The Covetous - First Installment

The human psyche possesses the curious capacity for a number of self-perpetuating behaviors. Some are harmless, such as, perhaps, for a man, forgetting one morning to shave before leaving for the day. One that would be considered more serious is that of staying up too late. The most serious type of these behaviors, in contrast to those of lesser import, however, require no outward change, no physical manifestation, taking place entirely within the mind. An example of this might be comparing ones own attributes to those of others, whether with a favorable or unfavorable light cast upon either. In each of these cases it is only an extrinsic motivator, such as the demands of a work schedule, the desperate pleas of family and friends, or even the deliberate removal of oneself from the familiar, the denial of normalcy (which is the bane of inner attention and the refuge of the self-perpetuating behavior), which can bring the mind to correct itself.

It was one of these, of the most serious variety, which had been set in motion within our hero, John Peterson. In his case, it began with the understanding that the news which he had received that afternoon should have made him glad. His life had been shattered some nine weeks before, a great piece of his soul stripped away while she ran along Spicewood Springs Road in the cooler hours of the evening, drinking in the red and purple which had been painted into the clouds, as she always did. He imagined, hoped that the most beautiful moment had arrived just before she reached Mesa Drive, so that it would have been her final perception in this life.

Nine weeks ago she had been cut down, and today the murderer had been caught. John knew that he should be happy, but he could not find himself experiencing any such feeling. Knowing that he ought to be happy drove him further into despondency. He became even further distressed knowing that his inability to express any positive emotions was also spoiling the afternoon for Aaron and Shae, his brother and sister-in-law. John had driven to Houston that morning in order to spend the day with them, and had received the news via phone from Detective Carlisle shortly after arriving in Houston. The three of them had still visited the aquarium as planned, as well as dinner at Aaron and Shae's house with a neighboring couple, and when the latter pair had left had Shae put on a film for them to watch.

All the while what seemed to everyone, including John himself, to be a steady recovery over the past nine weeks was unraveled within an afternoon. About forty minutes into the film John abruptly stood up, excused himself, and quickly left, unresponsive to Aaron and Shae's protests. He did not stop for coffee on his way out of the city, as he always had on such trips, but drove in automatic fashion, his thoughts completely focused on banishing memories of Kelly from his mind.

He stopped on the west side of Brenham, pulling over at a gas station. He parked in front of the door of the store and walked out close to the highway. He had been sweating, and the humidity of the coastal plains, being reinforced by recent storms, did not help; though it was nearly eleven by this time, well past sunset, much of the heat from the late July afternoon remained. He looked up at the stars, but could not hold that gaze for long, being reminded of the old tales of the stars and the dead. Headlights appeared over the crest to the east, and the thought flashed in his mind. Perhaps he would be like so many deer. No, not like deer, because deer know only that the road is an open space into which they may run to try to escape; John sought a different form of escape within that everlasting instant.

He bought a root beer and continued home. The silence was too much; he selected one of the CDs he had owned before they had married, composed by one of the bands she had not enjoyed and at times playfully mocked. He, or whatever remained of him at this point, became lost in the heavy grooves and complex time-signatures. Nevertheless, the silence called to him all the while, beckoning him to that dark void of divestiture.

Once home he quickly showered and went to bed, leaving the television on whatever channel it happened to be set to, craving the noise it would provide.