The Plural of Lorax

What're you doing? She asked from one stool down the counter.

I'm not doing anything.

Yes, you are. I mean you're not just sitting there. You're all tensed up inside.

I'm not tense.

Inside. Inside. Your face looks like a...a...a lake with a storm cloud over it. Gun colored and grim.

I'm waiting for the jolt.

You're what?

Waiting for the jolt.

<pause>

Okay, then, be that way. Explain that to me.

Have you ever felt about it when you're in a car and...no, wait. Let me start over. You know how when you're in a car, or train, or bus or something, and it stops?

Well, of course.

Okay. Now, most of the time, when it stops, it slows down and then when it's almost stopped it suddenly jerks to a halt? Like really soft, 'cause it's almost stopped, but you move in your seat a little little bit forward as it actually stops, and then when you rock back...then after it's stopped, you rock back a little bit. Sometimes you're leaning forward the whole time 'cause it's slowing down fast, so when it does stop you rock way back in your seat.

Oh, yes. Yes, I know that. Is that the jolt?

In a way. Okay, now, sometimes, and not very often unless you're with a good driver or on a very slow train, you come to a stop so gently that there's no jolt.

Okay.

Well, when that happens to me, I find myself tensed up and witing for the jolt. When it doesn't come, I get out of sync. If I'm driving the car I sometimes have to let it edge forward so I can stop more sharply and that's the only way to untense myself. Like until I get the jolt, my body won't believe it's stopped.

Oooohhhhhhhh.

So when I feel like that in life, I'm waiting for the jolt.

Why do you feel like that in life?

You have pretty legs.

<colors, slightly.>

Thank you. Why do you feel that way?

Because I feel like my life has stopped, just like life sometimes does, but it did it so softly I didn't notice, so I can't rest easy or start it up again the way I want to, like, to really go past the stopping place, until the jolt comes. And if I was in a car I could just edge it forward a foot or so and stop a bit harder, but I don't know how to do that with life. It just happens, is all.

You're interesting. Why did your life stop?

I don't know. If I knew that, I could prob'ly start it again.

When did it stop?

Can you ever say anything without a question mark on the end?

Yes.

Ohhh, cute.

Don't get snippy just 'cause I'm talking to you, all right?

I'm sorry. Maybe you're the jolt.

You don't know me, and I don't know you.

Well, you're trying to know me, aren't you?

No, I'm trying to know if you know you.

Oh God. You're a New Ager, aren't you.

No. I'm just curious. I study philosophy.

Then why are we here?

Whose answer would you like?

Yours.

I don't have one yet.

When will you?

When I know why. Probably after I'm dead.

Then isn't it kind of a waste to study until you die?

Only if the study is a waste, and it's not.

What good is philosophy without answers?

What good is philosophy with answers?

Don't go Socratic.

I'm sorry. It's just that the process is important, you know? Not just the result.

I wish I could still believe that.

Think of the Lorax.

The who?

Didn't you read Dr. Seuss?

Yeah, long ago.

Well, do you remember the Lorax?

The protector of the trees? A bit.

He failed in the end, almost. All of his trees were cut down. Only the Once-ler, the person who'd cut them down, held the last surviving tree seed. What were they called...

Truffula trees.

Right! Truffula trees. Only the Once-ler had the last truffula seed, even though he was the one who'd killed them all.

Where's this going?

You're waiting for the jolt, I'm explaining myself to you using Seuss.

Okay, okay. That's fair.

Anyhow, the Once-ler waits in his house for a long time, until someone comes and asks him to tell the story. He charges a few trinkets and then tells the story to a small boy, and when he's done he gives him the seed and charges him to plant the seed and regrow the truffulas.

Oooo, deep.

You're not getting it.

What's to get?

Will you think about it for a minute without being sarcastic?

Hey, I'm not going out with you, I can be sarcastic all I want.

Of course you can. Do you want to?

I said not to get Socratic.

So what do you think?

I dunno. I guess then I'm the Once-ler?

Why?

Because I'm sitting here in this wasteland waiting for something and the only thing that'll be the thing I'm waiting for is telling someone about it and handing over the seed. <silence.> What's the plural of Lorax?

What?

