Calumet, page 18
her in years.” She headed for the registers and placed her
hand on Sean’s shoulder when they stopped in a line. When
had she gotten so tall? “How would you like to go to New
Orleans for a long weekend next week? Just you and me.”
“Why?” Sean gazed down at her with her usual
noncommittal expression. It seemed she was never truly
angry but not happy either.
“I think we need to talk, and I’d like to spend time with
you. I’m not forcing you to go, but I’d like it if you said yes.”
They worked together to unload their cart, and she saw Eve
was behind them, her eyes still on Sean. Eve seemed to
drink her in like someone who’d wandered the desert before
finding an oasis.
“What’s her jam?” Sean mumbled, turning her back on
Eve.
“She’s not the nicest person,” she said softly, and the
cashier nodded, having obviously heard her. “Don’t worry
about it.”
“Can I go back to Adeline’s once we’re done here?”
“Sure, I’ll drop you off on the way home. Are you
spending the night again?” They finished, and she laughed
when Sean turned and waved to Eve as they were leaving.
That produced that pinched face Iris was very familiar with.
“Thanks, Mom, and thanks for thinking of next weekend. I
didn’t think you understood where my head is at.”
There were times when she looked at Sean and swore it
was a young Jaxon standing before her. They were so alike
in so many ways it sometimes scared her. It caused a pain in
her chest that felt like someone was filling her with pressure
at the thought of Sean leaving and never looking back. Eve
might’ve been that stupid, but she’d never let either of her
children down that way.
“I know exactly where your head is at. Compared to you,
I’m ancient, but I still remember what it was like to be your
age.” She hugged Sean once they loaded the car and got in.
“The days you spend in high school seem endless, but one
day it’ll be over, and you’ll be free to do whatever you
want.”
“That’s what Miss Landry says all the time.” Sean set a
bag of groceries in with a sigh. “Most of the people in my
class are jerks, but it’s cool. I know I’ll only be seventeen
next year, but I’m going away if all my scholarships come
through. You’re okay with that, right?”
Conflicted, Iris smiled to hide her feelings. “I want you to
do what’s going to make you happy. All I want is for you to
not push us away.” God forbid she pushed her away
completely when she knew the truth.
“That’ll never happen, no matter what,” Sean said as if
reading her mind. “Maybe it’s time I told you some stuff
too.”
“You’re my child, Sean, so I know all I need to. No matter
what you do, who you love, or where you go, I’m your
mother, and I love you. I always will.” She’d no more damn
her child to a life she didn’t want than she’d force her to
stop seeing Adeline.
Life threw enough regrets and pain in your path, and her
job was to make sure Sean and Danny could navigate each
one. It’s what her mother should’ve done for her, and she’d
break the cycle in this generation. For the first time in a long
time, she had hope that this might work out, and she’d do
what she needed to so Sean wouldn’t turn her back on her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Good morning, everyone. I hope you’ve all had a chance to
read the assignment.” Jax opened her bag and took out her
notes.
The low grumbling and the tapping of feet were the most
familiar things Jax had heard since arriving. Her classes
started much the same way until she was able to encourage
the reluctant learners out of their shells with either the
assignments she handed out, or with the large stick Margot
liked to call her wit. This was a little over their grade level,
but Eugenia had assured her it was a great choice.
Walking through the halls of the old school brought on a
mild case of claustrophobia that eased as some as her old
teachers stepped out of their classrooms to say hello. There
weren’t many of the old guard left, and she’d seen plenty of
fresh faces who appeared extremely new to the job. What
Jax quickly figured out was that many of the new teachers
had been students here and had plans to be in these
classrooms until they retired.
That could’ve been her fate, and only her mother’s
rejection had saved her from the life of a high school English
teacher in a town that never would have accepted her. That
was the silver lining in the whole fuckup, and it made her
smile. As happy with her life as she was, it made her equally
happy to see the eagerness in these people who were
responsible for the next generation. If there were any more
kids like her sitting in their classes, she hoped there were
future Eugenias who would shepherd them to where they
needed to be.
When she put her papers down and looked up, there
were thirteen kids staring back at her as if trying to decide
what would happen next. There was one kid in the back with
their head down, and she wasn’t in the begging mood. You
either paid attention or you didn’t. The rest of them, though,
stared at her as if trying to figure her out.
