To Be a Robot Chapter 20 Charles father taught him when he was but a child that wisdom is found in the classroom and that education has no walls; the wise is not only a student of all but additionally realizes that a cap and gown could never signify one’s graduation. In perspective the distinctive meaning divulged when processing understanding of his hereditary nugget of life’s observation is that in every conservation of personal exchange happening on whatever subtlety of basis in the act of arrangement one may proceed influence in the directorial role of the student or the teacher else one is in fact uninvolved. Having been taught by Hubert when he was but a child for Charles their conversation which ensued following the dismissal of service was one positioned from the seat of a toddler receiving his first lesson about fishing from his father. Having tagged him as he walked up an aisle on his way towards the exit downstairs Hugh could’ve have found a more queer approach if he’d had intentions on doing damage. “So you haven’t killed yourself yet my boy?” He asked forcing a grin while lifting his downturned head from the floor with a crane. Charles face soured but following the beacon of his temporary lighthouse he stepped out the aisle and into the seats so that the two spoke with a pew providing a fence between them. Hubert seemed uncomfortable with his own words and spoke up again before Charles could formulate a response. “Charles you remember back when you sung in that choir with me in the winter of ought remembered? Back when you weren’t a man we could all look up to but just a snot nosed lad with a heavy head on his shoulders.” It had been a long time but Charles could recall and appreciated the memory as the thoughts of suicide had vacuumed a swallowing depression which beat in the soul of the square where his heart used to rest. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “I remember,” but he couldn’t force a smile as his words were spoken in a wave of a reverie. He pointed as everything became a bit cleared. “That’s the year you kept telling me I needed to come in on Wednesday nights for some extra pointers but I could never make it because I had baseball practice three times a week.” His eyes narrowed. “Come to think of it my mom made me join that choir and if I remember right if it wasn’t for me getting my first kiss from Alma as a result of it the entire election might’ve been a poor experience.” He shrugged. “I never sang again after that.” “She was a pretty one.” “Indeed. I wonder what ever happened to that girl.” “Who knows,” replied Hugh scratching his head as his eyes again swept the floor with a broom of unease. “Charles?” He batted his head in acknowledgement of the question. “Can I tell you the truth about that choir?” This alerted the younger man. “Sure.” Hugh chuckled. “Charles. Children or no children I’ll have to tell you that hands down you all were the most disorganized, forgetful, rag-tag, unharmonious, and nails scraping against chalkboard group of kids that I’d ever had the displeasure of teaching.” Hubert was just layering on the good news and to Charles’s perplex he simply laughed at the remembrance all the more. “It stressed me out just knowing that I was going to be remembered as the captain of that sinking Titanic and forgive me God I almost faked an illness to get out of the Christmas Eve performance and have someone else govern the whole things crash and burn.” Charles’s head snapped back respectfully suppressing a stronger reaction from the insult. “Hugh we weren’t -that- bad,” he said in defense of the matter but Hubert simply sat back in the pew as he shook his head in dismal disagreement with the rebuttal. “No, no, you were bad. Actually, I never thought they’d even let me teach the group again from the embarrassment that I’d surely put the entire church through. No parent wants to know their kids can’t sing twinkle twinkle little star and do a manger scene without angering Jesus himself for butchering the arrangement.” He looked away as he ironed out his forehead. “I wish I could say I was being hard on you guys but the truth is I struggled so much to get you all to where you needed to be that I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to teach anymore after I saw the production of my efforts.” “You told us we were doing good,” said Charles now with a clear disagreement to his stone. “Aww Charles that was cookie batter feeding rotten tomatoes. You guys really weren’t that good at all.” “Well shit, any more good news for the morning?” Asked Charles, crossing his arms. “You going to tell me that my performance personally was the reason you didn’t teach anymore after that. I remember.” “No Charles. Not at all.” A light that wasn’t there before filled the spark of Hubert’s eyes. “I’m going to tell you that the way you all came together that night when the event finally demanded ended up being the greatest performance I’d ever had the pleasure of residing over in my entire life.” The two stared at each other from behind opposing faces of understanding. “Sit down Charles, sit.” Hugh said offering the endurance of their time together. Placing his knees where his hide would reside and his feet in the place of his knees Charles met him at his level before shift again for more comfort. Hubert leaned in as he moved. “I quit conducting after that because I knew that things weren’t going to get any better from that point forward.” Charles tried to read where he was coming from. “You all pulled things together so well