EVERYTHING THAT
DIES
Connie awoke to Sams fingers stroking her
cheek. Unfair, she might have thought
if shed had her first
cup of coffee. But Sam had the jump on her that morning, making her forget all
about the night before.
Mornin Sweetheart! he said with his best
Bogart impression. Sam was bright and alive, acting like Sam Spade, like he
hadnt done in
years. Sam was tall in a gangly way
that made him look like a mass of gelatinous limbs, floppy and messy when he
was sad. And yet, when he was happy
like he was now, his structure gave him the need to bounce like an Indian
rubber ball. He bounced off the walls
and stretched his neck like a fighting cock.
Sam was thirty-three but Connie hadnt seen him like this since before they married.
What happened? Connie asked through a long yawn. She regretted her
question as soon as she said it. Sam
fell one notch down from his perch of life.
Got a job, he answered.
A Job? Last night you didnt have a job.
The phone rang. Both Sam and Connie looked at the
clock.
Eight-o-two. Connie muttered. Hmmm...
Thatd be the phone
company. Sam said as he put on his fedora. Guess that means we havent been cut off yet. Call em all my dear.
Call em all today and
tell them the cheques in the mail.
Connie sat up, fully awake
now. Sam? Whats going on? What happened to the big fight we had last
night? You didnt have a job last night. The world was caving in and
we hated each other. Remember all that?
Sam circled the brim of his
hat with his forefinger and bit his lower lip.
Dropping the Bogie impression, Sam chose his words slowly as he sat on
the edge of the bed. I had a job. Just didnt know if I was gonna take it.
What? Why didnt you tell me? What is it?
I joined the CIA
Fuck off!
Serious. Its a classified mission. I could tell you but then Id have to kill you. Now I gotta get going before Im late for my meeting with
the director.
Connie, never being good at
losing control, chased Sam all the way out to his rusty old Impala, wearing
nothing but her nighty. Sam finally gave up on making a clean getaway so he
grabbed his wife by the shoulders and told her. Listen, last
night, before I got home I met this guy.
I met this guy Connie and Im gonna do a little favour for him.
A little favour?
What do you mean? This aint something illegal is
it? Oh god Sam, whatve you done...
Con! Cmon. Sam chuckled the way he
always did when he felt Connie was being ridiculous. She hated that. But
again, Sam caught her off guard. Meet me down in the city tonight. Down at our spot on the
boardwalk. Okay? Meet me there tonight and Ill explain all the details
that I dont know about yet.
Sam had started his car
before Connie realized that hed let her go. Be there at eight. he called out as the car
backed away. Fix your hair
up. And wear some stockings. Nights are
getting cold, you know.
Then Sam was gone and
Connie, bare feet cold on the pavement, was left wondering if the neighbours,
looking down from their windows, could ever have dramas in their lives like she
did. When did her life slip off the
wagon of rationality? How did she let
it happen?
Connie went back inside and
leaned over the bathroom sink to look at herself in the mirror. She looked
old. She couldnt deny it.
Even after she splashed water on her face and turned out the light so
that only the morning sun fell on her cheeks.
Why hadnt she noticed
before? The crows feet around her eyes were
obvious. She knew it was all her mans fault. With all his ventures and falling dreams, he
had tasked her sensibility almost to death. This time, hed broken her. She had nothing left to save him from
himself yet again.
No more, Sam. she said softly to her haggard image.
Connie was surprised how calm she was to realize that her marriage was
over. She didnt think of all the legal hassles. Wasnt shocked that half of her life would be gone by
tomorrow. A passing had come, as
natural as the coming snow.
She was in the living room
suddenly, not aware of her movements, only noticing the stillness. Nothing had changed about that room since
the week theyd moved into the
bungalow five years ago. The yellowed
shears stank of cigarette smoke. The
furniture had carved permanent ruts in the carpet a long time ago. Connie stood there as inert as the floor
lamp beside her. Then, after a sigh,
she went about changing her life.
Connie called the courier
service where she worked and told them she wouldnt be in. It
was no problem. She hadnt missed a day since she
started there, fresh out of high school.
