They Call it The City of Angels
A New Serial Novel by Joshua A. TRILIEGI
Exclusively for Readers of BUREAU of ARTS and CULTURE and
our Three sites in Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York City
All National & International Copy Rights Reserved to the Author
Chapter Five: Cliff
Cliff was psychic, not for a living or anything like that. Just had
a knack for reading people, had a way with animals and a sort
of connection with the elements that was, let us say, out of the
ordinary. Like a lot of so-called handicapped persons, he had
some hidden gifts that made up for the fact that he couldn't
speak very well, had trouble with motor skills, would never be
able to hold down a job, keep a home or cook his own meals.
He was disabled as people like to say, remedial or worse even,
retarded. Cliff's father, Stan, was a judge, he always winced when
his colleagues used that term. His mother, Dora was a retired
lawyer who ran her own legal advisement company and would
actually correct people whenever they denigrated her son with
those types of labels. "Cliff is challenged, but he's no dummy." or
"He may need some help, but he's got a great heart." or "He has
his problems, but he's never said a bad thing about you." She was
nobodies fool. And by god she wasn't about to let people get away
with any mean spirited conversation about her only child.
He attended a sort of day care type of school. One in which there
were daily outings in between lessons, classes, working with sound,
colors, sometimes simplified mathematics and social sciences, to a
degree. In the classroom, his teachers were all certified practitioners,
but on daily social outings, volunteers were often on staff. Retired
widows, stay at home wives, middled aged women who were unmarried,
this kind of thing. They often took a group of kids to the park, out to
lunch or even to a museum every now and then. One day, one of Dora's
clients recognized him walking with his schoolmates and a volunteer
up past the L.A County Museum of Art. She specifically remembered
Cliff because her own daughter had some issues which led her to seek
legal advice and Cliff happened to be in the office with mom. Some
time later, the client mentioned in passing that she ran into Cliff at
the museum and couldn't help but notice that the kids were wearing
shirts and jackets of a wide variety with disparaging comments of
all sorts. Cliffs T-shirt, said in bold black letters : YOU STINK !
Another kid wore a hat that said, ' LOSER ' , another with a
jacket that stated, ' I never Loved You '. The client chuckled, asking
Dora where she bought it. Cliffs mom didn't buy it. In fact she had no
idea why her son was wearing it. Well, after some looking into, it
turned out that the ' volunteer ' had recently broke up with her boy
friend who happened to be a security guard at the museum, so she
made the kids wear these hats, coats and t-shirts unbeknownst to
any of the kids parents or the kids themselves. Further investigation
revealed that it had become a common practice among the volunteers
to do such a thing. The kids were being used as props. When Dora
found out about it in full, she brought it up to Stan and they decided
to do what any good legal family would do. They decided to sue.
Stan was a judge in high profile cases. Through the years, he had
watched his more liberal contemporaries end up in disparaging
posts such as traffic court in Compton or settling housing issues
Downtown, the Judge Judy type of detail. He had played his cards
right, literally. He was a kind man, patient, quiet, respected by his
bailiffs and well liked buy most of the people he worked with, not
necessarily by those he had sent to prison, but most everyone else.
Dora became a lawyer and later a legal advisor partly because they
were working in the same circles and partly to sort out the issues
they were having with Cliff early on. They loved Cliff immensely.
More than the usual parent might love a child and definitely more
than if he was, quote-unquote-normal. They had a nice size home
in the Valley and Stan drove North to work just a few miles away.
He tried not to bring his work home, but when your wife is a legal
advisor, a top notch lawyer really, it was almost impossible, cases
concerning children or abuse of authority or murder were always
a sticky issue, they both tended to lean pretty hard on the accused.
He was older by a few years, but Dora was mature for her age, so
it worked out pretty well. They all vacationed together twice a year
and during the holidays often took a cabin in the snowy topped local
mountains. Considering the situation with Cliff, they handled it well.
Around the time that Cliff became four, five and six , they noticed
he had a way of sensing what was going on , not only in their inner
lives, but also in the lives of people they worked with. If Stan had
a high profile case concerning an auto accident, Cliff might create
a drawing with unexplainable details. When Dora's mother was close
to death, he had drawn a picture of her final resting place two months
before they had chosen it. He was somehow reading the inner lives of
his parents and at first it freaked Stan out. Some days, before a big
trial,
Stan might peruse around cliffs room, looking for an image that might
help him with the case. Dora put a stop to it, but hey, who could blame
him? There son was psychic and they knew it. Wether Cliff knew it or not
didn't matter. Once, when Cliff was twelve, they woke up one early
morning
to find Cliff nestling with a Deer. He had no food to give it. He was
just
holding the dear, when they opened the door, it ran away. Another time,
a hummingbird flew into Cliffs room, sat on his finger, just sat there .
There were all kinds of encounters such as these. Dora thought maybe
she should mention it to a friend of a client who had written a book on
shamanism in the modern day, but Stan said no. He didn't want his
son ending up on some television show or story on NPR. It was their
secret. When Cliff got home that day, he took out a sketchbook
and drew a stunning and startling portrait of a man that Stan would
never forget, someone he hadn't thought about for fifteen years.
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