About this series  /  Part 9

Friday, June 29

In between spurts of violent typing, Leroy Zooloft’s fingers hovered well above the laptop keyboard, waiting for his next thought. His typing sounded like distant volleys of gunfire, minus the yelling and screaming. Leroy had learned to type on a mechanical typewriter, where a little verve was a useful trait.

His phone rang. He only answered because the caller ID said “Alex”.

“What are you doing?” Alex sounded oddly chipper.

“I’m writing an essay about the Chauvet Cave paintings.”

“That’s not the Native American rock art up by Santa Barbara, is it?”

“No, you’re thinking of the Chumash Painted Cave. The Chauvet Cave is in France.”

“Oh, right. This is the cave in the Werner Herzog documentary?”

“That’s the one.”

“So, are you writing an analysis of the film?”

“No. As I said, I’m writing an essay about the cave, not Werner Herzog.”

“But you saw the film, right?”

“Yes, of course I did.”

“Did you like it?”

“I liked the cave.”

“So, is the cave a symbol of the subconscious?”

“The unconscious.” Leroy corrected. “But you didn’t call to talk about cave art, did you?”

“No.”

“Well, what’s up?”

“I want to go to the funeral.”

“Absolutely not. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Why not?”

“Do you really have to ask? Imagine Larissa’s family at the funeral. Are they going to be happy to see their daughter’s one-night-stand from her last night on earth?”

“I wasn’t planning on introducing myself. Besides, it wasn’t necessarily going to be a one-night stand.”

“Oh really?”

“Well, who can say? But I do feel that we had a bit of a connection. Obviously it was too early to know for sure, but I feel like I was robbed of the chance to get to know her better. I think I should pay my respects, and hear what her friends and family have to say about what she meant to them.”

“I think I see what’s going on here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leroy sighed. “I’ll just say one thing, and then we’ll drop it. Agreed?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think that maybe sometimes you try to force an emotional connection with someone only when the situation is impossible, because it’s safer to deal with than a real, workable connection?”

“Can you make that less abstract?”

“You’re only interested in going to the funeral because there’s no possible way anything can come of it.”

“No, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here at all.”

“Ok.” Leroy decided not to press it.

“So are you coming with me?”

“To the funeral? Colleen is probably going to be there. I have no intention of surprising her by showing up to her friend’s funeral unannounced.”

“So call her.”

“And say what? ‘Hey, this is that guy that you went out with the other day. Sorry your friend died, why don’t we make a second date out of her funeral?’”

“No, say that you’re calling because you heard the news, express your sympathies, and say that you were hoping to go to the funeral, but wanted to check with her first, just in case you going would make her uncomfortable.”

“And what if she says that she would rather I didn’t show up?”

“She won’t. But if she does, you can just explain that you’re only there because I asked you to go with me. And I’m not asking her permission.”

“That’s pretty good.”

“Of course it is.”

–

Colleen only answered the phone because she didn’t have her glasses on, and couldn’t read the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Colleen? This is Leroy.”

“Oh. Hi, Leroy.” She didn’t sound excited.

“Listen, I heard about Larissa, and I wanted to express my deepest sympathies.”

“Well, thank you.”

“If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.” Did he detect a note of finality in the way she said “thanks”?

“And I mean it. I know it’s one of those things that people often say, without really meaning it. And I also don’t mean it in a creepy romantic way. I’m definitely not trying to use this situation to get a second date.” Oh god, what was he saying?

“That’s good to know…”

“That came out wrong. Listen, I had another reason for calling, and it’s a little awkward.”

“Uh huh…” She sounded unsurprised.

“My friend Alex really wants to go to the funeral, and asked if I would go with him for emotional support. He’s obviously a little shaken up by the whole situation, and thinks that going to the funeral might give him some kind of closure. But I wanted to call you first, to make sure that me being there wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Silence.

“I’m guessing by your silence that you feel a little uncomfortable.”

“Well, yeah, I guess I do. It’s a little weird to imagine you two at the funeral.”

“I understand. I didn’t really think it was appropriate for us to go, either. I tried to talk Alex out of going, but he has his heart set on it. I’ll be glad to stay away myself though.”

“No, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m just trying to get my head around it.”

“I kind of put you on the spot. It wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry. Can we just pretend I didn’t call? Or that I called to offer sympathy, and then just gracefully ended the call?”

“Leroy, I really should get going.”

“Of course, I’ll let you go. But I really do mean the offer to help out. Grocery shopping, an errand, anything that you need, or you think that Larissa’s family needs right now, please let me know.”

“That’s too much, and not at all necessary. Listen, if you still want to go to the funeral to provide emotional support for your friend, that’s fine. But you should know that trying to decide whether I’m interested in seeing more of you is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“I understand. I really have no intention of pursuing that right now. Thanks for being big about the funeral awkwardness.”

Leroy hung up the phone. That went horribly. Really, it couldn’t have been much worse. She essentially told him that she wasn’t interested in him, and that seeing him would be weird. But now he would have to go to the funeral, just to show her that he really was only going to support his friend.

He looked at the essay on his computer screen, and at the cursor blinking uneasily at the end of his first few paragraphs.

“During the Upper Paleolithic era, when glaciers covered Europe, and where the artists responsible for the paintings at Chauvet cave lived, hunted, and dreamed, man lived much closer to his Unconscious. Indeed, humanity stood at the mouth of the yawning cave of emotion, inspiration, and spirituality, barely able to distinguish their own individual thoughts from those of the rest of the tribe. This world of possibility must have seemed so intimidating and immense to their nascent intellect.

“One interesting point is that the subjects of the paintings in Chauvet are, like most cave paintings of the time, exclusively the animals they observed. What few figures that archeologists have found from this era that depict human forms are figures of archetypal femininity—totems to fertility with exaggerated breasts, hips, and sex organs. Even more so than today, Paleolithic man idealized woman and associated her with the Unconscious.

“The concept of the feminine as an ineffable, limitless vessel of life and desire had much in common with the caves wherein Paleolithic man painted. The dark recesses of the caves carried the same unknowable profundity, the gaping mouth of the cave a doorway to the fecundity of Mother Earth. The place that accepted the bodies of the dead and the place where men experience the “little death” were no doubt linked in their minds. They adored both, and feared both. How could they ever know what mysteries she held? How could anyone but the most reverential artist and visionary be worthy to adorn her walls with the product of his creative impulse?”

It really couldn’t have gone much worse, could it? Leroy thought.

To be continued…