that night that I was almost absolutely positive I’d never find more satisfaction or contentment in any given group and savoring it I couldn’t allow myself to ruin the moment. Charles you guys made me so proud that I remembered the reason it was why I started teaching in the first place.” Charles’s hand was limp on the pew and Hugh cupped it by resting his hand atop his friends. “Charles you all made me so proud that I wanted to let someone else find the same joy that I enjoyed so I stepped down from the position so that they could have a chance. That performance taught me a lesson Charles,” he said backing out. “It taught me that even when things seem dismal, bleak, empty, hopeless, impossible, im—“ Charles interrupted. “Ok, I get it, I get it.” Hugh smiled again. “Even when things seem bad my boy good can come.” His words had taken on a new eagerness. “God can still find a way to bring it together and I don’t want you to forget that Charles—ever. It happens all the time if you look around you my boy but it hurts in the process. By God it hurts.” Momentarily he couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Charles your family is never coming back.” There was a pause as his words ruminated. “They’re not Charles. And there’s nothing in this book or that Pastor Childs can say that’s going to ease the matter or kiss things and make it better for you.” That’s when he spoke salt to freshly opened wounds. “Did you know the Stanley family?” Charles grimaced as if wounded and stung in shocked offense with eyes wide in disbelief. “No.” He said through a clenched jaw. “I most certainly did not.” Pent up fury built a steam engine which pushed him forward but not loud enough to cause a scene. “And if we weren’t in a god-damned church I’d tell you how I really felt about the bastards and—“ “—Charles.” This time it was Hubert who interrupted. “Did you know Thomas Stanley hung himself when he found out what his son did.” Charles was shocked but to no ascension of sympathy or empathy. Hugh continued. “I used to work with him and his wife in Sunnydale at the Coke plant they opened up a while back and when I heard about the news I drove up to his funeral that they had up in Washington about a month after his family left port out here in Oakvail because they felt like the city was may burn a cross on their front lawn in the near future.” He seemed disgusted. “Sister Stanley sat me down after the service and we talked for a long time. That’s a hurt woman if I’ve ever seen one before in my life.” For a moment he looked him deadpan. “Do you think you two are so very different?” Charles swallowed deeply as a lump was caught in his throat. “Don’t answer that Charles. I want to tell you a story. You know believe it or not back when I was younger I used to have a heavy -heavy- weed addiction that may or may not have had anything to do with my mental capacity and processing ability at the time but when it was the worst I was staying with my Aunt, jobless and without a thing to occupy my mind and numbing myself I found restoration in the drug. I remember when I first ran out of money and couldn’t get my fix anymore and how for the life of me I didn’t know what to do with myself or where to go or what to do. Lonely, I just sat inside my room and stared at the walls as I thought about the depths of my needs—perhaps I should’ve been thankful I hadn’t found parlay with a more addictive substance. With everything in me I started to think of how to get it but I never left the house because for some strange reason at the time I was afraid of the outside world and just wasn’t quite the man I’ve become.” His eyes were searching. “I remember when I first saw her piggybank sitting in the den outside and realized that not only was it unused but it was filled to the brim with quarters-a-plenty.” A slight smile remarked his observance. “Charles would you believe me if I told you that pig talked to me every time I passed by?” He shook his head. “I swear like a tambourine it would play its shake and jingle until I was convinced in my own rationale that taking the quarters was the right things to do and that not only did I want to have the sustenance, but the pig wanted me to have it too. I’ll tell you what Charles if there’s one thing that I’ve come to observe in life it’s the fact that there is a line between good and evil and it is not one that can be judged by anyone other than God who weighs the motives, hearts, and intentions of any given spirit which carries out an action as it unfolds.” Charles was just listening as if attending a college lecture pertinent in its every detail to his finally grade. “I stole those quarters Charles. I stole that money and I’ll tell you what, I didn’t feel one bit bad about the action itself. I don’t even think I knew I was doing wrong in my twisted state of mind at the time. Now—“ he raised hands as gesture of holding back. “Don’t get me wrong I felt terrible for hurting my Aunt and for betraying her trust but most people besides the severely mentally handicap are only doing what they consider to be right at any particular time. Feeding my want at the time was more far reaching than integrity and truth but I didn’t think it was wrong.” There was an unease in his voice as he sifted his hands while staring. “You see I had every intention of returning it when I got the chance really I did and it wasn’t like I was taking a TV or stealing jewelry, that too me would’ve been bad but if I died at that particular moment I don’t know what God would do with me Charles.” Looking