Eddy's Current (39 page)

Monotony is to it what hard work is to success. It is prosperous, not because it works hard or owns anything, but because it never stops. Never ending, it continues on without the determination necessary to be labeled hard–working or productive. Productivity doesn't matter. The concept is meaningless to it. It cares only to do the same thing over and over; to be predictable. No, not true, though, because there is no way for it to care about that, or about anything else.

Its ethics are questionable if, indeed, it even has ethics. Either it is moral, immoral or amoral, but not really. Actually it never notices such things. Neutral is a good word for it? No, not quite. Words that imply choices also imply caring enough to make a choice. Apathetic? That’s pretty good. Maybe so; not by choice, though. It is just the way it is without choosing to be so.

It can be rude without realizing it because it would never choose rude or, for that matter, anything else. Intrusive and bold, it often makes a point to be respectful and timid.

Passing just in front of the sunset, it moves swiftly and has to be followed carefully around and along, never stopping, constantly reforming—back and forth, and never sleeping. Breaking and reconnecting, breaking and reconnecting. Relentlessly reinventing itself again and again, it never touches the edge but always seems to consider doing so. It is primitive, boring, complex and immensely interesting. Strange, indeed: important, predictable, so marvelous, yet inessential, unforeseeable, unimpressive. Myriad contradictions.

Is it supposed to be like many of its relatives? They are unmovable, determined and definitive; it is never static, couldn’t care less, and stands for nothing. They speak once, and everyone listens. It speaks repeatedly yet few pay any attention. It has no purpose, or so it seems. At once powerful and inert, it cares not about labels, boxes or constraints of any kind.

Difficult to catch, it plays games with children endlessly. Chase, chase, chase. I’ll chase you, you’ll chase me. You may catch me, but if you do, you can’t hurt me. I’ll incorporate your damage into my next form and simply keep moving, reinventing. I don’t care what happens to me. I’ll still be what I am. Then I’ll go away and you’ll see me again, in a different form, but you will see me. We’ll play again.

It is emotionally tough, and never has its feelings hurt. It can be kicked or slapped; sludge and sewage can be poured on it. No matter. No pride. No feelings. Some try to hurt it. It forgives quicker than the time it takes for a child whose feelings have been hurt to recover by being offered a piece of candy. Forgiveness is important to it, or maybe it just doesn’t care about those things, either. Maybe it has no feelings of any kind.

Though largely taken for granted, somehow it means a great deal to a number of people. The peoples of the world that have witnessed its existence are soothed, amazed, confounded by it. Many who are divided by politics, religion, economics, education, et al., are united in their opinion of it. It is nearly universally loved, still, though, universally ignored. It will always be there, always taken for granted, always the same.

It refuses to be used to promote an agenda, and that attribute gets on several people’s nerves, albeit they are a small minority. Some of them try hard to get it to follow their agenda. It will have nothing to do with that. Why bother?

Some want it to be definitive and exact, a precise boundary, used to outline their position, a position packaged in such a way that their opponents and proponents alike will buy into it. A great deal of money is at stake, and sometimes the very existence and definition of God is the case to be made. Still, it won’t conform. Boundary lines drawn by others are simply obliterated by it and replaced with more palpable borders, borders that it moves and replaces at will. It frustrates those who feel strongly about their positions, and it never accommodates them. They cannot use it. They never stop trying, though.

It isn't at all sure about money or the existence of God — not that these are insignificant issues, surely they are significant — it’s just that it is not sure about anything. Maybe it is anti-social. Maybe it exhibits anti-social tendencies and personality traits, and therefore just needs to be put away somewhere. But where? How? It just can’t be gathered together to be transported to an institution. How can it be institutionalized when it can’t be made to gather itself up and go? Even if it were somehow gathered together and hauled away, it would simply reinvent itself and carry on because it doesn’t need itself in order to continue its existence.

There are plots to destroy it. Some feel that it needs to take a stand on some issues or be gone. Destroying it would be interesting. First, its size is an issue. It exists on every continent in the world. If it’s not possible to hurt it, how can it be destroyed?

Maybe it can be changed. It could be converted? It could be made to see the light? That would work; or maybe not. Light, dark, whatever, it simply doesn't notice. That stuff doesn’t matter. It wants only to be left alone. No, it doesn’t want anything. It just exists and it does what it does. It doesn't even want to be left alone. It just is alone, but not lonely. It is isolated yet it often finds itself in the center of everything. It carries on, no matter what.

Who in the world can sort this all out? Oh, well, somehow they'll figure out what to do with something omnipresent and colossal that is disinterested in it all.

Everything she had ever learned about a line in the sand, this was not. A line in the sand represented an absolute condition—solid, predictable, uncompromising and without the need to reinvent. She had learned that Jesus made a line in the sand in order to give the members of the religious and legal elite of His day the boundaries and definitions they wouldn’t have otherwise known. They had been so right about that terrible girl, and they had been so right about the thousands of terrible girls like her who were judged by them before they met the girl in Jesus’ story.

They couldn’t have been wrong, they just knew. Until they saw the line in the sand, that is. It made all the difference in the world. Before its appearance, lines meant little to them, and the thousands of young girls they had passed judgment on meant nothing to them.

The line, though, challenged all they knew and all they had convinced themselves was true. They had justified their positions in every way there was to do so: intellectually, socially, religiously and legally. Their positions were all set and everything was right for them.

The smart people of their day all agreed, and they wrote books and held memberships in think tanks that proved that they were smart and that they were right about all they believed. The smart people also made certain that they were in full agreement with the socialite, the clergy, the politician and the lawyer. Conformance was important. It meant a great deal.

The socialites wrote books to prove that they, too, were right. Their books contained writings that recorded what was proper. Things were all proper and orderly with the socialites, and they could prove that was the case. They checked often, and each time they checked, they were fully in agreement with the smart people, the clergy and the courts.

