into the group of people before her. Many were smiling still, but they now began to break off and return to their chores. If her ride hadn’t left, she might have clamored back into the truck.

              She didn’t expect this at all. She really only wanted to say thanks to the guy. His songs had given her some direction in a life that had not gone so well. Perhaps, what the big man said made sense for her too. She sighed and understood and sighed again. She told her son they would stay for awhile. The boy leaned into his mother now with his full weight and gripped her tightly.

              “Thank you,” he said. His eyes were tightly clenched.

              “Oh, Robert… not so tight,” she said and she struggled to push him away. He only tightened his grip. Thomas blinked some more as he watched Liz struggle to pry Robert’s hands away from her waist.

              “Yes,” Thomas said after a moment or two, “er, yes… What’s your son’s name again?”

              “Robert!”

              “Say, Robert. Would you like to go down and see the river? Have you ever fished before. Big fish there. Com’on, I’ll show you.”

              Robert immediately let go of his mom’s waist and ran past Thomas into the ranch.

              “Well, let’s go,” said the boy, running, his head tossed back as he yelled.

              Thomas nodded his head and told Liz his name before lumbering off after the boy.

              “Hope you’ll stay awhile,” he said with a deep chuckle.

              Liz snorted as she watched the large man disappear into the ranch, her boy somewhere with him. She arched an eyebrow and struggled to lift her duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder.