Darkness

I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it's been painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black

Paint it Black, Rolling Stones

For the next few days, I could barely function.  I was mired in a gloom that showed no signs of lifting.

There was no fight left in me.  As far I could tell, any chance of going to school out of state was gone now.  My expectations had shifted from mighty Georgetown University to lowly Houston Community College.  Since I hadn't thought to apply to a single state college, where else was I supposed to go? 

Slowly but surely I trudged through each day in a cold, joyless funk.  I was just going through the motions.  I spoke to no one unless I was forced to. I went to school, I went to work, I went home, I went to bed.  Preferring sleep over consciousness, I stopped studying.  What difference did it make?  College acceptances were due next week.  My grades had no meaning for me any more.  I had lost all pride, all incentive.

I didn't even play basketball.  Why should I?   My whole world was black.

 

Guess Who?

Five days after I read the news of Katina Ballantyne's award, we had a surprise visitor at the store.

I looked up and realized that Mrs. Ballantyne of all people was pushing a shopping cart through my grocery store.  To say I was surprised was an understatement.  The feeling was closer to shock.  I had worked here for two years, but this was the first time I had ever seen her at my store.  What on earth was a wealthy patrician like Mrs. Ballantyne doing in my middle class neighborhood?

Mrs. Ballantyne was definitely off the beaten path.  I knew where the Ballantyne family lived because the student directory listed each student's address.  I passed by their street every morning on my way to school.  My Weingarten's store in the Montrose area was nowhere near the Ballantyne home in River Oaks.  To shop here meant Mrs. Ballantyne was two miles from her home.  

What was she doing here?  I knew of at least three grocery stores much closer to where she lived.  Why would Mrs. Ballantyne go two miles out of her way to shop at my store?  I looked again just to be sure I wasn't seeing things.  That was definitely Mrs. Ballantyne over there in the fruit section of the store.  She was wandering around minding her own business just like any other customer. 

How very strange!  It had been less than a week since I had made the crushing discovery that her daughter had beaten me out for the scholarship.  I had not stopped thinking about that subject even for a moment.  Considering I partially blamed Mrs. Ballantyne for her role in the swindle, I could not help but wonder if her mysterious appearance in this store had something to do with me. 

Did she come to give my scholarship back?  Was she here to apologize?  I was intensely curious.

Conspiracy Theory

I won't lie.  When I first read the bad news in the newspaper, I directed every ounce of my intense bitterness towards Mrs. Ballantyne.  As upset as I was, I was convinced that Mrs. Ballantyne had deliberately stolen my scholarship.  After fuming about Mrs. Ballantyne for 30 seconds, I decided Mr. Salls had to be involved as well.  In that moment, I fused the two together in my mind.   

I still could not believe they would team up to deprive a poor kid like me of this valuable grant and give it to a girl who had all the privileges and advantages in the world.   

My problem was that I was locked in the worst psychological crisis of my life.  I was in so much pain and full of so much bitterness that I was having trouble thinking straight.  So it took me a while to realize Mrs. Ballantyne was probably not the one to blame here.

Now that I had given it some thought, I realized I was more upset with Mr. Salls.  Mrs. Ballantyne was just doing her job.  It made perfect sense to do everything in her power to ensure her daughter's success in life.  I had over-reacted towards Mrs. Ballantyne only because that was her daughter's name on the list.  Furthermore, since I secretly had liked Mrs. Ballantyne so much in the past, for a moment there it felt very personal.  It felt like I had been betrayed by Mrs. Ballantyne. 

Then I remembered she didn't even know who I was.  That's when I began to calm down a little bit.

I was still sore at the world, but my anger had ceased being pointed directly at Mrs. Ballantyne. 

However, now that she was here in my store, I couldn't help but be suspicious again.  I wondered what she knew.  The one thing I was sure of was that Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne had met face to face to discuss the Jones Scholarship.  Nothing could ever change my mind about that.  Her sudden presence made both my bitterness and my confusion rush to the forefront.

