The Case of Edmund Greene

The case of Edmund Greene:
By Multiman

I twiddled my thumbs faster than I ever had before as I sat on death row, aka my psychology exam.  I was to arrive to wait there for class every day at precisely 6:55.  Not 6:56, but 6:55.  At least two number two pencils needed to be tucked at least three fourths of the way in my chest pocket.  My slacks could not be wrinkled.  One strand of hair could not be hanging out of my hair combed over.  The lenses of my spectacles must be spotless.  Fingerprints were unacceptable.  My posture must be straight.  And don't let me forget my review flash cards.  I spent hours neatly typing the sample questions and sample answers on each side of the ruled index card.  If I wrote the characters by hand, I would make too many handwriting mistakes that would show laziness, and it would be hard for me to read.  I was still beating myself up over such laziness.  This was no place for mistakes, I thought.  After all, this was Harvard.
    The classroom door clicked and creaked open.  Any last words?
    That night everything felt more real and sharper than the night before.  I felt my cheeks and eyelids stretch back more as the chillier night wind blew them back on my way down from the cliff.  Each time I jumped I feared more.  Each impact upon the rocky ground killed me harder and slower.  This was where my brother died.  It was a real place, and I called it the memorial.
    Each night I flung myself out of bed harder.  Each time I drenched my bed wetter with more sweat.  Each time I had to burst out of this nightmare at exactly 4:00 am.  Not 4:01, but 4:00.
    Each time, in the nightmare, the jump always followed some actual scene from my past that I regretted.  Tonight it was when I saw some lonely old lady drop her groceries, and I just walked back home.  I didn't have any major demands at home that I needed to get back to.  It was just cold, and I had a long day.  I even glanced back to what I justified as a "just checking on you" look, only to watch her trembling, bent over and plucking her bags of bread off the ground like flowers.
    After these regret segments, I always transitioned to my biggest regret - the one that, ironically, used to keep me up at night:  My brother's murder.
    Interestingly, the imperfections I targeted most were those out of my control, such as my nightmares, which kept me up, which affected my grades, and you can see the domino effect here.  All of which was triggered by something in the past - a regret.
    I bashed and thrashed around in rage as my stupid siren, also known as my alarm clock, shook my skull.
    The next thing I knew, I was drooling out a puddle onto my desk.  There was no way I didn't have a huge red mark on the side of my face as well.
    "Mister Greene!"  Professor Leslie said.
    I always thought of him as Edgar, his first name because he did not take me seriously.  I didn't care that I was 25 and that he was 45!  I was almost a student professor in Harvard!
    My spectacles were raised on one side of my head so that they lay crooked on my nose.  I'm sure somebody had to hold in a laugh.
    "Mister Greene, what's it going to be?!  You do this every day!  Are you tired or are you just giving up on life?!"  He barked in front of about 30 other soon-to-be professionals.
    This question raised a fury inside of me - one that I couldn't seem to let out without making a bunch of obnoxious noises and yelps.
    Day after day that man would belittle me and my professionalism by making rude remarks such as, "how did you get into a PhD program?  You'll never get up here with your kind of laziness!"  He didn't even inquire about the reasons behind it.
    I shook around for a second in that dead silent mini auditorium and then stood up.  My legs not only knocked my textbook off my little pull-up desk, but it knocked off my neighbor's as well.  Both books dropped with pages fluttering on their way down.  I was so tempted to flip him the bird, but then I somehow flashed back to what my father used to say to me when I was a kid:  "Eddy, if you want to be successful in life and make lots of money, you have to kiss a lot of ass."  This wasn't kissing ass.  Therefore I just shook my fist a little bit and then stormed out of my aisle, down the steps, and then right out the door next to Edgar.  If the door wasn't held back by one of those air pumps, I certainly would have slammed it.
    Somewhere in the hallway between the door and the men's bathroom to which I was headed, it dawned on me - what I should have said:  How are your dreams?  Well try mine and see if they don't affect your grades!
    Wait a minute.  I thought.  He doesn't have grades; he's a professor!
    "Dammit!"  I exclaimed, slamming my puny fists down on the edge of the white porcelain sink.  I turned on the faucet and stared myself down in that mirror until I got tired of what I saw.  I started to choke up.

