Paterson
Chapter 5
'Why doesn’t Paterson publish any of the poems he writes?’
‘umm..What?’. Quite an interesting way to welcome a passenger inside a cab thought Frank as he scooted inside the cab and closed the door on his left. He placed his laptop bag on his left seat as he adjusted his jacket. Instead of the regular radio noise, he heard a man’s voice reading a poem. He rubbed his hands to warm it up and leaned forward to reengage with the cab driver, ‘What were you asking?’
‘Shhhh.. Let’s listen to this poem for a minute. It’ll be worth it. Shall we?’
Thinking of what kind of adventurous drive he’s got for the next 14 minutes, he leaned back with a gasp and tried to relax. As a habit, he opens the front zip of his bag to look for his Airpods. He was reminded that his Airpods had been missing for the last three days. The driver, wearing a Detroit Lions cap, turned back his head and gave him a quick smile — a real smile. Frank forced himself to smile back as he tilted his head down to check the driver’s profile on the rideshare app. He’s saw that he’s got a 4.9 out of 5 rating, and a lot of passengers have reviewed him high for ‘Conversation’. ‘Right on!’ he said, becoming quiet and listening to the stray words coming from the speakers in his cab.
The Line
There’s an old song
my grandfather used to sing
that has the question,
“or would you rather be a fish?”
In the same song
is the same question
but with a mule and a pig,
but the one I hear sometimes
in my head is the fish one.
Just that one line.
Would you rather be a fish?
As if the rest of the song
didn’t have to be there.
The cab driver paused the audio and turned his head back again to look at Frank’s reaction. ‘So, what do you think of the poem?’
‘Actually, this poem sounds familiar to me. Is this from a movie?’
‘Ma Man, you got it right. It’s from Paterson,’ the cab driver replied with excitement.
‘The one with Adam Driver in it! I have just seen a few scenes from this movie on YouTube. Adam Driver is one of my favorite Hollywood actors.’
‘Imma surprise ma man. What are the odds that you know about this movie, too? What are the odds? Not a lot of people know about this movie. It is like a hidden gem. I saw this movie yesterday, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.’
Frank could see him getting excited, his shoulders widening, and him leaning a bit front on this seat. Frank continued, ‘It’s been a couple of years since I saw that movie. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about that movie?’
‘You know, brother? I have been working on my Novel for quite some time. I wanted to say about two years ago. Every time I finish a chapter, I publish it on my WordPress blog. Do you know many people who engage with my blog? Very few! It’s not encouraging at all, and I don’t feel motivated to continue writing. I don’t have anyone in my life who believes in me to be a good writer. It pains me. And then I saw this movie, this guy, he’s similar to me. I’m a cab driver. He’s a bus driver. I write novels. He writes poems. He’s from New York. I’m from Detroit. He writes poems every single day. He writes in the morning, at lunch break, and repeats it the next day. The only big difference between him and me is that I share my progress on my Novels on my blog after every single Chapter, but Paterson never shares any of them with the outside world. Why doesn’t Paterson publish any of the poems he writes? Does he dislike the society? Is he not confident about himself? He spelled out those questions in the same curious tone as before.
‘That sounds like an interesting plot for a movie.’ responded Frank as if he didn’t have anything better to tell. Frank sensed that the Cab driver went into a reflective silence, looking straight at the road with a contemplative stare. For a moment, the sound of the engine filled the silence. Wanting to keep the conversation alive, Frank asked him in a genuine tone of voice, ‘So, What do you write about?’
The cab driver’s eyes sparkled with a sudden burst of energy as he leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel tighter. ‘So, you want to hear my Novel’s premise, brother? It might sound a bit crazy’
‘I love crazy’
‘Aight! So, in my Novel, there’s this city, right? But it’s not a normal city. The city has a consciousness, but it’s hidden deep within, only showing itself in subtle ways — like changing street lights at just the right time or making certain buildings feel warmer than others on cold nights. And here’s the kicker: the people living in the city don’t know they’re being influenced. They think it’s all coincidences, but the city’s shaping their lives and choices, without them ever knowing.’
Frank’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Wait, so the city is controlling them?’
‘Not exactly controlling, more like… nudging them. Pushing them towards certain decisions or experiences. Like, maybe you take a different route to work one day because of a traffic jam, and that small choice leads you to meet someone who changes your life. But it’s all part of the city’s plan, and the city is trying to weave the story of all its inhabitants together.’
‘That’s… that’s clever,’ Frank said, impressed. ‘So, is the city good or evil?’
‘Great question, I don’t know. The city does not think of itself as good or evil. It just wants to grow like anything alive. In that process, it manipulates people in the city.’
