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THE EVIL AMONG US
Mel Waldman
I
I discovered his dark secret, by word of mouth, a few months after the others had caught him in the act. I couldn’t believe the bizarre tale they told me. But it was true. Even a psychologist can be duped! And my buddy Bobby, a fellow shrink, had been deceived too. For years, we had perceived Charlie in another light. We saw him as a lovable victim-someone worthy of our friendship and caring. Yet secretly, he committed heinous crimes! What was his true identity? Who was the real Charlie?
II
Since childhood, Charlie had some bad breaks, especially being labeled slow and emotionally disturbed by the school authorities. He felt bad about himself and couldn’t shake off the horrible feelings and poor self-image.
Now, he speaks and walks cautiously in an alien world that often rejects him. Over the years, he has been mocked, abused, or ignored. Yet a few of us have accepted him-until the apocalyptic moment.
Charlie moves gingerly and painfully through the interior landscape of thoughts and ideas, like a woman in labor for a very long time or an old man trekking across the deep snow in a snowstorm. (I’m 10 years older than Charlie. And I remember Brooklyn in the winter, in the fifties, covered in a pristine snow as pure as the beatific visions of a young boy blessed with absolute faith, never doubting the existence of G-d or the inherent beauty and goodness of human beings.)
Yeah, Charlie had some left curves thrown at him. But throughout his life, his folks loved him. His mother’s dead now. But his father continues to watch over him, with much love. They live together, for Charlie returned home a few years ago when he could no longer cope with life on his own.
I suppose Charlie’s been crumbling for years, struggling to hold it together. (He once told me he was afraid a stranger would break into Marvin’s apartment and kill him. Charlie suffered panic attacks and was placed on heavy medication. His father bought a bat and kept it by his bed. He told Charlie he’d protect him if anyone broke in. Slowly, Charlie’s terror vanished into a black hole of amnesia.) Still, he endeared himself to strangers like Bobby and me and his neighbors Joe, a retired teacher, and Bernie, a postal clerk. He received a lot of love. But I guess it wasn’t enough.
III
Charlie is a short, rotund middle-aged man with a thin moustache. He’s balding and wears old, baggy pants more fitting for an 80-year-old. Sometimes he forgets to bathe. But he wants to smell nice and uses Eternity cologne. Unfortunately, he pours it on his face and reeks of foul, smothering odors.
He lives in the past and often listens to Perry Como records. Just drop into Dunkin’ Donuts and you might catch him whistling or singing an old Perry Como tune. He carries a tune well. I guess he has a good musical ear.
He’s a collector too and buys hundreds of books, especially self-help books in psychology, he will never read. Some are still in unopened packages or boxes after months or years, cluttering his bedroom. It seems that Charlie can only focus for short periods of time. Perhaps, he also suffers from Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD).
In addition, he also collects CD’s, and with Joe’s help, has a cornucopia of pornographic tapes and DVD’s. Joe bought soft-core and hard-core pornography for Charlie online for years. After receiving the merchandise, Charlie paid Joe. (You see, Charlie has had a rough time with the opposite sex. His heart’s been broken many times, he confessed. Indeed, he’s probably a middle-aged virgin.)
For years, Joe let Charlie use his computer. Often, Joe invited Charlie and his father, Marvin, to his apartment to watch old and new movies on his large movie screen. Joe was very kind to Charlie and Marvin.
Bernie was also kind to Charlie. Bernie’s an old softie-hyperactive and loud but a man with a heart of gold. He lives with his widowed mother. But according to Bernie, they occupy the same space but live separate lives. Decades ago, his father was murdered. Once, he talked about his father’s murder. Only once.
Berne’s an amateur weight lifter who lives in the gym when he’s not working at the post office. In Dunkin’ Donuts, I used to watch Bernie stand up for Charlie if anyone harassed him. He treated Charlie like a younger brother.
Both Joe and Bernie and Bernie’s mother were victims of Charlie’s dark self!
IV
Charlie and Marvin don’t know that I know. Most of their friends have abandoned them. When they discovered the truth, Joe and Bernie complained to the landlord. They may still file police reports. In any case, they have ostracized Charlie to Hell!
“You son’s a pervert!” Joe told Marvin after Charlie was caught. “He can rot in Hell!”
V
I don’t know all the gruesome details. Haven’t read the letters. For the past 4 years, Charlie sent obscene, hate-letters to Joe and Bernie. Unfortunately, Bernie’s mother read the letters too.
