The Garden Club - James Gerard (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

watching the shows produced at the direction and discretion of the corporate broadcasting networks’ owners and managers, but the desire to know them was guarded.

 

The man in the unit to the left often protested against the corporate world by pouring gallons of vodka down the throat and then going into a tirade over just how lousy life was.  The neighbor to the right, a drug addicted prostitute whose life’s choices, Hal believed, had been cleverly orchestrated much in the same way as the deceptive politicians had once done.  Then there was the couple behind the back wall that existed in a state of chaotic frenzy with the point of contention always about the money they did not have.

 

He also wondered about the ones seen every morning walking to the trolley or bus stops to deliver them to their jobs.  Who were these people?  Where are they going?  Are they happy?  Whoever they were, he saw them just as neighbors.  He heard them through the thin walls or saw them during the morning rush hour.

 

What Hal wondered most about, however, was not their source of pain and hurt that stirred his immediate neighbors to cry out so despondently yet loudly, but rather why had the new world run by the corporations act in the same manner of the old world run by governments?

 

The new world operated under the simple assumption that the corporations and consumers were codependents, therefore, each needed to fulfill their respective role in maintaining a productive world.  Like Hal, the whole world was sold on the new philosophy that rang of optimism and prosperity.  But for the corporate leadership to turn their backs on the availability of the very same products that had entrapped so many in miserable conditions and a codependency that had existed under the rule of governments, by which the politicians fed the desires of those that sought out the mind numbing drugs and alcohol, made no sense.

 

Prescription drugs were manufactured to relieve most ailments touching the lives of the populace.  The infirmities that had plagued the body and had tortured the mind were now treatable by any number of drugs concocted by the corporate scientists produced in their laboratories and dispensed by their doctors.

 

But for a reason hidden away in the minds of the corporate leadership, freedom was given to seek out alternative remedies instead of the acceptable and efficient medications designed to alleviate pain while maintaining the patient as a productive worker in the workforce.  But Hal figured whatever the reason, sooner or later the corporate leadership would have to account for such acts that worked in opposition to the prescribed way.

 

He took another sip of coffee and looked at the bank statement lighting up the face of the computer.  The balance was near empty.  What remained was a sum that had Hal wonder if all the others in the complex were living cheaply, saving their money, and working every which way possible to assure any sort of future lest a better future.

 

Or were they like his immediate neighbors who either seemed to survive on little or spent what little they had on the means to drink, shoot up, smoke, or snort their way to oblivion as a means of surviving yet one more day.  Hal thought how could life be that bad for them?  Was it that much of a struggle to achieve happiness?  Were they just content to go on day by day in a state of nothingness?  He could not say.

 

It didn’t matter, thought Hal.  It was their lives.  He knew he was no better.  After all, the job of a pencil pusher two days out of the week, auditing the park’s receipts, cowering in front of the Governor whenever his presence was called for was the bulk of a career that no longer provided the happiness that was sought.  The rest of the time was spent holed up in the apartment, indulging in different mind numbing activities like those of the neighbors, or ohter activities which led to the same results.

 

The attention worked its way from the bank statement to the framed photograph of his ex-wife and kids.  Maybe, he considered, if I could just get back together with her.  If I could just get a new job and begin all over.  The thought of reunification with his love at times churned the heart.  To Hal, their life together was pretty good, but to her there was not much of a future to it.  If he had just taken up on Kenneth’s initial job offer then they would still be together.  But while those thoughts offered a glint of hope, the telephone rang and broke the daydream.

 

“Hello.”

 

“Happy birthday Hal.”

 

“Happy is not the word to describe this day Kenneth.”

 

“Then we’ll just have to do something about that.  Party...tonight at eight...my house.”

 

“Naw.  I just want to stay home tonight.”

 

“Don’t make me come over there and embarrass you.”

 

“Don’t even joke about that.”

 

“Then eight it is.”

 

“Yeah.  I suppose.”

 

My fifty-second birthday, thought Hal.  Now life has certainly ended; how much worse can it get?  Just thinking about how long removed from youth it had been, the attention was diverted to a plastic storage bin sitting in a lone corner near the bed.  Hal approached the bin with nostalgic emotions running through the mind.  He lifted it off the matted carpeting and carried it over to the sofa.

 

The cover of a faded and tattered family album that his mother had initiated for him alone, added to, and placed on a bookshelf for safety once the pages were filled with photographs.  The photos captured the changing faces manipulated with the passing of time.

 

Upon opening the cover, a photograph of his parents was seen.   His father was aptly dressed in a naval suit adorned by ribbons and metals that spoke the history behind the early naval career.  His mother sat just below him to the left looking much like the wife of a captain so prim and proper and dutiful,.  She stared back with such love in her eyes.  It was a picture taken on their fifth anniversary.  It was the year Kenneth had turned four and he just a babe in his mother’s arms.

