17

Ben and Sherri stood in the kitchen, Ben’s arm draped over Sherri’s shoulder, Sherri’s arm wrapped around Ben’s waist. They leaned into each other as if they were starting to meld together.

Sid and J sat at the kitchen table. For a moment everyone was silent, considering, being. J started to poke at the sugar packets with his finger. Sid began nervously rubbing his knuckles. Sherri started to lightly run through piano scales on Ben’s rib cage. Ben stood stoically, desperately trying not to giggle.

Slowly, Sid stood up from the table, his palms pressed against it. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out as he realized that everyone was looking at him, waiting. His head bowed slightly and he closed his eyes. He inhaled sharply and began.

“J asked me earlier what I wanted,” Sid said. “Well, I want to go out with one last stand before this goofy unnamed group breaks up.”

Sherri gasped and said, “Oh. We wouldn’t…”

Sid held up his hand to silence her. “It’s not you two. Whether J knows it or not, he’s leaving soon.” Everyone turned to look at J.

J shrugged with a face that said, “I don’t know,” but eyes that said, “probably so.”

There are times and places and people who cross paths to make a difference. They change the course of things. It’s not always in a grand sweeping newsworthy gesture. Sometimes someone comes along or someone leaves at the exact moment that another person needs them to. They appear as if from thin air and maybe their effect is not immediately obvious. They end up bringing two people together that might not otherwise have found each other, or they make someone see the world in a whole new way. When they go, no matter how sad it might be, they leave a vacancy that has to be filled.

“I’m proposing one last stand for PANSY, for Theatre of Tragedy, for In Your Eye Action, for Society’s Blender.” Sid announced.

“Society’s blender?” Ben whispered to Sherri.
Sherri shrugged and directed their attention back to Sid.

“We’re going to go out swinging and we’re going to go out hollering. We’re going to the city council to stop the casinos from coming to Cincinnati.” Sid announced with a smile. “And we’re bringing all of our friends.”

“And making new ones,” he added with a smile.

J smiled a weary little smile. Sid was going to be all right if he left. Ben and Sherri had each other, but he’d been worried about Sid. The curl of J’s lips was all Ben needed to get Ben to pump his fist and say, “All right.”

Sid liked the enthusiasm as Ben and Sherri pulled up chairs at the table.

“What’s the plan, Sid?” Sherri asked in all seriousness. No one, least of all Sid would have ever expected that he would be leading a charge.

Here he was. “We’ve been crafty in the past. We’ve had good plans that got us on the news or that caused a stir, but I think we need people power for this one.” Sid said proudly, having thought this through. “We’re going to round up everyone we can find and we’re going to march on the council. We’re going to be heard.”

Sid had it all mapped out. They would send a mass of protestors to the next Tuesday night’s city council meeting. They’d fill the auditorium, they’d fill the hallways, and they’d fill the parking lot at town hall. Everyone they knew, and even those they didn’t would have to be called or cajoled in whatever ways they could think of. Stopping the casinos from giving Cinci a black eye was going to be a going away gift for J and a going away gift for Cincinnati. J had always despised casinos. They are a consumer-driven culture’s dream and a community’s worst nightmare. If nothing else J had done had mattered, this would. Letting casinos onto their side of the border was an invitation for crime, for pawn shops, and for desperation. Despite the education funds that casinos dangled in every state, the blemishes they left far outweighed any of the loot they promised.

Sid was fired up on this one. His mother had worked as a cocktail waitress for a while. He didn’t like to talk about it, but it seemed like a good time to bring it up. Gambling brings the dregs of society and it takes them out of hiding and puts them front and center under the neon lights. It legitimizes throwing money away and it attacks the down and out. The lower a person feels, the more likely he is to think that he deserves to win. And once in a while he will win, but most of the time the casino wins. And Cincinnati loses. “It’s disgusting,” Sid told them at the finish of his tirade.

“You’ve got us, Sid.” Sherri told him. “Let’s get to work on the details.”

They got on the phones that night, calling everyone they knew in Cincinnati. Sid and J alternated in Sid’s kitchen. J ate ice cream during Sid’s shift. Sid highlighted phone numbers in the phone book on his break. J had never seen him so serious. Ben and Sherri worked out of their new place, working from the back of the phone book. They tended to take their breaks together and those breaks didn’t to involve massages, kissing, and things which do not require all that much imagination, but will be left for imagination anyway. At first it was easy, the calling, not the imaginary lovemaking. J called McCormick and told him to round up anyone at the house. McCormick was an easy sell.

