Realistic Smiles

September 11th was Christian's ninth birthday. Raymond Church, Christian’s father was in the WTC that day. 

Mark, Christians’ eleven year-old brother was pragmatic.  He was the oldest; it was his duty to be strong.  Father always said, ‘the only tears worth shedding are tears of joy’.  There weren't many of those to be found these days. 

Robby at seven was the youngest. He expected his father to walk in the front door at any minute.

Christian rarely spoke about the tragedy, his head full of grief.

For Julie the whole situation was as bazaar as it was tragic.  Ray and her had recently decided to divorce and were about to tell the boys.  Now there was nothing more legal or more final.

She felt guilty, almost.  Her new friend had been much more than Ray could ever be.  He made her happy. If she was happy then the kids were happy.  That’s what Dr. Ruth said, besides it was convenient and Ray was always traveling anyway.

Mark had sensed that things were not well between his parents.  He hoped for the best.

All three boys dreamt of their father.  Raymond had a capacity for love that others could only hope for. If he had received miles for loving acts, he would not have paid for another airline ticket for as long as he lived. 

No matter how he traveled money was always a problem in these happy times. 

Raymond would say, “We give them everything, go into debt to do it and have really given them nothing”.  Meanwhile Disney spends a billion bucks to convince you that you’re the parent of the year if you pop for a trip to the Enchanted Kingdom. 

Ray’s life insurance covered most of his burial costs.  Now that her new friend had the chance to pitch he balked. First he became elusive, then distant. Now he was gone.  Rumor had it that he was frequenting a WTC fireman's' widow… so much for imagination and mourning.

Ray had been a great father; He was negligent when it came to her.  She had her needs and deserved the best, just like Woman magazine told her.  The men behind the ads usually mean for you to buy their brand of lipsticks, tampons or hair spray. Oddly enough many readers see the advertisement as an invitation to leave your spouse. The throw away family has been good for business, as wants become needs.

Surely Ray had his share on the road.  He was active and had a certain charm.

But that was then.  Now what? She was almost embarrassed, almost.  Sometimes she felt down right slimy.

Fate had gotten even in the end. Here she was with 3 boys, a mortgage, private schools, no job and no prospects.

That wiener that she had slutted with had a good job.  She had wondered if they’d have connected if she had been available.  Now that question was answered.

Julie considered herself attractive.  She had the scars from 3 child births, but makeup did wonders and she had dimples not cellulite.  There were some miles to be gotten once she hooked the right buyer.  The problem was that the bills needed to be paid now and the buyer was nowhere in sight. 

CNN reported lots of nice stories after the WTC tragedy.  That was months ago.  Other things were now important, kind of like those orgasms that she was able to realize.  They were once a top priority.  Now she wasn’t sure if they were real or that the desire to have them convinced her that they were real. If the clouds burst the streets would be covered in filth.

She often wondered if she had crossed the line.  What line? The only line today is the checkout line at the mall, that’s if you’re patriotic. 

Was Ray satisfied where he was?  Did he now know what she’d been doing?  Maybe he always knew.  Yes he probably did.  But the bastard didn’t care.  It was his fault.  Maybe if he’d confronted her or slapped her like they do on the made for TV movies, maybe it’d never happened.  That bastard didn’t care.  That was it, the bastard.  Still she felt guilty knowing that he did know wherever he was.  Didn’t he?

There was no way to rewrite a single line of the past.  She wasn’t sure that she’d rewrite it if she could.  And she couldn’t anyway.  Damn him.

Most of her friends had already gone the ropes.  When you tire of your husband you file a complaint.  If physical abuse is hard to prove then throw in mental abuse.  Most attorneys recommend both. Why not cover all the bases? It also benefited attorney fees, social consultants and psychologists, each gnawing at bits of your misery.  What’s the difference if the system sucks your money into its vacuum?  Spend yourself out of recession, be American.

With the way that they waved ‘ole glory’ around you’d think that it was a magic baton.  A magic baton was the only thing that could save Julie's' situation.

Patriotism was selling well. Everyone was a hero. The politicians got their air time scrambling to invent a catchy phrase hoping to see it on the 5 o clock news.  The foreign politicians were even in on it.  Wal-Mart sold 300,000 miniature flags, all made in China.  But after the dust settled we have the same problems to deal with, plus the pain. 

Hillary was really interesting.  It’s like medieval times.  Sons become kings and wives become US senators in kingdoms that they’ve never resided in. Patriotism was great for government.

Ironically it was them that first got us into the mess.  Bin Laden and Hussein were one time children of the US intelligence services. We’re all sallies Julie thought. 

She was a widow not a divorcee.  This had to push her up a few notches with new prospects.  She was warming to her husband’s memory and hoped that she could squeeze out a tear or two when convenient.

