Rays of Civilization

The 'Love' Triangle

While the sun began its descent across the horizon, Georgina relished her dinner party with her two favorite men—Earl, the man she was still trying to convert into a lover, and Sammy, the little brother she’d never had although neither seemed to be willing and wanting of the status she proposed. “How is everyone enjoying their steak?”

“Good,” Earl grumbled with meat juices trickling down his beard.

Sammy properly sliced into his meat and studied Earl, still wondering what Georgina saw in him. At the fragile age of nineteen, trying to understand a woman’s attraction to a ragged hermit confused Sammy. “So Earl, where are you from?”

Earl sat back from his plate and wiped his face. “About a mile down the road at the old mine shack.”

“No, I mean originally,” Sammy pressed.

Earl eyed Sammy carefully. He could tell just by looking at Sammy he had never been with a woman, and possibly never beyond Las Vegas County. The young man’s experience rested in the heart and mind of his father, and the spirit and soul of Georgina. Earl sat upright and leaned toward Sammy. “When you set out to live your own life, making choices on which paths to take, you soon learn the past as no relevance. A man comes from nowhere and heads in an endless direction. All a man has is the place he is at the moment.”

Sammy glanced at Georgina, who nodded knowingly. “It’s true,” she said. “I look back and it’s hard to imagine people and places actually existed. They are like a dream now.”

“You must take me for a fool, but I’m not. I’m a sophomore at UNLV. I’m studying philosophy,” Sammy replied.

Earl reclined back in his seat suddenly interested in the conversation. “Philosophy? Why philosophy?”

“Because it frees my mind and teaches me to think. Other studies just tell you want to think. I’m my own man and have my own thoughts. I’m not my father, nor my brothers,” Sammy asserted.

“So you are,” Earl replied with a glance at Georgina. “Who are your favorite thinkers?”

“Nietzsche for one. I also like to read Albert Camus,” Sammy said.

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life,” Earl quoted. “I know Camus well.”

“I know of only one duty, and that is to love,” Sammy quoted in return.

“Nice,” Earl retorted beginning to understand the young man better. Young Sammy was a lover at heart and his heart’s destination was Georgina. He knew immediately his presence was treading upon his dreams.

“Georgina tells me you write poetry,” Sammy said.

Earl glanced at Georgina and rolled his eyes. “I write verse, not poetry. Verse is writing organized into rhythmic patterns. Poetry is the expression of thoughtful ideas in words.”