THE AMERICAN DREAM (An Original Short Story - Part 2 of 4)

Jeremy took a deep breath and his eyes began to well-up with tears as he again started to speak.

“Ah, those years were a whirlwind and before I knew it Ashley and I were married with a beautiful baby daughter, Genevieve.”

“What a great name, Genevieve,” Michael said.

The grin of a proud father for a moment made the deep lines on Jeremy’s weather-beaten face disappear, “Thank you. The name was popular during the Victorian era. My wife always felt an affinity towards that time. Our house was filled with all kinds of antiques. She always had such a great eye for a bargain; she was always finding pieces dirt cheap and would refinish them.”

Jeremy cleared his throat and continued, “After Genevieve was born we bought a house in an exclusive gated community called, ‘Whispering Pines’. Ashley never had asked for any of this excess but I felt she deserved only the best of the best, the American dream, you know? Whenever I would buy her anything nice or expensive she would look deep into my eyes and ask, Do you know none of this is necessary?”

Michael noticed a subtle twitch in Jeremy’s eyelid as he took another small sip of his Gatorade and continued to speak.

“The ironic thing was, this place, Whispering Pines was the type of place I wanted to live since I could ever remember but once we had achieved this lifestyle, it never really felt like home. It seemed to me like everyone was just trying so hard to convince themselves and everybody else around them that they were happy but none of the ones I met were.”

“How do you mean?” asked Michael, as he sat back in his swivel chair and dug into his pocket. His Zippo clicked as he lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

Jeremy’s brow ruffled as he leaned forward on the couch and looked Michael directly in the eyes, “The place was like an incubator for greed. Whispering Pines was like a f*cking alternate universe where everybody had so much reality became skewed. It was all about one-upping your neighbor: more money; nicer things; more exclusive travel destinations. People in that community had one thing in common and it was this tired, hollow look in their eyes. Do you know what I mean?”

Michael squinted as he took another drag off of his Winston, “Yes, I do. I’ve seen that look quite a bit lately.”

“We were surrounded by all these nice things but still weren’t fulfilled. We were actually less happy than before. I personally was too focused on the future to enjoy my life then. I suppose we all got caught up in the euphoria of it all. The one thing I noticed about this lusting after money was, after a certain point, it was worse than walking around hungry because this was a type of hunger that never left you.”

“I understand, please continue Mr. Schiller” Michael said.

“I’ll never forget the beginning of our end. I bought Ashley a brand new Bentley Mulsanne in indigo, her favorite color. It cost me over three hundred thousand dollars. It was a stunning but nothing she wanted, I know in retrospect I got it mainly to impress the neighbors. At this point I could tell she was beginning to get a little worried we were in too deep. She walked around for the next few days with a dark cloud over her head.”

“To ease her mind I logged onto my broker’s website and finally showed her exactly what our company stock was worth. It wasn’t like I was hiding it from her but she just never asked, she wasn’t concerned with our worth. I’ll never forget the look she gave me. Her eyes were glazed, her mouth upturned in a silly smile as though she had just taken a hit of some potent drug. I pinpoint this as the precise moment she changed. Never again did she look me in the eyes and tell me the material things weren’t necessary. From that moment on we were both spending like mad and it was my fault. All my fault.”

Michael’s leg began to bounce nervously as he pulled a small notepad from the pocket of his wrinkled Hawaiian shirt and flipped open its cover. “So what was your net worth at that time, Mr. Schiller, if you don’t mind telling me?” he asked as he furiously scribbled notes on the pad.

Jeremy hesitated and his eyes flashed a look of suspicion. Michael’s expression reflected the fear his question had burrowed too deeply into the wounded recesses of Jeremy’s pain. He learned long ago people desperately want to tell their stories and a good interviewer knew to massage and coax, not prod and probe. He still sometimes got too anxious and forgot this, especially when he was truly engaged.

Jeremy still held a guarded look in his eyes but his memories had been locked away for too long and he needed desperately to release them so he could be cleansed.

His words continued their flow, “Well, let’s just say we could’ve paid off everything, all of our bills, and lived out the rest of our days comfortably just off of the interest of what we had.”

Michael’s eyes widened as he took a sip of his coffee. “I see. Can I call you Jeremy?” asked Michael as his voice took on a more respectful tone.

“Sure you can. Hey, does that offer of the subs still stand?” Jeremy asked.

Michael began to see beyond the tattered clothes and leathery face and saw a glimpse of what once made Jeremy such a successful business man. He had a certain realness about him. Despite his ragged appearance, in only a few minutes he earned Michael’s complete trust and respect.

Digging loudly through the half melted ice cubes in the cooler Michael asked, “Roast beef or turkey?”

“Both please.” Jeremy answered politely.

“So, what happened next?” asked Michael as he handed him two subs, still dripping from the slush.

Jeremy unwrapped one sandwich hungrily and placed other down closely beside his leg.

“Well”, he said his words muffled between chews, “the stock market crash happened. I had everything in the business and it tanked. We lost the house the pressure got to me and I started drinking too much and acting like a complete ass. Shortly after that my Ashley took our daughter and left me. I don’t blame her.”

“I’m so sorry.” Michael leaned forward and put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy jerked away but then smiled as if to assure Michael that everything was alright.

“I was too ashamed to take help from any of my family. It was too much for me to deal with at once. At that point nothing mattered. I felt completely numb and the only thing I could think of to make me feel better was to see the ocean, to feel the salt breeze on my face. So I left town and drove twenty-two hours straight to Cocoa Beach with nothing but the clothes on my back and whatever I had in my wallet.”

Michael asked quietly, in a tone that wasn’t quite a whisper, “What is the hardest part for you now?

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To be continued...(installments 3 & 4 of The American Dream are coming soon.)

Did you miss installment 1 of The American Dream? If so click here to read it:

https://steemit.com/story/@ericvancewalton/the-american-dream-an-original-short-story-part-1-of-4

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