‘That’s sounds really interesting. How much further are you in your Novel?’
‘Just four chapters.’
‘You should keep writing. This is an interesting plot to explore.’ Frank grinned with an encouraging tone.
‘Thank you for the encouragement, brother,’ he responded and resumed the audio on his infotainment system.
Pumpkin
My little pumpkin,
I like to think about other girls sometimes,
but the truth is
if you ever left me
I’d tear my heart out
and never put it back.
There’ll never be anyone like you.
How embarrassing.
It started drizzling as they drove near the street of Frank’s home. ‘So, what happened to your car?’
‘My wife drove it today. Our other car is in the dealership to fix one of my headlights’.
The cab came to a symphonic stop in front of Frank’s home. ‘All right, my friend. You take it easy!’
Frank sees an earbuds case lying on the seats below his bag just as he exits the cab. “Hey, it looks like someone left their AirPods,” Frank said to the Cab driver.
“Show it to me, let me see”. Frank showed the earbuds to the cab driver for him to take a full look at it.
‘I think it might be the old lady before you. Take it if you need it.’
‘Wouldn’t she call you back for these earbuds?’
He mused for a while, not answering Frank’s question directly, he answered rhetorically ‘You don’t need it?’
‘Just take it for youself. I don’t think she’s going to call me’ The cab driver offered the earbuds like how the Japanese guy offers a new notebook to Adam Driver in the climax scene of Paterson.
Frank was very tempted by the offer. ‘This would save me a hundred bucks or so’ he thought to himself. But he couldn’t get his lips to say ‘Yes’. ‘I think she’s gonna call you.’ he responded with a smile and handed the earbuds case to the cab driver. ‘It was great chatting with you, and hey, Good luck with your novel’
The cab driver tipped his cap and nodded his head. ‘Don’t forget to give me a 5-star review. I gave you one already.’
‘I will, Sir, ’ Frank responded as he jogged towards his front door with this bag. As Frank ran towards his front door, he got a message from Preet: ‘Hey, I will be in Detroit next week. Do you want to catch up for dinner?’ Frank gave a faint smile at the message, locked his mobile screen, and kept walking towards his home front door.
****
Claire sat in the hospital lobby, staring at a painting of two little girls sitting on a regal red carpet and idyllically watching the bowl of golden fishes, quiet and passive. Claire wishes her soul could muster the same calmness as those two girls. She observed that her black leather boot frantically tapping the floor a while ago seemed to have slowed down. For the last three days, she couldn’t sleep for more than two hours straight. She opened her music app and played Rachmaninoff piano concerto 2. It is as if her mind gets cleaned up of any negative thoughts whenever she listens to Rach 2. Especially, she loves that version of Rach by Anna Fedorova — the sensuality with which Fedorova plays always seems to streamline the erraticness of Claire’s heartbeat. Claire kept staring at the painting for another five minutes, and just about the end of 1st movement, she went into a deep slumber.
After 20 minutes, Claire wakes up to the gentle tap of the Nurse on her shoulder. “Mrs. Claire, I’m sorry to wake you in the middle of your nap. You are up next,” says the Nurse with a hiccup of laughter.
Claire woke up rubbing her eyes with her both hands. “Oh, I’m sorry. Be there in a minute”, Claire responded as she tried her best to smile back. She got up after few seconds and started walking towards the physician’s office.
Her friend Tara was standing at her door to welcome Claire with a warm smile. Claire stops the music and takes out her earpods to put it on her case. Claire enters Tara’s office and gives her a warm bear hug. ‘How have you been?’
‘No complaints, life’s great. How have you been?’
‘Fine, just fine.’ Claire took off her black leather jacket and sat down. ‘This is some really good painting you have here instead of the usual non-evocative abstract art bullshit you find in most places. Frank might even be switching his primary care here just for the Art you guys have.’
‘Haha.. we do have good art here. It’s something peculiar about this hospital. One of the board of directors at the hospital is also on the board at the city’s museum. So he somehow rotates the Art here every year. I barely get time to sit patiently and look at them. Which one did you like?’
‘The one in the lobby. The two little girls and the fish bowl.’
‘Oh, Yeah, that’s a good one.’
Claire continued, ‘How’s Aarav?’
‘He’s swell. He’s been traveling a lot quite lately. Can’t say I don’t miss him.’ Tara noticed Claire staring at the diagnostics file in front of her. Switching the Conversation in a sudden turn, Tara continued, ‘Hey, Your diagnosis is looking good. I looked into your blood test results and your brain CTs. Everything is within range. Your blood pressure seems to be in the lower range, but there is nothing to be concerned about. When’s the last time you blackout?’
