Deserting Deserts

(For a newer draft of this story, click here.)

Big-box stores flanked Jacob and Francis as they walked to rent a movie they had not yet determined. While waiting for cars to pull through the driveways they crossed, the sun warmed their exposed skin. Upon resuming their stroll, the brisk early spring wind infiltrated their cotton clothes. Their tennis shoes slapped softly on the worn asphalt, establishing a syncopated rhythm to the music of passing cars.

"The other day I was reading Kant for a class. He said something interesting I wanted to float by you."

"Uh huh."

"Well, I don't remember the whole discussion exactly. The point of the whole thing was that our--people's--purpose is not to be happy, but to be the sort of beings that deserve happiness."

"Mmhm."

"That's it. That's what I wanted to float by."

"Oh. Um. No. No, that's a load of shit."

"I figured you'd disagree. Now tell me why."

Francis exhaled loudly, as though explanation was a strain. "Ever since you started going to college, it's like you're a...a thought mercenary vigilantly guarding this fair city against errors." Francis gestured towards the street with a sweep of his arm. "I just want to rent a movie Jacob. That's what we left the house for."

"Calm down. I'm just curious. You know that about me."

"Curiosity doesn't involve an agenda beyond learning the facts, you know. You open that door in the attic, take a peek in, and shut the door knowing it has a bunch of cobwebs and old lamps and posters in it. This has more of an agenda to it. You're a moralist and you've come back to make moralists out of all of us."

"Oh, get off it. We've used to have these kinds of conversations."

"Well, while you were off at college filling your head with dusty thoughts I've been here handing douche bags coffee they're disappointed in and mopping up old man piss in the men's room. I'm more tired than I was in high school and a helluva lot less curious. I've seen more of the world than you have, and it's not so great. We're not so great. I was hoping to have a little easy-going fun with an old friend."

"Why'd you call me then? I've never been much of a fun lover."

"Because I was bored and heard you were in town and figured I'd have to call you to snatch you away from your books. I knew you wouldn't come on your own."

"And you were bored because everyone else was busy with their what?...jobs and drinks and the forced gatherings that pass for parties now?"

"Something like that. Neither one of us fit that scene. I thought we could both use the company to pass the time."

"And we are. We're talking."

"We're not passing time. You're trying to take us outside of time or something...to the world of ideas. But that doesn't work the same way. Time flies when you're having fun because you aren't thinking about yourself. Nothing is more tedious, more arduous than introspection. You philosophical types need to figure that out and lighten up a bit. Honestly, I don't know how you do it."

Bunches of windblown hair settled out of place on the friends' heads as they entered the vestibule of the store. Past a bank of carts and through another set of sliding doors, they were greeted by a faint smell of spices. The brown tile featured a diminution of footprints from dirty parking lot water that had been tracked inside. The lights overhead cast an unnatural sterility onto the various goods.

"It's over here." Francis pointed to a box tucked in between a green coin-counting machine and a row of automated miniature rockets, jeeps, and ponies. The two approached the automated kiosk and Francis began tapping upon the screen.

"I don't want to watch a movie."

"What? Why not?"

"It's too nice of a day outside."

"The sun's going down soon enough."

"Let's just take a walk."

"And when we get tired?"

"We'll sit down."

Francis turned to face Jacob. "Okay, fine. Deserts, rights, whatever you want to call them--they're all make-believe fabrications of politicians and people who have to find things to theorize about for a living. None of us deserve anything. The only obligations I can think of are legal, and we all agree those are made-up. The only reason why anyone obeys those obligations is because it's so damned expensive to violate them if you're caught. That or the person is scared. Either way, the choice what's-his-name gave you was between happiness and nothing. That old coot chose nothing and you're well on your way to choosing the same. For my part, I'll try to scratch out a bit of happiness whether I should have it coming to me or not. There. Now I've indulged you. Indulge me and watch a movie and drink a few beers and help me forget about this town for a while."

"Well thank you, but I'd rather continue this line of thinking. Nothing says we can't tip a few back in the process. Or later on."

A tinny voice squawked above about a sale on paper towels.

"Ugh. Why'd you say you'd watch a movie then?"

"Because I knew you'd give in to persuasion. You like talking too much not to."

A shopping cart rattled nearby. The man pushing it was wearing black sweatpants and walking on the sides of his tattered sneakers. His large abdomen poured over the elastic waistband like a leavened dough over the rim of a mixing bowl. The pink hue of skin lightly contrasted against the heather grey of his t-shirt. "'Scuse me boys. I wanna get a movie."

