When Charlie told him, “Life throws you upside down,” Jules couldn’t have agreed more. Three days later, life actually had.
Jules was out to lunch with Seamus. On an especially foggy Wednesday morning, Seamus came to the facility and signed Jules out. As they walked out to the car, Seamus claimed he was busting Jules out of prison, mentioning the film Bonnie and Clyde. Jules had been smitten with Faye Dunaway, like so many other moviegoers, after the film was released in 1967.
As they buckled in and Seamus was about to drive, Jules launched into Faye Dunaway’s role as a television producer in Network. Jules thought the movie was ahead of its time in predicting and breaking down the way television sensationalized news and degraded the spread of necessary public information. TV had further become a means of escapism and entertainment. Over the decades, Jules became disenchanted with the political system due to the way information was spread, it seemed to Jules Americans in modern life lacked a sense of shared reality. The polarization of news coverage, the rise of television and now the internet, it all intertwined with the collapse of critical thinking and common sense.
Seamus agreed, but added: “Maybe that’s how it’s always been. Educated people become frustrated with the masses. People who read books want other people to read books.”
Jules had fallen into a melancholy state of mind.
The tangled thoughts of a former idealist who struggled not to become an elderly cynic. As the trees whizzed by, half-hidden by the fog, Jules traced the momentum and possibility of the late-1960s had morphed into the desperation of the 70s, the greed of the 80s, the confusion of the 90s, and eventually the lies of the early-2000s? Only to be revitalized in 2008 by the soaring optimism and hope of the Obama campaign, before leading to the chaos of today.
Seamus simply said, “More love, less hate, and less television and internet.”
Then Seamus turned up Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks and continued leading them down the winding hillside to their favorite Mexican place. After a stop at the drugstore for Seamus’ wife medication, Seamus pulled into the parking lot, the salty sea air meeting them upon exiting the vehicle.
The restaurant was quiet. Jules and Seamus were seated at a corner table and given menus. Jules looked up at Seamus and took a long breath.
“I can’t remember shit these days,” Jules confided.
Seamus shook his head, “If only we could toss out all the bad memories and keep the good, eh?”
“When you called the other day, it took me a few minutes to remember your name. I didn’t want to ask, because I knew we were friends.”
“You can always ask me my name, Jules, but I’ll make up a new one every time,” Seamus winked at Jules.
The waitress came by and asked what they’d like to drink.
Seamus ordered an amber ale. Jules hesitated—it was still before noon—but chose an IPA. Then they placed their lunch orders. Jules saw chile rellenos on the menu. He vaguely recalled eating them long ago and loving the combination of melted cheese, mild pepper and spicy tomato sauce.
The friends resumed their conversation. Seamus caught Jules up on the lives of his children and the couples counseling sessions he and his wife had recently begun attending. “All these years, turns out she never liked my cooking,” Seamus said, shaking his head. “So then I finally told her about the perfume. She’s been wearing that perfume for nearly 30 years. Can’t stand it,” Seamus admitted.
Jules offered the appropriate listening sounds.
“Reva doing okay in Philadelphia?” Seamus asked.
Jules had trouble sharing an update on Reva. He didn’t think Reva was teaching anymore, but wasn’t sure what job she currently held. He knew he could be honest with Seamus, even with a rising sense of confusion and embarrassment, but it was too much to admit.
Seamus detected Jules’ confusion but waited patiently.
“Yes, she’s doing alright,” Jules finally said.
Seamus ate voraciously, forking the plate of fish tacos, pausing only for a sip of beer and then a tortilla chip loaded with guacamole. Occasionally recognizing the pinto beans and rice. The mild poblano pepper was roasted and then stuffed with cheese. Finally, the pepper was battered and fried. Jules relaxed and savored the dish. The friends ate and drank until there was nothing more to eat or drink.
As they left the restaurant, the sun began to shine through the gaps in the cloud cover above. Jules and Seamus ambled on the beach.
Before the walk could begin, Jules tripped on the stairs heading down to the beach. He tumbled down the final dozen steps and landed in a heap on the sand. Seamus called an ambulance.
While Jules groaned in agony, Seamus knelt in the sand next to his fallen friend, staying calm. The gash on Jules’ forehead was bloody. Seamus removed his sweater and used it to press lightly on the wound. Jules was holding his chest, struggling to breathe. There was a look of terror and shock in Jules’ eyes.
In the hospital, Jules was diagnosed with four broken ribs, a bruised sternum. The gash on his forehead required six stitches. Seamus notified Reva immediately. Reva booked a flight and would arrive in Santa Barbara the next morning.