The Dizziness of Freedom - Chapter 5

Rays of light penetrated the heavy curtains on the eastern window and spotted the Persian rug. Behind an enormous desk, Dorian leafed through a comically large leather-bound book. The desk, its surface obscured by papers and a small laptop, appeared well used.

He worked furiously in the ledger with his overpriced pen, writing and crossing out and writing again. He periodically stood and paced the room, tapping the pen to his lips and circling the rug, which he had received as a gift from a fan of his books who lived in Turkey. Dorian usually threw any fan mail directly into the trash, but the large package had warranted more attention, and once he unrolled the rug he had to keep it. 

“All he said was he wouldn’t do it,” said a stocky man in his late forties with tired eyes.  He stood in the center of the exquisite blue rug. Ornate patterns crept out symmetrically from his feet, crossing the floor in varying shades and fractal patterns. 

“How did he say it? What exactly did he say? And how did he say it, be specific.” Dorian demanded without looking up from the ledger. 

The stocky man looked down and to the right, considering the question. “It was something like: ‘I’m not renting my entire snake collection for some kind of joke.’ I didn’t record it, so I might be paraphrasing.” 

“Yeah but how did he say it? Was it dismissive? Did you get the impression he thought it was funny? Was he offended?” Dorian was still making marks in the ledger.

The other man sighed wearily and slid into the wingback chair across from Dorian’s desk. “I’m not a mindreader, man, I don’t know what he was thinking. He laughed when I told him why you wanted it, but he still said no.”

Dorian had looked up at this last comment. His fancy pen had been placed carefully next to the ledger, so as not to leave any accidental marks on the paper.

“Jimmy, I know we haven't worked together long, but I need you to know that when it comes to people, no detail is irrelevant. A glance or gesture can change the context of a conversation completely.”

Dorian paused for a moment, blinked, and then stood up and crossed to the chair where Jimmy was sitting. Dorian had an occasional facial tic which manifested as a hard kind of blink that used all the muscles in his face.

“Let me give you an example. One of my neighbors walks her dog every morning, and every morning she lets that dog shit in my lawn. Do you think that dog shits in my lawn every day by coincidence?”

Dorian paused, waiting for Jimmy to respond. Jimmy gave him only a blank stare, unsure if the question was rhetorical. 

“Do you think that dog shits in my lawn every day by accident?” Dorian repeated.

“I don’t know. I mean, there are all kinds of reasons for things. She probably doesn’t even think about it. Dogs like to go in the same spot you know, I had a dog for a long time and -”

Dorian interrupted, “So you’re not convinced?” He leaned against his desk like a professor in front of an auditorium of students. 

“What if I told you that I watch her do it every morning? What if I told you that I watch her smoke her morning cigarette in front of my house every morning at six forty-five. Every morning she takes a drag on that cigarette in front of my house and as soon as that little dog finishes its business she moves on.” 

“Is that true? You see her do that every morning?” 

“Well, not every morning, but I’ve seen it enough to know.” Dorian made a sweeping gesture towards the windows.

“The point, Jimmy, is that it happens every day, and her motives won’t lessen the reality of that shit in my lawn.” Dorian paused. “And what, Jimmy, do you think would happen if I approached that woman about the issue?”

“She’d probably act like it was an accident,” Jimmy responded more quickly this time, realizing he was expected to answer and hoping he’d guessed what Dorian wanted to hear.

“Yes, exactly she’d probably say something like: ‘ Oh, my, I didn’t realize, it’ll never happen again.’ And that would be it. The dog wouldn’t shit in my lawn anymore, but is anyone being held accountable? All she has to do is pretend it’s an accident, and there’s nothing I can do to prove it wasn’t.” 

Dorian lifted the window curtain and looked out onto the front lawn. A car drove by and as the vehicle passed and for a split second the driver and Dorian’s eyes met. 

“Whether or not you or I realize it, everything a person does or says has significance,  even if that person doesn't realize it. I have to make an assumption about my neighbor’s intention and act based on the certainty of that assumption. Have you ever heard that saying, it’s a children’s saying, it goes: ‘When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me?” Have you heard that saying, Jimmy?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it.”

“The meaning is self-evident, but what that saying fails to understand is that we are constantly operating on assumptions. Without making value judgments about a person's character, how can you or I expect to navigate this complicated social landscape?”

Dorian sat across from Jimmy in the empty chair. 

“So when you tell me that this guy laughed at the idea of renting his snakes out, it tells me that he didn’t take the idea very seriously. It also tells me he didn’t think the idea was offensive or criminal. I think, for more money or fewer snakes, he might go for it.”

Jimmy nodded. “I’ll go back tomorrow and see if he will change his mind.” His eyes were getting heavy and he was starting to regret sitting down.

“There’s something like a social value hierarchy. If a husband cheats on his wife, the social value of that action is high and therefore it is socially acceptable to respond in a more extreme way. A dog pooping in my lawn has relatively low social value so it’s not acceptable for me to…”

Dorian trailed off. Jimmy’s head was nodding gently and it broke Dorian’s line of thought. He blinked and shook his head trying to get back to what he had been saying, but then he thought better of it, rising silently from his chair as he watched Jimmy’s head bob up and down and stop.

A grin curled up Dorian’s mouth as he tiptoed around and behind Jimmy’s chair. The stocky man wasn’t snoring yet, but he was breathing heavily out of his closed mouth and every time he exhaled his top lip made a gentle flapping sound.

His face barely an inch from Jimmy’s left ear, Dorian resumed his train of thought, “...so it’s not acceptable for me to make a big deal out of it!” he shouted. Jimmy started and leapt from the chair with a short, “ahh!”

Dorian erupted in short, strident laughter. When Jimmy realized what had happened a split second later he was standing on the blue carpet, out of the chair, pretending he had chosen to stand for his own reasons unrelated to surprise or alarm. Jimmy’s airs only made Dorian laugh more completely. Doubled over at the waist, clutching his stomach, with tears running down his face, Dorian laughed. 

“Okay, Jimmy,” he snorted, bracing himself on the arm of the chair, wiping the tears out of his eyes with his free hand. “Let me know what the snake guy says.”