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It Wasn’t Hatred

A.N. Block

    “Don’t look at me like that,” I told this Diane I’d been messing with for a good few weeks.
    Up till then it was fun and games, she was easy to be around, pretty cool looking, beautiful actually, with her long blue black hair and dreamy green eyes, but tonight the chick had some chip on her shoulder, she was on this kick and she wouldn’t drop it, how she could accomplish anything she set her mind to, how she pulled herself up from nothing, a single mom, taking classes, getting all A’s, waking up at 5 to bring her babies to day care, then heading over to start her shift at South Shore Mercy, so I figured once she finished buttoning herself up and got around to asking, “Where do you work?” that would be pretty much it.
     “I don’t have a job,” I told her, “okay? Now you know.”
    She’s like, “May I ask why?”
    “Well,” I said, laughing a little, although having to explain went up my ass sideways, “the way you are, it’s definitely not my outlook. I’m kind of against this whole society, see, the way it’s organized. Into economic classes. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
    “So what did you used to do? Before losing your job?”
    “A little of this. You know, a little of that. Did I say anything about ‘losing my job’ though?”
    “Well,” she said, “just because the economy’s bad___” but I interrupted.
    “Whoa!” I raised my hand. “Got nothing to do with that. Nothing at all.”
    She looked at me sideways, put on her sunglasses, turned away, said “Bye,” and I waved to her back.
    The truth is, what’s so great about having a job? Like this is some big accomplishment. Every jackass has one, most of them you just have to show up on time, so what does that prove?
    Walking over to Smiley’s on the corner, I told myself, she’s got broad shoulders covered with freckles and I love how her hair drapes all over them, but this one’s no different than all the rest.
    Believe it or not though, Diane called the next day.
    “Sorry if I over-reacted,” she goes. “My uncle’ll hire you. Doesn’t pay much to start, but you could work your way up.”
    “Thanks,” I said, “but I don’t want to work my way up. Did you somehow not get that? I don’t want to work, okay?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m lazy,” I said. “What they used to call a ne’er-do-well.”
    Stone silence on the other end. Then what sounded like a sniffle.
    “Hello?”
    “Nothing’s free, asshole,” she said. “Nobody owes you a goddamn thing. You don’t get anything if you don’t do anything!”
    This time she waited for me to say something but I just hung up. Then I called her back.
    “Who’re you to judge? I’m opposed to this capitalistic society. It kills the soul. What part of that don’t you actually get?”
    “Don’t call me anymore,” she said.
    “Fine.”
    I mean, you can’t feel good about scrounging like I do. Living off your disability from the service, these constant deficiencies in your two digit bank account. Doing odd jobs for cash. Am I saying everything’s cool, the way things are? Not even a little. Mainly though it’s because Diane’s reflective of the female of the species, how they all think. One look at me and they see No Future emblazoned across my chest. A fuck up who can’t get his shit together. Can’t though is different than won’t. That’s the part that shakes people up. I don’t care about clothes, about cars, about possessions, I’m free of all that. All I crave is Diane, those long fleshy arms. Being the same size, the way our parts fit together, it’s perfect.
    I love them from here to the moon, don’t get me wrong, but my family’s no prize and never has been. Being the disreputable one, I hardly go see them anymore. Guess they’re proud of my brother Jay with his three kids and fancy house. The oldest. In high school we’d hear him come home three, four in the morning, then he’d be sitting at the breakfast table in his ratty velour bathrobe sipping coffee before anyone got up. “You guys,” he’d say, winking, “you getting laid yet?” Football player, bigshot, fraternity boy. Jimmy was next, he’s the tough guy, pack of Camels rolled up in his tee-shirt, always in trouble, got busted dealing and now he’s some kind of salesman. Same difference, right? Then comes Joe: poor kid never had a chance, couldn’t get his emotions in check, he’d have these constant delusions. Ballooned up to 300 pounds, wears these half inch thick eye glasses, and Mom used to cry over him every day, giving in to his every whim. Me, being the youngest, I guess I’m some kind of reaction to all three. Jay the bullshitter, his con man routine, Jimmy, how he tries to sleaze off everyone too, and Joe, being in this group home, eating downers all day. Everyone’s got their little job they do though, including him. So that makes them better than me?
