Chapter 5: Operation Keep PT Down: Car Shopping and Steve’s Supposed Schizo Ex#2

The next day, I picked up Steve at his place and headed to the nearest Honda Dealer in Old Town Pasadena. I didn’t know anything about cars and figured that I could always use Steve as a shield from the inevitable bullshit that would be thrown my way, being a clueless female about cars.

Steve wanted to drive my rental. “Do you want me to drive?” he asked.

“Do you want me to drive or did you figure that I wanted you to drive?” I laughed.

Steve liked trying all cars. It was a Chrysler 500 and had a continuous transmission. Generally, I hated automatics but this one accelerated well. The wheel was positioned high and close to the seat like a tractor. Steve imitated a farmer driving a tractor.

Wow, you are from Texas.

I swatted him for that, laughing.

AT the car dealership, a salesman starting talking cars, which lost me, so I let Steve take over. If the salesman lost me, Steve lost the Salesman. Evidently, Steve learned at lot at his internship with Honda because the salesman said maybe Steve could sell me the car. I test drove the Honda Fit, liked it, and Steve and I sat down with the salesman regarding financing. There was no way I could afford it. My credit was nonexistent. The Honda salesman sensed that he wasn’t going to make a sale but gave me the time of day anyway. After all, I was a beginning attorney. After feeling that I had taken enough of his time, I thanked him and Steve and I drove off.

I don’t know what started the conversation, but somehow it moved to Steve’s ex number two. He wanted to clarify to me that he had filed for divorce almost six months ago and that it would be annulled if she did not appear to sign the papers. Asra had disappeared on him in their second year of marriage. Simply disappeared. Without a word while he was deep in school at Art Center. Needless to say, this made it difficult for him to finish, and along with some other catastrophic events, Steve dropped out from the best Art School in the nation. That was kind of the story of his life.

After Asra disappeared, Steve started to pick himself up after the initial devastation. Then she appeared for a few days. Then left again, which deveasted Steve again. So that he was not able to pick himself up. But when he mustered his strength to start all over, Asra would appear. Perfect timing. Exactly when Steve was on his way without her, she would appear.

Steve thought that Asra was schizophrenic. She sure seemed crazy enough. Her father had beaten the crap out of her with a hammer to the head. But she wouldn’t die. Coincidentally, Steve’s father had thrown bricks at him growing up. He was lucky enough to dodge most of them. Steve said that Asra was out of control, paranoid about where he went, who he was talking to, especially women. She stalked him at Honda when he was doing his internship, stole his security pass, standing in the smoking area and glaring at him and his coworkers when they took a smoking break. Steve could not do anything about it, even though he told her to stop. Because Steve was not the type of guy who could make people stop when they were walking all over him.

These were the things that Steve could recount about his Ex#2:

-She was too young for him, as he was almost forty and she was 22. Although she was beautiful, he soon found they had little in common on a daily basis.

-She had a violent upbringing, which made her violent herself. She was the type of person who perpetuated the cycle of abuse and violence.

-She was Muslim Pakistani, raise super strictly, and wa supposed to marry a man arranged for her.

-She was torn between being a good Muslim girl and dressed provocatively so that men hit on her, then punched their daylights out when they hit on her. Steve attributed the way men hit on her to her distinctive odor she gave off when she did not bathe for long periods (lots of pheromones, he said).

-She was highly competitive, even with Steve.  

-Her family had a lot of money, which was necessary for most students who went to Art Center.

Asra’s family protested their marriage. Asra had threatened to kill herself if Steve did not marry her. And Steve, who had a kind heart, consented because he was afraid she would hurt herself. Pity, to Steve, often masked itself as love. Asra also had one of the best portfolios he had ever seen and never saw again, as Asra was unable to replicate the skill in her portfolio that got her admitted to Art Center.

“A lot of schizos wind up dead, Steve,” Probably not the gentlest way of informing him.

“Really, Steve slumped in his chair. Damn.

“Well yeah, men are more likely to be schizophrenic. Was she diagnosed?”

Steve shook his head. “I just did some reading.”

“Why do you think she was schizophrenic?”

“She was erratic, couldn’t control her emotions, aggressive.”

“Like a man?” I asked.

“Yeah, a lot like a man. She pursued me.” Steve admitted. Eww, not good. “She just lost control at the end and I didn’t know how to help her. I wasn’t paying attention to her. I focused on my work and found the best way to push her away was ignore her.”
“Why did you want to push her away?” I asked.

