What We Stay Alive For

Chapter Eight: A Victim of Whiplash

1 September, 1959. A quick Tuesday.

The second day of class, and the first of a new month, is unusably warm. It also passes uneventfully. One moment, Todd is holding a mug of black coffee to his lips like it's life between his hands, the next it is replaced by a black tea that greets the nighttime kindly. Todd showers once the mug runs dry and says goodnight barely loud enough for Neil to hear it. He and Neil hold polite conversation when they can that day, though nothing is revealed to Todd that he did not already know about Neil.

However, Neil learns about Todd, as he is not aware he has lived and learned these things before. He learns that Todd likes black coffee and black tea and he holds hot cups with both of his hands, even if it's warm out. He learns that Todd places his towel higher on his hips after he showers than another man might. He also learns that Todd's breath comes out in a whistle when he sleeps.

Todd does find out one thing when he wakes up on the morning of September 2nd, something he had either forgotten or never knew. Neil can fall asleep with his glasses on. And they leave a soft imprint on his cheeks once removed with an annoyed mess of groggy hands.

2 September, 1959. Afternoon.

The third day of English class proves more interesting and memorable than the very ones before. Though better than their other classes, with less homework required, the first two days in Keating's classroom, if thought about for too long, could be considered nothing more than introductions to the course and Keating asking questions that no one knew how to answer. Not that they were difficult questions. They just were not the sort of questions boys being trained to keep family riches and become doctors and bankers and lawyers could answer.

"What is your goal in this class? Not what grade you want, your goal. What do you want to feel in this class?"

"Think about who you boys are as we start our poetry unit in the coming days. Who are your favorite poets? Do you have one? Mr. Anderson has mentioned he likesWhitman. Is he your favorite?"

Todd nodded at this, but preferred not to say anything like he would be made fun of for it.

But on the third day of class, Todd does speak again, like he had done on the first day. It begins as only one word and it happens like this:

"Gentlemen," Keating announces the second the final bell rings, "open your text to page twenty-one of the introduction." He points to the books that sit, newly unwrapped and barely touched on the boys desks. "Mr. Perry," he taps his hand against the wood of Neil's desk, a questioning brow raised. "Will you read the opening paragraph of the preface entitled 'Understanding Poetry.'"

Neil moves his head in a staccato nod, one that was usually reserved for his own father when given a direct order not meant to be fought against. He flips open his book and reads, keeping his place with the padding of his pointer finger. Even with his glasses, he leans forward in his seat, neck craning to see the writing.

"'Understanding Poetry,' by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D." His voice cracks a minuscule bit on the word 'doctor.' There is a curse hidden between the consonants of the word, made especially for him. The unspoken artist in Neil reads but the future, the one of stethoscopes and codes, knows better. His fathers voice booms against the walls and shakes Walt Whitman's photo: 'An artist may be a content man, but he is also a poor man. A poor man is no better than a dead man.' Can Todd hear this, too?

"To fully understand poetry," Neil continues, "we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech. Then, ask two questions-"

Is it possible to both hang on to every word someone says and not hear them at all? Todd hears the plucking of Neil's vocal cords that result in the sounds coming out of his mouth and it is soothing, God-like. He hears Neil read the class the questions of artful poetry and the importance of objective in poetry but realizes other things, Neil begging under the descriptive words, 'I am here, is this proof, can you hear me, I am here."