Breakfast Special, #28, “Fair Trade Creed Reads,” pt. 1 ~ Les Mis

September 26, 2013 at 2:29 pm (creative writing, culture, drama, entertainment, ethics, exploring interconnectedness, fiction, life, movies, music, random, Uncategorized, Writing)
Tags: 28, Book, Breakfast Special, creative, culture, exploring interconnectedness, Fair Trade Creed Reads, fiction, Les Mis, Les Miserables, life, love, movie, music, novel, One Day More, pt. 1, random, romance, story, Writing

Fair Trade Creed Reads

Sarge stood with his back against the Ranoli’s living room wall watching the television special news report about the extended state of emergency declared for Falls and the surrounding areas. It was standing room only in the second floor apartment and the volume had been turned up high for those who were unable to see the images on the screen. The aerial videos of roofs that had collapsed under the weight of accumulated snow were the best recruitment tool for the roof clearing crews that they could have wanted. Esther had passed out volunteer sign-up sheets and a number of the younger men and teenagers, including several girls, who hadn’t put in any roof shovelling time were adding their names to the lists. The smell of cinnamon bread baking in the Ranoli’s little oven wafted through the air adding a touch of comfort contrasting sharply with the tensions created by the news report. The single piece of positive information was that, at the moment, no further winter snow storms appeared to be forthcoming in the next twenty-four hours.

The fact that there was a single main road open for traffic through Falls was little comfort to the Flats neighborhood which was too far away from it to benefit anyone, including the stranded parents of the children still in Rosa’s care. The phone had been in use nearly constantly with calls to and from parents still unable to reach their children. Rosa’s ability to maintain a positive, healthy atmosphere day after day for twenty-five children, Ricardo, and herself under the current conditions continued to amaze Sarge. It also strengthened his resolve to get not only the materials needed for the foundation support from Kozy, but to get Kozy himself to assess first hand what was needed for creating some solid long-term stability.

All in all, the dangers created by the weather included, Sarge was feeling pretty damn good. He’d already decided that nothing was going to get in his way of maintaining this positive state of affairs even after the physical environment of Falls returned to its usual state. Certain aspects of his life had finally taken a turn for the better.  For a long time he’d wanted a serious relationship with a woman, one that did not begin and end in bed and go nowhere in between. With Lily he saw that was a real possibility.  If he played his cards right, and if he was really lucky, she just might give him a solid chance. If she gave it to him, the last thing he wanted to do was to make her regret even thinking of giving it. Knowing full well that he’d never before dealt with a woman remotely like Lily, nor for that matter, Rosa, Esther, JJ and several others he’d recently met in the Flats, Sarge felt a need to find out as much as he could about her as soon as possible or he might miss some important signpost along the way and screw everything up via plain and simple ignorance.  If there’d been an instruction book for dealing with all things Lily, he’d have read and committed it to memory.

Hoping that his recent conversation with Anton regarding the job offer in M-  would get him some traction with the man, Sarge decided to see what serious information regarding Lily, he might be willing to share. Considering the unexpected wild card of Anton’s future employment at Irish Lace, Sarge knew it was just a matter of time before the other man would learn some things about him that he might not much care for and probably would not hesitate to share with Lily. Sarge knew he would do so if their roles were reversed. At the moment, Anton had no idea what intel was coming his way, unless his bones were already whispering about it. Sarge’s own intuition told him that might very well be the case. After all, very bad things often come in very big packages. As far as he could see, his only recourse was to gain as much insight regarding the woman’s mind in order to figure out how to best come  clean with her without having telling the truth blow up in his face. Women had sent him packing often enough for considerably less serious offences than being honest. Sarge O’Mara had set his sights on going with Lily where he’d never been before with any woman and he was painfully aware that he had no idea how to actually play this particular field and very little time in which to learn.  He knew he needed help and the Neighborhood Watch-Maker, Anton  DeWitt was the obvious choice among male sources for all things intel concerning the object of his steadily growing affections which were already in uncharted waters as far as Sarge’s realm of experience went. Still, he was willingly swimming into the deeper end of the emotional ocean without hesitation.