For a long time, Joe and Bernie blamed the crazy Russian woman in the building. Aggressive and abusive, and sometimes shrieking like a sick bird, she seemed to be the most likely person disturbed enough to leave pornographic hate-mail under their door. But it was Charlie all along.
Who was this raging Charlie I didn’t know? Who?
What shall I do? They don’t know that I know. Joe and Bernie have asked me not to intervene. Yet I’d like to confront Charlie and get an explanation. Find out if he feels any guilt. Discover if he’s a decent person who went astray or a closet sociopath.
Joe and Bernie won’t forgive him. “It’s too late for an apology,” Joe told me. But is it too late to save Charlie’s soul?
I like Marvin. He’s always been kind to me and perhaps, he’s a father-figure I’m unwilling to give up. Unfortunately, his son maliciously, with premeditation, wrote ugly letters to Joe and Bernie for 4 years until he was caught. It didn’t happen once, twice, or even a few times. This evil phenomenon stretched across a Waste Land of perversion over time.
Yet who am I to judge? I too have my dark secrets. I too am a sinner! And the evil among us is ubiquitous. It’s always there-buried beneath the surface of consciousness. Each cutting moment, we must choose. If we slip...if we falter...it will possess us. By our actions or inaction, our character forms or dissolves.
We can’t escape. We can only choose or do nothing. And by doing nothing, we are guilty of complicity with evil. We are guilty!
POSTSCRIPT I
Last week, I received the first anonymous letter in the mail. It was pornographic and reeking of hate and bigotry. Of course, I suspected Charlie. But I had no proof. Then I held the white sheet of paper close to my face and inhaled its aroma. Eternity! And it had a foul, wicked scent as if the cologne had been mixed with inhuman debris and a rotting corpse. It reeked of evil!
Now, the letters have multiplied and there are hang-up calls in the middle of the night.
Yesterday, I received a letter in which the anonymous person threatened my wife’s life as well as mine. What shall I do? File a police report? Beat Charlie to a pulp? I haven’t had a fist fight since adolescence. I don’t believe in violence. Yet I’m enraged! I don’t have absolute proof! But it’s Charlie! And he’s threatened my wife and me.
We’ve been kind to him. Yet he’s stalking us. Why?
POSTSCRIPT II
We should have protected him. But we were focused on ourselves. And so it happened. I suppose it was the logical conclusion to Charlie’s irrationality. But we didn’t see it coming.
Charlie didn’t hurt my wife or me. I suppose he wanted to scare us-shake us up. Maybe it was a warning he was out of control and needed to be stopped. It doesn’t matter now. It’s too late.
POSTSCRIPT III
Joe called me this morning and told me what happened. “There was a disturbance last night. Someone called the police. The cops are still in Marvin’s apartment, along with the CSI.”
“The Crime Scene Investigators?”
“Yeah. He killed him! They had a fight and he killed him.”
“How?”
“With the bat by Marvin’s bed. Beat him to a pulp.”
“Who died?”
“Don’t you know? Haven’t you figured it out?”
“Yes. But I have to hear you say the words. I just can’t believe...”
POSTSCRIPT IV
“They took him to Bellevue. He doesn’t remember,” Joe informed me.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I said ironically.
Later, I kissed my wife on her forehead and went to sleep. I fell over a cliff and flew through a black abyss on my dark journey to Hell!
center>POSTSCRIPT V
He called me from Bellevue and woke me up.
“Don’t know why I’m here,” he said.
“You’re sick.”
“But they won’t tell me what’s wrong with me.”
“They probably have to take some tests first.”
“I guess so. But I’m lonely. Will you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“Tell my father to visit me. I miss him. Don’t know why he hasn’t come yet.”
I was numb. Perhaps, I was in shock. I couldn’t believe... I was afraid I’d go insane! I didn’t speak.
“Will you do that for me?”
“Yes,” I muttered.
And he said goodbye.
POSTSCRIPT VI
“Charlie killed Marvin!” I shriek across the Waste Land of my anguished soul.
POSTSCRIPT VII
Charlie’s far away in a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane. He lives on a locked ward. He still does not remember. But I do! It’s too late! He broke into my private home and now, he’s in my head.
Christ! He’s trying to enter my soul! Even now, he stalks me!