O          O          O

Since I was apparently a walking can of female repellant, I decided not to go down to that silly monthly dance for once and just go back to the dorm.  Maybe I wouldn't go to it anymore at all.
Jingling through my keys, the metal suddenly glittered more brilliantly, and everything lit up in a glorious red hue.  It definitely came from behind, so I turned around.  To my amazement, a red, glowing, almost electric spiral in the shape of a black hole faded out of the sky.
I was at that point where you’re just stuck there, wondering how you should react to a situation.  I almost cared enough.  Whatever, it got me out of my depressions for a second, and I seriously believed that it would be on the news so that I could study it later.  Whatever.
I shouldered my stubborn door open.  As soon as I felt that wave of air conditioning upon entering the room, I got a huff of that all-too familiar piss smell of carpet to which I was practically desensitized.  Every day was a copy of a copy of some original day.  Whoever started the saying that says all human beings are creatures of habit needs to be shot.
        I dropped my backpack onto my tiled floor and then front kicked it, sliding it away, to get rid of some of that frustration built up.
As soon as I lifted my head, I double-took when I saw a man staring out my window across the vast living room.  His fingers were laced behind his back, and I could easily spot the horseshoe lines of his triceps as well as the rest of his enormous muscles under his tight black t-shirt.
        “You look around at all these kids scrambling around campus.  The rest of the world assumes they’re just peachy keen because they’re in Harvard, but that is so not true.  They’re all bogged down with most of the same illnesses and disturbances that we are.  They’re just as miserable.  I wonder if there’s something we can do to fix that.”  He uttered.
        “Who are you?”  I asked, ready to grab a kitchen knife off the counter next to me.
        The man turned around.  This man looked exactly like Clark Kent of Superman.  His jet black hair was between curly and wavy just like Superman’s.  His face and muscles were well-chiseled, and he even boasted some Clark Kent circular specs just like mine.  He was the whole package.  But why did this guy look so familiar?
        This whole time, I crept toward him.
        “I’m your new roommate.  I’m Eli.”  He boomed in his deep masculine voice.  He extended his massive arm, and he practically crushed the bones of my hands in our handshake.
        “Edmund.”  I greeted, sort of nervously and without confidence, missing eye contact during most of the shake.
        He clasped his hands together.
        “Look, I hope it’s okay; I made myself a ginormous sandwich out of your stuff in the fridge.
        I wasn’t about to make enemies with this man.
        “Y- Yeah!  That’s fine!  You can have all you want.”  I blurted in a sort of gasp.
        “Thanks, buddy.”  He replied, chucking a packed duffel bag into our bedroom as though it were a shoe.
        He sat on the couch in the middle of the room - put his feet up on the coffee table against my will - and then plopped a cube of gum into his mouth.
        “So what’s your plan today?”  He inquired.
        “I don’t know.  Study maybe.”  I answered a little upset and coy at the same time.
        “Maybe?”  He asked, looking at me curiously with a little smirk.
        “I don’t know, I just don’t really know what to do on campus anymore.”  I chuckled.
        “Do you know about that dance tonight?  That’s where I’ll be.”
        “Yeah, I normally go, but.  I don’t know.  I just…”
        I paused.
        “My, you really don’t know a lot of things about yourself, do you?”
        “No, I just, I don’t know how to get the ladies anymore.”
        He chuckled deep in his chest and then sliced a big old grin of his face.
        “I meet somebody every time.”
        “Yeah but you’re… muscular.”
        “Let me guess… anatomy?”
        “Psychology.”  I answered.
        “Ah! Stab in the dark.  Me too, by the way.”
        “Oh, nice.”
        I was actually genuinely glad that somebody like him was in my major.  Maybe I picked a good one.
        “How many girls do you usually approach?”  He asked.
        “Well, I-“
        I caught myself.
        “I usually just smile, and some come to me.”
        “Na, confidence, man!  That’s the biggest muscle.”  He instructed, waving the TV remote at me like a nightstick.
        He clicked on the TV and then contently watched the screen for a moment and then checked his lustrous golden watch, while I just stared at our plasma screen that I dusted every day.
        “Say, why don’t you come with me?  I’ll show you a thing or two if you’d like.”  He offered.
        My head told me no, but my heart took control of my mouth and blurted, yes!
         “Alright then,” – he nodded – “Wear something sexy.”