They’d probably never seen Eugenia show up to teach in
jeans and a bright pink pullover shirt. She really needed to
pay attention to what Margot was placing in her suitcase.
Except for the few gray hairs sprinkled at her temples, and
the laugh lines around her eyes, she thought she resembled
the new teachers she’d met today. She had Margot to thank
for that with her healthy diet choices and all the other
things she did to take care of her.
“How’s everyone doing this morning?” Her question got
her crickets. She smiled and tried again. “I know we just
started, so you can’t be bored yet.”
“Good morning,” they said, not exactly in unison. Not
exactly enthusiastically, either.
“Trust me, guys, you’ll thank me for this when you’re a
senior in college and have to read this same story. I’ve
always thought it’s a sort of sociological study professors
conduct to see what kind of insanity we’re about to release
on society. You’re only semi-crazy now, but believe me, it
gets worse when you go away to school and pickle your
brain with the evil that is alcohol.” The laughter was
somewhat expected, and it was the signal she had their
attention.
An hour later a few of her old teachers came and sat in
Eugenia’s classroom to listen in. It made her smile that no
one had looked toward the clock. She’d known plenty of
students whose attention was forever glued on the time to
see how close they were to escape.
“The most important thing when it comes to this story is
how it made you feel. Intellectually it should make you think
of the possibilities.” She wanted to start wrapping up before
the lunch bell rang.
“What’s to think about?” a guy sitting in the second row
asked. “I say, heck yeah.”
“So you’d be okay with it? You think it’s all right to let
some kid sit in a dark room in their own mess, eating slop,
just so everybody else can have a perfect existence?
Remember that same child, who at one time knew love and
carried with them the memory of warm hugs from their
mother, has had that and everything else ripped away. You’d
be okay with that being the payment for a deal struck for
everyone else’s benefit? Is that what you’re saying?” Jaxon
asked in return. All her questions were meant to make him
think about what kind of person he wanted to be.
Pretty much all the students were engaged in the lecture,
and she did her best to wring out every emotion from the
story. That one kid in the back was still staring at whatever
was on their desk and hadn’t moved from the time she’d
started. She couldn’t figure what was on the kid’s mind, but
the favor Eugenia had asked was for one lecture. Delving
into the problems of postpubescent teenagers wasn’t her
responsibility.
“No,” the boy said, and it sounded a lot like a question.
“Is it no or yes?” She threw the question back at him. He
had to pick an answer. The story deserved a cut-and-dried
response.
“Why shouldn’t it be yes?” a tall redheaded boy asked.
He was sitting on the front row dwarfing the girl behind him.
“Doesn’t the good of the many outweigh the good of the
one?” That was his comeback when she still was silent.
“Kids die every day in war, or their parents kill them trying
to get them into this country illegally. They either die in the
desert, or they get sold into sex rings. It’s why we need the
wall—to save kids like this one in the closet.” The boy was
firm in his convictions—she gave him that. “That way only
one goes through all the crap, and the rest of us would be
good.”
The kid appeared ready to slap himself on the back, and
Jax tried to keep her horrified expression in check. “Okay.”
She had to take a moment to think of something to say that
didn’t include the words Neanderthal, fuck, and you.
It was amazing that some of the people in this town were
still spilling their shit onto the next generation. What this
little asshole was basically saying was if the kid was brown,
they were dispensable. It was only an added bonus if they
could cure all the world’s problems. If that was true people
like him would line them up for torture.
“A Star Trek fan, huh?” Jax almost laughed at the blush
that made his face resemble his hair. “Okay, so you have
one person willing to suffer for the rest of us. That sounds
like a good thing. No more illness, crime, hate, xenophobia,
the list is mind-boggling, right? What a great thing to be
able to sleep with whomever you want without shame, or
take drugs or drink without ever becoming addicted. All
because you keep this kid locked up in their own dark hell.”
He cut in as she opened her mouth to go on. “Yeah, I
mean, I could live with that. I’d have been one of the people
who would’ve been perfectly okay with the situation when
they showed me that room. The ones who walked away
from perfection were a bunch of idiots.” He turned and
looked around to his peers to back him up. “I mean,
Christianity is kinda the same thing. The woman has
basically plagiarized the story of Christ.”
