Bringing All the Bad, стр. 128
She draws in a short breath and whispers, “It’s a woman! The second one from the right is a woman.”
Willa can feel all those with her focusing on that figure. Bee’s short intake of breath confirms it for her. Suddenly, the tension bleeds from the group like a spring rain washes away winter dust.
The group stops about fifteen feet from Willa and her line of people. They line up in an almost mirror image. The woman gives Willa a small, knowing grin. The man in the center is the one to speak.
“So, should we shake hands or just stand here?” he asks, smiling.
Willa looks at the man. His smile is nice. It crinkles the skin around his eyes in a way that reminds her of Robert Redford in his prime. He’s tall and fit and seems at ease. This wasn’t in the plan, but Willa walks forward and holds out her hand. They meet in the middle.
“I’m Willa and we’re a part of the Tribe.”
The man’s hand is warm and dry, the skin rough from work. His touch is more pleasing than Willa might have expected. Again, the fans around his eyes show as he smiles. “I’m Jim. And this is part of our tribe, but don’t call ourselves anything particular.”
They both let go at the same time. Willa hardly knows what to do with her hands now.
“Thank you for the deer.”
“Our pleasure,” he says, then motions toward the others. “My sister has been anxious to meet you for quite some time.”
“Sister,” Willa murmurs. “Is she your only female member?”
Jim nods sadly. “She’s been alone with just us guys for a long time.”
“You could have sent her to us at any time, you know.”
He nods, as if weighing both her words and his response, then says, “Maybe, but that’s not how we’re going to make it in this world, is it?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
He shifts his feet, as if trying to find the right way to say whatever he wants to convey. Willa can tell he isn’t an impulsive man. He’s thoughtful and careful.
She thinks maybe he understands the power of words. So few people in this world actually understand the real, lasting, immovable impact of simple words. Most humans think of words as transitory and don’t give them much thought, but words can be worse than sticks or stones. They can be better than bandages or prescriptions sometimes too. Words have power to heal, or inflict irrevocable harm. Words can create war or spread harmony.
“What I mean is this. We have to find a different way to be together. A different way to form bonds, to think, to act.” He pauses and shakes his head, as if his words are inadequate. “We have to find a way to be people. Not men. Not women. Not a tribe or culture or clan. People. We’ve never had to do that before. Being people is new for us humans, I think.”
She understands what he means, though perhaps the words aren’t exactly the ones she would have chosen. He means they have to be people first. They have to leave all the identifiers behind.
People use identifiers to make people seem like something different than themselves, but they also use them as shields. Layering identifiers onto themselves to stand out, to connect, to ensure they are special. Labels are defense masquerading as offense, and offense masquerading as defense.
She’d never really thought of it before, but now, the pieces click into place. Still, she wants to be clear and sure she understands his meaning. She says, “You mean, treat each other like people and don’t let that treatment change because of other words a person might own for themselves? Like, I’m a person, period. Not a woman or a man, not white or any other color, not skinny or fat, not this religion or that.”
He smiles broadly. “Exactly. It’s a lot harder than it seems, isn’t it?”
Willa considers how the tribe reacts to all people. The first consideration is always gender. And yes, they do call themselves a tribe, a signifier that they alone are the good guys and all others are questionable.
She nods. “It is. We’re guilty of doing that too.”
“Shall we give this new thing a try? It won’t be easy, but we can try,” Jim says. He looks hopeful.
Willa looks back at the others in her tribe…a tribe that will cease to be a tribe if they do this. Bee grins, holding up her hugely pregnant belly against the force of gravity. Ellie nods, her eyes shining. Jeff and Sarah look at each other, their hands linked, then both say, “Yes.”
Holding out her hand, Willa waits for Jim to take it. She squeezes lightly, just once, and says, “Yes, let’s try. I think that’s the only way to save humanity, really. Humans have to become people. Let’s try to be people…together.” She pauses for a moment, then adds, “I’m pretty sure I’m going to fuck this up at least a few times. Fair warning.”
Jim laughs with her, then says “Me too, but that’s part of it, right? We keep trying. If we can’t set aside past mistakes and keep working for better, we’ll never get anywhere.”
“True enough. Want to get started?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
And that is exactly what they do. Fuck ups and all.
About All of Them Dead or Hidden
As I wrote in the afterword to the novel, Magic Baby in Room 108, both of these novels were inspired by a single, short conversation I overheard while waiting for my coffee. A whole lot of words came out of my head considering how short that conversation was.
But really, isn’t that how life is? We hear or see or experience something that may take up only