Once the cinnamon bread was cooling and everyone, except another elderly couple who’d stayed to visit, had cleared out of the Ranoli’s home, Sarge went downstairs to the first floor in search of Anton. Finding him would be the easy part. All that required was taking a few extra steps into the immaculately clean stark white kitchen where the man sat on a table chair, out of sight, but still well within hearing range of the people busy in the info hub and other  “sun rise” rooms; legs sprawled out, one hand on a yet to be opened book cover, his other rubbing the back of his neck, with an expression on his handsome features that was closed tighter then the lid on fifty-gallon drum of diesel gas. Getting the currently tightly wrapped Anton to read some Lily creed would require making a serious effort to get past whatever was putting a strain on his mind. Even in the comparatively short amount of time he’d spent in the Flats, Sarge was well aware of just how much time and energy Anton put into mediating all sorts of private and public disputes in the neighborhood.  He also knew better than to make inquiries regarding this apparently never-ending stream of mediations as they often entailed private issues and required confidentiality. He decided the first step was to get Anton’s mind off whatever seemed to be trying to give him an ulcer or two.

Noticing the thick paperback book under Anton’s hand, Sarge put it to use. “Hey Anton. What’s that you’re reading?”

“Take a load off, Big Man. Relax some after that nasty tv news.” Anton’s long fingers spun the book on the table towards Sarge. “This here is Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.”

“Reading that is not exactly giving yourself a break from the dark side of life.”

“You read this, Big Man?” When Sarge nodded as he sat down, Anton shook his head. “There’s some serious moral shit stirring in this ink, you read me?”

“Yes, there is, Anton. I do read you.” Sarge recognized the expression appear on Anton’s face which signified he was now processing this new piece of information and leaving behind what had been troubling him.  He decided to freely give Anton more to process. “Reading that book changed my perspective on the code my dad tried to beat into me. See, he doesn’t much appreciate most of my more, shall we say, antagonistic questions.  I knew early on that he and I were not living mentally on the same page, and, unless one of us changed drastically, we never would. After reading Les Mis, I knew I didn’t want anything more to do with my dad’s code and that I needed to follow my own; keeping in mind that there would be consequences all along the way.”

Anton considered this intel while his fingers slowly twirled the book on the table. “I get the feelin’ no love lost between you and your father, Big Man.”

“Indeed, there is not. You read right.” Sarge watched the book moving under Anton’s fingers while considering how far to take the sharing.  His goal urged him to open up further.  He looked away from the book cover and caught Anton’s black eyes watching him with a restrained cold hard intensity.  Sarge leaned back and rocked his chair on its back legs. “Love is not a word I would use in any context with the man. My old man, there is no polite way to say this, he is one evil, low down, manipulative bastard if there ever was one. In his mind, his ends always justify his means. I have yet to discover anything he will not do in order to get his way with people. I am not proud to be his son. As far as I’m concerned, he and my brain-dead brothers can go f’ themselves until doomsday comes and then some.”

“That’s damn cold heart talk, Big Man. Damn cold.” Anton’s fingers ceased spinning the book and rubbed the cover thoughtfully. “How all you say play with your mother? She still in the wearing his name game or she move on?”

Sarge looked up at the ceiling and shook his head and laughed.  “Oooo, Anton, I truly hate to say it. But I am having some serious doubts regarding my mother. Up until recently, I thought she and I were square. Thought she had my back like I had hers, especially when it came to my dad. But now, I am not sure about that and a whole lot of other things. Before this monster snow hit, I made a couple of plays to test a theory I do not like even having walking around in my own head. Whatever moves my mother makes after she gets what I put in the mail will tell me just about everything I need to know about some serious dark shit that’s been flowing my way for a very long time.”

