Lessons in Virtue: Chapter one (rough Draft)

CHAPTER

 

I

 

“… The man we call modern, the man who is aware of the immediate present, is by no means the average man. He is rather the man who stands upon a peak, or at the very edge of the worlds, the abyss of the future before him, above him the heavens, and below him the whole of mankind with a history that disappears in primeval mists. The modern man – or, let us say again, the man of the immediate present – is rarely met with, for he must be conscious to a superlative degree. Since to be wholly of the present means to be fully conscious of one’s existence as a man, it requires the most intensive and extensive consciousness, with a minimum of unconsciousness. It must be clearly understood that the mere fact of living in the present does not make a man modern, for in that case everyone at present alive would be so. He alone is modern who is fully conscious of the present.”

 

Carl Gustav Jung

The Spiritual Problem of Modern Man

 

Virtue heard knocking at the door but thought it was part of the dream. He chose to ignore it and see if he could drift back into that special sleep, which for a while now, had been his friend. The phone began to ring now, this he could not ignore. He had to wake up and see who it was. He would resume his former bliss, if the fates allowed.

 

"Hello"

 

"Man, come open the door."

 

"Who is this?"

 

"Don't play with me dude, it looks like it’s about to rain."

 

The fog of sleep began to retreat rapidly. Virtue abandoned all hope of returning to his peaceful sleep. Virtue recognized Horus’ voice as he hung up the phone and put on his bathrobe. At the door, Virtue not only let Horus in, but he also let in the diffused and refracted light that fought past the heavy grey cumulus clouds. Horus was not affected by the clutter nor the stale stench surrounding him. This let Virtue know that whatever followed, whatever came next, was serious.

 

“I have some coffee if you want some. It’s not the freshest.” Virtue said, being the first to speak.

 

“Yeah man, I’m good.”

 

Virtue poured himself a cup of the two-day-old coffee and added enough sugar to drown out the extreme bitterness.

 

“So what’s up man?” Virtue asked while he sat and took his first sip.

 

“I won’t beat around the bush, I sold the company. Morbes came to me and offered me twice what all my contracts were worth; then they offered me triple for what the company was worth. It was a sweet ass deal. How could I say no? They wanted to keep the name of the company because of its reputation, and you know that’s all because of you. This is why I’m here.”

 

Hours reached inside his coat pocket and handed Virtue a folded slip of paper.

 

“It’s a check for forty thousand dollars. It’s what you would have made in a year, plus a raise, sick and vaca pay, and something extra.”

 

This, in conjunction with the caffeine taking effect fully activated Virtue’s senses. He had held a job ever since he was fifteen no matter the situation. He equated the idea of being unemployed with failure in his mind. The idea of having forty thousand dollars in the bank, at one time posed the question: How much of a failure could one be at that point?

 

“What am I supposed to say?” Virtue uttered quickly as the cup left his lips.

 

"I don't know man. I didn't know what to say when dude came in there and handed me the check, but I took it. You know last year’s profit was down 20%. We lost a lot of sites and I had to let go of ten agents. This way, some at least get to keep their jobs, and I still come out ahead."

 

Hours rose up from the table and tried his best to avoid stepping on anything without making it look like he was trying.

 

"Alright man, I have to go meet the guy and sign some more paper work. You have my number, blood stay in touch." Horus said taking hold of the door handle. Virtue could see that he wanted to express something else. He could see in Horus' face that there were words that he did not utter and he wondered if it was because of pride, or out of respect. He questioned if he even knew the words to express the concern his face showed.

 

Horus lingered as if he wanted to hug virtue but he didn't. He simply turned the knob, letting the diffused and refracted light back in to shine on the clutter, and give freedom to the stench.

 

Virtue put the check in his bathrobe pocket and went back to bed. He did not fall asleep right away instead; he lay there looking at the check. A part of him was again amazed that he possessed that amount money at one time. He rolled over and put the check in his dresser by his bed then rolled back over looking up at the blank ceiling.

 

He assumed that he would have to break out of this eventually. If anything he would have to go back to work, Horus would call him and have a job for him and only him and he could not say no. He figured that at the very least Horus would be busy and would want him to check on a site; make sure the proverbial new guy is actually working, not flirting, not on the phone, but working. Virtue hated being that guy because they only hired people that were twenty-one and older. This being the case everyone was an adult and should behave accordingly. When he did see someone acting crazy, being crazy, or just disregarding the job completely, he would be pissed. This he knew was the reason Horus always had him go out and be that guy.

