"Come here," his voice is gentle again.
She gives in, placing her small hand in his. Lifting the cloth, he sees her blood spill out from her palm. He inhales sharply through his teeth and presses the rag back down. They sit there like that for abo...
When Jude Molinari was eleven years old, he found a kitten all alone in his uncle's neighborhood during a particularly cold winter. He was driving home with his extended family right as the streetlights had turned on. There was a reflection against the light dusting of snow. He was convinced he saw something in the middle of the alley. As they drove past the indiscernible lump, something deep inside told him to look again. He whipped around in his seat, trying to be certain of what he saw. Whatever it was, it moved. He knew better than to mention it to his uncle, whom he'd been staying with for the winter. He was not a warm, caring man. They pulled into the garage and Jude made up an excuse for returning to the car. He snuck back out to investigate. As he grew closer, he could could make out a tiny, half-frozen, grey and white striped kitten who could barely lift her head. A lump swelled deep inside his throat as he imagined her fear. He gently picked her up and placed her inside his coat. Walking to his uncle's home, he opened the door, unsure of what he might do next. His uncle appeared, furious that he'd snuck back out. He took one look at the kitten in Jude's jacket and erupted in anger, "No way in hell you're bringing that thing in my home, get rid of it! Don't come back until you do."
Jude did the only thing he could possibly do: he walked the streets of his neighborhood for an hour or two with her tucked inside his jacket, bracing himself against the biting wind. "I will not dump you like a piece of garbage", he murmurs to the kitten as he walks, nauseated by his uncle's cruelty. He ransacks his brain, trying to figure out what to do.
A neighbor's porch light comes on and he takes a chance. He walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell. An elderly woman with a wiry white bun, Mrs. Horn, answered the door. She was the surrogate grandmother for the neighborhood. Jude was never so relieved to see her face.
"Hello, Jude, what can I do for you?"
She took one look at his bright red cheeks and runny nose, then looked down at the head popping out of his jacket. "Why, what do we have here, young man?"
At this, Jude broke down, tears welling up in his blue eyes. He described where he'd found the kitten, how his uncle had responded, and how he refused to abandon this kitten no matter what. "Come in, come in. Let's see what we can do."
Mrs. Horn found an old shoebox and lined it with a towel fresh from the dryer for the kitten to lie on. Then she pulled out the yellow pages and looked for the animal control phone number. They were told it'd take about an hour for an officer to make it to the house. Mrs. Horn nodded her head, letting Jude know he could stay as long as he needed to stay. Together they sat, stroking the weak kitten, talking to her, talking to each other with tears in their eyes. She was what she liked to refer to as a "short timer", having entered her eighty-eighth year. He was on the opposite spectrum of life with his whole journey left to live. "You are a good boy," she told him, "you have a beautiful heart."
Despite their efforts, the kitten took her last breath minutes before the officer arrived. Jude was distraught. The officer took him aside. "Now son, I know this is not what you wanted to happen, but you gave her the greatest gift. You gave her comfort and warmth before she passed, and that matters."
Fast forward almost ten years, and Jude is now a promising actor. He stands at 5'10 with dishwater blonde hair and a slender build. He is about as opposite in aesthetics as you could get from Keanu. His heart, however, was bigger than a giant's and his soul was a thousand years old, at least. He is what some call an "empath": he can actively feel what others experience, just as he did with that kitten years ago. Some claim it's a literal or psychic experience. Others describe it as something of an extreme degree of hyper awareness or hyper vigilance. However one defines it, it affects everything about his existence in the world. He could tell by the way someone opened a door or jiggled their keys or took their steps exactly where their heart and mind were in that moment. It's not something you can cultivate and it's part of what makes him such a good actor, how he so easily can inhabit his characters. It was impossible for him to ignore suffering of any kind, and it drove him to use whatever power he had to improve the lives of others.
Jude and Keanu met on the set of a dark comedy, How To Become a Widow Without Really Trying. Throughout the filming, they'd grown close to one another. They spent many nights at Jude's three bedroom home, rethinking how they'd do scenes, analyzing great philosophers' works, smoking weed and somehow discussing the meaning of life unironically. It was a humble home by Hollywood standards, perhaps by the standards of middle America, too. This was intentional, a rejection of fame. Jude had a transient childhood that Keanu connected to and they both approached acting from the creativity and artistry perspective as opposed to that fast life of fame and money that drew so many others to Hollywood. For Keanu, it was a breath of fresh air and easily the place he felt most at home, hanging with Jude. Jude was the bigger name by far when they first worked together, but he never expected to be treated differently. Keanu was drawn to his nature and Jude felt the same.
It was during this time Keanu was introduced to the bass guitar, which led to hours and hours of them playing together. Occasionally they were joined by members of the hottest local bands. Neither of them wanted to be stars by Hollywood standards. They didn't yearn for the leading man roles. Instead they sought complicated stories that would stretch their abilities beyond comfort. Unfortunately, it was well-known they'd have to go along with some of the leading man aspects in order to have the freedom to pursue the more intellectual roles. Keanu loved to dive into his roles, sewing two personas together, but Jude took it to another level entirely. He drove Keanu to his best performances and Keanu did the same. If his story was about love, he fell in love. If his story was about loss, he threw himself into worlds of loss. An assistant producer once said of Jude, "You can try to imagine your character's life or you can try to live it, and his style was to live it."*
After that winter night, when he wandered the streets of his uncle's neighborhood in freezing temperatures trying to keep an injured kitten warm, he never ate meat again. Eccentric, maybe, but he wasn't trying to get attention. He truly, deeply, couldn't bring himself to do anything that caused harm or he'd fall down a spiral of pain himself. It was self-preservation as much as it was activism or kindness. As he gained success in movies, he would try to remain grounded by lobbying for the humane treatment of animals and frequenting areas of known homeless encampments, spending hours sharing whiskey and talking about the experiences that brought those he met to this point in their lives. Often he'd take one or two under his wing, trying to bring them out of their downward spirals.
Yes, Keanu and Jude were drawn to each other immediately, the epitome of soul mates, blood brothers. They encouraged all that was good in each other and helped each other stay grounded. These were some of the most creatives times of either of their young lives.
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