Part III
Disgust and Relief
As I lay there slumped on the steps, a sharp pain in my left temple, I had plenty of time to reflect on my situation. There was a group of gentlemen huddled around me. It was getting very cold and I was confused. But please, allow me to begin before this.
Although I said I didn't want to write anymore, I had. And I did. And I've never felt more alive. This turn of events led me to hole up, to stay "underground" for what seemed like months, when, in actuality, I had been hiding for several years. It wasn't until 1851 that I began to reflect most meaningfully on my situation.
It's no surprise you think I am an irrational and unreliable narrator. Why should you trust me? I am not consistent. I am disposed to fits of hysteria. All this and you have no choice but to believe and follow what I tell you - for it the only account you will hear. I assure you, dear reader, it is as accurate as words can tell.
I didn't cry so much any more. No, my emotions were less wild eventually, usually more concentrated on anger. Or rage. The disgust I felt was more equally focused on myself as it was on the fools surrounding me. Laughing at me. Their laughs and stares drove me to question if i had not driven myself to this lonely place. Could it be that I was the less clever of the lot? Had I stepped somewhere when I shouldn't have? Was I not aggressive enough? Should I have had the will to strike Apollon? Instead I feared him, always controlling his pay and never controlling his gaze. Apollon's gaze represented all that I feared and loathed in everyone.
But I digress. Most important of my revelations beginning in 1851 was the overwhelming desire to find Liza.
In my haste and craze during the fleeting moments we shared, I had neglected to rationally explain myself. She had deprived me of my most basic right to be myself. But I do not resent her for it. No. I had realized that I envied her, in fact. I was so very ashamed of all that I had become and all that she had seen. It was so terribly unfair of her to see me that way. She surely thought she saw the real underground man. I was driven to find her and correct the horrible misunderstanding. I was madly driven show her who I could be for her, to her and with her.
All the while, I couldn't help but acknowledge that a part of me felt that she needed me much in the same way. Perhaps more. She was so shy, so gentle, so scared and yet so good. Truly good. I really envied her. Perhaps my envy encouraged my shame. Why should she be better than... it was no use though. Liza controlled my every thought, every dream and fantasy. Not sexually, although she was beautiful, but this young girl was so fragile. I wanted mostly to protect her, to teach her about the cruel world in which we live. We would be so happy together.
So I made up my mind unexpectedly; I found my old beaver collar which I had exchanged my former raccoon collar some years prior in a silly effort to impress my schoolmates. Lucky for me, I hadn't many occasions on which to wear the beaver and it still looked relatively decent. I was sure I'd get a fair price for it.
I'm sure you're wondering why I needed money so quickly. After all, I had no plans with old friends, no dinner engagements nor any presents to buy for a woman. I simply wanted a watch. An inexpensive pocket watch would be just smart enough to attract the kind of attention I wanted on the street. A watch would be practical - knowing the time is important, no doubt, for any respectable citizen, especially one who might have places to go and things to do and people to see some time. I was planning the grandiose exchange of calling cards and making of appointments with other upstanding and intellectual members of society. The thought of my newfound ambition to interact was both nauseating and thrilling at once.
I left my corner early one Wednesday for the jeweler's shop, a short fifteen minute walk on a cheerful spring morning. I set out initially with a proud bounce in my stride and my chin in the air before me. Perhaps it was because I really hadn't been outside, in public, that is, in more time than I could comfortably remember. Perhaps it was more simply because I had a plan. My plan was sure to work and I would see to it. There was nothing that could possibly go wrong, I had thought about it so many sleepless nights and dull afternoons. I stared at the clouds as I hurriedly walked along the side of the street. My thoughts raced ahead even faster.
I had to interrupt myself -- it became increasingly apparent that other people in the streets were staring at something pass. They were staring at me. I flushed and began to walk faster, my chin no longer in the air. My eyes wandered over my clothing when I did this and I became ashamed once more. How had I gotten to this point? My coat was threadbare and stained with colors I couldn't imagine the origin of. My pants had gotten worse since I last noticed their condition. Perhaps I would spend some of my earnings on a new wardrobe, assuming I had enough left after the purchase of my watch.
"Watch your step!" a well-dressed young man shouted as I nearly knocked him into a passing woman. I stopped, startled by the loud noise of his demand and turned to face him. I quickly imagined the embarrassment he'd suffer when I responded, in kind. The young man would apologize, stammering over his words and lower his eyes... but it I lowered my eyes. Why? It was too late now, but I was facing him with my eyes at his shoes (which were far nicer than my own) and I could hear something in the distance. Laughter. It was his laughter. Oh what a sight I must have been for this gentleman. Was I not a gentleman as well? What if I could tell him I was on my way to sell a beaver and purchase a fine new watch? Then he'd surely realize he was not dealing with some ordinary fellow. But by the time my mind had finished this little scenario, the young man had walked off and I was standing a short distance away from my destination.