The kids would never know of her infidelities, whatever that word means today, besides only men cheat.  Women are pushed into compromises by cold abusive spouses.  In fact a woman has every right to chop a guy’s penis off.  No woman ever deserved to get her tits chopped.  Besides, men were still literally getting away with murder.  Look at OJ.  It’s only right to even things out.  Evening things out is what the politicians do in these wonderful social experiments like forced bussing, affirmative action and hate crimes.  That’s what finally made Ray quit.  Hell, had he gotten his promotion, he’d have been a captain in the NYFD and surely a captain’s family would be taken care of.  His promotion went to a woman or a black or a Hispanic or a gay.   His high test scores didn’t matter.

They’d have all been in much better shape had he died as a fireman and not as some blurry traveling businessman.

The world rose to the US’ side, as if they had a choice.   CNN showed the same 10 Palestinians parading, if they were Palestinians. The journalists paraded around with the families of survivors. She may have been unfaithful, but she drew the line somewhere.   ‘How do you feel about your husband’s death?’ pathetic.’

God bless America and Coca cola and Levi’s jeans and IBM and Microsoft.   What a farce, and some naive Canadian is reminding us of our altruistic values and virtues, interest free loans to struggling counterparts after WW2.   Our capitalists have gotten our money back in their pocket 100 times over in the way of corporate profit.   The public pays for the marketing through taxes, the poor kids die in the wars and corporate America reaps the rewards.   She watched public television.   She was no ninny. Ray still believed that Oswald shot Kennedy.

Did anyone think for themselves anymore?   These were her thoughts as Christian entered.   He slammed the door as he always did when she was having her menstrual cramps.   She held herself back.  After all he had lost his father.

They had gone to the school counselor.   She was a kind, lesbian of 35 who could barely move in her seat.   The skin of her upper arm hung out of her shirt scraping the paper that she was writing on as she glanced back and forth; another wonderful product of Mc Donald's and Coca Cola.  Why didn’t they ever use her for their ads?

She gave the disgusted mother a lecture.   The disgusted mother felt disgusted because she felt that she should have been doing the counseling, on hygiene.   Christian held his nose as they left the room.

Julie returned home and called the 1 800 numbers.   Now that the cameras were off things changed.   What should I do for you if I can’t get credit for it on the news?   Everyone cares when the tape’s rolling.   You’d think that we had no racial problems or that there weren't more murders in New York City alone than in most third world countries.   Most Americans couldn’t tell you what third world country meant.   Was there anything legitimate about the charade?

The bills needed to be paid.   Her temper got shorter as CNN reported all of the happy ending stories. 

No one thought about her problems.  Everyone assumed that she’d get her share of the 40 billion. And damn it she wasn’t going on her knees to anyone.   She didn’t beg.   They’d get by.  Wouldn’t they?

Christian looked everywhere for his father.  He’d squint looking up the street as people arrived.  Then at the last moment he’d focus hoping that in fact it was his dad. 

The blacks beat Mark up on his way home from school, so much for unity.   She can’t even sue for a hate crime.   It’s a shame that she wasn’t Hispanic or something.   Maybe she could say that he was attacked because she was a lesbian.   Some attorney would go for it.   The way things were going, she expected that someone would call from the school saying that there had been a shooting. 

CNN covers war in the middle east.   The casualty numbers of Washington DC hold up to those of most of these so called unstable countries.   We’re at war, but no one admits it or declares it.   At least by the numbers we are, we’re at war with ourselves.

Julie had begun to lose her patience.   She had no money to keep her boys in private schools.  The priest had been real understanding extending the tuition deadline a month.   He had his bills to pay, so much for Catholic compassion.

She literally beat the shit out of Mark when she caught him stealing money from her purse.   He said he needed it for school but she knew that cigarettes and drugs were bigger interests.

What could she expect in such an environment? 

She borrowed what she could.   There was no where else to go.   Her last resort was Sherman.   He was an antique crooner from her old office.  He’d be good for a grand or two. She’d probably have to bed him.   She hardly minded.   It had been almost 6 weeks since she had been with David Copperfield while her husband was in Maine. 

While she was thinking Robby came in.   Christian had broken his game boy.   In fact its Japanese guts were hanging out.   It was DOA.    

Her only thought was that it was impossible to replace the gadget and that she couldn’t afford a baby-sitter. 

Christian cried and cried.   It was almost a minute of slaps and punches. When the thought arrived to ask him what had happened it was already too late.   She had lost him.   He was in his bedroom with the door locked.   That’s OK. Let him learn.

Christian was on the bed with a picture of his dad and the huge diamond that his father had given him.   He touched the stone and gazed at the picture of his idol that was never coming home. Then he fell asleep.

He didn’t hear his mother knocking. He finally heard the banging of his pesky brother Robby.

