Happy That It's Not True (15 page)

              “Someone is either wearing clothes or they’re not—but I think I know what you mean.”

              “Anyone can come, and I think you should definitely come.  The class starts at seven in room 201 of the art building.”

              “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

              “I really want you to come.”  Diego flipped through the drawings, shaking his head in disbelief.  “So talented—a real artist.”

              “You see Cara, you’re a great artist—Tio says so,” Alex whispered.

              Diego sat on the arm of the couch, closing the drawing book, but not giving it up. “So—what’s this about you always falling in love?”

              “Who’s that?” Cara tried to change the subject by pointing to a signed eight by ten photograph thumb tacked to the wall along with Diego’s drawings.  Alex and Cara had been dying to ask Diego about the mysterious face. 

              “You like to deflect all my questions—you’re very evasive, Cara,” Diego laughed.  “That’s Yi Ching Ku—many are convinced that she is the most beautiful woman that has ever lived.”

              “Asian women are friggin gorgeous,” Alex said.

              Cara looked at the photo with fascination.  “Who's Yi Ching Ku?”

              “She’s an actress, screenwriter and director—she’s about my age, so she probably looks a lot older now, but I like older women,” Diego chuckled and ran his hand through his hair, revealing his unease and embarrassment. 

              “You don’t know her—do you?” Cara said.

              “Oh—no,” Diego laughed.  “A man needs to have something in his life that represents perfect beauty—an ideal.”

              “So, what—you’re in love with some movie star who doesn’t even know you exist?” Cara said.

              “All right Cara—I answered every one of your questions—when are you going to answer mine? 

              “What was the question?”

              “What’s all this about you falling in love with everyone?”

              “Oh—I’ve had a few boyfriends I wished I hadn’t fallen for—that’s all.”

              “Sure was hard to get that out of you.”  Diego looked amazed.

              “So what about you, Tio—what’s going on with your love life?”

              Diego got up and sat on the chair in front of the easel. “I wonder what my next painting should be.”

              “Now who’s being evasive?” Cara laughed.  “I’m going to find you a pretty Asian girlfriend, Tio.”

              “Oh no—don’t do that.”  Diego laughed and closed his eyes.

              “Can’t handle your dream woman, Tio?”

              “Look, I’ve got my reasons.”  Diego’s eyes seemed to ask for mercy.

              “Tio, you’ve never married?”

              “You sure ask a lot of questions,” Diego raised his eyebrows.

              “If Tio doesn’t want an Asian girlfriend, I’ll take one.”  Alex adjusted the screen of his laptop so the webcam would point at his face.  “Hey guys, I’m going to record my v-log.”

              “Okay, we’ll be quiet,” Diego smiled.

              Alex rubbed his hands together in excitement, “Okay—three-two-one—it’s me Lex-4-Slim and it’s time for v-log number eight.”

              Cara and Diego looked at each other and tried not to laugh.

              “Um let’s see—I’m off for the summer.  Been confused about a lotta stuff lately.  What happened to string theory?  What happened to all the elegant science?  No one believes in string theory anymore, except maybe a few media darlings.  And what is dark matter and dark energy?  Ninety five percent of the universe is missing and scientists don’t have a clue.  This is really depressing.  They can only prove that five percent of the universe exists.  I’m only five percent real—that’s not very real.  I think I’m losing my faith in science.  Maybe everything is an illusion.  Not in the Hindu sense.  Maybe we’re all real, but our circumstances aren’t.  Or maybe everything in the universe is ingeniously designed so that we’ll never know the answers.  Every important argument has an equally valid counter argument.  It’s all designed to drive us crazy—something is preventing us from finding answers.  There’s always a shroud between us and truth.        

              “Well, that’s all I have to say about the nature of reality.  On to gaming:  I don’t really have a lot to say about gaming today, except one observation.  The one thing I hate is when you need about thirty seconds of blasting someone with sustained machine gun fire before they die—drives me crazy.  The kill should be quick, not necessarily easy.  Oh, and something else I was thinking—isn’t it ironic that the coolest thing in life are the undead?  I can’t stop hunting zombies. Anyways, this is Lex-4-Slim—signing off—see ya.”

              Diego and Cara clapped and grinned.

              “How was it?” Alex said.

              Diego petted the dogs.  “Loved it—that was pretty cool.  How many people subscribe to your v-log?”

              “About four hundred.”

              “That’s great.  So, what do you call yourself? —lex4slim?” 

              “Yeah—I guess I’m poking fun at myself.”

              “Do you feel bad about your weight?”

              Alex darted his eyes back and forth, looking annoyed. “Yeah.”

              “Have you had a doctor look at you?”

              “Yeah.”

              “What did the doc say?”

              “He told me to diet and exercise.”

              “But you haven’t been motivated enough—”

              “I have an unbelievable appetite.”

              “What you need is a tune-up.” 

              “A tune-up?”

              “Yep, an attitude adjustment.  There are two extremes that can mess you up—some people are arrogant and they need to be humbled, they need something to come along and make them see that they're not better than anyone else.  Then there’s the opposite extreme.  Some people have absolutely no self-esteem and need to find their confidence.  You’re part of the latter group.  You don’t really believe that you can win the battle.”

              Alex stared at Diego intently as if he were an oracle deciding his fate.