You're the philosophy student, and besides, it's your Seuss reference. What's the plural of Lorax? It always bugged me. Is it Loraxes? Loraxi? Loraxae?

I don't know. I thought there was only one, and that was the point.

Ahhh, but that's mine. Maybe there isn't just one. We need a plural, and Seuss didn't give us one. We need to figure it out in case we ever meet two of them, 'cause otherwise what're we gonna do then?

I see your point. I kind of like Loraxae, myself.

Have you ever been to La Jolla, in California?

No. Why?

Does there have to be a why?

No. But I think there is in this case.

You're right. Have you?

No.

Dr. Seuss lived there. He had this house in the hills near a tram that went down to the water, and he had a big pink Caddy with fins that had the license plate 'GRINCH' and he worked there. And if you managed to find him, 'cause he didn't say where he lived, even what city, and if you managed to find him and you brought your kid he'd stop what he was doing and show you around his house and workshop and sometimes draw a drawing for your kid and sign it. He was a great guy apparently.

I didn't know that.

Anyway, I went to La Jolla. I found out Seuss lived there. I've always loved Seuss, as long as I can remember. So I was there, and I was down near the ocean because it was a nce day. And there were these trees near the water, these kind of scrubby trees that looked like they'd been blown into strange shapes by the ocean breeze. And then I went to the beach.

And?

And this beach, it was built by the town for kids. Since the surf is really strong there, and there's mostly rock bluffs down to the water, they put in a curving seawall to make a little cove, and behind the seawall they put in a little beach about fifty yards long, or wide, depending on how you look at it. Anyhow, the funny part is that as soon as they got this beach finished, it got taken over.

By gangs?

No, no. Well, sort of. By seals. The seals decided that this beach was the perfect nap spot after you'd been munching on fish in the cold Pacific all day, since the sand got hot and it was soft. And at night, they like to lie there on there backs. Anyhow, there was a big to-do about people trying to chase them away, harass them, etc. And now, there's always a section of the beach, about half, that's roped off and there are signs saying it's a federal offense to disturb the seals. The seals figured out pretty quick that they weren't in mortal danger from people, and so they basically ignore humans. There's a a piece of rope along the beach, and that's it, and the seals stay about two or three feet inside it and sleep or tussle or roll around or whatever. So I'm sitting on this beach, and I'm looking at these seals thinking how incredibly cool it is that this coexistence is happening, like it never could in New York, right? I mean, the seals'd end up crack addicts or shot or something. Anyway, they're really, really cute, especially the small ones. They're just big shmoo-shaped blobs of fat with flippers and a really cute puppy face and slick fur. You want to just scratch their ears. But there are maybe fifty people standing along the ropes laughing and looking at the seals, and the seals are ignoring the people. Completely indifferent.

That sounds beautiful. And fun. Did you scratch one?

No, I didn't. No-one reached past the rope. And it would've been really easy to, you know? But there are signs saying that how if you disturb the seals they'll leave and never come back to that beach again because they'll remember, and no one disturbed them. I remember thinking two things.

What were you thinking?

For one, I wondered at it, that it was, that there was hope, you know. For people. Because apparently they've been there for a few years. And they still come back. And people still go there and stand behind the rope and take pictures and laugh at the seals because they're beautiful, so beautiful that you have to laugh and call them silly because otherwise you'll cry, and I thought my God, maybe we can make it here, on Earth. Maybe we can make it, and the seals can too.

What was the other thing you were thinking?

Oh. <laugh> Well, there was one seal right near me, sleeping rolled over almost but not quite on his back, and his eyes and the top of his head were away from me, so I was looking at his belly and his chin. And he had whiskers, right? And all of a sudden I'm realizing that my God, he's the Lorax. This is where Seuss got so many of his creatures; this seal looks just like 80% of them, and just as funny. But he's real, and so happy because he's warm and lying the sun and just had a bunch of fish, and he can lie here with his friends and belch and snuffle and roll around in the warm sand. And I knew Seuss had seen them, and that they had been around that coast since he was drawing, and that they were still there, and that there was hope. And I wondered what the hell you called lots of Loraxae, 'cause that's what they were, lying on the beach. They were still there because the Truffula trees weren't gone yet, and people had built them this nice spot to snooze instead of poisoning them. <silence.> Oh, one more funny thing. They'd be sleeping there, and when a wave came in, if it washed around them, they'd all raise their tails, you know? They'd lift their tails out of the water. So all of a sudden, all these seal tails, actually their back flippers cause their tails are really small like mini beaver tails between the flippers, all these seals would raise their tails at once. It was hilarious. And I thought jeez, you could either move another ten feet up the beach, or ignore it, it's just water, you live in it anyway. But they still lifted their feet out of the waves, although they didn't mind the water on their faces. And that just sounded like laziness and warmth and happy seals. And I started crying.

