Page 36

“Okay, tell me why.”

The boy sat back, stretching his long legs in front of him. “I know you hate him.”

Artie said, “And why do you think that?”

Rick just shrugged. “You can tell.”

“How can you tell?”

“Just because.”

“Seriously, come on now. Tell us why you love ‘the guy,’ as you call him. Many people do.”

And so Rick Roper said, “Because he’s going to get the country going right again.”

Artie stood for a few moments, nodding, and then he said, “Okay, let’s get to work.”

But he heard Rick say to another kid, “He’s got that faggoty pillowcase for the phones, Jesus.”

As Artie thought about this later, he realized that he had felt no control over what was about to happen, it just happened. He walked up to Rick and said, “Repeat what you just said.”

Rick looked down. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Repeat what you just said about the pillowcase.” Artie’s voice was deep and very cold. The class was silent.

“I don’t remember,” Rick murmured.

“You do remember, and I want you to repeat what you just said.”

Rick looked up at him. Anger flashed across his face. “I said you’ve got that faggoty pillowcase for phones.” Rick looked around and then said, “It’s so dumb.”

Artie stood over the boy, looking at him. Again, there was complete silence in the room. Artie pointed to the door. “Get out of here,” Artie said.

Rick looked up at him, surprise showing on his face. “What?”

“Get out of this room.”

Rick stood up, putting his knapsack over his shoulder. “Where do I go?”

“I don’t care where you go. But get out of this room. Now.”

And Rick walked out.

Artie returned to his desk and, facing the class, said, “Okay, let’s get to work.”

That evening, at home, Artie told Evie that he had to prepare for a class, and he took his laptop and went into what they called their study, and he sat down and stared at the wall. “Let me know when you want to eat!” Evie called to him, and he called back, “Okay!”

He did not like being in the study. It was much smaller than the living room, and it had a big desk (which had belonged to his father-in-law) and a painting of an old-fashioned ship, sailing in the ocean, hanging over the fireplace, and Artie had just never liked the room. In fact, it had not really been touched for years. But as he sat there, he thought about what he had said to Evie about her father being vulgar, he had not planned on saying that, and he thought about what had happened with Rick Roper today, Artie had never planned on that either, and he thought about what had happened at the clothing store and how he had not had any sense of controlling himself. This worried Artie profoundly.

He googled: “How do I know if I’ve had a stroke.”

No. He had not had sudden numbness or trouble with speech or facial droop. He had just done these things. Said these things.

He closed the computer and stared at the wall.

He thought: No free will at all.

But then it came to him: This was his unconscious at work.