The two moved back and walked out one after the other. The sun was at such an angle and orientation that its rays lodged into their eyes upon exiting. They squinted reflexively and sought shelter underneath an awning that covered a cache of gardening equipment. They passed a series of smaller storefronts with fading posters and cracked paint exclaiming discounts.

"Right. So, make-believe you say. Hmmm. I don't think Kant was figuring for that. Coincidence and accident bear heavily on happiness, though, right?"

"Completely."

"And that's not fair."

"No. That's not not fair. Fair has nothing to do with it. There is no fair. Some people catch the breaks and some people are broken. It is what it is."

"And that doesn't upset you?"

"Sure it upsets me, but there's nothing I can do about it. It's not up to me."

"What's not?"

"Meting out justice."

A bell jangled nearby. A mother and her young daughter exited a cheap salon. Jacob heard the mother ask what the girl wanted for dinner as they walked past. "McDonald's," he heard behind him.

"Not in a grand way, no. But in other ways you do. You give people back exact change."

"Because I don't want to get fired."

"And because you don't want to take some poor schlub's money."

"Not many poor schlub's come in where I work. Mostly businesspeople."

"You sure are difficult. You could use some lightening up."

"That's what the movie was for."

"Well, walks are nice too. Aren't you glad for spring?"

"Sure, sure."

"I think the greater point is that we ought not invest ourselves in something so transitory as happiness."

"As if nothing is more permanent than something."

Francis pulled the tab up on his zipper to close his jacket. His chest began the process of warming. "Why do you insist on calling deserts nothing? You really think a person never earns anything?"

"Oh, I suppose people earn all the time. We're all earning paychecks, earning wrinkles, earning grey hairs, and ulcers. I don't think there's an earn beyond what we agree to or what nature gives us, though--some earn with a capital 'e'."

"Is that because you've not gotten what you think you should have, so you've ditched the notion of should altogether--called it nonsense?"

"Maybe."

"And if I were to tell you it was a shitty hand you were dealt and I think you deserved better, what would you say?"

"I'd say it is what it is and I don't care."

"Because you can't stand to care anymore."

Francis stopped. "Come again?!"

"You're just as guilty of imagining as you think Kant and all the politicians and the professional thinkers are. Rather than admit life currently sucks through no fault of your own and reserve some dignity for yourself by asserting that you deserve better, you'd rather deny the possibility and make light of the situation--which it is not. The situation is not light. Sticking your head in the sand in order not to see does not stop the predator from attacking. It just keeps you from feeling anxious and maybe becoming scared into doing something about it."

Francis looked into Jacob's eyes. The setting sun ducked behind a signpost for a shopping center. A passing car honked at the two of them, but neither were distracted from their gazes. "And what exactly do you expect me to do about it, Jake? I'm flat broke. I can't so much as afford brand-name cereal."

"Money's got nothing to do with this. Well, it hasn't much to do with this. If you can't buy generic cereal...Anyway, I'm talking about having a little righteous pride and thumbing your nose at injustice. I'm expecting you to do what you can--which is still a great deal. You're too thoughtful to play dumb. You can't just loaf around here. It's not in you."

Francis started walking in the direction they had been headed previously. "Come on."
Jacob took his place aside his friend, who started to speak without looking at him. "Conversations with you still get blurry. Have you managed to make new, smart friends with that quirk of yours?"

"A few."

"A few more than me then. I'm woefully bored. I feel like I'm shriveling up."

"What've you been up to?"

"I don't know. Work. Watching my roommates watch television. I think I stare a lot."

"Hung it up already, huh? What're you...eighteen?"

"Nearly nineteen. Same as you."

"Besides recognition, what is it that you can get in college that you can't get here?"

Prompted by the throbbing of his fingertips, Francis stuck his hands in his pockets to escape the air. "Vegetarian entrees?"

Both of the boys snickered.

"Seriously, though..."

"Recognition would be good for starters."

"Plenty of people are recognized that shouldn't be. You ought to know whether or not you've done something well without others patting you on the back for it."

"What am I going to do well out here? Latte art?" Francis smirked.

"Well, I wouldn't make that the only thing you try to do well, but sure...latte art can be beautiful and it would be a good thing to brighten another person's day with a nice leaf or some such."

"Yeah, yeah."

"See? You really need to pay attention to Kant's point. It's better to pursue the desert of recognition from one who is qualified to give it than to be recognized by those who may or may not be."

"Uh-huh."

"Want to go swing on some swings?"

"Mmhm."

The two friends turned the corner and headed up the street to a local park with a patch of grass and four scrawny trees. Furry buds had begun poking their way out of branches.