‘Uhm… about ten days ago.’
‘And you said you could remember three blackouts before this?’
‘Yeah, three times I can remember,’ Claire responded as she sipped some water from her glass.
‘Do you know if somebody in your family had a similar condition?’
‘Not my parents. I am not sure if my grandmother had a similar condition like mine. She’s very quiet and reserved around people. I remember the last 10 years she lived; she would never let go of my grandfather even for a moment, but she also didn’t go outside a lot during those years.’
‘Got it; let me add that to your medical records. If you can find any medical records of your grandmother, share it with me. It would be helpful to understand what’s going on with you. We can do another MRI if needed. I checked your insurance, and it covers up for your MRI.’
‘I’m not sure if I can get anything on my granny. She is an odd lady. She never liked going to the hospitals, and she didn’t allow my mom to treat her or get her to see a doctor. But I can check again. What do you think is happening to me?’
Tara leaned back in her chair, taking a moment to structure her response to Claire’s question. ‘Well, it’s hard to say definitively without more data. Based on what we’ve seen so far — your test results, the episodes you’ve mentioned — there’s no immediate cause for alarm. But the fact that you’ve experienced these blackouts multiple times makes it something we need to keep a close eye on.’
Claire shifted in her seat, her brow furrowing. ‘So, what could be causing it?’
Tara glanced at Claire’s file. ‘There are a few possibilities — stress, for one. Sometimes, the body reacts to long-term mental or emotional strain in strange ways, even when we don’t realize it. Have you noticed any changes in your daily routine — sleeping, eating, work — anything out of the ordinary?’
Claire thought for a moment. ‘Not really. Work’s been… intense, but nothing I haven’t handled before.’
Tara nodded. ‘I get it. Fatigue and stress can manifest in ways we don’t expect. But we can’t rule out other factors. As I mentioned earlier, blood pressure fluctuations could also play a role. It’s not dangerously low, but we’ll monitor it closely. If it drops too much at the wrong time, it could trigger a blackout. I have a friend of mine whom I trust and whom I can recommend to you. He’s a neurosurgeon. He stopped practicing two years ago to go back to teaching. I can try to set up an appointment with him. What do you say?’
‘Sure, if that’s what you recommend. I’ll see him.’ Claire responded in a flat voice.
‘Hey, Is Frank busy? Why isn’t Frank here?’
‘Oh, he’s got busy at work today. Couldn’t join me’ Claire responded in a straight voice.
‘Does he know about your condition?’ Tara asked Claire in a hesitant voice.
Claire just gave her a faint smile without responding to her question. Tara looked a bit dazzled by her silence. The friend in her wanted to nudge her a bit more, but the professional in her wanted to holdback and change the topic. Noticing her predicament, Claire broke the silence. ‘Hey girl, I’m sorry. To be honest, Frank doesn’t know all this yet. I..I don’t know why I’m not telling him. That’s a part of mine even I don’t understand.’
Tara leaned forward in her chair, held Claire’s hand, and squeezed warmly. Claire responded with a sorority smile in her eyes.
‘Everything good between you guys?’
Claire just nodded her head and got up from her chair to leave. Tara straightened up on her chair and got up from her chair, ‘Hey, next Thursday Aarav and I are hosting a sushi party. We thought of inviting you both. Are you guys available?’
‘I need to just check with Frank once. Count us Tentatively in. Who else will be there?’
‘Maybe some Indian friends of Aarav, and I am thinking of inviting Juliet.’
‘Sounds like a good group. We’ll try to be there.
*Tara handed Claire her file and gave her a goodbye hug.
****
Claire entered the home to hear the loud sound of Metallica music playing at a blaring volume on their home speakers. Before even entering the hall, she knew what to expect — Frank working on his new project. To her anticipation, she saw Frank cutting foam core boards in his living room with an X-acto knife. She also saw their DSLR camera disassembled over the dining table.
‘Hey Sugary, where have you been?’ *Frank walked towards Claire to hug her. He smelled cigars on her coat as he got close to hugging her. He wrapped his hand around her shoulders, the X-Acto knife still in one hand. ‘Careful with the knife,’ she giggled as she hugged him back.
‘What’s up with the Cuban cigars? Haven’t smelled those in years. What’s going on?’
‘What are you working on here?’ Claire replied, averting her eyes towards the foam board on the dining table.
‘So, now you are going to give me a non-answer? You are smoking for the first time in years. You wanna talk about what’s going on?’