         Just being Eli’s satellite that night bubbled up my confidence.  I felt so sexy even in my scratchy, nasty brown suit and green tie.  I still had to wear my green tie everywhere I went.  It was my only signature left.
         I looked back at him.  With a babe in each arm, he seemed so content, smiling and laughing with them confidently with his feet propped up on an ottoman.  I laughed a little from afar, somehow feeling as though I was part of their little group.
         Aside from his white suit, I felt just like him thanks to our matching green ties.
         Suddenly, the shovel of infatuation hit me right in the stomach, and my balls dropped off.  She was so beautiful, pouring that punch all bent over and all.  Her luscious blonde hair curling down to her chest.  When she straightened herself, she did a hair flip that I swear was in slow motion.  The throbbing music and lights dimmed down.  My knees rattled.  Now I felt like the opposite of Eli.
         I looked back at Eli, and he was already staring right at me sternly.  My teeth chattered in terror, as I knew he was going to make me go talk to her, just like the last one.  However, the last one was not nearly this beautiful.  Eli was good at sensing my desires.  He could smell them, and he was not about to let me get away from this one.  He had been “helping” me the whole night even though it felt like dating boot camp.
         He nodded fast toward her with his eyes on me.  I felt a bead of sweat starting to form on my forehead.  With shaky fingers, I pulled my spectacles back upon my widened eyes.  Then, nearly hyperventilating, I waltzed over to her.  The last one actually talked to me and then parted ways.  I couldn’t imagine what this one would do.  Certainly I’ll get slapped or drenched in punch or kicked in the balls.  I lived all of these scenarios before I actually got there.
         “Hi!”  I blurted with an outstretched, firm hand.
         She jumped a little in surprise but then smiled and then shook my hand with a kind face.
         “Hi.”  She greeted softly.
         “I’m Edmund!”  I snorted.
         She kind of chuckled.
         “I’m Anabelle.”
         “Whatcha doin?...  Punch?”  I cheered.
         “Yes!  How did you know?!”  She teased.
         “Well I have a way with these things.”  I returned swiftly.
         She gave a hearty laugh.
        I rested my hand on the table, trying to be smooth.  More and more of Eli’s words came out of my mouth.
        “So… Do you like… dances?”  I asked.
        “I don’t know.  I don’t seem to meet a lot of people at them.”  Her lips became cherries to me when she said that.
        “Me neither!”  I said, relieved and almost yelling.  Yet, at the same time, when I lifted my arms at this statement, my enthusiasm made me hit the back of my hand on the punch table.
        “Well maybe we should do something else sometime.  Together!”  I offered.  This part nearly ripped my intestines out.
        She smiled and sort of checked me out with a little laugh.  I couldn’t believe this.
        “Okay.”  She said, spontaneously and intrigued at the same time.
        “Here’s my number.”  She flicked out a business card at me with two fingers.
        I grasped it as though I were defusing a bomb, and I’m sure she felt my trembles.  Speechless, I just stood there and grimaced as she walked away doing a little finger-flip wave.
        I felt myself in that moment again in the center of the entire color wheel of emotions, in which I wasn’t sure how to react; I was just stuck there, perhaps mentally constipated, as some say.
        I zipped my view back over to Eli, and he, as well as the two girls, smiled and laughed at me with glee.  Almost pushing the girls aside, Eli stood up and walked toward me.  He hugged me and patted me on the back, letting out deep bursts of low, almost cruel laughs.
        My, this is a friendly guy.
        “Good job, buddy!  See, it’s the confidence.”  He asserted, clenching a fist by his chest.
        “Thanks.  Your girls are leaving.  Shouldn’t you go get them?”  I asked.
        Eli glanced back at the two girls in tight dresses walking, about to reach the door.
        “Hey, you’re my bro; this is more important.”
        Wow, thanks!
        “Now” – he added – “I have one more assignment for you before you can go back in peace.”
        “Okay!”  I cheered.
        Bring it on!
        He leaned in close.
        “I want you to find a random hottie and kiss her.”
        “Eli, come on-“
        “No-no-no!” – He stopped me – “This is for your” – he poked me in the chest – “confidence.”
        “You’re kidding.”
        “Just do it.  It worked for me.  Just do it; don’t think.  Thinking is death.”
        “You’ve done it?”
        “Yes sir, and I’m a better man because of it.”
        In Eli I trust.
        So, I shuffled through the crowd until I found about the first woman I saw.  Spinning her over, I smooched her right on the lips while Eli watched in surprised hilarity.  I heard his laughing even from where I was, roughly 20 feet away.
He squinted his eyes and clapped as I darted back past him and then toward the door.  Eli spun around and followed me out as soon as I passed him.  I heard that low guttural laughter of his creep up behind me along with another clap.
        “You did great, buddy!”  He complimented, putting his arm around my shoulder and giving me a shaking, tight bro hug.
        I felt alive, and I found myself laughing for the first time in a long time.
        I still remained in a sort of frozen chrysalis state of shock and pleasure, but Eli helped me walk down the alley with his arm stretched around me.  As soon as he got me off to a gentle start, however, he let go.  It was like getting off training wheels.
        “Do you think she liked that?”
        He gave me an affirming hum.
        “I saw her; she was blushing and laughing with all her friends.”
        “So what does that mean?!”  I asked anxiously.
        “It means – you did something spontaneous.  Fun!  Relax, buddy!”
        I was enlightened.  Spontaneous.  Fun.  Foreign lands.
        “Let’s do something else fun!”  I pleaded, flipping toward him.
        He scanned around us and over my head at all parts of the dark, steaming alleyway.
        “How far is the apartment?”  He asked.
        “Just a few blocks.  It’s back on campus.  Why?”
        “You and I are going streaking.  Strip down.”
        “What?!”
        “Have you ever done it?”
        “No, but-”
        “It’s one of the most liberating experiences on the planet, and that seems to be what you need – liberation.”  He advised, taking off his white suit coat, revealing his shiny black vest.
        He was definitely drunk.  He took a swig of a beer bottle that he snuck into his coat pocket before he chucked it down the alley.  It shattered.
        I was frozen again.
        “Stop thinking!”  He instructed.
        In Eli I trust.
        I whipped off my suit coat with a huge grin.  My soul was breaking free.  I was forgetting everything except for my nakedness.  I was raw and fresh.
        We finally got the breeze between the knees and went dashing through campus, swinging our clothes around in the cool night air, seeing only shadows of what was right in front of us.  A network of fancy education buildings, filled with millennia of human learning was being trotted upon by nude, liberated men living in the moment, not in history nor in the future.  It was absolutely beautiful.  Embrace the beast.
        You should have seen the freaked out skinny kid that walked out of his door just as Eli was storming back to our room.  He screamed like a girl, and he practically knocked him over, letting out his hearty, guttural, classic Eli laugh.  I finally caught up to him, snorting while I let out my squeaky laugh and spinning my professionally tailored suit in the air.
        Let this night go on.  Light destroys fun.  May the sun never rise.  May I never see tomorrow.