It was one thing to lose the grant to a worthy opponent, but to lose to a questionable candidate and not understand why was driving me nuts.  Right now, what bothered more me than anything else in the world was wondering what Mr. Salls was thinking.  Mr. Salls was the one person on earth who knew how badly I needed that scholarship. But he skipped me.  Why?

I could make a case for Katina winning the award.  Katina was a very dynamic person in our class, a real leader.  My question was what about me?  Surely Mr. Salls had to know I was upset.  Why didn't he say anything to me?  That is what really hurt.  The most likely answer was that he was angry with me.  I had failed him by cheating just like I had failed my father nine years earlier with the erector set.  Now I had a guilty conscience.  Whenever I saw Mr. Salls in the hallway at school, I hid behind a column till he passed.  I could not bear to look him the face.  As unstable as I felt, I feared I would either start screaming or start crying. I didn't want to do either one. Lord, please let me keep my dignity. Mrs. Ballantyne's sudden appearance at my store today set all sorts of wheels whirring in my head.  Surely her appearance here was not an accident.  But what did it mean? Did Mrs. Ballantyne come over here to cheer me up?  Or did Mr. Salls guess that I was upset and send Mrs. Ballantyne over here to make sure I was okay?

Anxious to discover any clue that could solve the mystery of her presence, I began to stalk the lady throughout the store.

This proved to be a complete waste of time.  I can report that Mrs. Ballantyne conducted a thoroughly routine job of shopping for groceries.  The only unusual feature was that she filled not one, but two grocery carts.  That made sense.  She had a large family to feed.  As she entered the check out line, I signaled a fellow worker to let me sack Mrs. Ballantyne's groceries myself.  I was still over the top with curiosity about her appearance in my store.  As I sacked the groceries, I stood right next to my important visitor. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Mrs. Ballantyne closely as I sacked her groceries.  Not once did she glance in my direction. 

As a test, I asked her to make a decision on how she wanted me to handle delicate items like eggs, bread and fruit.  This would force her to notice me.  She smiled and said put them on top, that would be fine. 

When I spoke, I made direct eye contact.  There is no way she could have missed seeing my unmistakable scarred face.  But there was zero recognition in her eyes.  Not even a blink.  I was still completely invisible.  I smiled.  Some things never change.

Mrs. Ballantyne's entire focus remained fixed on making sure the checker rang up her bill correctly.  In other words, she behaved exactly like any alert customer would.  I was disappointed.  I wanted her to recognize me, but no such luck.  Obviously she did not have a clue who I was.  I felt my shoulders sag.  Mrs. Ballantyne had clearly not made this trip on my behalf.  Too bad.  I had hoped otherwise. Although I was in the same grade as her daughter Katina, not once had we ever spoken during the past nine years at the school.  Nor could I remember even exchanging a glance or a smile with Mrs. Ballantyne when we passed in the hallways at Saint John's.  Given today's lack of recognition, it seemed unlikely that I had ever crossed her radar.  Mrs. Ballantyne was an important, purposeful woman who always pursued her own agenda when she visited the school.  Unless I had accidentally tripped her, she had no reason to notice me. Perhaps over the years Mrs. Ballantyne had caught me staring at her once or twice at the school, but I had no way of knowing this.  That said, I was certain that Mrs. Ballantyne did not know she had been my secret candidate for best mother in the world for the past nine years.  And I seriously doubted she had any idea of all the negative energy I had recently felt towards her for cheating me out of my scholarship. If she knew who I was, no human being could act this oblivious to my existence.  I concluded the lady did not have an ounce of energy on me.  It was impossible to fake this. I was certain of that.  To Mrs. Ballantyne, I was simply a boy who was sacking her groceries. This made it difficult to picture Mrs. Ballantyne any longer as the villain in my drama.  I resigned myself to the fact that this chance meeting was just an accident.  Oh well.  On the bright side, at least I wasn't mad at her any more.

