The Journalist (9 page)

Cheers.

“And you know what the problem is, don’t
you.”

Jeers, Cheers, shouts of “YES

”

“The problem is the cronies at the top won’t
let go of their wallets

They keep passing
the bucks up, passing it on, pass it up, wham-bam, thank you,
ma’am.”

Cheers.

“Pass the gold, pack it in, pass it on, pile
it up, pass it on—I doooo understand that, honey. It’s spelled
g-r-e-e-d

”

Wild applause.

“Four thousand years ago, those over-libidoed
Pharaohs tried to take some of the gold out with them. They built
pyramids ten blocks long and a mile high. It’s still here,
honey—the gold—and where are they?

Cheers.

“I’m telling you, let go of the
stuff

”

Wild cheers.

“Spread it around a little, while there’s
still time.”

Cheers and applause.

“There’s enough to go around for everybody.
Enough for every man, woman and child to live like a human being. I
don’t understand

”

Cheers.

“And we wonder why the have-nots look at us
with contempt. Millions sleeping on the ground, eating garbage,
drinking rain, no roof over their heads, no toilet, no bed, no
nothing. And we suck up weight-loss infomercials and diet pills. I
don’t understand

”

Booos.

“The biggest problem in America today is fat.
No wonder they all hate our Aunt and Uncle Joes’ tilly. Let it
go

”

Applause.

“We could abolish poverty overnight, but we
don’t, won’t even talk. Shame on us. It’s a tragic disgrace, and on
a planet with so much, that things, things, are more important than
people. I don’t understand.”

Silence.

“Understand this, the haves and have-nots are
on the same track, one heading east and one heading west. Also know
that, with the grace of God, there is still time. Maybe we can all
be thankful for that. Friends, there is truly a new day coming.
With me I think we can do it peacefully. Otherwise, those trains
are barreling in the night.”

Beno paused.

“In closing, if you want a change from this
insane gluttony of a few at the top, elect me next November. I’ll
show you how to clean out the closet, honey

”

Applause, cheers, chants of “Beno, Beno.”

“Thank you all very much. God bless, and
thank you for coming.”

Applause, TV video switched to an
anchorperson.

The bartender turned the sound down and
snarled at Mary.

“Thanks.” Mary blew him a kiss.

Zack, digesting Beno’s remarks, remembered
several conversations he had had with the Pi people and Joe
Case—the last chat with Joe, as a matter of fact. Just before he
disappeared

about the very things Beno had
talked about.

“Having a nice little trip?” Mary tipped her
head.

Back from his thoughts: “So, what are you
going to tell Lande’s office?”

“To kiss my rabbit’s foot.”

Zack raised his hand to the server. “Want
another one?”

“Just one, remember.”

“Sure.”

The server came to the table.

“Two more.” Zack said. “New here, huh,
Troy?”

“Seems like forever.” Troy sighed and
left.

“Friendly little sucker,” Mary said.

“You trying to pick a fight in here?”

“Boca, why don’t we go to my place and I’ll
cook some steaks.”

“Mary

”

“Okay, why don’t we go to your place and
catch a fish.”

“Mary

”

“Don’t give me that
you-need-to-go-to-confession look.”

“So, what will you tell Ms. Lande?”

“Oh, bullshit.” She threw a nickel in his
glass.

“Oh, I see.” Zack stumped his cigarette out
in an old Bimini Road tin ashtray. “You’d think they would get new
ashtrays.”

“Boca, you are being a dumb jerk about us.
Everybody thinks it anyway.”

“They can think anything they want. We have
to live with we.”

Mary rolled her eyes in amazement. “Is that
supposed to be, like, Gertrude Stein or something?”

“Thank you.”

“Let me ask you. If I were forty-five and fat
would you marry me?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh, how about fifty and a cane?”

“Might.”

“One more. If I were fifty-two and you were
twenty-seven

”

“Definitely.”

“See, that’s the honest answer. It’s just a
dumb stubborn male thing with you. Age is such a stupid measure of
what people are, a person is

”

“Somebody said that.”

“Oh, stuff it.”

“That, too.”

“It’s true. You know it.”

“Mary, in less than eight years I’ll be
sixty. You’ll be—what—twenty-five?”

“Six. I’ll be twenty-six. Can’t count,
either.” She threw a dime in his glass.

Zack gazed into his drink. “If there was a
child

”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I probably wouldn’t see the grade school
graduatio

”

“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.” She threw a
quarter in his glass.

“So, what will you tell Ms. Lande when you
call her back tomorrow.” Zack lit another Camel.

“To go jump in a lake.”

“That’s better.” He blew smoke toward the
ceiling.

“How about ‘go to hell.’”

The server brought the new round of drinks
and looked at the change in Zackary’s glass.

Zack smiled. “It’s yours, little tip.”

“Damn little,” Mary said.

“Right.” The server picked up a ten-dollar
bill from the table. “Another seventy-five cents, please.”

Zack handed him another dollar. “Keep the
change.”

“Thank you.” The server left.

“Big tipper.” Mary threw a penny in Zackary’s
fresh drink. “How old was Ms. Elizabeth?”

“I’d rather not talk about that now.”

“I would.”

“She was forty-five.”

“And her husband died, right? Heart attack,
him being only forty, right? She liked ‘em young, right? And she
was a lonely, lonely, lonely widow, and you felt so sorry, sorry
for her because she was contemplating suicide, slashing her
wrists—or was it pills? She didn’t kill him, did she?”

“Mary.”

“She’s in California now, remarried,
right?”

He avoided her eyes.

“Right?”

“Right.”

“She better be.”

“Mary.”

“Anyway, I might not be in tomorrow. I might
quit.”

“And who is going to write your columns?”

“You write them.”

