EMP Causality Page 4

  As he slowly walked toward William, he noticed that the drunk was taking his shot of whiskey then staggered over to join Jessica. Damn, thought Ben. The drunk now has a better relationship with his daughter than he does. How low can he go? Better cowboy up. Ben walked over to William, his wife, and Fred.

  “You mind if I join you for while?” asked Ben.

  “Delighted to have you. You must be happy?” William said in a monotone voice. William was tall, slender, and real neurotic. He was always clean but could care less if his clothes were matched or pressed. William’s father was a famous chemist. Before his death, he left William with a house and some funds. His only sister estranged herself from William. A combination of William’s behavior and a little bit of jealousy, she always thought their dad pampered and favored William. There was also a deep and dark secret in William’s soul—a real evil act committed on him by a family member. Even the therapist could not penetrate William’s innermost sanctum. Life always has its sadness. After all, none of us are perfect.

  When a perfect storm or event unfolds, it alters the path that we travel. For William, it was a constant battle of Why? Why is human nature so cruel, and was this a test on William’s soul? William’s perfect event happened at a therapy session. He met his wife-to-be. She was on the same wavelength, a very sensitive person. William loved it. She was a good listener and was attuned to his needs. Another person at the session was a caretaker for Fred. There was a complication, though. Parkinson’s was taking its deadly course on the caretaker. He had to find another home for Fred. The caretaker was trying to put off relinquishing Fred. He knew Fred inside and out; it would be hard to let go.

  In his darkest and most vulnerable state, William met two souls who needed him. He felt a calling. It was a calling that told him, “The time is now.” This is his purpose: two souls who would not betray or hurt him. William had a dark and empty spot in his heart. With a slow but deliberate courting ritual, William invited both his wife-to-be and Fred over to his house. When they left, William began to miss them. Soon the caretaker informed William that the state wanted to put Fred in a group home. The caretaker was physically unable to take care of him.

  It was at that moment that his wife-to-be offered to help William if he took Fred in. It was a big step, but William went through with it. As the days rolled by, the three of them spent most of their time at William’s house.

  “Where is this going? What is it that you want, William?” his wife-to-be asked.

  Instinctively, she let William be the man. “I do not want to be used or hurt anymore,” she said in a cautious but deliberate tone. On that note, she excused herself and decided to stay away from William for a while. It was the trigger that sent William into making a commitment. They went to a justice of the peace. To this day, although not perfect, it is a marriage that has lasted.

  Ben sat down next to William. It was an ominous sign not only to William but to the others in the collaborative. Ben’s options had run their course. William, being very sensitive and analytical, said nothing to Ben about the family rift.

  “Seems strange that there is no mention of the electrical crews on the survival radio,” William’s wife stated in a frustrated tone.

  “I know, big government, they probably do not know themselves.”

  Ben stated with a little bit of cheer. “I have heard on the survival radio they are having real problems with Biker gangs. Most of them coming in from California and the southwest, especially the illegals that have crossed the border.”

  “Never let a good crisis go to waste,” said Mr. Henderson, who chimed in.

  “I think you’re right, dad,” Mr. Henderson son stated.

  Now, it seems that Ben is accepted by the other members of the collaborative. Damn! He worked so hard for his family and the welfare of the collaborative. It was good to see the others not picking sides in his family feud.

  “Ben, since you are here, I did want to talk to you about Fred,” William asked in a worried tone.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ben as he now has his thoughts redirected from his own grief.

  “I understand that the recovery is underway. Being realistic, that is going to be many months,” William said with sadness. “Fred cannot wait that long. He is a bad diabetic, plus he needs his psychiatric medications soon.”

  “I am sorry, William. What would you like me to do?” Ben asked with some hesitation.

  “I would like to see if you can find a way that I can get him to Tent City. They would have more access to the right medical help,” William asked in a pleading manner.

  Now Ben was caught in a real quandary. He knew his daughter went to the Maine tent city. This is real stress. For a few moments, there was dead silence.