He opened the door and looked down at the miniature baseball bat of a brother.

“What do you want?”   Christian asked with a challenging voice.   Robby pursed his lips and then made a noise that he thought would irritate his older brother.   It did.   The two started fighting and were interrupted by the swinging of the broom.   It posed a more immediate threat. The brothers suspended the round. 

Tears and more tears, when the ole man was around them cried a whole lot less.

Christian would sell the rock tomorrow.   He’d do anything not to hear her screaming and crying. Money, money, money.   His father returned from Germany with the rock.   He told his son that it was priceless and to keep it forever.   Christian was desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

Mark came home, he told his mother that Nick’s father had drove him home.   He had really walked. It was getting ridiculous.   People were seeing terrorist everywhere, yellow alert, and purple alert.    The streets weren’t safe before and they weren’t safe now.    The adults needed the counseling.    Mark knew that a kid could pull a gun out at school and shoot at him.    You heard about it every week somewhere.    But the kids shooting had American passports.   And the problem is not the guns. 

Kids today know about violence.   If he was going to die so be it.   He sometimes wondered if the kids in India had these concerns.

Where was the more likely place that an 11 year old would be shot in school, Afghanistan or New York?

As he was thinking, Julie entered and confronted him with the third degree.   He answered her flippantly as was his habit.  She sent him to his room as was her habit, where he found that cry baby Christian who was sniffling with a picture of his dad in one hand and a rock in the other.  What a pathetic sight.

Before they were ready the sun came sneaking in through the blinds.  Christian stuck the rock in the bottom of his school bag.  He’d remember a store on the way to school that had musical instruments crowded in its window.  His father told him that they'd give you a price on anything.

After school he walked into Ruby’s store.  Ruby was 58.  His grandparents were from Germany.  They were Jewish.  He loved Judaism, didn’t much care for the politics in Israel and in fact was as close to being pro-Palestinian as anyone he knew… He liked pork chops.  The bell clinked as the door opened.  Ruby squinted his eyes from behind his thick oval eye glasses and Christian could see the black heads on the sides of Ruby’s nose magnified by the glasses.

“What do you want kid?  Ruby asked as he studied the 9 year old. 

“I’d like to sell something.”  The boy said timidly.

“Gonna buy braces?”  Ruby asked knowing immediately that it hadn’t been a funny or kind comment.

“No, need it for somethin else.”  Christian responded.

“Well kid, I ain’t used to dealin wit kids.  Does your mother know you’re here?”

“No.”

“Your father?”

“He’s dead.”  Christian said without flinching.  That’s why I’m here.  My mother needs money.  She wants to pull Marky out of school and me and Robby too.  We’ll have to go to PS34.  We’d be surrounded by gangs and probably be the only whites there.”

“Oh, I see. “  Ruby said not really knowing anything else to say.  Ruby was a bit nervous, hell he wouldn’t like to walk around the halls of PS34 as an adult.

“Well, Ruby continued.  How much do you need?”

“I’m not sure.  I just thought that I’d sell this diamond I got and give my mother what she needed.  The rest I’d put in the bank, kind of like a family savings account.”  Christian said very seriously.

“Oh, I see.”  Ruby retorted.  A family savings account.”

“Would you like to see it?”

“No kid, I mean where’d ya git it?”

“My father gave it to me.  My father didn’t like money, not that much.  He said that money was to buy the things you need.  My father never bought a watch for over 50 bucks.  He said it was wasting.  Anyway he wouldn't want me and Marky and Robby to go to PS34.  We’re in Saint Sabina’s.  We never had a shooting there.”

“Oh, I see.  Kid I’d like to help ya, but if the coppers got wind of me buyin jewels from kids they’d lock me up.  You know kid they’d take my license and everything.  I’d be in a tough spot.  Your ole man wouldn’t want that would he?”

“No.”  Christian said fidgeting.

There was silence in the store.  The silence brought Ruby to be nine again. 

“Let’s see the stone kid.”

Christian was all encouraged.  He started to take out his pencil case, then some papers.  Finally he stacked the books on the floor. 

Ruby waited patiently.  Then he saw it.  It was a beauty.  Ruby had one when he was a kid.  His father bought it in Virginia in some stag mite mine or something. 

“It’s a beaut all right.”  Ruby said softly whistling.

“What’s it worth?”  Christian asked.

“Oh, I don’t know.  But I know your ole man wouldn’t want ya to dump it.”  Ruby studied the boys face.  He saw the disappointment.  It was killing him.  “Look kid, he added, I’ll tell ya what. Jewels are always goin up in value.  You hold on to that and I’ll give ya 20 bucks.  I mean it’d be a shame to sell it. Would a 20 spot do it?”

“Na, I wanna sell it.  20 dollars is a lot of money but I don’t think that it’d be enough.”

