Aaron 7

When Aaron was twenty a voice came to him, and it said “Remember.”

And Aaron said “Yeah, I remember. And I paid attention.”

“Paid attention? That’s good.” said the voice, curious over his choice of words.

“I paid attention to the times you, for lack of a better phrase, went to sleep. It took me a long time to figure out your cycle, but I did. And this allowed me time to do a special kind of research.”

“Really. About what, if I may ask.”

“About you, Mr. Ezekiel Grimes, the middle child of three, of Barney and Olivette Grimes, and co-founder of Garvald Media Group, of which I am now lead stock holder.”

“I see” said the voice. “What else have you learned.”

“I learned that your father made a small fortune with newspapers. That’s how you got the money to start your own company. You’ve never worked a day in your life, never wanted for anything, and after graduating from Harvard went to work for your father in an executive roll before starting your own company. With the advent of radio and then TV it was easy for you and your partners to do this as you acquired networks and newspapers, first on the west coast, then into middle America. Your partners passed on before you, and as you never had any heirs thanks to your barren wife Elise, you spent your remaining days wondering what was to become of your empire.”

“So you’ve done some research” said the voice. “Very good. This doesn’t change anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then there are the things I remembered” said Aaron, speaking as if the voice had said nothing. “You know, like the broken fingers of those who tried me. Like the sex that was just for utility and not for making a relationship. Like the childhood I spent more in study than making friends, preparing myself for the future you described. Like the death of my father.”

“You remember that, huh?”

“And there’s more. Yes, I remember, as you’ve always instructed. I remembered you through you, and how you treated those who were beneath you. Of the businesses you either bought or destroyed just so you could make even more money. The thousands of people you left without a job, and how little you cared. And how in your day you stoutly believed that people belonged in their place. Must have burned your ass when you discovered I was black.”

There was a short pause. Then the voice said “Yeah, that was a surprise. But what’s done is done. It took some adjustment but I managed. By the way, you Negros have come a long way. And now you’re the head of my empire. Should make your people proud.”

“I also remember that you were horribly afraid of dying. That’s why you hunted down that, what did you call her? A ‘witchy woman’.”

“Yes, yes, but that was then and this is now. And as I’m still in charge there isn’t any use in crying about it. I’m here to stay, so shall we get back to work?”

And Aaron said “Yeah, about that. You see, I found my own ‘witchy woman’, and she’s going to help me get rid of you.”

A sudden spark of anger erupted inside Aaron. “What? When did this happen?”

“Well” said Aaron, “like I said, I paid attention to your cycles, of when you’re aware and when you’re not. And when you’re not I was able to make some phone calls, check around town, talk to some people. It’s amazing how many doors are open to a man of means such as myself.”

“You can’t get rid of me. This is permanent! And I’m never leaving! That’s MY money you’ve got! Mine! And so are YOU!” The voice’s anger was such that it made Aaron’s head pulse, though there was nothing to make it pulse.

“That’s what I thought, but after talking to my own ‘witchy woman’, who I found in a small hole-in-the-wall town in South Cali, we figured that your soul was supposed to blend with mine, making us one. But your bigotry fought against it, whether on purpose or not I don’t know. As for you being in me in particular, we also figured that your ‘witchy woman’ passed you on to my mom instead of going to some white woman, just out of spite. You have a reputation, depending on which side of the color line you ask. And your’s doesn’t look too well from my side.”

“That Bitch!”

“Yes, that bitch” said Aaron. But you were worse. When you found out your wife couldn’t have children you began treating her like a necessary evil, keeping her around for appearances, sometimes relieving your urges on her, or whoever. When you saw black people you treated them all like servants, whether they worked for you or not. Otherwise you’d look right past them like they weren’t there. Even the poor whites you treated like gum stuck to your shoe. Your competition were enemies, you had very few friends or people you could trust. And when your father then your mother passed you treated their funerals like a formality. Or should I say interruptions from your business, because that was all that mattered to you. You are a bad, lonely man, afraid of your own mortality.”

“Yes, I was. And you’re living proof that I can trust no one. You got my money, my company, and now you think you’re better than me. Well you’re not, boy. You’re nothing without me. I made you, molded you from nothing. But I should have seen this coming. You getting uppity with me, acting a fool. Stop this nonsense now. I demand it.

“Or should we bring up your dead daddy? He was nothing but a low-life, shifty nigger, and you could have grown up to be just like him had I let you. I’m glad you killed him. That’s right, you did it. You didn’t have to. You didn’t have to listen to me. But just like the rest of your kind you committed murder, and his blood is on your hands. What do you think of that?”

“There it is” said Aaron. “It must have taken a lot of will power to keep you from using that word. But that’s okay, it was just one of the many things I ‘remembered’ about you, things I had to get used to and sort out, like my father’s death. It’s why I clung to my mother so much. She told me about my father, about him being a low-life and shifty, and a few other things, like the cheating and the drinking. And yes, the blood is on my hands. I didn’t have to leave those blocks there. I didn’t have to move that toy in the right place. I was child, listening to you guide my every move, but they were my moves to make. Which makes you a bad influence, the way you taught a child how to kill. Listening to you, remembering you, doing the things I did because of you, it was driving me a little crazy.  If it wasn’t for my mom talking to me and holding me, I might have gone crazy.

“That’s why it’s time for you to go. Who knows what you’d have me do to my mom now that I’m independent. While you needed her to keep me fed and clothed and schooled, I needed her for peace of mind, and for that unconditional love that you can only get from a mother. And you would have me do something awful to her, just to get that ten million back. I have so much to explain to her…”

“I wouldn’t do anything to your mom, trust me…

“Anyway, all I needed was a picture of you to focus on, which wasn’t hard to get thanks to the company having so many pictures of the founders. And with the help of my ‘witchy woman’, I can have you pulled out of me and placed in this talisman. It’s white by the way. An alabaster goat horn. Thought you might appreciate that. After that I think she’s going to pass your soul onto some pregnant goat. At least you’ll still be alive.”

“No! You can’t do this! Remember! REMEMBER!”

“It’s what you always wanted, to live forever. In this case however it would be  the life span of a goat”

“No, not this, I FORBID you…”

“Okay, I think we’re ready. Here we go!”

“NOOOOOOOOO!”