  Every action that Ben makes has to be measured. He has made enough mistakes. Ben bowed his head; William sensed not to say anything more. Like being in the eye of the storm, neither Ben nor William spoke. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Ben lifted his head. His thoughts were misdirected. He slowly glanced at his daughter. There she was talking to the drunk. His first reaction was still jealousy, but that soon faded. He knew the drunk lost everything when he lost his wife. But Ben had his family physically there.

  Still, there were serious emotional wounds.

  When you’re under massive stress, exercising logic is hard to do. The drunk’s loss was God’s work. It was time for his wife to go to heaven. Neither man nor beast could have prevented this. In Ben’s case, it was human miscommunication—an extremely costly miscommunication. Could it be repaired? Some wounds can be repaired, but there are always scars. Sometimes emotional scars are deep, like an albatross that is always circling around you. In the pit of Ben’s stomach, he stilled deeply loved his daughter. He knew she was now blossoming. In his head, he has played out this movie hundreds of times. Trouble is, this scene was not in the movie.

  Each time when we watch a concert or see our favorite sports team, we appreciate and some even envy them. Few make it, many try. Ben bowed his head one more time. He put both his hands on the top of his head. It had been a good thirty seconds, but to Ben and William, it seemed like an eternity. Truth is, our thoughts race in a warp drive. When we speak, it is always slower. Many people have expressed when they are in a near-death experience, one can see their whole life play out in a moment. Ben removed his hands from his head.

  Slowly, he raised his head.

  “William, I truly empathize with your situation. I will try and help you.

  I am having a difficult time with my daughter,” Ben exclaimed as he stared out to the heavens.

  William just bowed his head. He felt as if he was denied a stay of execution.

  “Still, it is not my daughter who I should be speaking to but Officer Ryan.

  It is the authorities that are issuing special passes to Tent City. I will get on it tomorrow,” Ben said as he slowly turned and looked at William.

  William started to look up and speak. He could not. Being sensitive yet being a brave man, he was coming unglued. He put his right hand over his eyes and started to cry. An emotional roller coaster had taken its toll on William.

  “The Lord has plans for all of us; we just have to play it out,” Ben said as he put his arm around William.

  William gave thanks, but inside he knew Ben was overwhelmed with his own problems. Fred, being a little clueless, just enjoyed all the company. William’s wife was just beside herself. She did care a lot for Fred, but she was mainly concerned about her husband state of mind. The rest of the afternoon became a little awkward. Where to go? What to do? Ben was at the end of his ropes, and William, being eccentric, was also at a dead-end. Ben got up and tried to put on the survival radio. Everyone missed their electronic gadgets. It was an escape from human interaction. Somehow, there are legitimate times when an escape route is called for. The best Ben could do was go to the survival radio. Problem is, much of the info is rehashed, kind of like watching old reruns of I Love Lucy. />
  Making the best of a bad situation, Ben’s son came over.

  “Hey Dad, should I start to get the fire pit and some food ready?”

  Randy said expressing some empathy.

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” Ben exclaimed with a sigh of relief.

  As Randy started to move things along, the rest of the collaborative also lent a helping hand. Yes, there was tension in the air, but it was a mixed bag. Without Ben there would be no collaborative; now many of the members are repaying him. They are trying to make the atmosphere a little lighter.

  As the afternoon went by, it became a time of reflection. All families have their spats. What happens when one reaches a point of no reconciliation? It becomes a path of hardships for all.

  Ben, being a microbiologist, is wired to be analytical. Reality and acceptance really need to take its time. As Ben was slowly headed to the fire pit, the drunk left Jessica’s company. If he had to take a sobriety test, he certainly would fail. Put your finger on your nose and walk a straight line. At this point, the drunk would fail at putting his finger on his nose. Ah! What’s poison to one is a lifeline to another.

