Chapter 13
L
ucas is happy. It’s not as hard as one might think to become, the hard part is just to keep being it. It’s hard because it’s so easy to get in your head that if you are to be happy, you have to be happy exactly all
of the time. And who in the world has the energy for that? Happiness can be exhausting. Honestly, it’s most often enough to just not be the opposite.
So, Lucas isn’t unhappy. That’s the secret.
Or, to be fair, he very nearly becomes
unhappy, but he manages to escape it at the very last second. When he lets the board animal out of his apartment and they discover that the pile is gone, they immediately exclaim with great satisfaction:
“We’ve decided to elect you as a new member of the board, Lucas!”
“NO!” Lucas shouts in despair, but the board animal hears nothing because the heads have already started arguing with each other about what the proper order should be of all the meetings they now need to have. They decide that the first meeting must be about the pile, which is no longer a pile, but now just an empty space.
“We should build a monument in the space! In memory of the pile!” suggests Head One.
“Or maybe plant a tree?” suggests Head Two.
“Or perhaps dig a deep pit?” Head Three suggests.
“And do what, Linda? What are we going to do with the pit?” Heads One and Two ask with great concern.
“Oh, you know? Put things in? Maybe people?” suggests Head Three joyfully.
Heads One and Two quickly decide that they’re of the opinion that trees are probably the better idea, all things considered. But then Head Three looks so enthusiastic about the possible usage of a tree that they get suspicious, so they decide to call together all the other neighbors in the building for a vote. This is, of course, a grave mistake. If you want to see normal people turn into power-hungry dictators in five minutes, all you have to do is say the magic words: “We’d love to hear your suggestions!”
If you ask people what they think, they start thinking, and that’s how wars start. One neighbor wants a playground, another wants to ban children, definitely from playgrounds but preferably from the planet too. Some tension arises in the room. One neighbor wants to have a park, but another neighbor says it’ll just be full of drug addicts then. One neighbor suggests a nice lawn, another says, “Yes, and maybe some trees?” but then a third neighbor shouts: “Then it’s a park!” And so everyone discusses for three hours exactly what defines a park. After that one neighbor suggests they build a parking lot, but another would rather put up a wind turbine. The neighbor who wants a parking lot has an electric car, and the neighbor who wants a wind turbine wants to generate electricity, but they still manage to disagree. People are amazing that way. Soon everyone is fighting. Eventually someone threatens to hit someone else “right on that big nose of yours!” Facebook groups are started. Things get out of hand.
Then someone says:
“Lucas can decide! He always has such good ideas!”
“YES! LUCAS CAN DECIDE!” all the neighbors shout in unison.
That’s how close Lucas comes to responsibility and commitment. Such incredibly small margins are what make or break a life. One day you’re a happy, whole person, and the next day you’re forced into the most horrible thing on earth: making decisions.
But as everyone looks around the meeting to figure out where Lucas is sitting, a cautious voice is heard at the back of the room. It’s the woman in the green shirt.
“I’m afraid I have some terrible news,” she says sadly.
“Yes, very bad indeed,” sobs the woman in the purple dress sitting next to her.
“There was a traffic accident yesterday,” Green Shirt whispers.
“Lucas is unfortunately in a coma!” Purple Dress nods.
The two women then propose that the meeting hold a minute of silence for Lucas, and no one has the heart to disagree. By the end of the minute the two women have already snuck out.
The neighbors who remain at the meeting argue for another hour, mostly about how long a minute of silence should be, exactly. Then the meeting ends with absolutely no decisions having been made at all. The board gets to continue being the board, and everyone goes home without anything having changed whatsoever.
The two women walk home together that evening. Purple Dress invites Green Shirt for a drink. They enjoy it on the balcony, watching the sun go down.
“I’d love to ask if you’d want me to cook dinner, but sadly I don’t have a frying pan.” Purple Dress grins.
“Maybe it’s time to buy a new one now?” Green Shirt smiles.
Then the purple dress nods very, very seriously.
“Maybe two? So I have one in reserve, in case something is . . . happening?”
They part with a warm hug. The next morning the woman in the purple dress changes into another dress. This one is purple, too, but still, she’s ready for a change now. She feeds the cat. Then she starts a new Facebook group, and sends an invite for Lucas to join. His answer is no.
In a hospital in another part of the city, in a storage room down in the basement, a not-unhappy man is sitting in a comfortable chair, playing video games and drinking wine and eating pad thai. But if anyone should ask the doctors and nurses who work at the hospital, they will of course tell you that he’s in a coma and can’t be disturbed. Because the doctors and nurses understand very well that all the modern pills and treatments are surely great, but sometimes what people really need most of all is a prescription for a break.
In the evening there’s a gentle knock on the door of the storage room in the basement, but when the man opens it there’s no one there, just an envelope lying on the floor. Inside he finds a photograph of the woman in the green shirt and her husband and their children. They’re laughing, all four of them. The woman looks so happy. On the back of the photograph it says:
“They jumped.”
Lucas closes the door. He tapes the photograph on the wall in the storage room. That night he finishes his video game.