Eirene

Eirene

By R. A. Conti

Babette kept thinking she should turn the car around and head back home. She worried her life might change dramatically if she went to the meeting. But it's only a meeting, she reminded herself. If I don’t like it, I can just leave.

She walked into the Quaker meetinghouse and noticed the worn drabness of the space. There were a couple of peace banners on the walls. A bulletin board contained an orderly arrangement of fliers and announcements of community events and activities. Several people sat around a large table. Many chairs remained empty. The people talked among themselves and no one seemed to notice her. She took the chair near the door. The meeting had not yet begun and she assumed many more participants would be arriving. Only a few others showed up before a woman got up and welcomed everyone.

“Hi, everybody. Thanks for coming. I’m Naomi.” She was a black woman who looked to be around Babette’s age. Naomi was Babette’s height, but fleshier, rounder, and shapelier. She wore a dark skirt and a beige sweater. Babette felt Naomi could wow any man she wanted if she dressed in more revealing clothing. She had a round face, prominent nose, soft mouth, and a dry, business-like voice. “This is a really important meeting. It’s nice to see some new faces.”

Babette came to the meeting because she spoke with Carl. She had assumed he was the group’s leader, but Carl was not in the room. Maybe, she thought, I was mistaken, and Carl’s not the leader but Naomi is.

Babette met Carl at an anti-nuclear weapons demonstration in front of City Hall two weeks earlier. Nuclear Freeze protests were spreading around the world and it had been a large gathering. More than a hundred people showed up, many with signs. There were several impassioned speakers. Babette could tell some were used to speaking in public while others were not and they were nervous. A few of the speakers got the crowd riled up with rants against nuclear weapons.

Carl’s speech stood out because he calmly explained that nuclear weapons were not an isolated problem but connected to bigger societal concerns. He did not go into much detail but his observations intrigued Babette. She approached Carl apprehensively after the demonstration hoping to ask him to explain more about what he mentioned in his brief speech. She feared he might lecture her, start a tirade, or spout clichés about social ills.

“Excuse me.”

“Oh, hello.” Carl was a tall, pudgy guy who wore rumpled clothing and a Phillies baseball cap. He had a youngish face and a kindly smile. She guessed he was about ten years younger than she was. His calm demeanor was that of a much older and wiser person.

“I, um, had a question…, well, several. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” he replied, smiling. Before she could utter her first question, he asked what brought her to the demonstration. His query surprised Babette. She started to think about why she had come and realized she was not certain. She had two young children and worried about their future. That seemed a shallow reason to attend a protest and she did not mention it. Carl waited patiently for Babette to answer.

“It’s a feeling,” Babette said vaguely. “I know it might sound stupid, but I don’t like the way things are going, and I feel…, well…, angry. Sorry, I know that’s not profound,” she apologized and thought Carl would immediately start lecturing her, or shrug his shoulders and walk away.

“Anger is good,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, surprised. Like many people of her generation, Babette was raised to believe anger was a bad thing. It was something you avoided, controlled, or simply denied. Carl nodded.

“When you get angry about something, especially injustice, it shows you’re paying attention,” Carl explained.

She immediately felt she should apologize for being ignorant. “But I really don’t know much about what’s going on.”

“Knowledge can be over-rated,” he replied. Babette wondered what he meant. “Many of these people think they know a lot. Go up to any one of them and ask what they’re against and they’ll give you an immediate answer.” What Carl said seemed obvious to her.

“Well, that’s what I’d expect,” she replied.

“Most of these people- good people as they are- are here because they’re against nuclear weapons.”

“But I’m against them, too.”

“Right. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“You mean there’s more?” she asked. Carl nodded.

“Ask them what they’re for. What kind of answers do you think you’ll get?”

“Well, if they say they’re against nuclear weapons, then they must be against war, so they’re for peace, right?” Babette answered assuming she was being logical and giving Carl the answer he expected.

“That’s what some of them would say. Ask them what that means, though. What is peace?” Babette wanted his question to be rhetorical but felt it was not. She hesitated to answer and waited nervously for him to launch into a lecture about peace. Carl did not say a word. He merely looked at Babette, who felt embarrassed. Shouldn’t I know this? she thought anxiously. Isn’t it obvious what peace is? If it was obvious, why couldn’t she answer Carl’s question? Carl did not press for an answer but went on.

“A few- not many- are here because of what they feel, like you.”

“You mean anger?”

“Right. You probably don’t realize this yet, but your anger connects you in a way that knowledge does not.”

“Connects?” Babette asked, puzzled by his use of the word. Was Carl about to draw her into something, perhaps a cult? She had spoken to people in cults before. They would generally assume they knew you better than you knew yourself. They always seemed to possess all the truths anyone would ever need, were impatient to share them, and hard to get rid of. She expected Carl to start analyzing her feelings and using them to lure her into his ‘cult.’ However, he did not.

“I think your anger shows you care,” Carl said frankly. She could tell he meant it.

“About what?”