Im leaving Sam, she said to her best friend
who replied only with a gasp. Connie
hadnt planned to say
that, it just slipped out somehow. Now
that the words were out there, her declaration made public, Connie sprung into
action with determination. She packed
and planned at the same time. Forget
all the lingerie. Pack the alarm clock. Pack the pill and the makeup and just the
clothes that shed need for two
weeks of separation. Finally she wrote
cheques out to all the creditors from her own savings account. It was a small investment for a new life.
Connie wasnt going to her
mothers house where Sam
could find her and serenade her like she knew he would. No, she was going to go downtown and hide
out in some motel. Then shed restart her life after a
few weeks. After Sam had understood the
finality of it all, then shed start the
proceedings.
By noon, Connie was firmly
planted in her new life as a fugitive from all shed known. The Have-A-Nap didnt rent by the hour but it
wasnt much better
than that. When she was all unpacked and showered, she looked out the window at
her shiny Volkswagen, New Beetle. Its clean Olive paint stuck
out like a sore thumb amidst the old domestics in the parking lot and the old
storefronts across the street in that dilapidated section of the downtown city
core. So she drove it across the street
to the used car lot and sold it for a song.
It wouldve been stolen
anyway. Now she could use the money for
an apartment and besides, she could walk to work from there. Finally there was nothing left to do. She wasnt ready to call her folks yet. Her Mom would only try to make her think
that shed lost her
mind. Not that Mom ever liked Sam. It was just that she had been raised to stay
the course. In Connies family everything was
complete when you were twenty-two, one job, one marriage for life.
And yet here it was at ten
to two on a chilly Tuesday afternoon and here was this woman sitting in the
heart of the city. This Connie, sitting
alone on the edge of a foreign bed, her fingers trembling with the fear of the
unknown. She wished shed done everything slower so
she that she wouldnt have so much
time to kill before meeting Sam down on the boardwalk. What would she say to him that she hadnt said so many times before?
Sitting at the dresser,
Connie grabbed the motel stationery and put pen to paper. But after a few minutes she grew restless,
having realized that Sam would counter everything she might say. Theyd just go round and round in
circles, never going anywhere yet again.
There would be no arguing with him tonight. She would grant him the respect of meeting him only to tell him
simply that she was leaving him for good. And that would be all.
Connie looked at her
watch. It was five hours to the
rendevous. So now what? She couldnt just sit there, watching tv in the middle of a
workday. Sleep was out of the
question. There was too much noise
outsidesirens and
traffic and muffled voices--reminding her that life was going on around her,
making her feel guilty about not playing her part. So finally Connie got up and grabbed her room key and walked out
to see what went on in this big world when shed normally be stuck in a cubicle at work.
As soon as she stepped out
into the shrill noise of the street Connie realized that it was a homing
instinct that had brought her there, to that particular motel in that
particular part of town. It was the ethnic part of Metro where all the Russians
and the Poles had set up their bagel shops and garages generations ago. It was colorful and loud and it was the
place where all the kids from the burbs flocked to on Saturday nights. It was where she went when she was a
kid. And there was Pappas Pizza where she and Sam first set
eyes on each other when they were both just seventeen.
The instant lust between
them had drowned out everything that day.
Connies giggling
friends had just disappeared. His
friends gave up trying to get him to go down and check out the action on the board. Even the smell of dough gave way to the
sultry mix of his sweaty underarms and her cheap perfume.
Connie relived the moment
like nothing had happened since.
Hey Darlin, got the time?
Ah....Sorry.
No watch.
That aint what I mean Darlin. Sam had said
with a hint of an accent to make himself sound cool. Connie had looked up to see this mythic figure from some film
noir. He wore a T-shirt with his smokes
rolled up against his shoulder. Sleekly
muscled arms descended on her when he leaned down, parting her friends as
though they were just things in the way of his focused gaze. A silly bowler hat rested on a shag of
deliberately messed blonde hair. Sam
was a mishmash of James Dean, Sid Vicious, and something that might have been a
burgeoning identity of his own. There was nothing fake about how his eyes made
her feel like she was the world.