The theology of the day was sound as well.
The Good Book of The Lord
defined proper behavior. Fundamentalists guarded the details of the Good Book and referred to it often to bring about society’s condemnation and indignation for each of the vast number of sins written on its many pages. The clergy were careful to be in full agreement with the academic, the socially prominent and the attorney. Religiously, all was well.

The law, of course, universally condemned improper behavior. Law books as thick as camels’ necks lined the walls of the law libraries and even worship centers. The law, matching word for word the Good Book, stood ready to condemn when called upon. A separate council of the court compared all they held sacred with the smart people, the social personage and the clergy.

So the smart people, the members of high society, the clergy and the attorneys all were in agreement. They had compared notes many times, and everything added up. It all matched. All was proper and orderly, then. Members of the religious and legal elite couldn’t conceivably have been wrong about this girl.

Yet, somehow, Jesus’ line redefined everything for them. That’s what lines in the sand are supposed to do. They set things straight. They are ferocious and unforgiving. They cut away all that seems right but is, instead, horribly wrong. Then they define right, and it is so forevermore.

But what about this ever–changing line that Eddy was walking and watching; this unpredictable, seemingly important line that really didn’t mean a thing? Aside from changing itself constantly, it seemed to do nothing. What’s that all about? She walked the line often. She studied it and wondered about it. She was fascinated by it. At first she was not obsessed, just curious and enamored, but she soon grew preoccupied.

Today’s lines were hopelessly blurred for her. Boundaries existed only for those in power to use against the powerless. They were used to keep power, to structure things in such a way as to ensure that the status quo would remain just that. Still, she walked endlessly, studying the line intently.

Eddy awoke more disturbed than she had ever been about the details of a dream. She went to the sink, splashed her face repeatedly with cold water, grabbed her coffee cup, filled it with water, heated it in the microwave, stirred in a heaping tablespoon of coffee, and went out to the patio to relax and think things through.

Early the next morning, Saturday, the doorbell rang. Eddy opened it to see a cute teenage girl who was scared, pregnant, poor and alone. Her previous night began terribly with a huge argument she had with her mother, and it ended even worse.

Penny had decided that she wouldn’t burden her mother, Diane, with her pregnancy. Later that night, after Diane went to bed, completely exhausted and exasperated from the day’s argument with Penny, Penny slipped out the door of their apartment. Using the logic of a scared and pregnant sixteen–year–old girl, Penny went to a friend’s house, told her that she could not return home, and asked if she knew anyone who could help her. She spent the night at her friend’s house. The next morning, Penny’s friend sent her to Eddy’s apartment to ask for help.

“Hi, my name is Eddy. Can I help you with something.”

Penny stood, silent, staring ahead. She couldn’t speak because she was embarrassed at having to ask a stranger for help. She also knew that she was going to lie. She didn’t want Eddy to burden her mother. She was concerned that her mother would want to care for her but would be unable to. She was a desperate kid without options, or so she believed.

“My name is Penny,” she said, as she began to cry. “I was told that you could help me.”

“I think God may have spoken to me about you, in a round about way, last night in a dream. Please, come in.”

“How old are you, Penny?”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Really? You will always look young for your age, then, because you don’t look a day over fourteen. How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. A sixteen–year–old girl shows up at my door early in the morning, says she needs my help, lies to me about her age, and then tells me that there’s nothing wrong. Sure. Yes, it all sounds normal to me, too.

“What can I get you to eat? What do you like for breakfast? Pancakes? Eggs? Cereal?”

“Cereal and toast would be great.”

“Good.”

“My twins will be up shortly, so I’m pressed for time to find out what’s wrong with you. Please help me out by letting me know what I can do to help you.”

“I’m… well, at some point I might give bir—” Penny couldn’t complete the sentence.

“So you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Penny was crying. She and Eddy had known each other for less than two minutes, and she was already crying on Eddy’s shoulder.

“Where are your parents?”

“My parents are not around. My father has nothing to do with me. My mother can’t handle my pregnancy right now. She’ll soon loose her apartment. We have no money or food. Nothing. It’s all gone.”

“I have to contact your mother. I’ll help you, but I have to try to locate your mother.”

“No, please, no. She can’t handle this. It’s too much.”

“Have you told her that she’s going to have a grandchild soon?”

“Well, she—”

“So you haven’t told her.”

“She can’t handle it right now. She’s suffered enough. She climbed over a wall of debt just a few years ago, and now we have nothing. I’m worried that she’ll crack if she finds out. It would be better if I had the baby, put him up for adoption, and then returned to my mother’s life.”

“No, that wouldn’t be better. Have you been to a doctor or hospital yet?”

“No. Hospitals and doctors no longer see patients without money. My mother and I have no money, and there are no programs that will help us. The government programs have all been cut, and private charities are broke as well.”

“Okay, let’s make a commitment to each other, Penny. I’ll agree to help you if you’ll agree to contact your mother and bring her back into your life. She needs to know what you’re going through. She needs to help you.”

“I’ll agree. I’ll call her in the morning.”

“No. You’ll call her now. Do not tell her that you’re pregnant. She needs to hear it from you in person.”

Penny called Diane and they talked for over an hour. Diane had no choice except to tell Penny that they had been evicted from their apartment. They were homeless. Diane had no money to find an apartment. All area social service agencies were broke, so there was no help available to Diane. She and Penny would have to figure something out.

Eddy asked Diane if she could get a ride or make it somehow to Eddy’s apartment. She and Penny could stay the night, Eddy explained. Penny still hadn’t told Diane that she was pregnant. Penny had no idea how she could bring herself to burden her mother with the news, especially after finding out that they had been evicted.