|
The International Writers Magazine: About Eric
UNOBTRUSIVE
METHODS, INCHOATE DESIGNS
Richard Grayson
Kevin
tried to remember just who it was in his dusty past that was fond
of saying, Lets look at reality. It was
either Mrs. Slane, the cleaning woman whom he had bitten on the
elbow as a child, or Dr. Kiremdijian, the botany instructor or
at college. But of course there was always the possibility
that it might have been Eric, Eric in one of his playful moments
when he was imitating some pompous professor.
|
|
Eric, of course,
never had said anything, since Eric was only a name Kevin had given
to a boy he had once seen and wanted to talk to in Washington Square
Park on a Good Friday that was much too hot for anything proper.
Eric it was two weeks later that Kevin decided to call him Eric
was standing just on the fringe of the body of the park, not
in the inner core of the peopled fountain nor in the next ring containing
the benches, but off to one side, leaning against the unmovable arch,
staring at everything except Kevin.
Kevin himself stood off to a corner, near some frisbee players, watching
the boy he would later call Eric. Kevin took it all in: the dark
ringlets of hair, the faint bead of perspiration on the brow and smooth
upper lip, the veins of the upper arm, smoothly muscled yet somehow
delicate, the mustard-yellow T-shirt that said The Little Prince, advertising
the old movie version of the Antoine de Saint-Exupery fantasy, the shorts,
jeans cut off at least seven inches above the knee, the long slim legs
sprinkled with blondish hairs, the soiled white Keds his ankles had
been poured into. Kevin took this all in and somewhere it registered
that there was a reality that was the boy, and there was a reality that
was called Eric, and there was also a reality for Kevin in which he
had created the fantasy wherein Eric was the one fond of saying, Lets
look at reality or indeed, in which Eric existed at all.
One time Kevin asked Dr. Kiremedjian in the campus coffee shop whether
a mans character was his fate or whether a mans fate was
his character. Dr. Kiremdjian protested that he was only a botanist
and smiled wanly, but when Kevin pressed him, Dr. Kiremdjian ventured
his opinion that character and fate were separate and non-contiguous
entities very much like Kevin and Eric, or Kevin and the cleaning
woman, or Kevin and himself, Dr. Kiremdjian. None of them touched
any other except in their respective imaginings, and the characters
they were, being mere products of individual minds, were thus not consistent.
Kevins Eric was an eighteen-year-old high school senior, for example;
but Mrs. Slanes Eric was a forty-year-old electirician; and the
Eric that Dr. Kiremdjian had created was not even a person at all, but
a plant a leafy rhododendron which responded gaily to the music
of Ravel. That Dr. Kiremdjian was a botanist and Mrs. Slane a
cleaning woman and Kevin an agnostic determined their respective personal
compositions. One could not put Mrs. Slanes Kevin, for instance,
in a room with Kevins Dr. Kiremdjian; some unspoken law of quantum
physics precluded any possibility of that. So ultimately no ones
reality could be looked upon as real for anyone else, since every person
was a fiction created by another, except in cases where the relationship
had never existed in the first place i.e., Mrs. Slane had never
encountered in her thoughts the character of a botany professor named
Dr. Kiremdjian. Seen in this light, the nameless boy in Washington
Square Park could be the most or least real of all the qualifiers
most and least when applied to real
being of dubious significance in the framework of this story.
Or to look at it another way: An elderly black man on a hot Good Friday
1975 in Washington Square Park asks four people in turn for a dime with
which he can gather enough money to purchase a bottle of wine, explaining
to them, Nothin to do but buy me some wine, whichll
at least let me feel good for a coupla hours. This all his
reality, and the four people he has approached and from whom he has
received change include the preceding characters in this story: Kevin,
Mrs. Slane, Dr. Kiremdjian, and the boy Eric, each of them being merely
a fictitious representation in the mind of the elderly wino. So
if we are to assume that reality is seen through the winos eyes,
then story of Kevins apprehension of the boy Eric perhaps begins
to make sense, for through the gray haze of an alcoholic vision on a
darkening hot Good Friday, Kevins is only one of an infinite number
of possible realities.
Therefore we may conclude that it is up to each of us to create our
own characters, our own stories, our own realities, and not depend upon
others for our fictions. The elderly wino knows this. Kevin,
Mrs. Slane, Dr. Kiremdjian, and the boy Kevin has called Eric do not
understand this as yet, although if by chance they happen to stumble
on this story, they may eventually discover, affirm, and appreciate
the reality of their own existence.
© Richard Grayson September 2005
graysonric@yahoo.com
More wrestling
with identity in Dreamscapes
Home
©
Hackwriters 1999-2005
all rights reserved - all comments are the writers' own responsibiltiy
- no liability accepted by hackwriters.com or affiliates.
|