around they both noticed they were alone except for a man reseating bibles and picking up pamphlets and trash left over in the aisles. Even in their solitude when he spoke again Hubert spoke more softly. “Charles you know those boys thought they were doing right too Charles. They thought so and they might not have been too crazy for the idea.” Charles was beginning to stand. “Hear me out dear boy, hear me out.” Vira approached from behind. “Hello Charles.” The older woman looked her Sunday best complete with a flowing hat which stretched to umbrella her shoulders and was wrapped in ribbons and flowers the same. “Vira. How are you?” “I’m good boys,” she said looking to her husband. “I just wanted to let you guys know that I’ll be waiting for you downstairs but I can see your talking. You be sure to finish up there’s no hurry.” Her words were gentle and soft and Hubert grabbed her hand before she left. “Thank you love. Shouldn’t be too long,” he said with a lumberjack’s assessment of grinning labor. As she headed for the stairs the direction of the conversation shifter completely. “Charles would you say you’re a Christian man?” “Yeah, I go to church,” was his quick response. “And what do Christian’s believe?” Charles was wondering why the game of twenty-one questions had arisen. “Well that Jesus died and rose again.” “For what Charles?” The responses were quickly fired. “Agh. . . To cleanse us from our sins?” “And why?” Charles laughed. “I don’t know because he loves us?” Hubert didn’t see anything funny. “Charles have you ever wondered what you would believe in if you lived in a different place? What if you didn’t grow up in the U.S. or a primarily Christian area. You know that means you’d go to hell right?” Charles appeared at a loss for words. “Think about it Charles. What about the monks who stand for the solitude of their beliefs while living alone in the mountains. You know under our code they too shall meet a fiery grave while we watch light show and listen to praise concerts of Christmas and Easter yet we have our salvation from God.” “Where are you going with this Hugh?” “Just seems selfish to me the more that I think about it. The Jews and the Christians Charles. They read the same damn book but argue tooth and nail with completely different understandings while following the same exact moral code. Who’s right Charles? And then there’s the Muslim’s. The Stanley’s son Jeff was a Muslim and at least he stood for what he believed in instead of the stagnant and idle religion we find today.” Charles didn’t at all want to hear the information let alone give it any sort of validation as being a reasonable argument. “Now hear me out Charles,” continued Hubert. “Now I’d never read the Quran before and the boys may’ve been off in their interpretation but it’s clear from his journals that the boys thought that like Jesus they were just following God’s orders. The book speaks clearly of the fact that there will and is supposed to be blood and under our belief and what you just read in Ecclesiastes the good is in the house of mourning. Now correct me if I’m wrong but the Bible says to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord and I don’t know if it will make you sleep any better at night but those boys were adamant on the fact that they were fighting in God’s army and would be rewarded with the riches of God for being soldiers of purpose and dying for a cause when they joined the Lord in the afterlife. In their mind everything else was meaningless.” Charles eyes were roaming about in disbelief. “One of Jeff’s entries even went as far as saying morning was term meant to describe how we were to die in the night and that ‘good morning,’ is the celebration of death and that the wise understand its forthcoming. What I saw in his journal’s was sick in the terms of what I’ve been conditioned to believe but as I started to think I—“ Charles phone rang and in the still silence of their conversation the sound of it was like a cannons explosions. As he reached in his pocket and pulled it out he dropped it over the pew and into Hugh’s lap. He looked at the caller I’d when examining it in his hand. “Lucy?” “My secretary,” Charles depressed. “Want me to answer it?” Charles shook his head. “Take the stage Charles. Take the stage,” said Hugh smiling. “Hello!” His voice changed to its pleasant chip as he answered. Lucy sounded busy. “Charles! Good morning boss. I’m about five minutes away with Starbucks and coffee and you’re going to get out of bed and I’m -not- taking no for an answer. A few people were beginning to take their seats for second service and the band was setting up for a second round. “Lucy?” Asked Hubert. “Who’s this?” Came across the iPhone. “It’s Hubert sweetheart. I’m a dear friend of Charles’s and he dropped his phone at church and I was just about to give it to him before he leaves.” “He went to church?” She asked surprised. “He went to church alright.” The smile was apparent in his voice. “And if I’m correct he was just about to head over to Vicky’s for breakfast. You should meet him there!” Charles stood suddenly, reaching for the phone but spry, Hubert batted him away. “Oh you can? Great.” He had to extend an arm to block Charles’s charge up the aisle as he struggled to stay alone. “Yeah 9:00 should be fine. Yeah. Yeah. He’ll have a table.” “Why would you do that!” Snatched Charles as he was finally able to retrieve his phone. “Because Charles. Things may look bad, but you never know the final outcome.”
Posted on: Sun, 09 Jun 2013 21:42:47 +0000