  “I thought you could use a little drink,” the drunk commented in a slurred voice. It looked like he drooled on his unwashed sweatshirt. Hmmm, thought Ben, as he looked at the drunk. He was acting like the court jester roaming around, trying to instill a smile on everyone.

  “Perhaps just a small nip,” Ben said as he wanted to find a glass or mug to put the whiskey into.

  Deep inside him, he really needed relief from all this stress. The only thing is, he knew his wife and daughter would be watching. What else are they going to watch? Not much on their TV; in fact, not much on anyone’s TV without electricity. You know the term “I double dare you”—well, Ben was in a “double doghouse” state of mind. His wife and daughter were sending out bad vibes in his direction.

  What the f——? thought Ben. It’s time to think of me. He found a coffee mug.

  The drunk poured in some whiskey until Ben said, “When?”

  “Thank you,” Ben said with a smile.

  “You’re welcome,” said the drunk, raising his glass to salute Ben.

  Ben decided to just nod. If he saluted the drunk in a reciprocal manner, it would put a nail on the door to his double doghouses. With his wife and daughter glancing at him, it would become a life sentence, without a chance for parole. Being analytical at times really sucks. It’s kind of like being a nerd at a singles’ dance.

  Ben just took the mug and tried graciously to make a little small talk with the drunk. As a few more of the collaborative members came over, Ben found himself making the best out of it. The little bit of whiskey that Ben consumed took the edge off his stressful state of mind.

  The afternoon and evening went without a hitch. Ben felt a little sorry for the drunk. On the outside, he looked rough; on the inside, he was a beautiful person.

  Maybe fighting his own demons, the drunk has to obliterate all his senses.

  It was a cat-and-mouse game. Every once in a while, Jessica would eye her dad. Alice would also do the same. Once a tight-knit Christian family, they now acted like strangers. Who—or what—would put all the pieces back together on Humpty Dumpty? It seemed insurmountable. Sometimes the best course of action is no action. At least, until the waters are no longer murky.

  I am sure this will be one day that will live on in the minds of the Randal family.

  As evening came, the departures slowly started. First, Jessica excused herself.

  Then it was the divorcee, Henderson, William, his wife, and Fred. Randy has really made his father proud. He diplomatically waited for his mom (Alice) to turn in. He knew he had to stay and at least give his dad a little company. He did not want to take sides, and he hoped his dad would not bring up the issue.

  Ben, being happy that his son at least remained neutral, knew better than to rock the boat.

  Darkness finally came and, like a curtain at half-time, gave pause to this sorry state of affairs. Ben waited until everyone was tucked in. He grabbed his Bible and looked skyward. “Thank you, Lord, I am really trying. Please show me the path.” With that said, Ben entered the house. As he crawled into Bed with his wife, he noticed she was on her side facing the outside of the bed. Ah, Ben thought, at least it’s better than sleeping in the doghouse. Who is kidding whom? It’s not better. It’s like sleeping with the Ice Queen. “Sorry, Lord, I was out of line,” Ben muttered under his breath. It was a long day, this first day of an uneasy homecoming. With a new dawn coming, hopefully there will be hope.

  Another EMP Causality: Part II

  An Unsettling Time

  “Good morning, Vietnam!” the enlisted man spurted out on the PA system. It was a wake-up call. Everyone was under stress. His attempt to inject some dry humor was a welcome break from the reality of war. Problem was, the enlisted man had a nemeses: his immediate officer. The man was an uptight, overbearing army officer, who made life miserable, for the announcer. The part of the enlisted man was played by Robin Williams. Bless his soul. He had come a long way from his Mork and Mindy days.

  In this Hollywood classic, the announcer was forced out of his job. His immediate officer thought his comments were not proper for army decor. They rubbed him the wrong way. After he got him railroaded out, the officer got his proper dosage of karma. The uptight, smug officer was reassigned to a new duty station in a distant and cold climate. Top officers at the army base understood morale. They knew these young soldiers were at their limit. Sometimes, the army way is not always the right way. In combat, discretion can be warranted.

