Imbolo Mbue - Behold the Dreamers

Another phone rang wherever Tom was. He picked it up, spoke softly to someone he referred to as “honey,” and assured the person that he would be there, no way in the world was he going to miss it.

“I’d rather not lose you right now,” he said to Clark after hanging up, his voice as soft as if he were still speaking to the other person. “We’ve survived highs and lows together for eighteen years, and I know, I’m absolutely certain, we’ll survive this one, too. But if you think this is all too much for you then I’ll sadly accept your resignation.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clark said. “There’s a battle going on, and I intend to keep fighting for Lehman.”

“Good.”

“Yes, good.”

“So why don’t you get back to work and fight the way I’ve decided is best? And if someday I’m proven wrong, you can look back at this moment and be damn proud of yourself.”

HE HAD BEEN WAITING ON THE CURB FOR THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES WHEN Vince finally came out of his apartment building and hopped into the backseat, a cup of coffee in one hand.

“Jende, my man,” Vince said, patting him on the shoulder.

“Good morning, Vince.”

“So sorry for making you wait. I wish I had a good excuse.”

“It’s no problem. I will try to drive fast so we are not late for your appointment.”

“No, take your time. I’m never eager to be on time for a dental appointment. I wouldn’t even be going all the way to Long Island if my mom didn’t insist Dr. Mariano is the world’s best dentist.”

“It’s good to have a dentist,” Jende said, imagining how good it would feel to have someone else clean his teeth. He made a right turn onto Broadway and drove from the Nineties to the Fifties and then from west to east, onto I-495. “Would you like me to turn on the radio?” he asked Vince.

“No, I’m good,” Vince said distractedly. He was fidgeting and looking around the car. “I think I left my phone at home,” he said.

“I can go back,” Jende said.

“No, it’s fine.”

“It is no problem for me, Vince.”

“No, it’s all good,” Vince said, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of his coffee. “It’ll be a good exercise in disconnecting from the world. Besides, I get to talk to you uninterrupted and continue trying to unindoctrinate you on all the lies you’ve been fed about America.”

Jende laughed. “There is nothing you can say, Vince. Nothing you or any man can say to me to make me stop believing that America is the greatest country in the world and Barack Obama will win the election and become one of the greatest presidents in the history of America.”

“That’s cool. I’m not going to argue too hard with that. But what if I tell you that America killed the African revolutionary Patrice Lumumba in their effort to stop the spread of communism and tighten their grip around the world?”

“Ah, Lumumba! I used to have a T-shirt with his face back in Limbe. Whenever I wore it, people stopped me on the street to look at his face and say, oh, what a great man.”

“So, what if I tell you America killed that great man?”

“I will say I am sorry for what happened to him, but I don’t know the whole story.”

“I’m telling you the whole story.”

Jende chuckled. “You are so funny, Vince,” he said. “I like how you want to help me see things another way, but maybe the way I see America is good for me.”

“That’s exactly the problem! People don’t want to open their eyes and see the Truth because the illusion suits them. As long as they’re fed whatever lies they want to hear they’re happy, because the Truth means nothing to them. Look at my parents — they’re struggling under the weight of so many pointless pressures, but if they could ever free themselves from this self-inflicted oppression they would find genuine happiness. Instead, they continue to go down a path of achievements and accomplishments and material success and shit that means nothing because that’s what America’s all about, and now they’re trapped. And they don’t get it!”

“Your parents are good people, Vince.”

“In their own way, sure.”

“Your father works so hard. Sometimes he looks so tired I feel bad for him, but it’s what we do for our children.”

“I don’t doubt his sacrifices.”

“Even if you don’t like America too much, I think you should still thank God that you have a mother and father who give you a good life. And now you can go to law school and become a lawyer and give your children a good life, too.”

“Become a lawyer? Who said anything about me becoming a lawyer?”

Jende did not respond. He thought he was mistaken; maybe law school wasn’t only for people who wanted to become lawyers.

“This is my last semester at law school,” Vince said. “I won’t be returning in the fall.”

“You’re not going to finish school?”

“I’m moving to India.”

“You are moving to India!”

“I’d rather you don’t tell my parents any of this just yet.”

“No, I would never—”

“I’m only telling you this because I enjoy talking to you. And maybe as a parent you can advise me on how I can tell my parents.”

Jende nodded and for a brief stretch of time said nothing. The highway was mostly empty and quiet, except for the siren of an ambulance far in the distance. On the side of the westbound lane, billboards displayed advertisements for hotels and hospitals with pictures of good-looking people, the people at the hospitals looking as healthy and happy as the ones at the hotels.

“I just do not know what to say, Vince,” Jende finally said. “I only think that you should please finish school and become a lawyer. Then maybe you could visit India for vacation.”

“I don’t want to be a lawyer. I’ve never wanted to be a lawyer.”

“But why?”

“A lot of lawyers are miserable,” Vince said. “I don’t want to be miserable.”

“My cousin is a lawyer.”

“Is he happy?”

“Sometimes he’s happy, sometimes he’s not. Is there anybody who is happy all the time? A man can be unhappy doing any kind of work.”

“Sure.”

“Then why can you not just think you will be a happy man no matter what kind of work you do?”

“I can’t even stand law school right now. I look at my classmates and I feel terrible — just saddens me to see them spending all those precious hours of their lives being indoctrinated with lies so they can go into the world and perpetuate the lies. They don’t know they’re about to become pieces of a ruthless machine that specializes in ripping out the innards of innocents. The whole system is a joke! People going around living meaningless lives, because it’s what they’ve been conditioned to think is good for them. Walking around completely mindless of the fact that they’re living in a society ruled by a cold-blooded cabal. How long are we going to remain in this bondage? I mean, really, how long?”

Jende shook his head. Vince’s rant made no sense to him, but from the manner in which the young man’s voice was rising and his tone hardening, he could tell Vince truly hated law school and anything to do with lawyers. And he could tell this wasn’t even about law school or lawyers or America; it was more about Vince wanting to leave his world and everything his parents wanted for him; Vince wanting to become a whole new person.

“I am so sorry, Vince,” he said.

“You don’t have to be sorry for me. I’m living my Truth.”

“No, I am sorry … I am not sorry for you … I am just sorry for how you feel.”

Vince chuckled.

“I am not going to lie to you,” Jende said. “If my son tells me that he is going to leave law school and move to India, I swear I will bring out my molongo and whip his buttocks well.”