Vice

"Hey Jim, what's going on?"

"Oh, nothing much, just the usual shit, you know. That sort of thing."

Sam had gotten used to Jim's lack of response to personal questions. In fact, he had come to expect it, and never deviated from his response, even if he didn't have a hell of an idea what Sam was trying to explain. "Yeah, I follow you. Same ol' shit, as the proverb goes."

"Well, there is something else that I've been meaning to talk to you about," Jim said, with hesitation in his voice. He could tell by the look in Sam's eyes that he had passed the point where he could easily step back from his announcement, shake his head and say, "naw, nevermind, it's nothing." Sam, on the other hand, expected Jim to say something along the lines of "naw, nevermind, it's nothing," and therefore prepared his response, "no problem, don't worry about it," well in advance. Due to Jim's faulty appraisal of the situation, Sam would not get to use these words in this situation, but would instead need to carry on through prompt improvisation.

"You know the Disney film 'Dumbo'?" Jim blurted out, suddenly. Sam actually did know the film very well, as he had watched it as a child numerous times a week as he would fall asleep. However, he hadn't seen it in well over ten years now, and responded, "That's the one with the elephant and circus, right?"

Jim expressed his excitement, "Yes, exactly, and a little mouse too. Dumbo has big ears and learns how to fly." It all came back to Sam vividly, not just the big top from the film, with the circus director and the animals, but also the entirety of his childhood memories, fond recollections of his younger sister, his various toys in a large yellow chest in the corner of his room, his adoration for his teacher, Mrs. Penchmond.

"That's a good flick," Sam responded. "I used to watch it a lot. My sister never got into it. She always preferred the newer animated films still coming out nowadays." Sam surprised himself with how open he had become as a result of these childhood memories. He hadn't spoken of his sister with any of his acquaintances, not even his closest friends, and certainly not with Jim. Just mentioning her existence seemed to lift a great burden from Sam's soul.

"Well, then you'll know where I'm coming from, perhaps," Jim continued. "I have a sort of a problem. A vice, really. Something I just can't shake."

"What, like a big problem? Something you need help with?" Sam offered, seeing that this was difficult for Jim. "I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I'm glad to try my best." Even though Sam would never have expected Jim to come to him for advice on anything, this was a position he had been in often enough. Things seemed to come natural to him, and his life, from the outside, evoked a sense of perfection. He had never struggled to get a good job, he had all the merits to allow for complete satisfaction with his position, and, furthermore, he seemed to be able to get any woman he wanted without any effort at all on his part. In this position, dispensing advice to others was a usual task, and one that Sam was well-familiar with.

Jim hesitated again, thinking over how his other confidantes often mocked and derided him for many of his lesser problems. Will Sam be able to understand? Will he be able to help me overcome this? he thought to himself. As he pondered this internally, Sam made a move to look at his watch; clearly there would be little time to sort things out. Perhaps I should wait for another day, another time he thought. But something within him urged him to get this vice off his chest, once and for all. If Sam couldn't help, no one could. "I like to dress up in a pink elephant costume and dance around my apartment to the soundtrack of Dumbo," Jim suddenly blurted out.

This unexpectedly brought back another rush of memories to Sam's mind. He could see his sister, vividly now, as if she were standing right in front of him, dressed in pink and dancing around the room. Marks on her skin that he had forgotten existed were brightly illuminated in his imagination, and an overall sense of helplessness and loss filled his entire body.

"I don't know what to do," Sam finally responded. "But Jim, you called your actions a vice. That's no vice. I've seen vices in this life, vices I myself used to be subject to, and your actions don't constitute any such thing. Keep on dancing, Jim. No one will give a shit."

Jim was comforted by this. He had never heard such utter sincerity spoken by his friend. He was glad for having taken the risk to open himself up, to probe his own depths and release it into the atmosphere for all to absorb. "Thanks Sam, I needed that."

"I did too, Jim. I did too."

About a month later, Jim asked Sam in passing how his sister was doing. Sam responded his usual "not bad" that was expected in such situations. He managed to stifle his snobs until later that evening, when he cried for the first time in over a decade.

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This post is an installment in a continuing series of content coordinated by theme or motif with posts from Enoch Allred of Chiltingham, John Allred of clol Town, Jon Fairbanks of Funkadelic Freestylings of Another Sort, Eli Z. McCormick of Modern Revelation!, John D. Moore of Whatnot Studios, and William C. Stewart of Chide, Chode, Chidden. This week's theme: 'Vice'.