So what? she asked, giving her friends a cynical glance, like she didnt care.
I mean, you got the time to save me? he had said, undaunted by
her ice.
From what?
From the fire you set burning in my heart.
That was the line that made
the world go spinning off into oblivion.
Their courtship was hard and
furious over the next six months.
Looking back on it as she strolled slowly through the hectic bustle of
the sidewalk, Connie couldnt organize her
memories of that time. It was all just
a kaleidoscope of lights and colour, of stars blazing in the inky black above
the boiling surf down by the sea where Sam repeatedly tried to steal her
virtue. Her teasing had made it all
that much more exciting. Despite how
trashy Connie had made herself look, teasing her hair big enough for two heads
and wearing loose halters every which way, tantalizingly falling off her shoulders
all the time, deep down she was still a good Catholic girl and it made Sams nostrils flare like a wild
buck.
The tension forced streams
of bad poetry from Sams mouth, made him
spend gobs of money on fake jewellery, promise rings and ice cream cones. She didnt know where he got the money because he didnt have a
job. Connie suspected that he was just
another rich kid from the burbs like her but Sam never allowed her to see his
home. In fact he had done everything to
make her believe that he was an orphan, a street poet, living off the heart of
the crime-stained city.
Connie tried to force back
those days. She didnt believe in living in the
past. But as the sea breeze hit her
when she crossed the lights to the boardwalk, Connie crossed into the second
year of their union. That was the time
of conflict and redemption. Sam had
fallen in with the Bully Boys. Hed go down to the beach on
summer nights and get into mass rumbles with some other mysterious gang. Suddenly Connie was seeing great wads of
cash being passed around during the Bull Sessions at the back of
the pizza parlour. The boys would make
the girls sit up front and theyd talk quietly,
sometimes signalling with ear tugs or other stupid body waves, things they
couldnt say out
loud.
There was a higher power
controlling them. They were young
lieutenants in a war between small time hoods and shady law enforcement
thugs. A boy was killed one night on
the beach, left there like garbage after all the soldiers had left the
battleground. That was when Connie had
put her foot down and made Sam choose between her and a life of crime. She set him straight. Sam actually made her feel like he
appreciated her for it. Until she caught him under the pier with Sherry, her
now ex-best friend.
They fought their way for
miles down the beach, until Connies feet were killing her and she finally accused Sam of being a sick pig with no respect
for anybody.
Oh you think so? he screamed back at her. You think I just couldnt wait for it?
Well Ill tell you
Connie. I just got bored with you! You got no vision! You got no dreams!
Oh yeah! Connie screamed back at him. It
was all she could come up with because she was too busy fighting back her
tears. Finally the truth slipped out of
her, despite herself. You were my dream! You were my vision, you asshole! But youre just a loser.
Connie stormed off that
night, leaving Sam speechless and still in the cold night.
A week later Connie was home
in her room, doing her homework and trying to forget her other life, down
amidst the exciting lights and the passionate nights of the city when she heard
the doorbell ring and Sams voice,
respectful and shy like she had never heard him before, ask her Mom if Connie
was home.
An hour later, after riding
the cross-town bus, Connie was in Sams home, discovering that all her suspicions about his upbringing were
wrong. Sam was as far on the wrong side
of the tracks as you could get. His
house was a trailer and his only other kin was his father, a man whose hand was
permanently welded to a beer can and who didnt stand to greet a lady. Sam only let Connie stay in his home long
enough to see where he came from and then he took her down to a park where
teens drank beer in the open and sent plumes of dust churning from the smoking
tires of their Dodges and Camaros.
Connie was speechless,
giving Sam long enough to think carefully about what he wanted to say. I steal money from my Dads pension. I gotta cash his
cheques cause he gets too impatient to stand in line. He dont notice. Most of his life hes three sheets to the wind.
Connie would never forget
the first sight she had of tears in Sams eyes. I miss you Connie. I miss you so bad. And youre right. I am a loser. Down here it aint like where you
come from. There aint no grey. There aint no middle-class mid-life crisis, maybe I coulda done better but it aint so bad. Connie, down here theres just winners and losers
and Darlin you dont want to get caught on the
wrong side of that line. I dont wanna be on the wrong side of
that line, Connie. Please, please save
me.
