VIOLENT AIMS

The he- or she-bat swoops in and shrieks and flies past our fancy crème candlesticks which are not lit with flames that dance, and knocks them onto the hardwood floor, snapping them in half like broken tibias and fibula’s. The bat is confused and scared and does not know what to do – and neither do we. With the windows shut, with the bat blind loose in our living room, with Joan and I locked in a damp and dark closet all disoriented, the world upside down, we clutch each other and are in between laughs and sobs. I become slightly aroused as Joan brushes her hand against my thigh, but immediately after I imagine this dark, black ‘other,’ this creature of the night, a creature without sight who mostly, from what I’ve seen, is never kept as a pet, with all these intentions to infect me with terrible disease, I begin to feel less like a sexual being and more like an object for its pleasure. I am a bit scared in the closet with Joan, and feel some need to be “the man” in this situation and “take care of business” but she knows me too well. And besides, she let go of me more than a few seconds ago: I’m still clutching her sweatshirt, shaking (just a little bit). And then she, of all the two of us, is the one who surprisingly dispels the fear exclaiming, it’s cute! Joan busts out of the closet and I am frozen in terror with the door flapping open and screams and shrieks and calamity melting into one loud sound. I am frightened of a rodent with wings, and a bit ashamed and guilty of fear. In this house, where we make ourselves masters of nature, I am scared of that which crept in from the outside and came inside and has taken over my serene surroundings. Once I hear Joan scream I got it out! I walk out of the closet, ashamed and saddened at the thought that I cannot recognize the beauty in such natural things – that I was scared of what is also myself. And I stand there in the living room with Gone With the Wind paused, the frankly my dear I don’t give a damn scene, with a tremendously cool October breeze sneaking in through one open window, while the leaves rustle outside on the sidewalk, and the scent of carved pumpkins and burning wax seeps in, and the children with dirt on their hands hold them open for their favorite treats and giggle and smile and I smile at the thought of such a creature, stigmatized, marginalized, this bat with his leathery wings entering down through our chimney to remind this animal, this man, me: you have absolutely nothing and everything to fear.