The Conversation

After Mrs. Ballantyne paid her bill, I politely offered to take her groceries to her car.  I was nervous.  This was the closest I had ever been to the woman I had admired for so long.  In fact, I was so thrilled to be next to her, for the moment I completely forgot how mad I was at her last week.  Instead, my long years of hero worship dominated my thoughts. 

As I pushed her grocery cart to the car, I said nothing.  The incredible coincidence of seeing Mrs. Ballantyne in this unusual location still had me baffled.  Oh well, coincidences happen.  Shopping two miles from home isn't that far out of the way.  Maybe she had an appointment at the nearby University of Saint Thomas and happened to pass this store on the way home. 

As I had wheeled the cart to the parking lot, I got the impression that Mrs. Ballantyne was studying me carefully.  However I didn't expect her to say anything.  After I finished putting the groceries in her car, I was prepared to leave without saying a word. 

That's when Mrs. Ballantyne stopped me. 

She said, "Young man, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

I quickly came to attention.  "No, of course not."

"Are you by chance a student at Saint John's?"

I smiled.  Well, I'll be darned.  Good for her.  I was thrilled she had figured it out.

"Yes, ma'am, I am." 

There was an easy explanation for this.  Surely Mrs. Ballantyne had taken note of my khaki pants and white polo shirt which was the SJS uniform at the time.  Mrs. Ballantyne would certainly have noticed the similarity.  I am sure that's what gave me away.

Now an amused look crossed her face.  She seemed pleased that her hunch was correct. 

Then a frown crossed her face.  Trying to read her mind, I guessed she was wondering what a Saint John's kid was doing working in a strange place like this.   

"How long have you worked here?"

"Almost two years."

"Really?  How often do you work here?"

"Four days a week.  Three afternoons after school and all day Saturday."

"And you have been doing this for two years?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Ballantyne was curious.  From her point of view, this had to be an improbable scenario.  What was a Saint John's student doing sacking groceries after school?   Sure, a lot of the kids had part-time jobs working for their parents or selling expensive shoes to their friends at Sakowitz on a Saturday afternoon.  However, this was not exactly a prestige job.  What was a kid who attended the most expensive prep school in the city doing in a place like this working after school?

In other words, I was just as "out of place" in her mind as her appearance at my store had been "out of place".  Without saying it, we both believed the other person didn't belong here.

Mrs. Ballantyne kept studying me. 

"I think I recognize you.  Aren't you in my daughter Katina's class?"

I tried hard to conceal my shock and delight.  Maybe I wasn't invisible after all.

"Yes, ma'am, that is correct."

"I thought so."  She nodded, pleased that she had finally placed me.

"What is your name?"

I hesitated.  What name should I tell her? 

My classmates called me "Dick Archer", a name I detested.  When I began my job at Weingarten's, I saw an opportunity to forge a new identity. So I told everyone I met here that my name was "Rick".  However, back at Saint John's I saw little reason to change my name.  They had been calling me "Dick" since the Fourth Grade.  Changing my name after all these years seemed too awkward to fool with.

I told her my name was "Rick Archer".  She nodded and smiled.

Okay, the connection had been made and the pleasantries exchanged.  I now expected Mrs. Ballantyne would get in her car and drive off.  This was a good opportunity to say something nice and be on her way. 

However, to my surprise, Mrs. Ballantyne was just warming up.  I could tell she was very curious about me.  I imagine this was the last place she had ever expected to find a St. John's student working.  In school uniform, no less.  So right in the middle of the parking lot she engaged me in a series of questions. 

"So you have been working here for two years.  Why did you get your job here, Rick?"

I explained that I had gotten a job here at the end of my Sophomore year because money was so scarce at home.  I proudly pointed to my used Volkswagen Beetle parked nearby.  I told her I had paid for the car myself from the money I had made sacking groceries.  Mrs. Ballantyne looked at my modest car and smiled her approval.  You have to hand it to the lady, she had a sense of graciousness.  She was probably used to smiling at some truly magnificent automobiles.  Who could have blamed her if she sniffed with disapproval at mine?