When I opened the door to his shop, the jeweler looked up and wrinkled his nose noticeably.
"Good morning, what is it I can do for you?" he snapped before I had taken but three steps towards him.
"I'd like to purchase a watch," I declared with as much confidence as I could muster after my embarrassment in the street a few moments earlier. My legs were trembling and his eyes grew wider as I awkwardly approached his display case. My gloves weren't nearly as clean as they should be and the jeweler was growing noticeably concerned that someone might see me in his shop. At least this is what I thought at the time. Regardless, my patience was growing short and I still had no watch. "Please, show me your watches."
"Of course, of course. Ours are among the finest you'll find. Wholly reliable and very fine. I think you'll be most pleased with one I have in the back... if you don't mind, I'll go fetch it."
I was pleasantly surprised by the man's attentive nature and surely I'd have my watch within moments, that much closer to my goal. Things were really beginning to fall into place.
I saw my reflection in the glass display window on one of his counter-tops and examined it. My eyes seemed to be more hollow, my nose looked more pointy. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I looked strikingly like someone who spends their days reading a great many books. Perhaps when I drew closer the jeweler got a closer look at my face and decided I was no threat to his business. Perhaps he thought I was a gentleman. After all, who but a gentleman would purchase a watch...
"I think this one will suit you quite nicely," he said as he brought the timepiece closer. I reached out to see for myself but he hesitated and added, "Now, this dial is slightly off, the numbers are so close to their proper locations, no one but you would notice -- I can give you an enviable price."
I met his eyes and he smiled grotesquely. My stomach churned and my fingers went numb. I would show this man that I would not take someone's garbage. "Let me see," I replied.
Sure enough, the dial was out of alignment. It wasn't terribly off, but the watch shouldn't have been sellable in that condition. "How much?"
I flinched at his reply, as it was considerably more costly than I had expected, certainly far more than I had from the sale of my beaver. I asked him about his inventory and inquired as to what I could look at for the amount of money I had today. Saying "today" was no mistake, as I certainly didn't want this man to think I normally carried so little. If he only knew I would be penniless once again after this purchase...
The jeweler leaned over the counter and said in a low voice, "You give me what you have and the watch is yours with no further obligation to me. I ask of you only one thing: you do not return--" and with that the door opened. A tall gentleman with a fine coat and high eyebrows stepped in and noticed me immediately. He raised his brow in the jeweler's direction who looked about to burst. "Thank you sir, have a pleasant day," he rushed and handed me the watch and a small receipt. He stepped around the counter and pushed me past the tall gentleman and out the door so quickly I thought I had neglected to pay him his sum (although upon checking my purse, I had only the money left which I had neglected to declare). Sometimes, my cleverness was great consolation and this was one of those special occasions. My dress might not have commanded respect, but I had so deviously outwitted the hasty jeweler, my intellect would have to stand in for what threads I lacked.
I was out, squinting in the bright spring street with a watch - my watch - which I flipped open, adjusted and placed in my pocket. I was smiling. At least I hope it appeared to be a smile, for I had an inkling that people might mistake my smile for a grimace. My smile faded, I brushed my coat and pant legs vigorously with my hands and headed to the park.
It was on this walk that my mind began to wonder, furiously, about the conversation I'd have with Liza. Everything would be perfect, she would grasp everything I had to say as if it was the most natural thing she'd been waiting to hear. I wouldn't falter and she wouldn't laugh. I wouldn't sound like a book. She wouldn't search for hidden meanings and devious agendas. Why would I think she should? My intentions were most righteous, I assured myself. But that left me wondering...
"Liza, my dear child, so good it is to see you! Wait, don't speak, let me finish. That evening we shared a few years back, that was so unnatural. And for anyone to have seen it, a most certain shame! Your mind must have been aflutter with questions; so many of them! My state of emotions at the time was highly volatile, as I'm sure you collected. My servant was being unusually disagreeable that particular evening and extinguished my very last nerve. I regret your having seen me in such a state. Why, I cried! How silly! I shrieked! Even worse. You poor thing, having to comfort a man who should be your comfort. It's just not right. No, not right in the very least. And I must be honest with you, dear Liza. I blamed you for the evening. I did. In my mind was such a tempest, nothing seemed clear: my argument with Apollon, your sudden arrival and my mood, well, my mood is still a wonder to me. Perhaps I was hungry? Well, no matter questioning it now, with that so far behind us. My thoughts have been with you ever since, Liza. Your gaze and the sweet lingering feelings from our first conversation in that place... my how you must have come along since then. No, please, don't interrupt me just yet. So much has happened since you left that terrible evening. And yes, it was terrible, wasn't it? Imagine, what a beast I had become that evening, attacking my own servant and being laughed at all the while, you poor thing, having to look on at the whole scene. And you fussed over me then, didn't you? I was so ashamed, even now, I am. But we all learn, don't we, Liza? We learn and we grow and this world offers so much to those who can grow from shame and live with pride. I want us to be only truthful with each other from this day forward. You should know that I envied you; I always envied you. I was in no particularly fine state the evening we met, either. The details of that evening prior to our rendezvous are inconsequential, however suffice it to say that your presence beside me made my pain bearable. I needed you then, Liza, just as I need you now. And I am here to hear those words from your lips in return. There is no doubt in my mind, now that things have crystalized and time has healed my wounds... well just look at the time! Yes, this is my new watch. I'd offer you a closer look but I'm afraid the chain doesn't reach that far. No bother though, what say you to a late evening dinner together?"
