Miles From My Heart

Miles From My Heart

“Do you hear that? Sounds like someone tryin to dribble a ball lacking air.”

“Yes, kind of… maybe? Sounds like a drum beat from another planet.”

“It is! It is your heartbeat.”

“If it’s my heartbeat am I supposed to believe I’m on a different planet?”

“Believe what you like. But that is your heartbeat, I guarantee it.”

I found it to be one of those situations where you don’t know if you are dreaming or having another bad experience with a neighbor. The one who knows everything about everything and is not shy about sharing his knowledge with you.

I don’t recognize my surroundings, so it must be a dream. But then Ralph is there and believe me he is no dream. He discovered God about the time he was released from jail after his third DWI. I know, because I picked him up. He looked better than I’d seen him look in a long while. I told him so, thinking it would boost his spirits. It didn’t. If anything he became more belligerent and morose, if that is possible. Everything is wrong with the world, and it’s someone else’s fault.

I asked him once, not because I was curious or even interested, if he had ever done anything that he regretted, or done something that he later felt embarrassed about? He looked at me like he’s looking at me now. He moved his thumbs around one another, it is his way of concentrating, I believe, or attempting to justify the answer he has yet to formulate. “No!” His response left no doubt in my mind that he had researched the entirety of his life’s memories and could not find a single mistake that he couldn’t justify or blame on someone else.

I don’t believe he actually can conceive of anything he has done wrong. His parents according to him were perfect. His brother who died young, he never disclosed the reason, “He probably deserved it. He wasn’t good at anything but lying.”

Ralph had a way of framing his stories that made me immediately wonder, whoever it was he had placed on the stake for the world to condemn, had done it to him. If I had to venture a guess I would say it was someone, anyone, who had challenged his moral pilgrimage to and from the Holly Land, where God gave him the answers, and no one else.

Ralph didn’t speak to me for about a day and a half after I told him I was in no mood to be saved. I didn’t bother to tell him by a bigot with the morals of a Neanderthal being. One thing I can say for Ralph is that he forgives quickly and for no apparent reason. I believe he finds salvation in others listening to his wise remarks, and appearing to remain non-judgmental.

I asked him if he didn’t mind describing his God to me. “I’ve never seen Him or spoken to Him. I assume He’s a He? Not that it matters to me, but I know it would be quite a shock to millions if it turned out God was a genderless spirit.”

He continued to look at me like he’s looking at me now. I keep getting this feeling I’m standing on the corner of Hiawatha Avenue wearing only my underwear and everyone is being suspiciously polite; they pretend everyone is wearing only their underwear. One guy even took off his clothes in front of me to prove his point; he did. I’d never seen underwear with snowflakes on them before. I thought maybe they were summertime pajamas of some kind, but he assured me they were just plain ordinary underwear for sale at any boutique in the more fashionable part of town. I couldn’t argue with that. Ralph offered to show me his underwear, but I’d seen quite enough snowflakes.

I was getting used to the fact I was dreaming when the passing cars began to blow their horns and give me a thumbs up; at least it looked like a thumbs up, but then they were moving fast. I know that I often think the best of people when in doubt, so I have to believe it was an encouraging sign, even though my underwear was plain, no sea gulls, snowflakes, pelicans-just plain white. I felt a little embarrassed and promised myself to see about a wardrobe makeover when I woke up.

“Ralph, I’m having a moment of Déjà vu. It’s like I’ve been here before, but the last time I had on lederhosen and a hat with a feather in its band. People weren’t honking that time. One guy though did swerve toward me and attempt to throw something resembling coffee out his window. He forgot however the window wasn’t down and he got quite upset as his car jumped the curb and ran into the concrete bench no one sits on because of all the sticky stuff people leave on it…Oh!, you know that bench, and it’s not sticky stuff, but ice cream.”

“I think it’s time you started taking this situation seriously.” Advice from Ralph is like being told you are the smartest person on earth, by yourself. You should by now have seen your life flash before your eyes and not regret having run up massive debt on your credit cards. Everyone thinks about doing that, but nobody does. So good for you.”

Ralph seemed a little more cheery than usual; it began to bother me. For one thing I would not run up debt that I could not cover, I’m just not that kind of person. And, as far as life flashing before my eyes, that happens to me all the time. I think it’s my way of redoing a situation or conversation. t’s like after having spoken to someone, like Ralph, and when you get home and begin to think of all the things you should have said but didn’t. I think everyone replays events they are not entirely satisfied with, hoping for a different, if not a better outcome.