O           O          O

I begged Eli to find a table that wasn't among dozens of chattering people, but we did, of course, because I needed to overcome my fear of crowds, according to him.  Yet, he accommodated me by sitting at the edge between the chatterers and the lonely straight-A students studying their laptops by the window.  In addition to the lonely students sat my lonely psychology professor – the jerk, Edgar Leslie sipping at his dark coffee and staring me down from time to time.  Some evil aura of anger radiated from him.  His beard reminded me of one of those devil figures that you see in the movies, and something in his tiny black eyes said, run.
         While Eli chomped away at his pre-workout food in his black and green tank top, I yammered away at him.
         “You see that guy over there?”  I gestured my head at his four o’clock.
         Still chewing a mouthful of spinach, he turned so that he could see.  He turned back ever so slowly.
         “Yeah… I know that guy.”  He said grudgingly.
         “That’s my psychology professor-“
         “Yeah mine too.”  He interjected.
         “He keeps staring at me.”
         “Yeah, he does that.”  Eli informed me.
         I brushed it off for the most part.
      "So yeah.  Every night it's the same thing.  I relive some mistake I've made, even if it’s a stupid one that I should have forgotten by now, and then... Yeah."  I explained.
      I just couldn't get the nerve to talk about my brother.
      Eli shoveled a forkful of salad into his mouth.
      "So what was it last night?"  He asked.
      "I didn't hold the door open for some mom with an armful of groceries."
      "Groceries, huh?"
    He took a swig of his pre-workout drink.
    "Yeah.  Silly right?"  I played off.  Yet, a part of me really wanted to see if it was silly or not, and for some reason, Eli was my beacon of sanity these days.
    He lifted his palms into the air.
    "No, no!  These things need to be resolved."  He said, lifting his hands up a little defensively.  I detected sarcasm and sincerity put together if that's possible.
    He rested his elbow on the table, and the silverware jingled on top of a massive thud.  He pointed his hairy finger at me, which bulged out his massive vertical forearm muscles like a stalk of corn.
    "It's just that the way you think it needs to be resolved is much different than what actually needs to happen."  He giggled, sticking a carrot into his smiling mouth.
    "What do you mean?"  I asked.
    He clamped his fork down.
    "When I was a kid, I also watched my brother die."
    Paradigm shift.
    "I took blame in it.  Serious blame.  Then, like you, I had regretmares."
    "Like, regret nightmares?"
    "Yeah, and then do you know what I realized?"
    "What?"
    "Regrets mean-" he waved his backhand and whistled a long note - "nothing."
    “My parents were really strict too.”
    “My mom blamed me for all of it.  She was so mean.”
    “Yeah my accuser was my dad.”  He said, stabbing some salad lettuce with his fork.
    I started to get frantic and hyperventilate a little bit, while he looked at me sternly yet concerned.
    “I just don’t know why they would torture me like th-“
    “You know what we need?”  He cut me off, looking around the cafeteria.
    “What?”
    “Cake!”