I imagined her face while I spoke to myself, her eyes lighting up with each confession and her chest rising and falling more rapidly with each passing minute, her hands trembling with desire to touch mine and to close my lips. This fantasy had brought about reality's evening and I noticed how damply chilly the air had become. My pants and coat were not only appalling to behold, they were inadequate attire in nearly any weather.
My longing for Liza was growing steadily and it wasn't long before I grew concerned about just how I was to accomplish finding her after these years. Surely, she couldn't still be in that place...
"If I go there in search of her, right now, say, and she isn't there, what am I to do?" I thought. "Even if she isn't there, and I am, what's my loss? I have spent more of my money on transportation, however I could find food and lodging for the night at that point. I need these things anyway. Well, say she's not there, as this is most likely. What then?"
My mind began to race as I thought of the possibilities. It became clear that this would be a test of my character, most of all.
"So, I'm in that place with some money and without Liza. What am I to do? Leave? How would that look? No, that wouldn't do. I would have to stay, enjoy a companion and spend the remainder of my beaver earnings. That would be most terrible. I could never show my face to Liza after that. My position would be compromised and my integrity shattered. What intellectual would search for his love at such a place now and give in to the temptations in the face of defeat? My entire life has been struggle and defeat and I am still standing, working to make things right. But it is not my fault that things have been such a struggle, I am just so different from the average man; so uncompromising. Why should I be punished for my values, my desires and my strengths?"
I was still in the park by this point and it had grown darker and colder. My mind wasn't functioning the way I knew it should. Nothing seemed like the best choice. Turning home was not an option as I had no energy to endure Apollon's appraising gaze and no patience to continue waiting for my conversation with Liza to begin. I had to find her sooner than later.
My hand was in the air, a coach slowed before me asking my destination and I answered, "To that place!" before I had comfortably seated myself. I had plenty of time to relax and collect my thoughts. The evening air was much more comfortable in the coach and I felt a warm sense of satisfaction at my decision. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes for just a moment but before long I was dreaming.
"You have found me! What made you think I'd still be here? Well, yes, I am here... still. Don't judge me, you have no right to judge me. And you have just as little right to harbor such indecent feelings for me. After what I saw and what I heard that evening a few years ago, how do you expect me to react to your speech? Yes, that's what it was, a speech. You always speak that way, it's so... disconcerting. It's not wonder you're so... my breath is wasted on you. My words have no affect I can see. All this is unimportant anyway, I have found myself a lover. That's right, don't look so shocked, it's not very becoming. Your face twists up and you look frightening, stop it. He's wealthy and kind accomplished and although I suspect he doesn't love me, I am secure in his company. He can assure my safety and soon enough I'll be out of this--"
"A lover? A lover, who? Who is this man, this coward who hides behind his purse and... accomplishments? What sort of accomplishments? Why does he have to speak of them with his mistress? Do his insecurities require he boast and appear powerful to some young and equally insecure girl? Have you heard my words? I've--"
The coach driver was shaking me vigorously. We had arrived at my destination and I was supposed to get out. I paid him and asked if he wouldn't mind staying just a few minutes longer while I collected myself. He grunted something and I practically threw an extra coin at him. Sweat was pouring down my forehead and arms and legs. Could I really go through with this? Could I execute this great goal? All this pain and suffering she was causing me, even now when I hadn't seen her in ages, was causing me to feel hatred for Liza once again.
"Perhaps I should go in there with the intention of killing her," I thought, confused and upset. "But how? With what?"
The coach driver turned to me and said something I couldn't understand. I jumped out clumsily and fell to the ground in a messy heap. Sobbing now, I imagined how pathetic I must look to anyone passing by. My disheveled outfit now dirty as well, I began to walk up the steps to that place when suddenly my mood changed.
"I am about to confront my love, my Liza!" I thought jubilantly and quickened my pace as I tried to wipe the dirt off my clothes. In doing so I walked straight into a gang of gentlemen leaving the place.
The gentlemen were prone to violence and, to make matters worse, were liberally drunk as well. They saw the underground man as a sudden threat by his manor of dress and his haste in approaching them so they began to beat him. One gentleman tripped him down the steps while another kicked his body and yet another struck him repeatedly and with great force with a walking stick. The underground man's head bounced off a paving stone with a dull thud and he began to bleed. The gentlemen, panicking, fled in various directions and the underground man was left, bleeding and dying, alone.
