Flashback to Summer 2006: on the west side of Wisconsin Rapids, Angelica and James crawl around the carpeted basement floor of James's mom's house, picking up shards of glass. James' hands shake and blood drips from where he squeezed the glass too hard. ""What happened just now, James?"" Angelica says. ""What are you thinking about?""
James has just used a metal baseball bat to smash the shit out of a wooden coffee table that's covered with all his friends' signatures. The coffee table happened to have a glass of rum and coke sitting on top of it. Angelica feels a raw energy emanating from James, an energy she feels too well, too often. It is the rage of the powerless, the rage of the adolescent who does not have access to the information necessary to define his or her needs, much less meet them.
What happened was James's on-and-off girlfriend called on James's mom's house phone. Angelica's boyfriend, Charlie, made sex noises in the background while James was trying to talk to this girl he feels deeply attached to. The girl hung up on James.
Cue the rage.
Flash forward to October 2007: Angelica strides boldly and sneeringly around her parents' six acres, searching for something to break. She finds a solid glass cube, one of the beautiful, poetic accents her father has placed in the yard. She picks it up and carries it over to the rock wall near the grape arbor. She lifts the cube over her head and hurls it at the stones. The object of her frustration? Nothing. October. Not quite being an adult yet. Feeling powerless, powerless, powerless.
Flash forward to last week, September 2011: Angelica crosses West Gilman Street on University Avenue. She notices a boy among the group of people walking toward her. This boy looks like James, who she hasn't seen in at least four years. He is looking at her too, in one of those long, questioning stares that says, ""Are you…?""It is, indeed, James. Angelica suggests tea because James frequently indicates his love of tea on Facebook. Both of his hands shake as one holds the stub of a cigarette and the other programs Angelica's number into his friend Johnny's phone. James promises to call later that afternoon.
He calls. Angelica walks toward the corner of State and West Gilman to meet him. She sees him in front of American Apparel looking confused and anxious. He finally notices her and looks very relieved. She leads him into Dobra Tea. The content of their conversation? Desperation, alienation, lack of understanding, lack of community, lack of resources. And music.
Deb Talan of The Weepies sings, ""Sometimes it's hard to tell the truth from the lies. Nobody knows what's in the whole of your mind. We are all buildings with people inside, never know who'll walk through the door. Is it someone that you've met before?""
Angelica suddenly sees Madison, the Mecca of her youth, the vibrant hub of culture that always felt more comfortable than Rapids' shiftless ennui, through James's eyes. She realizes the incredible fortune she has fallen into by having the encouragement and the means necessary to live comfortably in this university town and spend so much time thinking about abstract concepts such as the ""theory-ladenness of observation."" She feels that becoming-more-familiar panicky sensation that seems to occur only when she talks to someone still living in her hometown.
Eventually, time comes for the conversation to end. James expresses regret bordering on alarm at this parting. Angelica senses he hasn't had a conversation like this in a long time, especially not while sober. After he's gone, she reads a little bit of her book and tries to shake the dread of what it must be like to still live in Rapids. She tries to tell herself that saving James is not her job. But mostly she thinks about how important it is to have someone who accepts your uniqueness enough to help you accept it yourself.
Is Madison a haven for you too? Share your thoughts with Angelica at aengel2@wisc.edu.