O          O          O

         More and more of Eli’s strange trends poked through his unbreakable personality, such as his meditation.  Wearing his classic tight black T-shirt and boxers with choo choo trains – his nightwear, he performed some mysterious ritual:  Practically every night, he would lay cross-legged atop his bed, bent over with his forehead resting on the top of his stacked laced fingers with his eyes closed.  I thought he was praying.  Now, I normally gawked at this and continued my own business, since I had lost faith in, well, faith (religion) a long time ago, about after my brother’s murder, but one night my curiosity finally snapped me.
         Laying on my bed with my legs crossed, reading my books dripping with mumbo jumbo about rich people’s stories about how great they are and better than everyone else and how much money they made and how to be “successful,” I could not stop glancing over at him.  Although he was already in his ritual, I noticed him staring right at me when I glanced again.  It was spooky.
         “Come and try this, buddy.  I know you want to.”
         “Na, I’m good.  Thanks.”
         “Come on.  Take a break; you’ve been reading that for hours.  I know you’re curious.  You’ve watched me do this for at least two months now.”
         I couldn’t help it.  I closed the book and dropped it on my bed.  Rolling off my bed, I went over to his bed and laid cross legged at the foot of the bed, facing him.
         “What are we doing?”  I asked.
         “Meditation.”  He explained, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply in an erect posture.
         “Okay, what are we meditating about?”
         He kept his posture and closed eyes and paused for a moment.
         “Most people are so loaded with fear, whether they accept it or not, that they meditate about the future, and some even the past.  They visualize themselves as being rich and prosperous, and they don’t realize that there are much more productive ways to get toward those levels.  Sitting around and thinking can only get you so far.  They underestimate the present – the actual fire that is burning the coal.  They study and read so much about how to get to their irrational goals that by the time they realize that their goals are irrational, they also realize how many opportunities they missed around them throughout that narrow journey.  In other words, they spend so much time trying to be great that they have wasted their life trying instead of enjoying the beauties of the present – the journey.  Remember, desire narrows the mind, and the narrow mind is frustrated.
        I, however, meditate about what I am feeling in the present.  I also give my mind a break by taking it somewhere else.  I get bored being only in myself.”
        I continued to be taken off guard.
        “Alright.”  He said.  “Close your eyes and rest your head like I’m doing.”
         We both rested our heads on our hands as though we were taking an extra-long bow before a karate match.
         “Now, breathe deeply.”  He added.
         “Feel your pain, both emotional and physical.  Breathe it in.  Focus on it.  Hold it.  Then exhale when you have brought yourself to the present.  Keep breathing and focus on all that hardship, heartache, and worry.  Don’t focus on just one thing, however.  Clump it all into a little glorious core in your chest where it hurts.  You are here.  This makes you human.  You are now.  Here.”
         It was a miracle.  By pulling past present and future all to the present, I became the present.  I was in charge.
         Suddenly, he transitioned, sort of speaking up.
         “Now we’re in the forest.  You’re freezing cold.  The icy wind blows up your loin cloth.  There is snow all around.  On the trees, on the ground, on the tops of the big rocks.  All over the mountain.  Feel that pain, but see the beauty around you as vividly as you can right now.  Smell the natural air stinging your sinuses.  Listen to the birds.  Focus there.  You are there.  There is no here.”
         I was there.  I left my torture.
         “Now, walk up this cold, barren mountainside for about two minutes.  Feel the rocks and twigs poke and cut your feet.  Go until you get out of the trees and see a beautiful horizon and a vast valley.  You are on a cliff.”
         I flung my eyes open.
         “Now, stand at the edge of that cliff.  Again, feel the snow, the rock.  See the enormous overwhelming view.  It could engulf you.  You could fall off the cliff.  Feel that fear.  See it.  Focus on it.
         This is healthy fear by the way.
         Feel your feet start to slip off the snowy wet rock a little.  You just may fall.  Look down at all those rocks and tiny trees below, begging you to slip or jump.
         You may be feeling a strange tingling sensation or a chill about now.”
         I looked over and saw my brother, Evan, as usual.  This was not a new site for me, even if Eli thought it was.  There was much more of a punch to my tingling sensation – a much more horrible and vivid punch.
         “Once you’re really focused in, jump.”
         Another chill electrocuted me, and I jumped in my seat on the bed as well as off the cliff.  To this day, I’m still not sure if he heard my faint whining sound come out of my crying face and throat.
         “Feel that chilly wind rush below you.  Feel those butterflies in your stomach from the freefall.
         Notice how many times I’m saying the word feel.  Get in touch with yourself.
         Finally, hit the bottom and now look at me.”
         I gasped and looked up at him with a tear streaming down my cheek.
         He blankly stared at me for a moment.  Then, with a little nod, he gifted me a warm, comforting smile.
         