  After the EMP strike, reality reared its ugly head. For some, it was visible in a matter of minutes. For some, it was hours, and for others, days. For those with an already damaged inner being, self-preservation opened the door into denial. Will there be school again? Work? Movie theaters? TVs? Will we get protection for our friends and family? The list of how each person can react to stress goes on and on.

  Before the strike, our stress was with everyday life—getting to work on time, paying bills, passing exams, dealing with family and spouse problems, etc. We all deal with it in different ways: after-work activities, running, walking, biking, and playing sports. These help by providing a healthy escape mechanism. Others are drawn to less healthy approaches: drinking, smoking, binge- and comfort eating. For some, a more passive approach suits their personality: immersing themselves in social media, electronic devices, or watching sports.

  Within the collaborative, there is a different stress. It is the one of responsibility in an uncertain world. Most understood Ben’s role. He has helped organize a means to provide food, water, and safety for the collaborative during an uncomfortable time. Even if Ben was at fault, within his family feud, how can they ostracize him? His fire pit was the collaborative safe place.

  In this quiet suburban town, the insects and animals start stirring before dawn. Usually these noises has gone unnoticed by most. The only exception is Randy. He has taken a different path in life. Randy like his dad was blessed with a high IQ. Living in rural Nebraska, school became boring. He was way ahead of his classmates. Perhaps, he should have been advanced and skipped a few grades. Perhaps it was a combination of Alice and Ben being too busy, or the complacency of not “rocking the boat.”

  Randy’s mind was always in warp drive. His father was a hands-on dad. Randy would watch and help out as his fascination with putting mechanical projects together developed. He picked up auto magazines and was given a free pass by his parents to pursue his natural interests. When he worked outside, he observed the natural cycle of seasons and how animals, insects, and plants intertwined their existences.

  When the family moved from Nebraska to Metro West Boston, Randy kept up with his habits. The rest of the family was engulfed in their everyday fast-paced life. But Randy was one in his surroundings. Working as an automotive mechanic was stress-free. He could have time and funds to work on his real love: his cl
assic vintage Buick.

  More precious than gold, his classic Buick was the lifeline for all in the collaborative. Still, Randy remained humble; him and his classic machine. It would be kind of like Tom Brady, arguably the greatest quarter back of all time, but humble as a part of a well-oiled team.

  Sometimes it is strange how events unfold. As morning approached, it was Ben who awoke first. Maybe God is playing a master chess game, understanding how and when each piece should move. Truth be told, Ben did not sleep well, tossing and turning all night. His mind was acting more like a massive traffic jam in New York City. No matter which route or bridge he took, there was blockage. Alice, Jessica, the collaborative, William’s cry for help, the dead woman in Providence, Rhode Island—all of it represented a major clusterf——. If this were a Hollywood script, he would be portrayed as a troubled man. He would be tossing and turning in a cold sweat. Finally the camera would zoom in on his face. Presto! His buggy red eyes would open—a classic movie shoot.

  Why did Ben arise this one time before Randy? Maybe it’s God’s doing. Randy sensed the tension in the air. He had to let his father and sister do their own peace dance. Randy decided to let his dad get up first so he could play out his own hand. Randy did not want to degrade his father. A student should not outshine or humiliate his teacher. But he also was aware of each of his family member’s perspective in this stressful and complex feud. He knew that any more interference would only delay the possibility of a happy solution.

  Ben sat up in bed, his feet touching the floor, away from his wife. It was not a happy day for him. Damn! So much weight on his shoulders. Doesn’t his wife understand how much is on him—the collaborative, food, water, protection, just giving hope to everyone—so they will endure this nightmare? In Ben’s heart, he knew he had to be a solid rock. His inner emotions had to be bundled within. Moses opened the seas so his followers could have safe passage. Ben had to be the monolith that gave the appearance of a protective shroud. This conflict with his daughter, Jessica, was wearing on him.