*Claire saw Frank’s forehead frowning and his eyes giving a straight stare at her. He left the X-Acto knife on the dining table, put his hand on his hip, and just stood there waiting for her to reply. Claire neared him and wrapped her hands around his stomach, looked up into his eyes, and stared at him for a few seconds. ‘I am fine, baby. Just a little be stressed at the job.’ she said in a weak tone of voice to him. Both of them stared at each other’s eyes for a couple of more seconds. Frank grabbed both her hands on her arm and unwrapped himself. He walked towards the fridge in the kitchen and opened it to grab a bottle of Modelo. He opened the bottle with his mouth, a bit perplexed, and went into a moment of reflection— This is so unlike Claire. I am the one who always hides in my cave. Claire always, always speaks out her emotions out loud. Why is she behaving like me? Realizing that confronting her behavior was not going to make her open up, he decided to be patient about this whole situation.
*Claire saw a poetry book by William Carlos Williams on the dining table. She grabbed that book, leafed through some pages, and murmured one of the first poems in there,
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
‘Very vivid poetry’ exclaimed Claire after reading it and she read it again with her eyes, in silence.
‘I met this very interesting cab driver today. I’ve had this poetry book for so long. You remember Billy Collins from New York?’
‘Yeah, he was at our wedding.’
‘He gifted me this book long back.’
‘What is that you are building?’ Claire enquired as she grabbed a piece of the foam core board.
‘Didn’t I tell you about this interesting Cab driver I met today? He asked me this very interesting question, which made me self-reflect on the little smart home projects I do. The way I understood his question was whether I would do art for art’s sake. Like, would I build something even if I don’t get to show it off to the outside world? And that’s what I am trying to explore here with this Quantum 360-degree instant camera. I don’t have a proper name for this yet. All I have for now is a sketch of the idea and all the components needed.’ Frank showed her the product concept sketch.
‘You plan to keep it on our dining table? What will happen to my Orchids then?’ Claire asked him inquisitively, looking at the product concept.
‘We’ll have the orchids too. So, imagine being able to access a memory lane and emotions after years. This Camera would be on the dining table, automatically capturing moments and taking pictures of us in our different states of emotions based on our facial expressions and our tone of voice. But, the caveat is that we would be able to access these photos only after a year. I even think that we would be able to only select ten photos from the entire year.’
‘Interesting. Why should we wait for a year to access the photos?’
‘Think about this - We take hundreds of photos whenever we go on trips, and in a typical year, we have close to a thousand photos in our Gallery. We rarely have the time to check out those pictures. So, I am hoping that this camera works as intended and it clicks really beautiful pictures that we can’t access instantly. By delaying access to these pictures, would we start valuing these photos and those moments more?’
‘Maybe, I don’t know. We might know in a year haha. I find it fascinating — that this camera could also be like a memory vault. But, why the name Quantum?’
‘It’s just an inspiration from some of my recent readings on Quantum. It’s this idea related to Quantum decoherence; any attempt to copy the photos from the device would corrupt the photos and permanently delete them.’
‘I think I get it. It’s hard to conceptualize. Maybe you can design it in a way that we can view the pictures on the software but not able to print them.
‘I thought about it too, Claire. I need to think about it… He went into a moment of silence… his eyes looking sharp and focused, but his face devoid of any emotions. He continued. ‘You know, this design decision between being able to print the picture and not being able to print is at the heart of the question I am asking myself, too. You know me. Every time I build one of these smart home products, I share it on social media. Having that external validation for my work and seeing that some people appreciate my work motivates me. Would I continue to build and prototype these smart home products even if I don’t get enough social media engagement for my posts? I don’t know, Claire. I don’t know, and you know what? That’s what this product concept is all about for me, too. It’s a metaphor for my internal struggle.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with sharing on social media. You know, Ilya is now trying to build these at his home, too. My colleague Molly was complaining about how you have spoiled Ilya, haha. Your work inspires others, baby.’
‘There’s truth to that. But..’
‘But, what?’
‘Nothing!’
‘Don’t overthink.’ *Claire gently pressed Frank’s forehead with her forefinger playfully. She removed her black leather jacket and headed upstairs.
‘Hey, before I forget, Tara invited us for dinner next week. I told her that I’ll confirm your availability before committing.’
‘Yeah, my schedule next week is more free. When was the last time our friends were invited anyway? Let’s go out!!’
‘Let me change to my night dress and be down soon to make us some Thai curry for dinner.’
‘Thai curry sounds great for this weather. Hey, You wanna watch a movie while we eat dinner?’
‘Which one?’
‘Paterson.’
****
~Rahul Sekar
P.S: Read the first four chapters in this series here,
Chapter 1 — Mood ring, empathy, and brown tomatoes
Chapter 2 — Mandalas, oxidation paintings and everything ephemeral