O          O          O

        I had a hard time getting to sleep that night.
        How does he know about the cliff?  I never told him the details of the story?  Was that just coincidence?
        I felt violated.  I mean, it worked like a charm until he threw the cliff into the scenario.  Why the cliff?
         I zonked out quicker than I thought I would.  However, that night I sat in the aisle seat of the airplane trying to read my flashy magazine while some poor old woman struggled to lodge her suitcase in the overhead compartment above me.  Her jacket swung inches from my face, and her old-woman perfume clouded my air.
         I stayed seated.
         Out of nowhere, however, Eli, sitting two aisles in front of me on the opposite (left) side of the plane turned around at me.  His spectacles were shaded, but I easily understood the chastisement of his face.  Suddenly, he lifted up his magazine and tore it in half.
         That was my cue.
         I got up and helped the lady.  She never even nodded toward me, much less say, thank you.  However, when I sat down, every word I read in that magazine looked sweeter.          Ultimately, the dream had to end with the cliff scene.
         Wait a minute…  That’s not Evan.  I thought.
         It was Eli instead.  There was no sign of Evan.  Even when I looked down the abyssal cliff, I didn’t see his terrified face plummeting to the forest and trees below.  Instead, Eli stood, hovering in the air where Evan dropped.
         “I won’t let you see this, Edmund.”  He said.
         I woke up.  Luckily, however, I was just on time – about two seconds before my alarm pounded on my eardrums.
         Eli threw a pillow at me across the room and waved his hand for me to turn off the annoying thing.  When that pillow hit my face, I lit up; I was enlightened by the night.
         Sitting on that bench outside of class, I realized that I was only two minutes early.  I hadn’t even though about the symmetry of my tie, and strands of my hair hung over my forehead.  Frankly, however, I didn’t even care about any of that.
         The next time that son of a bitch says anything to me, I’m going to tell him to shove it up his ass.  I mused on and on about such sweet things on which I was missing out.

O          O          O

         
        ”Hey, at least I came, alright?  I haven’t been to the gym in probably six months!”  I argued to Eli, who practically crapped himself after maxing out.
        With that kind of weight (about three plates on each side of the barbell), I knew that I was useless as a spotter.  With all my might, I, too, would crap myself just trying to help that stupid bar up back on the rack.
        He noisily racked the bar and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead.  He then looked me in the eye from down by my crotch and said,
        “I’m just saying, you get out only what you put in at the gym.”  He preached.
        I only did about one set of curls, about 15 pounds per arm.  That’s why he chastised me.
        “I did a nice set of curls!  I can already feel my arms turning to jelly.  And I’ve been spotting you.”  I plead.
        He rocked his head and shrugged.
        “Hey, a start is a start.”  He answered.
        “Okay, here we go.”  He grunted as he lifted the bar back off the rack.
        I thought I had seen it all – all of Eli’s mysteries – until I started working out with him.  When he pushed up that bar and his pecks bulged out like coconuts, he laughed.  He could not stop laughing, smiling, clenching his teeth and laughing amidst all that struggle.  He practically had a workout orgasm.  I almost suggested that he check his shorts.  It was no wonder he is so enormous, I concluded.  The guy likes pain!
        He racked the bar and then dropped his arms, grimacing under closed, serene eyes.  I looked down at him a little concerned.
        “Do you like pain?”  I asked.  I almost stopped myself because I thought it was a silly question… until I heard his response.
        He exhaled and folded his arms after a swallow, keeping his eyes closed but straightening his expression.
        “Pain is like your ugly, annoying neighbor who constantly knocks at your door.  He scares the hell out of you until you let him in and find out that he is actually a handyman, wanting to do maintenance work in your house for you for free.  You can’t say no.  So you can stress and keep that free help back, living in fear, or you can let him in and befriend him and never work a day in your life.  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, someone famous said.  I accept my pain so it has no sting.  It refines and defines you in the end thereof.”  He said.
        “Wow, that was quite a speech.”  I replied.
        He opened his eyes and looked at me seriously.
        “It’s a speech that I hope you remember.”  He said, waving his finger at me.
        “Now, let’s do another set.  I’ve got more in me.”  He decided.