“Everything,” he answered. Babette looked at him, puzzled. “The world…,” he added. His voice trailed off and he handed her a flier. She glanced at the headline. It read Beyond Anti-Nuclear. It was put out by an organization called the Eirene Community. She assumed that was where Carl was from and guessed he was the leader. He sounded like a leader but did not seem like a cult leader. He seemed friendly, engaging, and thoughtful. He had spoken about issues she cared about in a way she could understand. She wondered if others in the Eirene Community were like Carl. Babette liked the word ‘community’ in the name, although she did not know what Eirene meant.

“Um, thanks,” she said. Carl smiled warmly and then walked away. Babette looked at the flier. It announced an informal meeting to talk about issues related, but not confined to, nuclear weapons. Babette folded the flier, shoved it in her pocket, went back to her car, and drove home thinking about Eirene. She wondered why an anti-nuclear weapons group (if that’s what it was) meant by calling itself a ‘community,’ and felt curious. She was sorry she had not asked Carl more questions. Babette decided to attend the meeting to find answers.

Everyone waited expectantly for Naomi to explain what the meeting was about. Instead, she suggested that they go around the table and introduce themselves. Babette immediately felt nervous. She had assumed she could just listen, like when she was at the protest rally, and leave if she did not like what she heard. Babette did not pay attention to what the others said. She did not hear them say their names and where they were from. She missed other details they mentioned as she tried to think of what she would say when it was her turn to speak.

“Uh, hi. I’m Babette. I, uh…, I’ve never been here before,” she said shyly when her turn came. She could think of nothing else to add and looked at Naomi. She smiled, waited a few seconds, and then called on the next person. Babette hoped that was the last time she would have to speak, but it was not.

Carl walked in, greeted everyone, and smiled when he saw Babette. “Hello again. We met a couple of weeks ago at that big demonstration at City Hall. We got to talking about some stuff that got me thinking. Do you remember what we talked about?” Babette nodded. “What was it?”

“Um, I’m not sure. We talked about several things.”

“Right. But the one I’m referring to is when I asked you ‘what is peace?’ Remember that?” Babette nodded uneasily. “What did you tell me?” Babette panicked and tried to recall her answer. She realized she had not answered, nor had Carl.

“Um, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Have you thought about it since then?” Babette did not know how to answer. If she said yes, she feared Carl would expect her to explain, and she felt reluctant to try to share her feelings with the group of strangers. She wanted to say no, but she had thought about it and mentioned it to her boyfriend Gregory. He was surprised she brought it up but did not have an answer either. He had not known until then that she was thinking about peace.

Gregory had encouraged her when she mentioned she was thinking about attending the protest. Babette was a filmmaker who had documented anti-war demonstrations during the Vietnam War. Her films were in a box in their bedroom closet. Gregory had only seen one or two of them, did not know how many more there were, and never asked about them.

Babette learned a lot about the anti-war movement but stopped filming protests as her career as a cinematographer took off. She and her ex-husband Michael Romanelli made pornographic movies starting in the late 1960s. Babette and Michael left Philadelphia when their production company, Rialto Films, relocated to Los Angeles. She did cinematography there for a couple more years but became bored and felt she was wasting her time. She left Rialto and Michael, came back to Philadelphia, got a job running the Audio Visual department at the Community College, and now supervised all the equipment and staff.

 Babette sat quietly and hoped Carl would let her off the hook. He did.

“Okay. Well, let’s start there, friends. Let’s start with ‘what is peace?’ What do you think it is? Anybody…?”

“How was that meeting?” Gregory asked when Babette returned to their apartment after the meeting. The children were already asleep in their beds. Gregory did not want to do much talking. He hoped they would go right to bed so they could have sex before they fell asleep. He had been looking forward to it all afternoon.

“Interesting,” Babette answered. Gregory immediately felt apprehensive. A vague answer might mean they were about to have a long conversation which could mean there would likely be no sex tonight.

“Many people?” he asked, hesitantly.

“A few.”

“What happened?”

“We talked, mostly,” she replied evasively. Gregory waited. “Oh, and then they- we- planned an action.”

“A what?”

“A protest. We planned it out. I’m going to video it.”

“When?”

“Next month.”

“Where?”

“There’s an Allied Industries plant at 32^nd and Chestnut Streets.”

“Really? I never noticed it.”

“Me neither.”

“So they’re going to protest at a factory? Why?”

“It’s not just any factory.”

“Yeah, it probably is. Allied Industries makes washing machines, TVs, and light bulbs.”

“Not this factory.”

“No? What does it make?”

“Parts for nuclear bombs.”

“No way!”

“That’s what they said.”

“I thought the government made nuclear bombs.”

“Well, it only pays for them. They’re built by corporations.”

“Companies like AI?” he asked, astonished. She nodded. “Damn.” Gregory suddenly felt not just that he wanted to have sex with Babette, but that he needed to. The purpose was no longer mutual pleasure but intimacy. That was the only antidote for the deep dread nuclear weapons caused. He kissed her, hoping she would get the hint. She responded by putting her arms around him.

“Did you miss me?” she asked sweetly. He nodded. “Good. I missed you, too, but I’m glad I went.” Gregory did not know if he felt happy that she went but he knew they would be safe and secure in their bed. He took her hand and led her there. They checked on the kids before they reached their bedroom.

Gregory fell asleep after they made love. Babette lay quietly and thought about the meeting. She turned on her side, put her arm around Gregory, and, as she fell asleep, realized that she knew what peace was.