It was not lost upon Anton’s sensibilities that this was the most amount of personal information, Sarge had divulged.  Although they’d talked at length about books, various issues in the Flats, “sun rise” and other subjects, until this point in time, Sarge had said very little about his personal circumstances, though he’d never dodged a direct question from anyone.  Despite the negative tone of both the man’s voice and his words, something of which he’d had an over-full plate of today from others, Anton decided to encourage him to keep talking   “Big Man you stirring my curiosity pot big time. Got to ask what you slip in the box slot that have so much pull. Even my bones are dying for this play you made.”

After shifting his chair so that his back was now to the kitchen entrance allowing him to look out the kitchen door’s window, Sarge wondered if he was doing the right thing by going down this particular conversation road considering his goal was to learn more about Lily rather than to discuss his family issues.  Unexpectedly he saw quite clearly how the two fit together and he said, “Anton, this sort of shit your bones may not want to know.  I don’t want to know it. But I have to deal with it before it messes up my head so bad that I blow any chance I might ever have with Lily.”

Anton  picked up Les Mis and gestured with it as he spoke. “Why you think this shit mess with what’s brewing between you and Lily? You think she too weak to deal with it? If so, you better take a step back so you see how strong she be, Big Man. You got no idea what ugly shit Lily deal with in her time.”

“I read you, Anton. I know Lily does things in her own way and in her own time.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the voices in the hallway.  “Ever since she let slip a little intel about her home and her brother, Peter, I have been racking up the questions. But I know better than to push her buttons by asking them. She might pay a visit to my head with her Old Reliable Jack Hammer if I do.” Sarge noticed a change come over Anton but had no sure idea what exactly had brought it about. “Anton, tell me how to read you, because right now I have no clue. Should I duck and run for cover?”

Anton made a point of listening to the voices from the hall and other rooms for a moment. He leaned towards, Sarge and whispered. “Lily dropped Peter on you?”

Sarge shook his head. “Just his name and that he would never grow up. I figure that means he’s dead. Am I right?”

Anton nodded. He sat up straight and thought about how Lily had been behaving since Sarge and the snow had appeared in the Flats. He tuned himself to his bones for a few moments while making no effort to conceal the hard looking over he was giving the man watching him warily in case he’d just pushed a seriously wrong button in his quest for information. Sarge wasn’t the first man to come to him trying to find his way in regard to his friend, but he was the first whose Anton’s intuition and logic both encouraged him to help understand the young woman.  “He dead alright. But there ain’t nothin right’ about it.” He stood up and took his parka from the hook on the wall next to the kitchen back door and waved his arm at Sarge. “Get your coat.”

Sarge wasted no time in retrieving his long wool coat from a hook in the hallway.  Still feeling over-warm from the time upstairs spent watching the news with two dozen other people, he was reluctant to put it on unless it was necessary to do so. “Where we headed, Anton? Basement or outside?”

“Put your damn funky coat on.”  Anton waited for Sarge to comply then tossed a flashlight to him and pointed at the door behind him.  “We goin’ up on the roof for what Esther call a serious heart to heart. This shit ain’t for most ears. Now get your ass movin’ up those stairs.”  Sarge made no argument about this choice of venue as he opened the door, flipped on the flashlight and lead the way up the chilly inside stairwell to the roof.

~~~

Breakfast Special, #28, Fair Trade Creed Reads, part 1, Les Mis:

https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/09/26/breakfast-special-28-fair-trade-creed-reads-pt-1-les-mis/

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Breakfast Special, #28, Fair Trade Creed Reads, part 2, Stealth:

https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/09/27/breakfast-special-28-fair-trade-creed-reads-pt-2-stealth/

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Breakfast Special #28,  Fair Trade Creed Reads, part 3, Two Guys On a Roof:  https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/09/28/breakfast-special-28-fair-trade-creed-reads-pt-3-just-two-guys-on-a-roof/

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