The Meeting, Part 4

The Carrot and the Mule
by Joseph Foti, Esq.

(Page 5 of 5)

"While the strong are definitely survivors, there is nothing inside them. When I look into their eyes, I see a cold and bitter person who sickens me, thus I want nothing to do with them. Sara is neither of these women," I stated happily.

"Moo, moo, moo," I heard.

"You don't believe me, do you, Maurice?" I said with a smile. "I understand your doubt. I was skeptical at first too, but now I know better.

"Sara possesses a warm and loving nature, hence she's capable of caring deeply about others without having an ulterior motive. It's perhaps her greatest quality and the reason I love her. Nevertheless, Sara is also very strong and can eat the users up and spit them out when she wants to. Many people consider her to be cold and aloof; however, they are usually the same sardonic twits whose facades she had seen through," I argued to my cow.

"Her ability to see through the lies of the masses just adds to the pile of traits we share. Even when she is in her strong defensive lawyer mode, her kind and loving nature is still in her eyes and it's her eyes that hold me at her will," I explained. "No one has ever been able to control me like she can. All it takes is one look into those eyes and I am at her mercy, Maurice." I then sat Maurice back on the desk.

If you're wondering, no, I'm not insane. I didn't believe that Maurice was actually alive. Talking to him was just my way of dispelling any doubts. It was a form of therapy. Instead of hitting a punching bag, I talked to a toy cow. This latest exercise had succeeded in its goal. I now trusted Sara.

By the end of our first school year, we were almost inseparable. We would go out to dinner, afterwards taking in a movie or a show. That summer we both found jobs in our intended profession. She as an intern in a real estate firm and I as an intern in the district attorney's office. Ironically I was placed in their child abuse department. One late August night, near the end of our first summer together, I finally had the honor of meeting the Ravenports. Sara had been their live-in nanny since college and continued to do so during law school in order to get free room and board. They were from the baby boomer generation and had been big drug abusers during the 1960s. Luckily for them, they didn't have to worry about making money. Mr. Ravenport had come from a long line of extremely wealthy men. His great grandfather had come to this country practically penniless, yet by the end of his life with hard work and dedication, he amassed a fortune in the shipbuilding industry. His grandfather parlayed that fortune into the steel and railroad industries and his father became a giant in the meat industry. Thus the Ravenports could have lived seven lifetimes without money becoming an issue.

Sadly, money won't shield you from your own stupidity. Their drug abuse had basically fried their brains, causing them to forget how to do the most simple tasks. They would go for weeks without bathing and often forgot to lock the door or where they had put the car. This obviously made raising a child difficult and thus where Sara had come in.

Sara despised the Ravenports. Although they had put a roof over her head and food in her mouth, it was simply payment for raising their child. What upset her the most was their constant onslaught of mind games. They would pretend to care about her and often treated her like a member of the family one moment, just to treat her like a servant the next. Although she would never admit this to anyone including me, this constant yanking of her proverbial emotional chain devastated her. She would complain about it but then deny why it really bothered her.

That August night, as I was about to meet the couple who had given her so much financially and taken so much emotionally, I felt both pity and rage. One part of me said put on your happy face and greet them nicely, while the other wanted to rip off their heads and use them as bowling balls with the oncoming traffic. As I walked up the steps of their million dollar brownstone, I tried to ready myself for the users I was about to meet. Growing up in an abusive environment, I had met many strange characters, yet nothing could prepare me for what I was about to encounter.

About the Author

Born and raised in New York City, Joseph Foti graduated from Brooklyn Law School in 1998. During this time, he worked in the Sex Crimes and Domestic Violence Bureaus of the King's County District Attorney's Office. He is a published poet whose work has appeared in several anthologies by the National Library of Poetry. These include The Space Between, Best Poems of 1995, Best Poems of 1996, and Best Poems of 1997. "The Carrot And The Mule" is Joseph Foti's First Novel. He has written several short stories.