O          O          O

        Every night I went from a poor citizen, friend, and/or neighbor to a Good Samaritan.  On one particular night, I sat alone in a restaurant after a hard day of classes.  It was a cloudy day, and I stared gloomily out the window at all the busy people in the busy cars zooming down the busy highway doing things with their life.  Suddenly, a young, apron-wrapped waitress dropped a whole tray of food and dishes next to me.  The shattered noise practically shattered my eardrums, and I cupped my ears and looked at her annoyed.  She took no thought before bending over and picking up the fragments and little bits of corn and chicken.  What I actually did in the past was keep eating, as I had no energy to help, or so I thought.  This time, however, I heard a cork pop and felt it pelt the side of my head.
        “Ow!”  I exclaimed, rubbing my head and looking over at the bar where it came from.  To my complete lack of surprise, there was  Eli, the bartender in a white suit and a bow tie, holding a steaming bottle and staring at me with his “get your act together!” face.  I was wondering when he would appear; he had literally been in every single dream, and it began to unsettle me as to why or how.
        I gulped and then immediately dropped to my knees and got my hands nasty.
        Finally, I arrived at the cliff and stared right into Eli’s face.  I felt bittersweet about this; I felt protected by him from the awful scene, yet I was addicted to it, and I wanted to feel the guilt.
        Why the hell is he here?!!!
        I woke up right in the middle of this thought without a sign of eye bags or lethargy.
        Rolling out of bed, I leapt to Eli’s bed and found him lying on his belly, drooling all over his pillow, sort of muttering something.
        “Eli.  Eli.”  I alarmed, shaking his deltoids around.
        “That’s what I said wh-“  He mumbled, lifting his head and gasping through his nose.
        “Woah, what?  Eddy, what?”  He grumbled, resting his head back down.\
        “Did I ever mention the cliff to you?”
        “What?”
        “Do you remember the first night we meditated, and you brought us to a cliff?”
        “Mmm, oh yeah, yeah.”  He garbled, half asleep.
        “Did I ever mention a cliff prior to that time?”
        “No?  I don’t think so.  Why?”
        “Because my brother’s murder happened at a cliff just like that.”
        Eli opened his eyes and paused.
        “And where is this cliff?”
        “Not far from here, come on.  I need you to come with me.  Please!”  I begged.
        “He lifted his head again and looked at me as if I were crazy.”  You’re kidding right?  Is this a prank to get back at me for when I put cream cheese on your deodorant?
        “No, no.  Please.  I just need to resolve something.  I’m in a lot of pain.”
        “Alright, alright.”  He agreed, swinging his legs out of bed, revealing his pink heart riddled boxers.
        I dashed to the driver’s side of my Smart Car, and by the time he had dragged himself to my car and started to sit down, I backed up, making him hurry and slam the door.  He looked at me worriedly, and that was the last expression I got out of good old Eli and his chilled demeanor all the way up.  On occasion, however, he would glance over at me and watch the beads of sweat roll down my cheeks along with my tense excuse of muscles shaking.
        The canyon path was decently gradual, so I didn’t have much trouble completing it in a Smart Car.  However, once the path took a sharp curve upward, I halted the car and cranked the E-brake up.
        I looked over at him as though I were about to break his some big news, and he looked at me a little condescendingly.
        “Come on.  Let’s go.”  I squeaked.
        We hiked up through the forest for about ten minutes.  The barely dawning sun and full moon lit the way just enough.
        “How far is this thing?”  He asked.
        I realized only then that he was wearing slippers.
        “Not far.  See this is exactly what I saw when we were meditating!”  I voiced.
        He looked around curiously.
        “Yeah this could be a pretty accurate description.”  He observed.
        My heart beat faster as we approached the scene; I actually considered the thought that it was going to explode.  Eli in addition brought the dream world and the real world together for me in a weird way in which I legitimately did not know the difference, and I’m not just blowing air.
        My balls jumped into my stomach.  We arrived.
        “Okay, I see where you’re coming from, but why are we here, man?  What is going on?”
        “This is where my brother died.”  I finally spit it out.
        “I was about 12, and he was seven.  I had to make a video for school, so I dragged him up here to help me.  I was with all my friends, so we were picking on him and being punks.”
        Eli looked at me with a tear welling up in his eye.  I had no idea why, but it made me fall on my knees and cry.
        “Oh God!”  I bawled.
        I sniffed in so that I could finish the story.
        “It was winter, so there was snow on the ground.  I was supposed to do a sledding video of him taking a huge jump, and he started sliding down the cliff edge super slowly.  It was slow, dammit!!!”  I yelled frantically.
        “He yelled back at me.  I can still hear his voice.  Eddy!!!  I’m falling!!!”  I continued.
        A tear streamed down Eli’s face as he stood in front of me kneeling with my palms in my eyes.
        “I yelled back at him to shut up and to ‘live on the edge,’ and I kept talking to my friends like an idiot.  Suddenly, one of them freaked out and pointed to the cliff.  I looked back and saw him fall!”  I said, followed by a yelling rage.