Jax looked at him for a long moment, making his blush
deeper. She was somewhat impressed with the analogy he’d
used to articulate his point. He was like the majority of
people she’d known growing up who sat in those pews every
Sunday religiously, but invoked Christ to defend untenable
positions. “Plagiarism is a bit harsh, but consider this—
Christianity is based on a volunteer. The Son of God knew
what he was up against and what was expected of him.”
“Maybe,” the kid said, clearly not ready to let go.
“The story I made you read was about an unknowing
innocent who’s made to live all the misery life meant for the
rest of us, and I mean all of it. A pact with some evil source
makes it so, but the problem is, the kid’s not going to live
forever. The sacrificial lamb needs to be constantly replaced
by some other unsuspecting soul, so when are you ready to
go?” Jax tried to keep her voice calm, knowing it was her job
to push all their buttons, not the other way around.
“What do you mean?” The redhead’s face went from
embarrassed to confused.
“The suffering of the one, mainly you, will be great for
the many, that would be us. So I ask again—when are you
ready to go?”
“I don’t want to do it.”
She inflamed his anger when the others sitting around
him laughed.
Jaxon was having fun now, and Eugenia was laughing
with her from her seat at the back of the room. “Okay, you
don’t want to go, how about this. Do you have an annoying
younger sibling?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a little sister, why?” He appeared wary
now.
“When can we pack her up and shuffle her off to the
basement?” The kid just stared at her and didn’t have any
other comeback. He wanted what the luckiest of Omelas
had, but he didn’t want to pay the price. No one ever did.
“Okay, I get it,” he said, not as enthusiastic as before.
“I picked this story for a couple of reasons, and most of
them I’m willing to admit were selfish. Life will teach you
many things the older you get, and none of those are
lessons you’ll learn in a classroom. I think most of you
realize that, since who you are and what you already know
came from the whole of your life’s experiences up to now.”
This was the reason she added this assignment to her
curriculum every year. The lessons were things everyone
learned. Through trial and error she’d done the same, and
she would’ve appreciated someone giving her a hint when
she was this age—it might’ve saved her a lot of angst.
Knowing that pain didn’t last, that being alone didn’t have
to be your fate, and that you could be the architect of your
life made things bearable.
“That means you know there is no place as perfect as
Omelas. The real question is this: Is Omelas perfect? I don’t
think it is, because you can’t build your life on the misery of
someone else. The things which make life sweeter are the
things you earn along the way on your own merit.”
She had them now. They all looked at her as if she’d cast
a spell. “Some of you will go on to be what society defines
as highly successful, and some will be content with a job
that will put a roof over your head and food on your table.
Does it make those people who chose a different path
failures?”
A lot of the kids attending school here would go on to
trade school, then to jobs offshore, or for one of the
manufacturers that built everything from boats to oil
platforms. People worked with their hands and were proud
of it. Those jobs had become a tradition of sorts, and there
was absolutely nothing wrong with them. This lesson was for
them as well as for those who’d walk away in search of
something different—especially for those who’d walk away.
“The moral of any story is what you perceive it to be. The
important lesson of any story is how you can use it to learn
something about your own life. The lesson Omelas should
teach us is that life is perfect because it has flaws.
Everything we do carries risks and consequences,
sometimes good, sometimes bad—it just depends on the
paths you choose. Things like health are sometimes beyond
our control, but nothing will bring you greater satisfaction
than taking all that life or fate throws at you and achieving
victory anyway.”
“But wouldn’t we be better off without disease?” a young
woman asked, still not ready to let go of the idea of total
utopia.
Jax nodded and pointed at herself. “I personally don’t like
being sick, but when I am, it makes me appreciate my
healthy days that much more. Think of it this way—Omelas
is the name of the city in this story, but in reality it can be
anywhere.”
The girl smiled at her with what seemed to be a touch of
infatuation. “What do you mean?”
“Most of the people I went to school with, their picture of
perfection was here.” She sat on Eugenia’s desk and patted
the surface. “Why would you want to leave a place that
embodies everything good you’ve ever known? There’s
hardly any crime when you compare it to the big cities, and
you can walk down the street and recognize probably nine
out of ten people you see.”
“Yeah,” the redhead said. “Our parents want us to think
that and stay close to home no matter what.”
“You need to make up your mind about that, but listen to
the advice they give you. Chackbay might have its dirty
little secrets locked away in even the nicest homes along
the bayous, but overall it’s home. For some of us, though,