“Count on me.” He said with such enthusiasm that J thought he might jump through the phone and hug him. “I can probably round up another 10 to 15 from here as well. I’ll try to find Jimmie and see if he’s got any buddies to bring.”

“Thanks,” J said warmly. “We appreciate it.”

J wondered if having a large homeless contingent was the best demographic for this protest, but figured if they could get the numbers high enough, they’d mix right in. Numbers were the key.

J called all his friends. He called the people that had ever looked the other way when he was in trouble. He even called Carl from the elevator sit-in.

“Who?” Carl had said when J tried to explain who he was. “Is this a prank?”

“No. Listen.” J said his charm so thick that almost no one around could breath. Sid was practically writhing in the corner it was so intense. “Think about it. Casinos are not going to help you in anyway. I know you’re safe and sound in your cubicle at MegaCorps. I know you’ve got a cushy job and an ok life, but this is your chance to be part of something bigger. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Carl tried to resist, but he really did want more. Without even realizing it, he’d come to care about Cincinnati. It was his town and he wanted to be part of the fight to keep it that way. By the time J was done, Carl was whooping and hollering. “Count me in. I’ll bring my old fraternity brothers. F the MAN!”

J, “Thanks Carl,” He said as he hung up.

Sid made the rounds making mostly random calls to people in the phonebook. In ten minutes Sid talked to more people on the phone than he had in the last ten months. A lot of people cut him off, or hung up thinking he was making a sales call, but as he looked at J eating his ice cream in the kitchen, he brushed off the rejections one after another. Finally he landed a few successes. He found some students at UC that were up for anything. They said they could get most of their crew team to join in the protest as well. That sent Sid soaring. He was teetering on the edge of giggling wild, but he managed to hold things together. Rejections and acceptance soon blended into one big ball of experience. There were bound to be people that disagreed, but there seemed to be enough support for their anti-casino position. Sid could hardly believe it. His plan, HIS plan was working. It wasn’t just a tribute to J or for the good of Cincinnati, it was Sid’s baby, it was Sid coming out of his shell, it was way too much for Sid to think about without getting incredibly nervous.

Meanwhile, Sherri and Ben were having similar success when they weren’t doing it. Motivating people can be an aphrodisiac and they were still in the early stages of a relationship, so they didn’t see any harm in it.

At eleven pm, Sid decided to call it quits. He figured they would offend more than they would convince if they called during the news. People can be very testy when it comes to the local news.

“It’s probably the asinine anchors,” J said to Sid.
“Probably,” he laughed.

Sid was bouncing off the walls by eleven. He was feeding off the success like a seagull at the dump. Success didn’t smell nearly as funny. Try as he might, he couldn’t even find the words to tell J how excited he was. After the fifth time Sid grabbed J’s shoulders and hollered, J had to grab Sid’s shoulders to steady him.

“I’m going for a walk,” he announced slowly. “I’ll be back.”
Sid just smiled and continued to giddily bounce around his home.

J walked briskly in the cool night air. It was good to see that Sid was going to be ok. He hoped the confidence he was seeing would carry over after he was gone. He still didn’t know where he was going. Part of him wanted to stick out his thumb and head back to the highways, but most of him was tired of the drifting. Even with the last few years in Cincinnati he felt unanchored. He was seriously considering returning to Missouri to be closer to his parents. They had a lot of work still to do on the reconciliation front. He could put his college education to use somewhere, maybe working for a construction company, or finding something in the non profit sector. “Was he really going to work?” he asked himself, but the only answer he could find was yes. And yes didn’t sound so bad right now.

J returned to Sid’s still walking purposefully. He paused to look at the moon. It certainly didn’t look like cheese to him. It looked more like a giant glowing rubber bouncy ball. If he could just grab hold of it and slam it against the ground he could picture the moon rocketing through the milky way. Even a giant glowing rubber bouncy ball like the moon would just be a tiny speck bouncing through the galaxy. J felt strangely connected to the moon at that moment and not just because they shared the same gravity.

Sid had calmed down and gone to bed. J curled up on the couch and went to sleep. He’d been in far worse accommodations in far less comfortable clothes. Sid’s might as well have been a five star hotel the way J slept that night. His sleep was dreamless, peaceful, and restful. He almost expected a complimentary mimosa when he woke up the next morning.

Sid had made a lot of changes recently, but complimentary mimosas had not been one of them.