    Got into a major blow up the last time we’re all home, in December.
    “You’re happy like this?” Dad shouted at me. “You need some kind of therapy. That or a good boot in the ass.”
    “I’ll pay you to go see a psychiatrist,” Jay said to me on the side. “Hey, I don’t want Pop getting excited like that, it’s bad for his heart.”
     “Give me a call some time, I’ll fix you up with beautiful girls,” Jimmy said when he got a hold of me, outside of his wife’s hearing. “They’ll make you feel like a man.”
    “You could room with me,” Joe offered, tears rolling down his cheeks. “At the home. People are nice there. Nobody yells.”
    So is it any wonder I cut out of upstate New York? It wasn’t the weather made me leave, tell you that much. Why here? Maybe I just liked the sound of the name: Boston. Maybe I just wanted something new. Bigger city, hipper people, supposedly anyhow. More politically conscious. Stay anonymous. Meet somebody. Find love. Find Diane.
    Oh, I’ve tried various things in this town, I’ve tried to change it up, from working retail, to cooking, to pumping gas and some shady things too, guys I met in the pubs, my home away from home. I’ve collected paychecks on a routine basis till it finally sunk in, this is not me. Being a wage slave. So, it’s my fault? Of course, who’s else would it be?
    The last straw, I was with a mover. I’m not that big and strong though, they must’ve been desperate. Didn’t last. It couldn’t. Lugging couches and dressers for all those rich BU kids was too much for me.
    Truth is though, I kept thinking about Diane, how it was before class warfare turned her against me. Something about her vehemence, I mean this chick was the real deal. Went back to Allston, the place we first met, it was my third stop of the night and there she is wearing her high strapped red “Fuck Me” shoes, she’s like a magnet, three or four clueless dirt bags crowded around her, she gives me this look, it’s not hatred, it’s pity.
    I walked right up, butted in on the conversation.
    “Don’t feel sorry for me,” I said, interrupting one of the assholes. “I’m doing great. Okay?”
    So this big nosed hulk in a cardigan sweater puffs his chest out and points at me. “You know this guy?” he asked her.
    Before she could answer, I said, “She knows me. In the true Biblical sense. What’s it to you?”
    He lowered his head and squinted. “Are you serious, shorty?”
    “Deadly,” I told him.
    “All right, let’s go. Outside.”
    I said, “Fuck you, sonny. Make your play here.” Cause I knew he wouldn’t, see? Don’t ask me, I just knew.
    The guy’s twice my size, ten years younger, probably some kind of fitness addict who bangs the bags every day. He’s like, “You got a serious problem.”
    “Yeah, same one you got,” I told him. “I’m going to die one day. So what?” Then I turned to her. “Nice to see you, Diane. Glad to see you made some nice new friends.”
    I walked to the bar and got a beer, started up a conversation with this sports nut who bought me a couple more, we traded war stories, I told him about my track and field exploits in high school, “fastest white boy in the county,” how it helped me out overseas, and by the time I left the joint she was gone, so were her new boyfriends, the T wasn’t running anymore, so I hoofed it home. Stumbled is more like it. Good thing they took my license away.
    The sports nut was very cool. I told him about her and he slipped me something he said would take the edge off. For free. That was some trek. Kept seeing these monstrous looking freaks along the way, a soft rain started falling, stared a wild dog down, after the thing stopped barking and tried to shake itself dry we made friends and walked together for a while, parted ways, and right after I said my ABC’s heard a voice coming from somewhere, calling out, I know you! commanding me to Get a job.
    “Shut up,” I remember saying, “you ugly mutt you! The hell do you know?”
    I called Diane the next day to ask if the offer from her uncle was still on the table.
    She laughed and said, “Really?”

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