“How about a cup of soup?”

“Here?”

“Sure, they have ancient birds’ nest.”

“No.”

“Lemon goat’s not bad

”

“Zackary.”

“We could start with some sushi

”

“Forget it. So tell me again about your
priestly days.”

“End with a fortune cookie

”

“Come on, I like to see where you went wrong,
so I can learn.”

“Mary

”

She tilted her head. “Let me see. From
memory

the Reverend Father Zackary Ignatius
Stearn got canned, uh, defrocked.” She lowered her voice to imitate
Zack. “For one thing, I didn’t see myself as reverend. Neither was
I inclined to be obedient. Poverty, on the other hand, I had no
problem with. Chastity

eh. Besides, I
couldn’t see a poor widow commit suicide. I was doing God’s
work

”

“Mary

”

“Nevertheless, I understood the inward vow,
unlike the outward signs, was supposed to be an indelible tattoo
immune to my whims, desires

so they
say

”

“Mary

” He leaned
back and studied her performance.

She continued. “So I, being a defrockee, out
of work, took a professor position at Florida State; but students,
professors, nobody would play marbles with me so I decided to be my
own boss.” She dragged her palm across her face in imitation.
“Anyhow, if I had stayed with teaching I’d be a penniless drunk by
now.”

“That part is true.”

“So you’re a penniless journalist.”

“Reporter.”

“So you’re a penniless reporter.”

“At least I’m not a drunk.”

“Not yet.”

“Mary

”

“So, you’re an over-fifty white male,
dropout, a little bit radical, the lowly owner of a two-bit
struggling version of the penny press, have a golden opportunity to
ravish a beautiful young lady

and you’re
blowing it. What else?”

“Still a good pugilist.”

“Please, you couldn’t go two rounds with
me.”

“Bet on that.”

“Okay, when?”

“I don’t want to make another goddamn
life-thing mistake

” Zack crushed his
cigarette out.

“Neither do most people.”

“I’m old enough to be your grandfather.”

“Let’s change the subject. Do you believe the
Apostles Creed?”

“I asked congregations that every
Sunday

if they really believed what they
were mouthing. Invariably got me in trouble with the bishop.”

“Why is it you are constantly in trouble with
authority?”

“Interesting question.”

“I think you’re fifty-two going on ten.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyway, Apostles Creed. ‘We believe in God,
the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. We believe in
Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. He was conceived by the power
of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under
Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended to
the dead. On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven,
and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again
to judge the living and the dead. We believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness
of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
Amen.’”

After a moment, “I am truly impressed.”

“Do you?”

“Do I

?”

“Believe it.”

“And the doubting betrays the truth. That’s
why they call it faith.”

“Nice try, but that’s a lie.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“So, do you believe it?”

“There are some things we as humans just can
never know. Divine mystery.”

“That helps

was Ms.
Elizabeth a mystery?”

“Best I can do.”

“Well, you know, Boca, that is not exactly
Sister Ursula’s lead-pipe cinch stuff

”

“How did you know about Sister?”

“It’s more like your mumbo-jumbo and you
can’t even agree on the jumbo.”

“How did you know Sister Ursula?”

“You told me, remember? A million
times

” Again, Mary mimicked Zack by wiping
her palm across her face, “I recall flunking out, I got an A on a
final. Sister Ursula said it was a sign

lead-pipe cinch, a calling

”
She looked at him intently. “Did you steal the test?”

He blushed.

“I thought so. You go to confession?”

“None of your business.”

“Ah, you didn’t.” She continued. “Then it got
complicated, this nagging doubt

so, aside
from Ms. Elizabeth, I made a Gideon-like decision, Judges six
something, to test the question of my doubt. I put a fleece out and
asked for a sign, the ground wet and the fleece dry. I demanded to
know. I waited. Nothing. Neither the ground nor the fleece was
getting wet. Damn, I would never be ignored like that.

“Then along came Ms. Elizabeth

and what’s a body to do? She had these enormous, ah,
what-a-ya-call

needs

everything got wet

By the way,
whatever happened there? Why did she go to California and you
stayed here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Like, as in you were feeling guilty?”

“I’m not going to talk about it.”

“She dumped you.”

He sipped.

Mary continued with the Zack imitation. “And
so, after the damsel dumped me, a brief frustrating bout with
professoring at Florida State, which left even more doubt, I
started
The Boca
with two computers, five thousand dollars,
a couple of slave laborers and a second fleece-like prayer.” She
hit the tabletop. “By God, show me or else

”

“You know, you should have been in the
theater.”

“Right, change the subject. Anyway, like you
said, is it the doubting that got you?”

“Try chastity.”

“I’d never know.” Mary raised her
eyebrows.

“I must find a truth that is true for
me.”

“Is that Ms. Elizabeth’s line?”

“Kierkegaard, ‘The idea for which I can live
or die.’”

“Are you showing off again?”

“And we’re all in the middle like Buridan’s
Ass, starving to death between two bails of hay.”

“You are showing off, and it’s not as
complicated as you like to make it. Just choose. Either you want me
or you don’t. Forget the proof stuff.”

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Fate, making a mistake, being and time,
Heidegger

”

“Stop it

”

“Maybe this is all an accident and I am a
monkey’s nephew.” Zack said.

“Maybe you’re the Monkey King being
barbecued, and I’m The Buddha’s niece. Let’s put something simple
in a complicated box.”

“Do you think that’s complicated?”

“Do you really think I fall for this
red-herring floppy disk bullshit?” She shot him a cold stare.

“Life is more complicated than Do I want
you.”

“Tragedy of life, free will, predestination,
original sin, goals, sex, dying, all that ‘to do with living’
stuff

sigh

life’s
such a bitch.”