I'd like to see the seals someday.

You should. They're great. They're there all night, too. And there's this whole beach, right, full, just full of stinking life, snuffling and wriggling and snoring and scratching and stinking of fish and sleeping, and it's beautiful. There are people quietly watching the seals just, just be, and there's this life on the beach and everybody's a part of it with the seals.

You're crying.

I know. Fuck off.

What the hell brought that on?

Just leave me alone.

No.

Why not?

Because you don't want me to.

Yes I do.

No you don't. You're sitting there crying your eyes out because you saw something beautiful, and you feel surly because I saw you cry. That's weird. And you just gave me the Truffula seed, too, you see?

No. No I don't. Go away.

Oh yes you do. The story, right? The story's the truffula seed, and you're doing better than the once-ler because the trees aren't all gone yet, and you passed it on anyway and made me see how beautiful it was, enough that I want to go there and watch the seals and nap on the beach with them and scratch their chins even if I can't, and you won! You won, because I want to save that, save that you, and it isn't even gone yet, even if it is threatened. And now you're crying because you're no longer the Once-ler in your little Once-ler house waiting for the boy.

<Wipe nose. Glare.> So I suppose then that I've been saved?

No. <sober, turns back to her hot chocolate and sips, looking at the patterns in the cheap john wall over the service area behind the counter.> No, but I don't know. Only you know. And you're waiting for the jolt.

<silence.>

Can I kiss you?

<brief, small smile; turns back.>What if I'm married?

I didn't ask that.

You don't care?

I didn't ask to have an affair. I didn't ask to date you. I asked if I could kiss you. That's all.

I don't know. <pause> You're smiling.

Yes I am.

I should have seen it coming.

You don't sit there and pull that kind of inner story out and not expect emotions. May I kiss you?

That's all?

I'm not going to answer you until you answer me.

<silence. She finishes her chocolate, turns to face me squarely on the rotating stool and leans her right elbow on the countertop.>

Yes.

<I kiss her, fast, before she changes her mind, and there's a brief silent eternal moment. Her mouth tastes of chocolate and some sort of mint flavor, maybe Certs, and she's a very determined kisser because I hadn't noticed but it's too late because her hand is clenched in the hair at the back of my head and I've got one hand against her cheek and the other behind her back and we're closer and I think I've slid forward off my stool but we're not touching much, it's a kiss not a hug because that's what was discussed but it's gaining speed and she flicks her tongue across mine and moans very very very softly into my mouth as I break the kiss to slide my lips up to her forehead and kiss her there, once, and then each eye, and then to take her hands in mine and place them in our lap and pull back and she's looking at me in loss because I broke the hold but I look at her and think about the story and the six weeks of sitting here in this diner during the night and trying to hate something enough to care and then and then and then she's here and the plural of Lorax is Loraxae, a whole beach of them lazing there and I love her and I don't know her name and she probably is married and I feel the anger coming back and ruthlessly smash it flat before it can drag up the fear and block my life again and I realize that that was it, that was the jolt, and my body and my mind are in sync with my senses again and I'm no longer wound around my shoulders as I feel them unwind in ways I hadn't known they moved and I'm limp with reaction now and my right foot is shaking, I'm nervous, it's tapping one two three four one two three four and I can't make it stop and as she's about to pull away confused and hurt and about to speak I place my finger across her lips and smile, and think about just leaving to trap the moment perfect so I stand and she does too and luckily I instead open my mouth and say to her> "May I make love to you sometime soon?"

And she smiles.

* * *

Ah, Izzy's....a late-night greasy diner on Santa Monica boulevard. This was written therein (not, alas, from experience) on my Newton to while away the insomniac minutes.

-The Custodian