“Because she was stalking me at Honda. She wouldn’t do her own thing. I hate a woman who isn’t independent. She seemed like that at first but things soon changed. She followed me everywhere, when I was teaching at Art Center, too. She wouldn’t go to her own class, dropped out of school. Looked in all my things. Accused me of cheating on her.” Steve laughed. “After my exes, I really felt like turning gay.” I half laughed. Things sounded terrible.

“You can’t blame yourself. Schizophrenics need medication and intense professional help. You couldn’t have helped her more than you did.” Steve was lost in guilt. I started to understand the wretched look that wasn’t so much part of his physical but his mental.

Ex#1 who constantly cheated on him, Ex#2 who constantly accused him of cheating, and Steve not knowing where to turn except his work. Given how hard Steve worked, why didn’t he have a great job at a car company?

We were parked at the northwest corner of Steve’s intersection, car facing West. His house was one north of the corner, on the east side. I thanked Steve for helping me car shop and he laughed that it was nothing. I saw him in my rearview, walking with a hunch like that of either very tall men or men who lacked confidence.

I checked Google maps on my phone. It was a tangle of freeways that I had to navigate to get home and it was getting late. 

Chapter 4 Operation Keep PT Down: How Steve Got to L.A.

The next day, I returned, concerned about Steve’s hand. I wondered if he was having a delayed reaction to his accident, and despite the clear MRI, he was now feeling the effects of his motorbike accident. When I came, Steve came out for me. We walked in. his son, Alan, was playing a video game and looked up when I entered. Despite his barely looking up at me as I entered, I could tell that Alan was surprised at seeing me again.

Steve was fatigued. Who wouldn’t be after crashing into a car that cut in front of you on the freeway, flipping over the car and then hackey sacking into the bed of a truck that luckily had some padding in it. Steve’s lack of feeling in his arm probably was from some nerve damage.

“I can get my own water. You should relax,” I urged.

“Yeah, I am kind of tired.” Steve replied. “There really isn’t a place to sit down besides the futon out there. The only other room is the bedroom.” Awkward pause.

“So I notice you can lift your arm. Is it just your hand you can’t move?” I asked.

Steve lifted his hand. His wrist was limp, his hand hanging down. He made a noise like a motorbike, as if he were urging his had to rise of its own. Nothing.

“Maybe you should go see a doctor,” I stated the obvious.

“No, I’ll be all right.” Steve was the typical male.

“You said so yourself, your drawing hand is the most important part of you.” I reminded him.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” But it was obvious Steve was not believing himself. It was time to change the subject to something cheerier.

So we talked about Steve, I wanted to hear more and was uncomfortable talking about myself. These are the key points:

-Steve got his girlfriend, Darlena, pregnant when he was 18 years old and she was 20. She told him that she could not get pregnant and he believed her. They were married for ten years during which time Darlena cheated on him no less than half a dozen times, sometimes with Steve’s friends. Steve ignored it and buried his head in his work.

-Steve had wanted to be a designer but Darlena told him what could he ever do as a designer so Steve had jobs doing abatement, construction, etc.

-Steve was the family caregiver. He took care of his ailing mother when he lived in Kentucky. He was the youngest of ten children, Catholic family.

-When he was 30, Steve saw the movie “The Island” and fell in love with the design of the movie. The lighting, setting, cinematography. He also learned that the design and look of cars were sketched and designed on paper, not built by engineers. (That didn’t make sense to me either the first time he told me.)

So, Steve decided to apply to the best art school in the country, in Los Angeles, and without bothering to open his reply letter (or submitting all parts of the required application), set out to California in his Honda Civic. That was the first time he heard the song “Hotel California” by the Eagles because sadly, Steve had had a sheltered life. He rarely saw anything beyond his home town because the big wide world was scary.

Steve had done a short stint in New York but found the real world to be too hard to survive in. Random men approached him picking fights (all of which Steve won, even with the legend Akira).

When Steve arrived in Los Angeles, he went to Art Center and basically said, “I’m here to start school.” And found out that he had not been accepted. The Registrar gave Steve a chance by requiring him to take some satellite courses to prove himself. Rarely happens. Steve did and was subsequently admitted into the Transportation Design department with a full scholarship. When I first saw Steve’s designs, I knew he was a rare talent. Just didn’t make sense why he wasn’t designing and doing better in his field.  

Steve never finished his degree at Art Center. Something happened. For some reason, his younger son, Donny, was not living with him. Why not?