“How about 50?”  Ruby asked.  His heart was in pieces. He’d soon have to clean his glasses that were steaming up from the tears building up in his eyes.

“You’ll give me 50 dollars for the rock?”  Christian asked. Ruby couldn’t tell what he was thinking.   Was fifty a lot or a little? 

“Son, I love that rock.  But I couldn’t give ya the price that would be fair to you or your father.  I’ll give ya 50 but you gotta bring it around from time to time and let me see it.”

“OK.”  Christian said.

Ruby opened the cash register.  It was as cluttered as his life with 3 x wives and IRS letters.  He was sure that it was one of his X's who had sigged the IRS on him.  He pushed the NY lottery tickets aside and grabbed two 20s and a 10 from under them.  Damn lottery tickets.  Been buyin em since the outfit sold em and used the last 3 numbers of the NYSE volumes.  Then the government put em all in jail and now the real bad guys were running the lottery.  He handed the 3 bills to Christian.

“Thanks, I’ll bring it by once a week.”  Christian said.

“Sure”, Ruby said, knowing dam well that he’d never see the kid again.   Ruby hesitated and then said, Kid.”

“Yeah.” Christian responded as he got his last book in his bag and started to close it.

“Kid, Ruby repeated.  Don’t tell your friends or anyone else about this.”

“Uh OK,” Christian replied confused.  “I could get you business.”

“Yeah kid, I know, but I got enough business.  Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Julie found an extra 50 in her purse.  She must have miscounted. It would come in handy.

Every Friday Christian brought the rock to Ruby’s.  They checked the lotto tickets together.  Ruby said that if he ever won he’d buy the rock from Christian, so that he could stop lugging it around.

Christian didn’t mind.  It wasn’t that heavy.   

Things at home weren’t roses.  His mother was dating some guy named Sherman.  He was OK but when they went out his mother was never home before he and his brothers went to bed.  Marky said he was gonna take a baseball bat to him sooner or later.  Robby laughed.

After a while Sherman stopped coming over.  Christian asked his mother about it.  But his mother just said that he’d gotten his fill of her.  Christian didn’t understand, but Marky was ecstatic.

Marky told Christian that Sherman was Julie’s jocker.  Christian didn’t know what a jocker was. He knew what a jockey was though.  Could they be related? He didn’t bother to ask though, Marky was always so angry.  Marky hated their mother, he hated his teachers and he hated Christian and Robby most of the time.

Robby was easier to get along with.

Since Sherman was no longer his mother’s jocker she was real testy.  She’d slap ya for most anything and she said mean things about Ray their dead father. 

She sure was different from the people that talked on CNN. They said to love your kids more after the tragedy.  Christian figured out a long time ago that people act different on TV.  President Clinton had a million girlfriends but he never brought any of them but Hillary on TV.  That’s probably why she was the senator in a state she never lived in.  People felt sorry for her because her husband had girlfriends.

All Christopher saw Bill Clinton doing was praying.  It couldn’t have been the praying that got him into hot water. His dad Ray said that Bill would write a book and go talking for big bucks.  Christian wondered what he’d talk about.  Christian wished he had Bill’s number.  Maybe Bill could tell him why his mother was always so sad after she lost her jocker.

Every Friday Christian walked to Ruby’s.  Ruby told him that he didn’t need to.  But Raymond always said that he wanted the three boys to be men of honor.  And a deal was a deal.

It was the Friday before Christmas.  Ruby didn’t always know what to say to Christian.  The kid had a tough road, but he always patiently unpacked the stone out of his bag and put it onto the counter.  Ruby admired it and they’d go through the lotto tickets.

Sounded like the kids mother was teetering on a tight rope.  It was a shame.  But there was no exam to become a parent.  Christian had confided that the three boys would go to PS34 after Christmas.  Mark said that he wouldn’t go to school if he had to go there.  Ruby wouldn’t have gone either.  Christian was different, he went with the flow. 

Every night Ruby went home to his 1 bedroom flat.  When he had a few extra bucks he’d have a date.  Ruby always paid.  After three divorces he realized that the free ones cost more.  Ruby's' favorite day was Friday. He read the paper with Christian. Then they’d check the lotto tickets.

‘Gee, he was a swell kid’.  Ruby thought.

Christian walked in and unloaded the rock.  Ruby noticed a glow that he never noticed before. 

Ruby took out the tickets. Ruby’s eyes lit up.  He had won. Ruby smiled and looked at Christian.

“Hey kid, you still wanna sell that rock?”

“What?”

“What! Wanna have enough money to go to Saint Sabinus?” 

Christian nodded. 

Ruby handed the ticket to him.  “Give it to your mother.  Tell her that you sold the rock and bought this.”

Christian went straight home with the $50,000 ticket.  He still visits Ruby and the rock on Fridays.