Even without the mimosa, J awoke refreshed. He was ready to assist Sid in anyway he could. There were moments he wanted to lead, where he wanted to offer suggestions, but he bit his tongue, which hurt like hell, but also kept him from speaking up and stepping on Sid’s plan. He was so proud of Sid and couldn’t understand what had made caused the change.

As they were painting the posters, he decided he’d ask. Halfway through “Greed is a disease” with paint dripping from his brush, J stopped and looked at Sid as he finished up, “Children are not games of Chance.”
“What’s gotten into you?” J asked Sid doing his very best not to let any emotion creep into the question. He didn’t want to sound accusatory, angry, or anything but curious.

“I really think we can stop these bastards.” Sid answered enthusiastically.

“I know, Sid. But YOU,” J stressed, “What’s gotten into YOU?”

“I’m. Well.” Sid seemed to struggle with the answer. “You asked what I wanted.”

“And this resulted?” J asked disbelievingly as he waved his hands around in a sweeping gesture.

Sid smiled as he touched the paintbrush unconsciously to the tip of his mouth. “Yea,” he shrugged offering J very little.

“I don’t understand.” J said amazed. “I expected a short list, or a non-answer, not a revolution.”

“It’s not a revolution,” Sid replied as his cheeks flushed red. “I’m just…what I wanted was what we always want… to make a difference,” Sid continued. “I could tell that your time here was up and I realized that I either had to rise to the occasion or I was going to sink into…something.” Sid explained.

J’s mouth hung open. He was shocked. “Wow,” he said. “I didn’t know you had… I didn’t know I had…”

“that much effect,” Sid finished his sentence. “Neither did I.”

J and Sid looked at each other. The next logical move seemed to be a hug, but hugs between J and Sid had been nonexistent to this point. A handshake felt too cold and callous to J. He threw his arms around Sid and gave him a big hug. “I’ve never been prouder,” J said. It felt a lot like a graduation hug. In a way maybe it was a graduation hug between two twenty-something men. It was as awkward as it sounds, yet entirely appropriate.

The embrace lasted all of three seconds before it split apart and both men returned to making posters. Both averted their eyes having both seem to caught something in them at the exact same moment. After a few minutes of working in silence and rubbing their sleeves on their eyes a lot, they were able to speak again, though they chose not to, relishing their moments working side by side. J felt like the sidekick and he didn’t mind so much. Sid felt like a giant peacock about ready to unfurl his feathers. He didn’t mind so much either.

They turned out a heap of signs once the help arrived. With Ben and Sherri working alongside Sid and J in the kitchen it felt like old times. So intense was the focus on signs that somehow they even used Sid’s bed sheet by accident and had to go buy him a new set. It was a laundry mix-up; it could’ve happened to anyone.

The four activists collapsed in the kitchen that night and slept on the floor. The city council meeting was fast approaching. By Sid’s count they had somewhere near 700 protestors prepared for the event. In terms of size it was going to be their largest task. Sid did his best not to freak out completely and leap from the window, any window, even ones on the first floor. The day before the council meeting J, Sherri and Ben took to the streets. They posted signs across the city. The Vespa was working its little Italian rear end off as Sid raced around with his bull horn, trying to fire up anyone that would listen. Sid stopped at grocery stores and at bowling alleys. He talked with owners softly, trying to explain the inherent risks associated with the casionos coming to town. The business sector had been a late addition to the plan. Their support could certainly help the cause. Sid’s reception was chilly at first, but as his speech got better, he started to leak a little charm. J would’ve been proud. Sid was sweet talking some business owners. He had especially good luck at the La Quinta hotel chain, which Sid found surprising since hotels tend to get extra guests from casinos. He wondered vainly if it had been the wink he’d slipped in. Disgusted he tried not to think about it. “Just be yourself,” he said as he marched into each new business. He talked to barbers and to bank managers. Like anything, some were more receptive than others. The city was too big and the timing poor, but Sid did manage to turn a head or two. It was a noble effort; not to mention an exhausting one.

J was spacey, distracted, it was almost like he wasn’t there that Tuesday morning. Sid was intoxicated with his own adrenaline. He hadn’t been this nervous since he starred as Annie in the fifth grade Dewitt Elementary Boys School production of the same name. The sun had come out today, but Sid’s bottom dollar remained firmly tucked in his wallet. Excited as he was, he wouldn’t bet on the outcome of today’s events. There was too much being left to chance. Besides, it wouldn’t look good to gamble on an ant-casino protest. Sid made some calls to some of the people and businesses who had seemed really committed to the efforts. They began to mobilize that afternoon. By five pm, the parking lot was half full, and the meeting wasn’t for another two and half hours. The atmosphere was tense but festive. The sense of community in an angry community can be frightening and energizing. When J saw the crowd, his body began absorbing that energy, awakening him from the fog he’d spent the day in.