They hugged and kissed with
abandon until Connie looked at her lover, her dream, and said From?
Sam picked up on the cue. From the fire you set
burning in my heart.
So long ago. Connie found herself sitting on a bench,
looking at a freighter out on the ocean and she realized that that was the last
time her and Sam had fought their way to complete forgiveness. Redemption without a trace of baggage left
over. A year later, they were married and therein began their relentless
descent into half-finished issues. It
was always her pragmatism coming up against his visions. Her savings account. His
get-rich-quick schemes. Her
mortgage. His hunger to see
Australia. Her steady job. His pyramid
investments. Until finally there was
nothing but baggage. Finally it had all
come to this, Connie, alone on a bench looking at a new life far out on the
horizon on a sea barren of any dreams supplied by any man. Connie looked out to that sea and wondered
if Sam had been right about her being boring.
Could she fill that flat ocean with dreams of her own making?
Connie wondered about that
until five past eight. Only then did she look at her watch and realize that Sam
was late. No surprise there. But it didnt matter to her.
The sun had set and the boardwalk was coming alive. Rice rockets and muscle cars were cruising
for action with their sub-woofers thundering down the waterfront. Lovers were strolling along the beach and
somewhere down there, beyond the very same pier where she had caught Sam
cheating on her years before, the lights of some distant carnival flickered in
the night sky. For a second or two,
Connie tried to wonder what was going on down there. In the next second, she was balling her eyes out. She was crying beyond all control,
remembering all the good times of her youth and how it had all faded away. Connie cried and cried until it hurt. And then finally she raised her head from
the lake of salt in her hands and saw a twenty dollar bill lying in the sand.
Connie blinked and focused
to see if she was imagining it.
No. It was there. So she pulled herself to her feet, strolled
across the sand and picked it up. She
laughed at the good fortune. Could this
be a sign? She wondered. Never one to be superstitious, Connie
stuffed the bill down her top and shivered in the autumn chill. And then, after she sighed, she looked down
into the moonlit dust and saw another bill.
And then another.
A hundred bucks later,
Connie was following a paper trail down the beach. Her spirits picked up and she couldnt deny that she was on a roll. This had to mean something. She had to be on the right path. It dawned on Connie that life must be a cycle. That she had to come to the edge of the
abyss to see a new beginning and that yes, she could be alive again, as much as
she was so long ago. Maybe everything
that dies comes back. Someday.
Connie could love
again. She could feel the wonder of the
city lights and the passionate nights.
Not with Sam of course. But that
wasnt the point. The fact was, a light rain was falling, the
stars were gone and all she felt was clean and fresh. Springtime was falling from the coming winter and every step she
took down the beach only brought Connie more wealth.
Under the pier of betrayal,
Connie found even more twenties. She
was getting rich, and between the old musty pillars she finally had a clear
view of the carnival going on a few hundred feet away. The lights flickered and people stood around
under the night sky. They waited for
Connie to join in and light up the night with her rebirth. And she would. She swore she would. Her
cold, wet hair tickled her bare shoulders.
She felt the rain on her breasts and the lively dance aching to break
free in her thighs. She was new, like
she never thought she could be.
But it wasnt a carnival before
her. The lights flickering in the night
came from the light bars of half a dozen police cruisers and an ambulance. The people milling about all had the same
night-black attire and all of them had their heads hung over a body lying in
the sand.
Connie didnt freeze in the horror of
the scene. She simply felt her heart fall inch by inch down through the cavern
of her body as her feet carried her over the money trail until it ended at the
open briefcase lying in the sand.
Thats my husband, Connie heard herself say to
no one in particular. As she fell into
the swarm of questions from faces and voices that all moulded together into a
swarm of chaos, Connie never lost sight of Sams Fedora, blowing across the sand on a strangely
sudden gust of wind, blowing away from his bullet-ridden back and his left hand
still clenched around the open briefcase.
It blew away into the night, spinning and swirling and just begging for
Connie. Begging for her to come for one last ride.