Instead she allowed me to save face by smiling at my accomplishment. 

Then I explained that I was trying to save up for college tuition.

Mrs. Ballantyne studied me for a moment. 

"College tuition is not something most St. John's students worry about.  But you seem to really count on this job.  How long have you been at St.  John's?  Do you mind my asking?"

No, I didn't mind at all.  In fact, I was deeply flattered at the attention this prominent woman was giving me.  So I told her the story about how I came to Saint John's in the first place.  I mentioned how Dr. Mendel, the psychiatrist, had made the suggestion.  By chance, Dr. Mendel's son Mark was my brilliant classmate and Katina's as well.  Mrs. Ballantyne would certainly appreciate the connection.

Mrs. Ballantyne grew quiet for a moment.  One part of me wondered if she was getting the information so she could share a funny story with her wealthy friends.  Don't forget one side of my personality felt like a kicked dog.  But I have say I didn't believe that.  Mrs. Ballantyne appeared genuinely interested in me.  I did not get the slightest idea she was toying with me.

"Rick, if money is so tight at home, then how do your parents manage to send you to such an expensive school?"

Parents?  What parents?  I was too ashamed to tell her the whole story, so I just said that my parents were divorced and when my father decided to stop contributing, Mr. Chidsey had come to my rescue on two different occasions. After I did my best to explain my scholarship status, Mrs. Ballantyne nodded.  Mr. Chidsey was someone Mrs. Ballantyne knew on a first-name basis.  It was starting to make sense now.  I was poor kid who went to a rich kids school thanks to beneficence of the administration. And I had a job because I didn't know how else I was going to afford to pay for college.  Mrs. Ballantyne smiled and told me how impressed she was.

"Good for you, Rick. I think you should be very proud of yourself."

I melted at her well-meant compliment. Inside, I was a nervous wreck.  I was thrilled that this woman whom I had admired for so long was taking the time to talk to me.  Her compliments were powerful medicine for my shattered self-esteem.  But I certainly didn't have enough self-confidence to feel at ease talking with the most famous parent at Saint John's.  I was very tense.

At this point, Mrs. Ballantyne drifted off for moment.  Then abruptly her mind came back to the present.  Her expression changed.  She had decided to share something personal.  

"Rick, I have a story to tell you.  When I was your age, I didn't have it so easy either.  When I was young, I grew up in Galveston.  I grew up around wealth without my family being particularly wealthy.  My father was an interesting character but not much of a father.  My mother died when she was 12 and my family was split up.  My brothers and I would never have been able to attend college, but out of nowhere someone in the Galveston underworld stepped up and offered to help out."

She paused for a second to gather her thoughts.   

"It looks like you have had to deal with some tough breaks too.  However, I believe you can overcome your problems.  I overcame a lot of adversity when I was young.  If I could do it, then you can do it too.  Don't give up.  You are a smart boy.  You have to keep fighting." 

Her compliment sent a surge of hope through me.  Maybe I really could get through this ordeal somehow.  Maybe things would work out.  It is amazing how much these a few words of encouragement had lifted my spirits.  I think the hint of a smile crossed my face.  It was probably the first smile I had experienced in the past month.

That led to a private smile of my very own.  I had always envisioned Mrs. Ballantyne as a person who constantly gave her own children plenty of encouragement.  I had just been given the privilege of a Ballantyne pep talk all of my own.  This was quite an honor.

I felt myself open up to Mrs. Ballantyne.  I had been curious about this lady for such a long time.  I had always wondered what she was like in person.  I was tickled pink to see she was exactly the person I had envisioned and not the monster I had visualized during my disappointment.  I could see why so many people were drawn to her.  Mrs. Ballantyne had tremendous empathy.  Today she had used a series of direct questions to size up my situation with remarkable speed.  She seemed to understand exactly what I was going through. 

I was enjoying her attention so much that I answered her questions without hesitation.  Mrs. Ballantyne was growing more curious about me.  This is just a guess, but I think Mrs. Ballantyne was surprised to discover that she had somehow missed such an interesting story. 