 

The pages turned and presented a progression in time of photographs revealing a past in which a mixture of pleasant and horrid memories were confronted.  Pictures of himself with mom, with dad, with Kenneth, with them all at once at various stages of life filled the album.

 

Eyes gazed at pictures of family portraits, birthday parties and anniversaries and Easters and Christmases and Halloweens.  Pictures of graduations and promotions, of family picnics and hobbies, of classroom achievements signified by blue ribbons and shiny medals and letters of certificates that mom had affixed in spaces around the photographs,   All pictures and certificates centered on him and were accompanied by written captions by the hand of his mother explaining not only the significance of the particular moment in time, but the sweet and tender sentiments expressed out of her love for her son as well.

 

Hal glanced at the two urns sitting in a clear, plastic bin sitting against one of the tattered walls.  The urns held the cremated remains of his parents.  The  urns that were rescued from Cabrillo National Cemetery once the corporate heads decided that cemeteries were just obstacles to prime space needed for housing.

 

It’s funny, thought Hal, that out of all the past memories, the day of each funerals remained vivid in the present day.  In honor of his father, having attained the status and rank of Rear Admiral years before retiring, it was a funeral in which all the pomp and circumstances that was military protocol was presented.  The eulogies, the testimonials presented with fervent words out of the mouths of both naval comrades and various men dispatched by the president spoke of the powere of hiis dad.   As the twenty one gun salute commenced, Hal realized just how much of an affect his father had on all that he had encountered.  The funeral of his mother, however, ran contrary to such a power.

 

“How I miss you mom,” he whispered while gazing at the picture he went back to, the one she had decided to place on the first page of the album for the onset of the chronological order of his life.

 

Mesmerized by her face that spoke volumes of unwavering love and tenderness, a face that revealed the desires of the heart that warned of the fury that would be unleashed on anyone attempting to break the nurturing bond as she cradled her infant son, tears began to well up in the eyes.  The photograph brought up vague recollections as a young boy under the strict bondage of his father’s rule of order, but the day his mother demonstrated a pure and utter contempt for such order was the day that was burned in the memories.  It was a day of jubilation.

 

Hal did not understand it then, but now could comprehend the bond that had been threatened many a time by a father who demanded outright respect from both his wife and his sons, but was made evident on the day she raised her fury and stood toe to toe with her husband with such brevity that the victory was won even before the assault began.

 

It was the day he had been awarded a certificate of achievement for a school project.  Excitement raged in his six year old mind.  It was an excitement that looked to mommy and daddy for the hugs and kisses, for a mom’s doting and father’s declaration of pride for the youngest son.  But his father just glanced at the piece of paper and dismissed it with a grunt.

 

He remembered his mother’s voice with the furious pitch at which she screamed.  Without warning, she then delivered a slap to the face that left the man that ruled with an iron fist stunned.  Words from her mouth commanded, warned that if he ever treated her son that way again she would lay ruin his naval career, the marriage, and torment him through all the days of his life.  Hal smiled at how his father acknowledged the award the spoke words of pride for all the achievements from that day forward.

 

The thoughts of a new day, the circumstances concerning the future of the park shattered the peace of the daydream and left shards of uncertainty and doubt to contemplate.

 

Much like his father’s control in assuring all phases of career and family life went according to plans precisely laid out in advance, the future of the park hinged on Governor Hartson’s decision whose authority and ultimate power over the final decision would be unopposed by any that disagreed heartily about the outcome.  But Hal’s sense that the final decision had been predetermined stayed unchanged.  He knew its fate had to have been sealed by private dealings held in secret.

 

Hal dreaded to know which corporation would be granted the space.  He realized there would be no regard to the current structure of life and purpose it held for years.  He feared the news would send him catapulting into a life of nothingness.  The only reasonable avenue of escape would come from the circumstances of coming to terms with living a life which would offer a choice forced by its closure.  At that point, he concluded, the only choice was to go on hands and knees begging Kenneth for a job.

 

He smiled while looking to the desk where the frame holding the photograph of his ex-wife and daughter and sons sat.  “Maybe it would be enough to get you back.”

 

The thoughts then turned back to his brother.  The question swirling around in the conscious became not what sort of surprise did he have in store for me, but how could I surprise Kenneth?  As if enthusiasm had been hit by a bolt of lightning, Hal vaulted from the sofa and through the door.  He raced to the highway.  But just as the future grew bright with an idea occupying the thoughts of a new future, the current circumstances stood as an obstacle to its progress.

 

The freeway traffic heading westbound along the 52 was heavy and clogged.  The morning cover of a