“Oh, it had something to do with my second ex. You want to sit on the couch and watch my son play?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” we walked the two steps down to the living room and to the futon, which was folded up for sitting. It was a comfortable brown velvety fabric. Steve sat on the corner side. The far wall held a closet with folding doors. The doors were partially opened and tools and towels were tucked inside. I sat on the side near the door. Near the corner that turned into the kitchen on the right, were a washer and drawer, also with folding doors (like an accordion). My feet hung over the side so I slipped my shoes off and tucked them under my legs. Steve pulled up a small table for me to rest my feet. “That’s okay,” I laughed. That was too princess for me. “What are you playing?” I asked Alan.

“Uh, Zombies,” he answered.  

Steve looked impressed. He whispered to me, “He likes you. He rarely talks to people so respectfully.”

Macy walked in at that moment. Steve's door was always open. Macy looked at me in surprise while I pretended to be absorbed in Alan’s skill in killing virtual zombies.

“Hey, my dad and I went to the store. He’s bringing in some groceries. Hey,” Macy greeted me.

“Hi, Macy, how are you doing?”

“Fine, thanks, how are you?” Macy asked.

“Great, thank you,” I answered, as Macy’s father entered laden down with two bags.

Macy’s father: “I got some crab and other good stuff. It was on sale--” his eyes fell on me.

Okay, what was so surprising about me being there? I was only sitting on the futon watching a teenager play video games.

The conversation went on about something I don’t recall. I was waiting for when I could make a respectful exit. While I was waiting, I noticed that the outlet beside the table that held the flat screen TV was uncovered. That could be a hazard, I thought. Even from where I sat across the room (approximately 12 feet away, this place was too tiny for the five people in the living room), I could see the red and white wiring in the wall. I noticed that some of the wires that ran into the kitchen floor extended into the living room, against the TV wall. Some wires went into the bedroom, some went elsewhere, I could not tell from my vantage point. The living room wall was painted a lime-ish green. Probably Steve’s favorite color since his ZX-10r no ABS was lime green.

There was a lull in the conversation and I leaned over to Steve. “I should run,” I smiled.

“Oh, yeah, okay, I’ll show you out.” He got up. I made my greetings and exited, passing the wooden frame that was for no purpose, hung left to the side of the house, passing the covered patio. It was dark inside and the furniture, pieces of wood were askew. The mesh windows blocked a clear view, as did the midday sun. Up two concrete blocks to the driveway where Steve’s Honda Civic was parked, south one house to the corner around which my car was parked.

“Does Macy live there?” I asked.

“He’s Alan’s friend. His father sort of dropped him off at my place one day. They lost their place.” Steve explained.

“That was nice of you. He didn’t ask you? Just dumped his son, there?”

“Yeah, poor kid misses his father. Sometimes, he doesn’t come around for a week at a time.”  

“Hmm, odd.” I did not know anyone who took so much presumption with their friends. “I hope your arm gets better. Let me know if you need anything,” I said.

“Oh, right, right, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” Steve said.

“I gotta’ look for a car tomorrow. Want to have my own when I start work next week. Since you know so much about cars, can you help me find one? There’s a Honda dealership near here that I wanted to hit.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Steve sounded excited talking about cars. I smiled, happy that I was able to cheer him up. Steve opened my car door and I drove away. 

Operation Keep PT Down: Cast of Characters

***Note: As you read, please keep in mind that Operation: Keep PT Down is a work of fiction. It simply could not happen, a real life Truman Show. (Is that a contradiction?) Any character’s resemblance to real life people is merely…uncanny. And the best affirmative defense to libel and defamation is the truth, as can be decided in a court of law.*** 

Remember the Truman Show? I always wondered how the writer for the Truman show came up with the concept, as well as the hilarious details. I know there could never be a real Truman Show. It isn’t possible. You cannot keep a person within the confines of a giant studio and produce his entire life without him suspecting.

To keep a person living a certain life produced by an organization would take a phenomenal amount of resources. No one has that type of power. Except perhaps the government.

Can you imagine the cast of characters that would be needed to keep a person oblivious to the real world around him? Especially if he were physically strong so that you could not quarantine him? It would require a type of mental brainwashing that kept him from questioning things. Kind of like Stockholm syndrome and battered wife syndrome. In other words, a constant and unrelenting amount of physical, mental, and emotional abuse to keep him down. Doing the things that you wanted him to do.

When the spark of humanity and rebellion arose in Steve, the government set out to destroy all individuality, hope, and life in him, until he returned to the same old, unfulfilling path that they chose for him. No real friends, no love, no real job creating things that could progress society.

But why would the government want to keep one of its citizens in a type of Truman Show? Why not just quarantine him?