That business a short while ago about a heartbeat, and it being mine, and me being on a different planet, I’d like to replay that. For one thing I don’t believe most people could identify their heartbeat if it was on a CD, and it was labeled with their name on it. We tend not to believe what is uncomfortable, and having your heartbeat recorded on a CD would make me uncomfortable, unless I knew there was a good reason for it, and I can’t think of a reason that would be good. And me being on a different planet? Who hasn’t thought of themselves in a situation when you needed to get away but couldn’t afford it for one reason or another; usually money.

I wouldn’t have found it nearly as disturbing if a complete stranger had pointed out the heartbeat being mine, but Ralph? Ralph is the only person I know who’d take credit for my heartbeat being on a CD. His words ringing in my ears, “God made me do it.” I often think even though he was impossible to be around when he’d been drinking, which was all the time, at least I felt I could leave without having to explain. His memory was short and introverted. In most cases he didn’t remember me even being there. It was probably why he lived alone.

He continues to stare at me like he knows a secret of mine and is about to broadcast it to the world. What is frightening is that I have no secrets that Ralph would be interested in. He has begun to make me nervous, however. I don’t remember ever being studied by him before. I feel like a high school biology experiment, but can’t figure out what I will end up being or why? I’m beginning to understand how that pickled frog must have felt when dropped into the formaldehyde, before he became pickled.

Sometimes when I’m confused about something, I like to put myself into a position and role play how I would react. If I am the source of the beating heart, how did It come to be no longer in my chest, and if that is the case what planet could I be on where the inhabitants would allow such a thing?

Ralph seems to be a bit nervous about the situation so I might as well get him involved. I find being involved tends to reduce the anxiety of worrying about something you can’t change.

“Ralph, how do we know that what we are hearing is not your heart beating and not mine?”

That should get him hooked. He has started twiddling his thumbs again, so I know his anxiety level is dropping, and is being replaced by the nonsensical reasoning he is renowned for.

Ralph says nothing, which is unusual. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a collapsible glass and holds it to his chest.“ Listen,” he says, smiling like a Cheshire Cat in Wonder Land.

I move closer to him, put my ear to the glass and hear the jungle drums from Lion King. I don’t see how he can live much longer on this planet, let alone find another planet that will have him, if what the drums are saying is true.

“OK, I can hear your heart thumping madly away. I believe it is yours unless you’ve implanted yourself with a musical heart.”

He then takes the glass and puts it up against my chest and bends over and listens. He rights himself and shakes his head, “Nothing!”

“This is a dream Ralph; can’t you at least exaggerate like you usually do when you have nothing nice to say?”

He shakes his head once more and starts with the “Tut, Tuts,” like I’m supposed to be impressed. He uses Tut, Tuts, like other people use “YOU KNOW?”

“Ralph, there is no way I can listen to my own heartbeat, I’m not a contortionist.”

He then whips out a stethoscope from his breast pocket and puts the ends in my ears and places the cup on my chest and smiles that Cheshire grin of his and says “Tut, Tut,” while shaking his head. I can’t believe I didn’t see the bulge in his shirt and inquire about its noticeability.

I listen, but can hear only a vague echo of something, like a remembrance coming back in a dream. I hadn’t experienced one of those in quite some time and found it rather invigorating, but then nothing pleasurable or informative lasts forever; it’s kind of the nature of the thing.

“Ralph, I’d like to wake up now., and you are going to have to leave. I don’t mean to be rude, but then, you should be used to that. I’ve had quite enough of this dream. Do you remember when your car wouldn’t start and you asked me to help push you down the hill? You forgot to jump in, and the car went off on its own and ended up in the river? Do you remember you blaming me for what happened? Well, it’s my turn. I’m blaming you for what is happening, so please go.”

Surprisingly Ralph disappeared. I couldn’t believe it. He left! I got out of bed and looked in the mirror and there I was dressed in someone else’s underwear; they were covered with tiny pink flamingos, so I know they weren’t mine.

I couldn’t understand how I could still be dreaming, but I had to be. I looked out the window and there was Ralph’s car in the lake, and I’m sitting behind the wheel. It was then it dawned on me; It was I who was to jump in and pop the clutch. I also realized I’d forgotten to put the car into gear, and I had somehow confused the clutch with the brake. I still don’t remember, however, buying underwear with pink flamingos. I do remember that I’d never driven a car with a clutch before, so it wasn’t really my fault that my heart was beating on another planet, and Ralph was standing by the lake with that Cheshire grin on his face, shaking his head, and mumbling Tut, Tuts, at anyone who would listen.