Loyalty

(If this seems sprawling and loose, it is. It's just a first draft)

I once knew an old co-worker/friend from decades ago in my first career in social work. I had won the job even before I graduated college, but finding out working full time and going to school full time was a feat to pull off in of itself. B, I'll call him, wasn't a college grad but someone who was hired off the streets. He was a conscientious employee, fairly open with himself but suffered from a desperate need to be liked, which became annoying at times.

No matter how many times you tried to tell him that, “you weren't angry with him” or disliked him he had to have reassurance within the hour. I once finally said, “B, if you keep asking, I will hate you!” That usually shut him up for some time at least.

Other than that, he would be there for you if you needed help. Help being the use of his pick up truck, have a beer with or just talk to, though you had to wade through his strange social skills. Many people just didn't bother to understand that but if you watched long enough, you could decipher just what it was he was doing, how he conversed and you could finally translate him.

I'm a firm believer in that you could learn about a person, or a family, on the first entrance into their home. I do what everyone does, you do a quick scan of the place and immediate start formulating an idea of who these people are. Do they stack up to your expectations? It's superficial I know but we all do it and “first times” with anything you have to rely on what little information you have. You judge the book by it's cover for now and amend that judgment as you learn newer things about them later. Most times the verdict on them becomes kinder.

When my brother was alive, he had a friend, an art historian from RISD who wanted to tour our home. I was at first hesitant but it's too late to bar him from doing so. It's rude. The other thing is that your home is a sort of a “the mask is off” display of who you really are, how you live. Once he finished walking around, pulling open drawers and such, he says: “This home is fractured and corroborate...but there are some really interesting spots, full of literature, music, odd and ends you could explore for hours!”

OK, you just convicted my brother and I of having great hobbies but fucked up pasts.

B lived with his parents still and the first time I saw the inside of his house I was taken aback. It was the filthiest home I'd ever seen. The kitchen counters had years of grim on them and on top of that was piled dishes, 14 year old tax returns, tools and various other junk. In one corner was a oversized wood stove that blasted enough heat like a smelter and kinda lifted the miasma of the grime into the air. It was reminiscent of mildew.

He gave me a tour of the home's rooms and to get to them, you followed a trail like in the woods. Along the sides of the halls, in the rooms too, was piled stuff they could not throw out. Any open space that was left was the trail.

So we sat and talked for a bit and I could see years of pathology in this family. I didn't need to know the specifics but you could sense the contagion in that home. I wasn't creeped out but the longer I sat there, the more I began to see.

Something happened to this family...many things...all dark. After seeing this, I never pressed for details. It didn't effect my life nor did I want to know.

Life does what it does and people separate, find new jobs and whatnot. B and I went our ways for over a decade when by a weird chance, we were both applying for a job at Arbor Psychiatric hospital in Attleboro, I was looking for part time, perhaps to see how the old career was. B had never left it and was looking for better digs.

So we start up a small friendship again. Mainly we met up every two or so weeks at a restaurant to chat it up. He hadn't changed a bit.

“What? Did I piss you off? Did I say something?” B says, grappling for approval.

“Nooo, B, You never said anything...Don't worry, you don't anger me at all.” I tell him, for the umpteenth time.

I have to say this though. He did change a bit, for the worse. He then started to try to prove my loyalty as a friend with actual “shit tests.” I didn't see it coming and when I figured it out later, I didn't care either that he had tried. I wasn't that invested with him because so many years HAD passed. Had it been someone I knew currently and dearly, oh..then those shit tests would have mattered.

He had told me he needed help to move some furniture from his home to the dump on an upcoming Saturday. I gave a half hearted, “Ok, sure...” and let it dwindle at that.

“Great, you can always count on a FRIEND to help you move furniture!” he said.

I didn't realize that was the test. Would I even pass?

So that Saturday comes and right at 10 AM he calls like he said he would. I had forgotten all about it and was sitting there in my chair, dead tired and not too motivated to do much beyond breathing. I let the phone ring till he gave up. I was happy to be left alone to recover from working. Perhaps in an hour or two I would rouse myself up to do something.

A couple of weeks later passed and I had not heard from him. So I call, get no answer and finally go by his house. I knock on the door and there is no answer. I finally left a note under his windshield wiper to say I had come by and explained that I was just beat that Saturday he had called.

I never heard from him again.

I had failed the test.

**

I've come across a few scant others in my life who were like that. Their radar is on high, scanning for the least hint of betrayal and use that as a reason to ditch your faithless ass forever. I know what it is. In the past they've been used, abused horribly. So in defense, they MUST find people who are 100% trustworthy and loyal. The problem occurs is that life, people are all shades of gray with a myriad of reasons why they can fail you, for small or great reasons. But to these people like B, it's 100% or nothing. They're not easy to deal with nor is it easy to try to explain to them how small reasons are just that, small reasons and why you can't be Superman to them every time, all the time. Well, that reason ain't good enough for them.

**

So, several years ago, being the snoop that I am, I stalk people on the internet, looking them up with various search engines to see what they're up to. I looked up B to see where he ended up.

I came across an obituary that was three years dated at the time. There was his picture, obit and the various condolences to his only living relative, his brother. “Holy SHIT! He's DEAD!”

After a few moments of processing that, I really wasn't surprised. He came from a tough background and had alluded to suicide even back in '87 when I had first met him. The obit didn't say it was suicide but I knew. He was always healthy as a horse and never abused anything. I guess he had had enough.

Do I feel guilty? No. You can't save everyone. You can't be perfect to everyone either. And IF you try to 'fix' someone, you are up against a Jupiter-like tide of past devastation that happened decades ago. You need a team of trauma therapists, and a year, to somewhat fix a mess like that. Then, in my naivete, I had tried to reach him with reason, with 1 +1 = 2. The problem is that damaged people can't accept logic, their world was twisted into irrationality long ago and logic is Mandarin Chinese to them. You don't speak their language.

There's another I knew, not soo long ago, who I tried to reach. The same thing happened once again. They didn't “get it.” I steered her to a bevy of therapists who I knew dealt with these issues. She visited them and perhaps, this one will salvage a life that's worth calling enjoyable.