 

That was gone now, he had no reason to shower or shave. He had no reason to wash clothes or do anything that required him to go outside of his house. He only had reason to sleep, so he did. He woke at night like the undead only to splash enough soap and water on himself to rid his body of the stench and head to Bloodcount where he would pick a random bottle of liquor, head upstairs and resume his slumber after it was empty

 

 

 

“Look at you, fucking drunk again” is what the faceless man spoke into Virtues ear, leaning over him as he lay on what could be called the floor.

 

“What the fuck do you want?” Virtue responded without moving his mouth but instead making his voice emanated from all round him.

 

“You’re on your mother’s couch drunk while she’s in there in pain.”

 

The white emptiness that was their surroundings turned a deep red as he floated up and responded with obvious anger in his voice making it boom and echo in the space.

 

“You don’t talk about her; you don’t get to mention her.”

 

“Oh” The faceless man said sarcastically. “Did I say something, oh wait it was the truth.”

 

“Shut up” Virtue said.

 

“I told you that you weren’t ready for me. You let that good man just walk out of your life because you just couldn’t handle a real man.”

 

“Shut up I said. I let him go because…”

 

“Because what?”

 

“I let him go because he let go of me.”

 

“Well then answer this: if that was true then why am I still here? If that was true why can’t you see me?”

 

Virtue floated back down to what could be called the floor and returned the red back to its former white emptiness, he did not answer. The faceless man leaned over Virtue again and said

 

“Like I said you aint ready.”

 

The sound of water falling on metal woke Virtue. He was somewhat confused by not being upstairs in the bed at Bloodcount. He was inside of his car in his very own driveway. They said it was going to rain earlier in the week. Virtue had not paid too much attention. He hated the rain but the rain did not matter anymore. Virtue with immediately felt his pants pocket for his keys. The rush of anxiety came over him as he prayed that he had not driven home while being so obviously drunk. He could not forgive himself if he had done so. He found a note in his pants pocket.

 

                 “In the mailbox

                                  Jimmy”

 

Virtue exhaled in relief. He had not become a danger to himself and to others. Virtue gathered himself sat and gazed at the wind and rain. The dark grey concrete played nicely against the light grey of the rainy winter sky. The more virtue came to his senses the more he began to feel the bite of the cold that accompanied the winter rain. He would have to make a mad dash to the porch, dig his keys out of the mailbox, and run into his home.

 

He opened the car door and was immediately met with the full force of the cold wet air and massive raindrops bombarding his face. He ran to the porch and was surprised by his ability to do so; he was sure that his hang over would be immensely great if he had blacked out the night earlier. Opening the house door, taking off his wet clothes, he became worried by the fact he did not have a hangover. Virtue questioned if his body started to become acclimated to the amounts of alcohol that he ingested. Had his body gotten to the point where he could drink to the point of black out and not have a hangover the next day? This would be an alcoholics dream but Virtue knew that this was not right; this was not where he wanted to be in his life.

 

The mad dash threw the rain to the door drained his energy. He had just enough energy to feed Beau and Luke whom had both grown fat and lazy, shower himself, and make a pot of coffee. Virtue looked out at the rain threw the kitchen window while drinking his coffee.  Virtue got up from the table and made his way to the phone. He was going to call his mother and let her know that he was alive. This was part of the deal, she would not tell his friends where he lived now, nor would she give out anywhere-about information long as he checked in at least once a week. Today, he was going to call her when he saw a note by the phone reminding him that he had an appointment with Kevin today, at one o’clock, it was now twelve forty. He put on clothes and raced back in to the rain and to Kevin’s office.

 

Virtue opened the office doors and Ms Chan-Lee waved to him as he sat in what he found to be the most comfortable of the uncomfortable chairs. The only negative about this chair was it faced a glass mosaic artwork. It was a very beautiful and stunning piece from afar, but when close up, one saw that it was a mirror. Sitting in the most comfortable of the uncomfortable, looking at the little separate pieces come together to make one whole, one big picture, Virtue did not want that whole to be himself. If Kevin was anything like Bruce then this was a deliberate thing. Virtue dismissed this thought and felt ashamed that he had compared a good person like Kevin to what society considered a person like Bruce. Ms Chan-Lee finally caught Virtues attention, let him through the doors, and back into Kevin’s office. They sat down and began

 

“I think…No I take that back, I know I can answer that question now.” Virtue started off.