Because some of us are born a little different. You know, a slight error in the cell replication process and a couple of genes are not in the range of “normal”. This normally provides for someone to be incredibly smart, or strong, or flexible like a contortionist (cartilage never hardens to bone), a female have more mannish characteristics (XXY gene or high levels of testosterone).

All of these people are still normal. They are still people. They still are endowed with the inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That is, under our American Constitution. That’s what I used to believe.

Go to my link on how I helped campaign for President Obama. I did not have two nickels to rub together but I believed that active participation in your civic duty is the best way to change the world.

But with the new Homeland Security, so many citizens’ rights are being trampled upon. Some, in the name of safety really are being kept safe. Some, like Steve, are being beaten and brutalized until all the spirit and life are quashed in him.

And it almost happened to me, too. Look at how long it took me to post again. It has been almost a year. I wanted to write but what do you think was happening? Well, I shall tell you…Enter the cast of characters.

CAST OF CHARACTERS OF OPERATION KEEPT PT DOWN

Steve T. Patinae - Concept Designer who has had the most bad luck anyone has ever seen. A daredevil bike rider whose stability drives his risky stunts. He has been in over 100 fights, for random strangers constantly approach him…

Alan Patinae - Steve's oldest son, who has inherited his father’s instability through external factors. How can Steve help his son when the government won’t allow Steve to help himself?

Donny Patinae - Steve's youngest son, who has yet to be knocked off by the cruel puppeteers of Steve’s own private Truman show.

Darlena - Steve's first ex-wife. Filippina, Italian. She is very strong, more than the average man. Very feminine and faithless, yet also very masculine.

Asra Abassi - Steve's second ex-wife. Pakistani, White. She is scarily strong, like an MMA fighter. Deceptively feminine, with a cruel streak rarely seen in a woman. She claims that her family is into a lot of incredible illegal activity. So incredible, it is hard to believe.  

Ssal - Innocent outsider who tried to help Steve. Average woman with no enhanced masculine powers. Finds herself in a curious web spun by the government. Instead of running away like every real person in Steve’s life, her curiosity got the best of her. This time, curiosity almost killed the cat, literally…

Roger Yamada – Japanese-American landlord who built an addition to his house and immediately rented it to Steve.

Jackie Yamada – Roger’s White Caucasian wife. They have a son graduating from high school.

Mike Yamada – Roger and Jackie’s son. He’s one of those lucky teenagers who developed early. Built like an adult who just looks very young. You know, Asian genes. (I mean, when I was 25 years old, I looked 17 easy if I dressed the part.)

Lorraine Hernandez – My landlady, until her house started getting infestations. From Jamaica, she is nowhere near as mimsy-pimsy as she made herself out to be when I first met her. Her art of dressing so that she looks different makes people feel that she is a different personality according to what she wants you to believe.

La Princess (emphasis on the “La”, no kidding) a.k.a. Dominque Jackson – My housemate. From Kentucky, a beautiful aspiring actress working at Toyota in Torrance. She has a ready laugh and easy manner. Who could not love her? Reminds me of a classmate I had named “Beauty.” Emphasis on “BEAU-Ty” (no kidding.)

AJAX – Gardener who helped build the extension to Roger’s house. Sometimes, he is suicidal, as is pretty much everyone in Steve’s life.

Arthur – Armenian who heals quickly. He gets a bad cut, it’s gone the next day. Band-Aid really works for him! He ruined two of Steve’s art projects so that Steve lost his scholarship at Art Center. Why is Steve still talking to him?

Edgar Motivated – Mexcian German, he has The Worse accent you’ve ever heard. Have no idea what accent it is he has, but it is the worst. Typical rich Art Institute student (parents pay his way and endow the school with money, money, money when their child has no art talent whatsoever), Edgar has a knack of being around just when a crisis explodes in Steve’s life.

Dolores – Indonesian Woman trying to escape her abusive husband. That has always been Steve’s weakness, protecting women…even when they do not need protecting. Dolores is the only person Steve ever helped who remembered to help him in turn…or so he thought.

Ron – Steve’s childhood friend from Kentucky. Sure, Steve has real friends, only they keep their distance. Too many crazy things happen around Steve for his real friends to jump in and help. For if you do, then bad things start happening to you…

Stan – Steve’s friend in Kentucky. Steve helped David out of a gang, and David would give his life for Steve. Only, David is in Kentucky. Steve is here in L.A.

I’ll update this occasionally, and you will get to meet all the interesting characters as the story progresses.