DANNY
Sam made a few copies of our ‘tram incident’ video and gave one to me, and encouraged me to keep it very private. Thankfully, he didn’t copy the part showing Ella sitting on my lap, but he did give me a copy of the meeting with Bruno and his parents. I don’t know who I would show it to. I decided not to tell Mom and the girls about it because they were still fearful of the ‘big bad world’ out there. I didn’t want to add to their fear. I hadn’t yet told anyone except Sam about my ‘seeing’ Ratso in Bruno almost the minute he stood next to our seats on the tram. The lady lawyer gave me a good reason for trying to tear his arms off, but in truth, I was not looking for a reason; I just wanted to hurt him. I didn’t know whether to tell anyone else. After stewing about it all weekend, I decided to talk to Sam.
I was glad that Sam took me seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever been around an adult who really took me so seriously. After a couple of minutes that seemed like an hour, he said, “You know, Danny, I think that either way you choose would be honorable, but I’m thinking that you might feel better if you told a few people. What you have been feeling about Ratso has been with you your entire life. And anyone who has been through what you have with that bastard would be carrying around a ton of anger and even rage. So, here’s an idea: what about sharing this with our cohort and making it a learning experience for all of us? I mean, we all have negative or guilty feelings about someone or something we’ve done, or said, or even just thought. I’m not saying you should, but that it could be a cleansing kind of experience for you and for us. Why don’t you think about it and let me know? He put a hand on my shoulder and added, “How’s this: We’ll begin our session, and after a few minutes, you’ll nod or shake your head, and we’ll go from there. We could wait for another day, or, well.” I said OK, and we left to join the song-and-dance jamboree.
Everyone in our cohort had heard about our incident, and Ella was talking about it when Sam and I came in. I whispered to Sam. “I think this would be a good time, uh, soon.”
Ella gave me a perfect opening, “Here’s Danny, and he’ll tell you about it as he saw it. I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as he did last Friday. Wow!” Everyone applauded her, and she patted the chair next to her, and I sat down and took a deep breath.
I looked around the group as we all had become accustomed to doing, and began, “Thanks, Ella, I can thank our aikido teacher for helping me to be able to take down that asshole.” I took a second to be grateful for having a group with a leader-adult who didn’t correct or scold me for using ‘bad’ language. “And Ella said it like I was some kind of hero. I want you to know that she was quite a warrior, too.” I smiled at her and went on, “But I really was in some rage the moment that s.o.b. came on the bus, and my rage doubled when he grabbed Ella. You all heard a bit of my story and about how mean and abusive my dad was. Well, I now know that I have been carrying around a ton of anger and rage toward him almost my entire life.” I was nearly yelling, “And when I grabbed both of his arms and threw him down and jumped on him, I really wanted to kill him.” I paused and leaned back in my chair, took a deep breath, and looked at the ceiling.
Joe Jackson yelled, “Hoo Rah!” and began to clap, and the whole group joined him. Ella squeezed my hand and whispered, “Thank you.” That helped me relax and it felt so good, but I said, “I’m really feeling ashamed of feeling so, uh so, uh so mad I could kill, and I really felt it. Have any of you ever felt that way?”
Chris, the ‘brainy’ one, didn’t hesitate, “Danny, I bet we’ve all felt that way in our lives. Maybe not that strong, but really wanting to hurt someone who, maybe, only hurt our feelings with something they said or did. My aunt, who is a psychologist, says that when we are born, and a helpless baby is being pushed out of our mom’s uterus, we feel so much pain that it is really PTSD – you know, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So, man, you’ve had tons of PTSD.” He walked across our circle and shook my hand. “Please don’t apologize, man.”
I muttered, “Thanks, Chris. That means a lot.” Joe J. began clapping again, and I think most of the others joined him.
Maria said, “I agree with your aunt, Chris. I have heard that about newborns, too. And, Danny, thank you for sharing your honest feelings with us.” She looked around at everyone.
Gordo seemed a bit agitated and said, “Yeah, Danny, thank you. I think I come across as if everything is fine and dandy with me, and nothing bothers me. But what bothers me a lot, maybe, most of the time, is being called or thought of as a ‘dumb Mexican’ or a ‘Beaner’ or some other put-down name, and hearing so many white adults saying that and then their kids saying it. Now, Danny, thank you for bringing up your own hidden feelings, and Sam, thank you for telling us. It is good to share our hidden hurts with understanding people.“ Gordo looked around at all of us and continued, “You know we Mexicans are part Native Americans, or as we here in the US call us, Indians, and part Spanish, and we lived here long before white gold seekers came in the mid l800’s and 1900s? And still we are treated like Blacks are treated in the South.” He looked over at me and at Joe and said, “Isn’t that right, guys?” He got a bit of applause but not as much as I did, so Gordo added, “Sam, I think that old and deep and hurtful feelings need to be said, too, don’t you?”
Sam stood and waved with his hands open to the ceiling, indicating that all of us should join him. We did and clapped for Gordo. And Gordo motioned toward Maria, and she blushed and smiled. I had to admit to myself that I had never thought of them having those kinds of hurt feelings. In Mississippi, my only contact with Mexicans was a glimpse of them working in the fields at harvest time. I went over to Gordo and took his right hand in both of mine.
At the class break, Ella whispered, “Good morning, my knight in shining armor.” She smiled and added, “I’d like to talk to you after school about our Friday ‘incident’. She made the italics sign, and I smiled and whispered, “Okay.” Sam is right, it is helpful to talk to safe people about our feelings.
The aikido teacher, Lance Pillar, asked if he could talk about my tram experience, and I said yes, and then he asked me to show the class exactly what happened. I asked Ella to join me, and we set up two folding chairs. With Lance playing Bruno, we re-enacted the incident. Lance was only a bit bigger than Bruno, and he even let me throw him down like I had Bruno, but he landed more lightly, and I didn’t jump on his back and twist his arms. When we were done, we got a lot of praise from our classmates. The rest of the day went well. My upperclassman ‘Big Brother’ kidded me about being such a tough guy – and then he smiled, and I did too.
Both Ella and I were excused from our usual after-school activities, and we decided to walk slowly home and talk about our feelings. I had been thinking about Ella sitting on my lap and crying, and the thought stayed with me all weekend as well as on Monday. I was relieved to hear that she had done the same. I was glad that she started talking about it first, as she said, “You know, Danny, I am so glad that you were so willing to hold me after those goons attacked us and that you were really so protective of both of us. And now, I, uh, really feel so close to you.” She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.
And again, I felt embarrassed by how my penis was acting up in my jeans. I was pretty sure Ella couldn’t tell I was aroused by her kissing me, even that little bit. I managed to respond, “And, Ella, I’m happy that you asked me to hold you. I wanted you to hold me, too. You know, uh, I think I’ve really felt close to you ever since that first day when I acted like such a, uh, like such a jerk.” I took her hand, turned to her, and touched my lips to hers. I began to wonder if I was falling in love with her, as they say in the movies. I took a big chance and whispered, “I, uh, love you.” Oh, my god, I said it.
“Danny, I love you too.” She turned pink, and I was glad that she was embarrassed, too. I squeezed her hand and blushed. I needed to talk to someone about my feelings. I couldn’t talk to mom because, well, she’s mom, and I’m sure she wouldn’t understand. And I shut myself down when I thought about mom. I don’t think she ever felt the kind of feelings that Ella and I were feeling now. Mom’s love came from Susan, Jacque, and me. We continued walking, holding hands and feeling embarrassed.
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