I visualized Mrs. Ballantyne as a female counterpart to Mr. Salls. Mrs. Ballantyne was Saint John's royalty. Saint John's was her kingdom.  Like Mr. Salls, Mrs. Ballantyne prided herself on knowing everything there was to know about the people at St. John's.  Now totally by accident she had stumbled upon a highly unusual Saint John's story that she had totally missed.  I also think she was very intrigued by the parallels between my story and her story.

Mrs. Ballantyne launched into a full-bore interview.  She asked me all kinds of questions.  I didn't mind a bit.  I felt like she was concerned about me.  Now the secrets about my home life came rolling out.  She found out I was an only child and that my parents were divorced.  Further prodding revealed I rarely saw my father and that my mother was having trouble keeping a job.  However I skipped the part about Little Mexico.  I just couldn't bear to bring that absurd situation up.

Mrs. Ballantyne threw me a curve by noting that I was pretty tall.  She asked me why I didn't play sports. After all, St. John's was a small school and needed every "able body".  She pointed out that her own children had gained a lot of confidence through sports.  I breathed deeply and explained about how my blind left eye had kept me out of football.  Then I added how much I wanted to try out for the basketball team.  With a frown, I added that I had made a decision to keep my job after school instead.

As we spoke, basketball season had just ended a few weeks ago.  I told her how much I regretted never trying out for the basketball team.  I said that on one level it was the dumbest decision I had ever made and that it ate me up inside.  However, there was no conceivable way I was going to college on a basketball scholarship.  The practical side of me said keeping my grocery job had been the right thing to do.  In retrospect, I told her I had probably made the right choice.  However my decision had left me in despair.

Mrs. Ballantyne nodded in sympathy. 

Even my own mother didn't know this story.  Isn't it odd that Mrs. Ballantyne was the only person I ever confessed my secret disappointment to?  This woman found out more about me in twenty minutes than probably any other person in the entire school except perhaps Mr. Curran.  She asked the right questions, she listened, and she cared.  I really liked this lady! 

When the dam breaks...well obviously I needed someone to talk to in the worst way.  I just started blurting out all sorts of things.  I rambled on and on.  Mrs. Ballantyne didn't seem to mind.  I quietly blessed her for her kindness.

Mrs. Ballantyne was a very skilled listener.  While I spoke, Mrs. Ballantyne encouraged me to continue.  She had that constant smile and watched me attentively. She definitely knew how to put people at ease.  Mrs. Ballantyne's concern meant a lot to me.  Mrs. Ballantyne made me feel like I was someone important.  In her presence, I witnessed a warmth I had never seen from her status-conscious counterparts.  She talked to me just like a normal person would, not some high and mighty society matron.  This was a real person I was speaking to, not one of those superficial phonies with their put-on 'concern'. 

I occupied the lowest rung on the social order at school while Mrs. Ballantyne held the highest prestige of any parent.  I was deeply flattered that a woman this important would take the time to talk to me.  I was without a doubt the least visible kid in the whole school.  Nevertheless, Mrs. Ballantyne made me feel like I belonged at that school just as much as her own talented kids.  This precious gift of her attention was a Godsend.  For a young man who felt like a total outsider, the thought that someone at that school besides one of my teachers actually liked me was a precious experience. 

However, this conversation wasn't the complete joy it should have been.  The entire time we talked, the mystery about her role in the Jones Scholarship debacle overshadowed our conversation.  Try as I might to put it out of mind and simply enjoy our talk, my curiosity was far too powerful.  I wanted to know the truth.  Why didn't I win that award? 

Surely Mrs. Ballantyne could shed some light.  But I certainly did not have the guts to bring the subject up.  I was positive that any mention would turn this marvelous conversation into some dark alley that would ruin everything.  I could very easily make Mrs. Ballantyne and cause her to break off this connection.

But I had to know.  I absolutely had to know.  As we stood here, the question was burning in my brain like a raging forest fire.