EARMARKED

Joseph Kablowsky was the most ordinary man in the world or so he'd been told all his life. Not that he felt that way inside, mind you, but every time he would begin to feel good about himself and alter his life's seemingly predestined course, someone would bring him back to earth, to reality. It had to be true. 'Regular guy', 'ordinary Joe', 'a good ol' boy', 'just plain folk'. How many times had he heard these phrases in his fifty-three years? If he were paid a nickel for each time¦

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, absorbed and amused with the naked form that appeared before him. There certainly wasn't much to look at. The nose was humongous. But didn't a honker project power? Why did it have to be called ugly? Whatever happened to prominent? Okay, so it wasn't his best feature.

And what's all the to do about hair. Did everyone have to have hair like John Kerry? No, he would never comb the few strands left to one side as many of the guys at work had begun to do. Bald is bald and bald is beautiful, isn't it?

But those eyes¦now they are something, he thought. Large and brown; warm, maybe a bit on the sad side but a good feature nonetheless.

The mouth too was a little imperfect, even a little thin, but he did like to kiss although Edna Mae never really did. He smiled broadly, facing that crooked grin head on. There was a dignity in that smile. Couldn't anyone else see that?

Now the chest. Not exactly a six-pack. In fact, it was, well, sagging. He pulled the skin back tightly, but after years of no exercise there was no underlying muscle development. So? He'd just wear a shirt at all times. Not much of a problem there. He never did care much for summer and the beach was too far a drive anyway.

Even as a young boy, Joseph never played any sports. Everyone assumed he had no coordination and constantly went out of their way to make a point of that unfounded assumption. Except for stolen private moments and a vivid imagination, Joseph had very little fun as a kid. Still deep down, he always knew that given half a chance, he could have been a success, at sports, at everything¦at being a boy.

He recalled the brisk fall afternoons in his fifteenth year of life, in that hour right after school just before his mother came home from work. It was then when he could be himself. He would run through the yard with Sunny, his yellow oversized mutt. Sunny was a soul mate Joseph had picked out for himself from the local pound. Joseph's father had died when he was only three and with no siblings and an overprotective mother, there was no one he could share his feelings with¦except Sunny.

Running through the yard as fast as he could, Joseph would see the clothesline appearing closer and closer and he would thrust his chest out like a bold peacock, as he led the track team to a victorious finish. Sunny would cheer him on, running close by his side, his barking loud and uncontrolled. If there were no clothes on the line, Joseph would run right through it, knocking down the metal posts, his head held back in glorious triumph. Quickly, he would hammer the posts back into the dark moist soil so his mother would have no clue as to his unacceptable, unbecoming elation in himself. She probably wouldn't have been angry, but she might have been upset. She insisted he was too frail to indulge in normal childhood behavior; said he wasn't like other boys his age. He couldn't bear to hear it again. The words were too devastating.

The summer of his junior year there was an opening for a water boy on the school's baseball team. He volunteered and was quickly accepted. Nobody else in school wanted the position. Joseph watched the games, imagining a fly ball sailing toward the fence. He saw himself leaping from the bench and rising high in the blue sky, his right arm extended as far as it would go. The roar of the crowd filled him with joy as the ball landed effortlessly in the pocket of his lucky mitt. In the bleachers, cheering wildly was beautiful Julie Appleton, her long blonde ponytail swaying from side to side as she danced with glee at his amazing prowess. Unfortunately, in real life, Julie Appleton never said a word to Joseph. She only dated Jocks.

Then graduation came and college was just a summer away. He had hoped it would be a chance for a fresh start. It was a good 200 miles from his hometown and no one from his class was going there. But after the first year, he became disillusioned. Things were not any better. Different faces; different places; same attitudes. The feeling of being painfully unimportant swept across him like a blinding sandstorm and he couldn't understand why. What did he do to deserve it?

But Edna Mae liked him. Her chair was next to his in English class. She had very little confidence in herself and for a while, they were like two peas in a pod. Edna Mae liked what she saw in Joseph¦herself.

But in truth, she wasn't at all what Joseph wanted¦just all he could get. So everyone said. 'Marry her, Joseph, it's not everyday someone goes for you'; 'you're not exactly the lady killer, Joe and you're almost twenty one now'; 'just how many chances do you think you're going to get'? But what about a partner for me, Joseph wondered? An equal, a true mate? Why couldn't he express that sentiment? So what if they laughed. But maybe they were right. Maybe that's what he and Edna were, equals. Everyone said they were so it had to be true. And it had to be his fate.

His eyes dropped to his stomach and for a brief moment he flinched before humor regained its dominance. Considering that his mid section had never had the benefit of sit-ups, or pull ups or any kind of weight lifting equipment, it wasn't all that bad. When Edna Mae was alive, he tried to convince her to join a health club with him so they could work out together. She wouldn't hear of it. Said she wasn't coordinated; said she would look silly and so would he. Who did he think he was, Jack LaLanne? Maybe, he thought, just maybe it wasn't too late. He pulled in his stomach. He would go see his doctor next week and get on some kind of program. The health club in the mall was always running specials.

He skipped the good part, except for a quick glance on the way to the knees. No problem there. Especially if someone would ever really appreciate him.

Those crazy knees. This time he laughed out loud at the knobby little things and the straight skinny calves all the way down to the ankles. He'd just have to wear long pants at all times. It was starting to get cool anyway. He would work out in sweats. Designer sweats.

He walked to the dresser and took out a pair of boxer shorts and a plain white T- shirt from the drawer. The picture of Edna Mae sat atop the dresser, a sad wistful smile on her lips. "Edna, he begged, "forgive me. He pressed his lips to the glass before carefully laying it face down inside the drawer.

He glanced at the clock on the bed stand. His art class was at 7:00 and he had no intention of being late. He had always loved to draw and decided to give it a try and besides, he really liked his teacher. Not only was she dynamic and talented, pretty and bright, she even seemed to take to him. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, he overheard her tell another teacher she thought he actually showed promise.

He arrived a good ten minutes early.

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