        “I ran over and-“ - I yelled again – “I looked into his eyes as he fell into the trees way down at the bottom!  I see it every day!”  I cried for a minute.
        “It was an open casket funeral, and I’ll never forget his face.  It was my fault!!!”  I shouted.
I clenched my fist.
        “And then you!!!  Every night I dreamed of you standing there, levitating!  You’re just taunting me!”  I said, getting off my knees, walking him toward the edge of the cliff.
        Now, if you asked me today, I couldn’t tell you exactly why I pushed him off.  Maybe it was jealousy.  Maybe I wanted to see if it was a dream.  Maybe I was actually angry or just insane – perhaps all of the above.
        He shuffled backward onto mid-air – levitating!
        “Okay.  Okay, buddy.  You can’t kill me twice.”  He said, standing there exactly like it was in the dream.
        “This is a dream!  You faker!  You idiot!”  I yelled.
        He folded his arms and looked at me hard.
        ”Who are you?!”  I demanded.
        He walked back onto the cliff and got in my face.
        “Who do I look like, eddy?”
        “You’re…”  I couldn’t speak.
        “I’m Evan.  I’m you’re brother!”  He declared firmly into my face.
        “How do know his name?!  How dare you?!”
        He whipped off his spectacles and slapped me so hard.  This kind of pain doesn’t happen in a dream. I would’ve woken up.
        “Dammit, Eddy!  Look at me!  Look into my eyes!”
        Oh, sweet mother.  Those were his eyes.
        “What the hell, man?!  I watched them put him in the ground!  You’re sick; you know that?!”  I said, taking a swing at his face.
I felt the bones in my fist and wrist crumble as I punched his face, which was as hard as a cinder block. The impact made a metallic ping sound, and he didn’t even flinch!  He didn’t even blink!
        “Ah, f***!”  I screamed, taking a swing with my other fist.
        He caught it with no resistance.  I couldn’t get out of his grasp, and his arm stayed as rigid as a pole.
        “You see, I am your guardian angel.  I have been since I died.” – I kept struggling and pulling in an attempt to get my fist out of his. – “Remember that time when you almost walked in front of a bus, but ‘something’ pushed you back?  Yours truly.”  He let go, pointing to himself, cocking his head.
        I yanked myself back and fell on my back and butt.
        “This is not happening.”  I muttered.
        He pinched his tear ducts and shook his head with a sigh.
        “Yes it is, Eddy.  Get a hold of yourself.”
        All I could do was quiver and stare at him on my butt and hands.  This felt so real.
        I looked behind to map out an escape route, and when I looked back at him he was wearing a white cape over a black tight leather suit with a large, green, italicized ‘E’ stamped on his chest.
        Folding his arms, he continued his preaching, scaring the hell out of me more and more by the second.
        “Now, what you did here is only a tiny part of why you’re in hell right now.”
         “What?!!!”
        “The majority of the reason is due to the guilt that you carried around your whole life.”
         I suddenly saw his resemblance to Evan.  It was him.
         This is impossible.  I concluded.
         “Imagine” – he continued – “how many lives you could have helped and saved – all the good you could have done in the world if you had forgiven yourself – if you had let go of all that anxiety, guilt, and depression.”
         I flipped myself over and stumbled to a run toward my escape route.  My spectacles fell onto the gravel, and strands of hair fell into my eyes on the way up.  I panted and panted, running for my life when, suddenly, a force close-lined me, knocking me onto my back again.  With a bloody nose, I looked up and saw my psychology teacher, Edgar Leslie standing in front of me in a black and red robe with Evan by his side.  They both looked at me sternly.  I believe I had shit my pants at that point.
         “Mister Greene, I bet you can assume who I am.”  His voice boomed.  I’m not kidding; his voice was unlike anything I had ever heard or experienced for that matter.  It was so deep, epic, and electified that it shook the leaves on the trees and echoed through the forest.
        At this point, I had finally cracked enough to believe that he actually was the devil.
         “You have been granted early parole if you can complete your suffering.  You are nearly done redeeming your actions.”
         My dreams!
         “How did I die?”  I asked, shaken up.
         Before I even finished my question, it came back to me:  I was already in Harvard.  I was already here!  But I jumped off that cliff!  I did it!  Yes, I did!”
         “Yes, you remember.  Why else would you persistently repeat this time period?  This is where you need redemption the most.”
         I stumbled back up toward the cliff.  On my way to the edge, I stepped on my spectacles and cracked them on the gravel.
         If you asked me now, I couldn’t give you a specific reason as to why I jumped.  But there I was, falling into the same abyss where my brother fell.  Eye for an eye.
         I could have sworn that I fell in slow motion; that’s how slow it felt.  My life had meaning now.  This was my destiny.  All my guilt, sorrow, anxiety, and heartache, shattered upon the cold rocky ground along with my body.  And upon the cliff top lay my broken spectacles - my shattered lenses through which I used to see the world.  That was the end of Edmund Greene.
         Both figures stood at the cliff top and watched me fall and ultimately crash.
         “Ground zero.”  The Devil grumbled.
         “Freedom.”  Evan mused.
         And that was the case of Edmund Greene.

Word Count: 7662