 

“Go ahead Mr. Martin.”

 

“I loved Bruce and even Diesel because I did not love myself. I think that I’ve always been in love with the idea or concept of love if that even makes sense. You know when I came out all the dudes that I dated were just cookie cuter images of what I was attracted to physically. Then I would try to find love after the sex. I mean, I know that everyone says you’re supposed to find the love first and then sex, but, you know, we’re men. We are gay men at that.

 

Men are supposed to be able to separate their emotions from sex, right? I use to think that I did that, but I guess it really did not work. The thing is that when I did find myself attaching emotions to the sex I found some reason to get rid of the guy. Then I met Diesel and I did put my emotions into the relationship. I convinced myself that since we talked to each other after the sex was over then there must be something there. I let my guard down to be loved, and well shit, how much in love can an out man be with a DL man? How much, if any, of that love is real?

 

Then I went around and around with Bruce. This time I thought that this would be real because he was everything that Diesel wasn’t. Bruce would kiss me and held my hand, and you know show basic P.D.A. in public. He would openly call me his man and we did not have to code our language so people did not think that we were together. We were an out couple. We looked, talked, and walked like the gay couple that we were, but he was crazy, controlling, and the devil.”

 

While talking Virtue looked out the window and saw the park. He watched as the geese and the ducks huddled together under a tree near the pond. The rain still going and the wind still wiping and whirling; dancing with her cold partner. No one was outside in this weather except the homeless and the people making their way to their homes. Virtue for the first time wondered if Kevin had ever seen him when he went to the park after their sessions. He wondered if Kevin had seen him and thought how weird this must seem but then Kevin was a psychologist. Kevin would know that this is just another relaxations technique.

 

“You would think that me, somewhat knowing this, I would not have given Bruce or Diesel a second chance but I did. That’s the thing though; I wasn’t giving them a second chance. I was giving love a second chance. I’ve always said ‘If you love someone you give them chance upon chance upon chance’ but what kind of love could there be if it’s not equal? I think that’s always been my thing.”

 

“How so?” Kevin asked.

 

“Well I mean instead of seeing someone or something for what it or they are I see things for what they could or should be. With people my problem is that I see what they show themselves to be and not what they truly are on the inside.”

 

Virtue paused to take in the sound of the words he had just uttered. He had never heard them spoken aloud before but he had always believed this to his core. He believed this was a problem of his but like all in denial this was his first step, admittance of the problem.

 

“I know that sounds kind of pretentious but I don’t mean it like that you know. I mean like with Bruce. I knew that he was stuck up. I knew that most of what Chris said about him was right but what Chris didn’t see was what I saw. Bruce was devoted and loyal…”

 

Virtue again stopped in mid-speech. Hearing what he had just said, saying that Bruce was loyal, felt like acid on his tongue but it was true. While Bruce was with him he was faithful as far as he knew.

 

“He was determined to achieve his goals and went after them with a vengeance. I saw how deeply this man’s capacity for love was. His capacity to please the one that he loved was outstanding. The thing with that is if a person does not love himself or herself then what good is it. You can love somebody all you want for the potential that you see in them but if they never realize that potential then you’re not, and really never were, loving that person. You were loving a stranger that looks like the person. If you go further you then have to ask yourself did you every really love this person or did you fall in love with the person that you made up in your head.

 

That’s what I came to with Bruce. I didn’t really love Bruce. I was in love with the Bruce that I saw inside of him and made him out to be in my head. That was not the real Bruce though. The Bruce that I came to love had some of the qualities of the Bruce that I fell in love with because you know I had to start somewhere but far as him being that person he was not. I did not love him for him as he was. I was in love with the idea of what he could be, what our love could be, what we could be, but I know now I was never really in love with him.  Then there was Diesel.”

 

 

 

 

 

©Christopher F. Brown 2012

The Poetry, Art, & Photography

of

Christopher F Brown