By six, the crowd had filled the parking lot and the atmosphere was getting rowdy. One side of parking lot was shouting “GREED-Y” and the other side responded with “BAS-TURDS.” There was honking and J thought he smelled hot dogs. Was he at a protest or were these people tailgating? And how much difference was there? “It’s all just a desperate need to focus energy on something, anyway,” he told anyone that would listen, which strangely seemed to be no one. A small Yorkshire terrier did stop to look at him while he was talking, but sneezed and walked off before he finished. The strange thing was, it didn’t bother him. He almost liked being practically invisible. He was trying to remember if he’d seen a sign at a craft fair to that effect, “Old protestors never die, their shouts just get inaudible.” No. He was pretty sure he’d never seen that one. He wondered for a second if there was a market for just such a craft and then scoffed at himself. He wasn’t dying. He was leaving. Then his train of thought jumped right off the tracks. There, striding through the crowd, she in slow motion, the rest of the crowd just a blur of activity around her, the crowd parting like she was the queen and her throne was next to J. The blur bowed as it separated and her petite gorgeous frame came striding in his direction, her black hair swishing behind her. Then, like the bizarre shampoo commercial in his head, she stopped. She was talking to Sid. She was laughing. Her head was thrown back and her white teeth glistened. The sound sent out shock waves that shook the ground J stood on. J’s mind raced to ridiculous places; it raced to the top of the Mount Jealousy and through the valleys of anger, it raced over the plum-crazy river and dove into the impossible woods. Then his mind tumbled down a ravine, rolling and rollicking all the way to the bottom where it skidded to a stop. He could see that Matty had turned away from Sid and continued through the crowd. “Well,” he whispered to himself sarcastically, clutching at his heart, “at least I’m over her.” J leaned against a car casually and closed his eyes to collect his thoughts; a few had rattled loose in his tumble.

Near seven, he awoke to hear Sid had located a bull horn. Sid was working the crowd, part cheerleader, part teacher, and all charm. He reminded the group that this was a peaceful protest. He went over some of the chants and songs they would be singing. He introduced Sherri and Ben. They’d be leading the group out here, while he and a few others made their way inside to speak at the meeting. “I want to hear you out here when we’re arguing in there,” Sid growled. The crowd loved it and cheered wildly. Sid looked around for a moment stunned by the response. He felt like a one-man parade. Rather than let the crowd grow restless, he passed the bullhorn to Ben who helped the crowd practice their chants. Like any protest some were better than others. “Casinos Suck.” “Two, four, six, eight, Casinos bring in jail bait.” “Greedy bastards” made a triumphant return.

Sid took the moment to find J. At that same time McCormick and his rag-tag band of friends arrived and spotted J. They were working their way through the crowd. Sid reached J first, a big smile on his face. “It’s great, isn’t it?” Sid said unable and unwilling to contain his enthusiasm.

“It’s awesome.” J said. “You’re going to be fine, Sid.”

For a second Sid choked up slightly, but this new Sid didn’t lose composure for long. He nodded in agreement and said, “J. Other places need you.”

“Thanks.” J said.

Sid turned to gather up the crowd that would be on the front lines. He gave J a peace sign and said no more as he walked away. J responded in kind.

McCormick appeared at that moment with Jimmie close on his heels.

“Is there going to be bra burning?” Jimmie asked J eagerly.

J started to offer Jimmie some clever response when he saw an older couple standing off to one side, scanning the crowd.

“J, I was kidding.” Jimmie said pulling him back to attention. McCormick laughed his big laugh.

“A little distracted, aren’t you?” he asked with a wink.

“It’s the new focused,” Jimmie said with a laugh and an elbow to J’s ribs.

“Oof.” J grunted.

“We’re glad to be here,” McCormick told J. J smiled and gave them a thumbs-up. It was almost as if Sid had borrowed his energy for this event. J was happy to lend it, but it left him feeling so disconnected.

A small line of Cadillacs and Towncars started to arrive and then stopped in a line bewildered by the crowd before them and around them.

Don't quit now, 18 is it