              “Let’s believe what the doctor says—that there is nothing physically wrong with you—sometimes doctors are wrong, but let’s just say you’re perfectly healthy and you just need to diet and exercise.  If you get motivated, there is nothing that you can’t accomplish.  Okay, first of all, what do we know about the enemy?  Let’s look at the problem—you’re addicted to sweets and starchy food—doughy food like pizza.  I’ve been watching you, Alex.”

              Cara smiled as she paged through one of Diego’s art books about impressionism.

              “I’m not a doctor or nutritionist, but what I do know is the more of that kind of food you eat, the hungrier you get.  So you’re gonna to have to change your eating habits.  As far as exercise, I want you to join me down in the gym—it’s on the first floor.  But here’s the thing—and this is the biggest thing of all.  Where is the motivation going to come from?”

              Alex, looking more and more uncomfortable said, “I don’t know.”

              “Here’s what I want you to do—I want you to go into the bathroom—”

              “This is gonna be good,” Cara said.

              Diego stopped to smile at Cara.  “I want you to go into the bathroom, look in the mirror and say to yourself—you are one badass dude.  Only I want you to mean it—say it with a fire in the belly.  You’re invincible—nothing can faze you—mind over matter Alex.”

              “You want me to say to myself that I’m a badass dude?”

              “The problem is always right there in the mirror.  Again, if you were arrogant—if you were full of yourself—I wouldn’t tell you to say that, but you’re the opposite extreme—you need to believe in yourself.  You have an enemy in your head that wants you to hate yourself as you hate your neighbor and God.  Go on—go in the bathroom and talk to the mirror.  Yell at it—tell it that you’re one badass dude.”

              Alex stood up, walked to the bathroom and closed the door.  Diego and Cara could hear the shouting muffled by the door and exhaust fan.  You-are-one-bad-ass-dude!

              “Is that really going to work?” Cara asked.

              “It might—you never know,” Diego smiled. 

              “How did you know he wasn’t arrogant?”

              “It’s easy to tell who has a big ego.  They’re the ones that get offended easily.”

              “And Alex is the opposite extreme.  He has no confidence, right?  Maybe he’s depressed.”

              “I don’t know if he’s depressed or just discouraged.  Actually, depression and discouragement are almost the same thing.  And you know what, Cara—you also need to do what Alex is doing right now.”

              “Me?”

              “Badass!” Alex screamed.

              “Yeah, you have to believe in yourself, Cara.  You’re bright and talented, and yet you don’t think you have what it takes to deal with the stress of school.  You have a gift.  Like many people, you don’t truly feel worthy of happiness.  I have a lot of friends that’re that way and beat themselves up with religion.  Other people punish themselves with drugs and alcohol.  There’re a lot of hurting people out there—most of it self-inflicted.”

              At that moment there seemed to be a million questions that Cara wanted to ask.  Diego the artist, the motivational speaker, the spiritual man.

              “You’re a badass!  bad—ass!  badass!”

              “I met a girl who cuts herself,” Cara said.

              “Hmm—just imagine what she’s going through.  You know that people a lot of times try to repeat the pain in their lives in order to work through it—but it’s not very effective.”

              Alex came out of the bathroom, glowing with excitement.  “I want to work out right now!”

              “All right, go downstairs—I’ll go change and meet you there,” Diego smiled.

              “Can I go too?” Cara said.

              “Absolutely.  Hey Alex, I like your theory about the shroud.  I’ll have to give it some thought.”

              Alex, oblivious, put on his sneakers and hurried out the door, unintentionally slamming it shut.

              Diego looked at Cara.  “After the high wears off in a few days, we’ll need to re-motivate him.  The slightest bit of discouragement and he’ll lose what he has now—he hasn’t fought the battle long enough to know how powerful his thoughts are—attitude is everything.  Positive thinking has to be practiced until it becomes a habit.”

              “Badass.  Is that how you talk at church?”

              Diego laughed and played with the dogs.  “No—they wouldn’t understand.  Hey, I really like your drawing of the man holding the moon in his hands.  I really, really like that drawing.”

Chapter Seventeen

            
 
The calls were averaging about three minutes apart.  Cara needed a restroom break, so she pressed the office manager’s extension.

              “Hey,” came the raspy cigarette voice.

              “Need a break,” Cara said.

              “All right, be right there.”

              About a minute later, the office manager appeared.

              “Thanks,” Cara said, and headed down the hallway.  When she passed the employee lounge, she noticed the software developer, Priscilla Song, sitting by herself behind a row of tables.  She had her head in a book, slowly eating from a plastic container.  Cara stopped for a moment after seeing Priscilla and walked back to the receptionist desk.

              “Hey—I’m sorry, but do you think I could take an early lunch break?” Cara said.

              “Sure—everything okay?”

              “Yeah—I’m feeling kind of lightheaded.  I need to eat something.”

              “All right—go.”

              “Thanks.”

              Cara again went down the hallway and used the restroom.  She washed her hands and looked into the mirror.  “Badass—you’re badass,” she whispered.  She hurriedly dried her hands with paper towels and went into the lounge.  She was relieved to see Priscilla still engrossed in her book and grabbed her lunch out of the refrigerator, eyeing the coffee machine, but unsure if she had enough time to pour herself anything.  She sat in front of Priscilla, one chair over, wanting not to violate any personal space.

              Cara nervously removed a turkey sandwich from a plastic bag and bit one end of it.  She noticed that Priscilla was eating rotini pasta and reading a paperback:  The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. 

              “That was a great book.”

              Priscilla smiled and replied, “One of the best,” and continued her chewing and reading.