Edward's Dilemma (5 page)

After a while he placed the mattress on the cold cement bed, and curled up in the fetal position.  He considered his predicament.  Later that night, he tossed and turned as he struggled to get comfortable – but eventually he fell asleep.  His dreams were familiar, yet bizarre.

♦   ♦   ♦

“EDWARD.  EDDDWARD.  Come on down – it’s time for breakfast.”  His mother’s voice was soothing.  He rolled over and squeezed the feather pillow which encompassed his head.  In the distance, outside his window, a bird tweeted.  The sun filtered through the blinds, and cast a grid-like shadow on the bed.  The smell of pancakes wafted into his nostrils.  It was a glorious day!

After luxuriating in his bed for several minutes, he sat up, swung his legs around, and put his feet onto the floor.  The soft, cushy carpeting filled the spaces between his toes.  He yawned once, like a big lazy dog would do as it stretched out on a porch during a hot afternoon.  He looked over at the clock, and suddenly became aware of the rhythmic “Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick.”  The sound of his clock was methodical, constant, reassuring.

Today was Edward’s sixteenth birthday.  He’d been looking forward to this day because he could now get his learner’s permit to drive the family’s beat-up old car.  He was also happy because today was Saturday.

As Edward descended the stairs, he noticed his father sitting in his favorite chair.  He was reading the newspaper, but he paused for a moment to greet Edward.  “Good morning, son – Happy Birthday.  How’s it feel to be sixteen?” he said, as he peered over the top of the newspaper.  As usual, his eyeglasses were riding low on the bridge of his nose.  His feet were up on a stool, and a cup of hot coffee rested on a nearby end-table.

Edward was glad to see his dad, but for some reason he was having a hard time responding to his dad’s greeting. 
Why can’t I speak?  What’s wrong with me?
he thought.  Frustration clouded his mind.  No matter how hard he tried, the words would not come out. 
Speak, you idiot.  Speak!!
  Suddenly, he was afraid.  Over and over again, Edward tried to untangle the words that were wrestling around in his mouth – but to no avail. 
I’m – I’m – fine – good – I’m doing good.
  Finally, after a herculean effort, the words he’d been looking for were evicted from his mouth.

“Doing – I’m doing
good.  It hasn’t hit me yet.”

His dad looked at him rather oddly, but before he could say anything, Edward’s mom beckoned for the both of them to come to the table.  As they approached their respective chairs, his dad patted him on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear.

“Hey, Edward, I got you something really neat for your birthday.  Just don’t go wav’n it around in front of your mother.”  He gave Edward a wink and a smile.  “Here’s a hint: Its got a blade that’s about six inches long.  Even Daniel Boone would have been happy to get this gift.”

“SLAM!”

His mother dropped the heaping plate of pancakes onto the floor.  Startled by the sound, Edward was jarred awake.  Just as quickly, however, he retreated back into the world of his dreams...

♦   ♦   ♦

“HEY, JERRY, do you wanna go to the lake this afternoon?”  Edward was wearing a T-shirt and shorts.  In one hand he carried a fishing pole, and in the other a tackle box.  The summer air was hot and humid.

“Sure, why not?” Jerry replied.  “I’m
kinda bored right now, anyway.  And, I’m roast’n.”

Edward and Jerry had been friends since the previous summer.  The two of them would frequently go to the lake to cool off, and hang out.  Sometimes they’d go fishing while they were there, but they seldom caught anything very big.  Whatever they did catch, they’d usually toss it back into the lake.   Sometimes, if they were too lazy to dig for worms, they’d cut up a little fish that they’d caught and use it for bait.

“Well, hurry up and get your pole.  I’ve got my knife, so don’t worry about bringing yours.”  Edward’s knife had been a prized possession since the day it was given to him.  Whenever he went to the lake, or camping, his knife was always with him.  His mom still didn’t like the fact that her son owned a big hunting knife, but his dad had always reassured her that owning a knife was a regular part of a boy’s ‘teenage experience.’”

The two boys tromped off to the lake.  As usual, Jerry was in the lead.  Along the way, a contest ensued over who could kick a rock the furthest.  Strangely, one of the rocks Edward kicked turned into a soccer ball as it sailed off into the distance.  When they finally arrived, Jerry plopped himself down on the grass.  The hot weather had taken a toll on his enthusiasm for fishing.  Now, all that he wanted to do was hang out.  Without much effort, he convinced Edward to do the same.

“Jerry, hand me that stick over there,” Edward said as he pointed with his finger.  Next to Jerry was a big stick – that turned into a snake, and then back into a stick.  Edward was momentarily frightened.

“Why do you like whittling on a stick, so much?” Jerry asked.  “You’re like some country hick.”

“I don’t know; I find it relaxing, I guess.”

“Well, when you’re done, hand me the knife.  I
wanna see if I can carve something.”  Jerry stretched out on the ground, and covered his face with his baseball cap.

Fifteen minutes later, Edward handed the knife to Jerry.  But just as Jerry was about to grab the handle, a boat raced by and created a “swoosh” of cold air.

Edward adjusted his blanket and covered an exposed shoulder.  A purple cat ambled over and sat on his stomach.  Its’ breath smelled like tuna.

♦   ♦   ♦

Stuart Co. Jail, the Hole

28
August, 6:38 AM

WHEN EDWARD awoke in the morning, he quickly became bored.  Occasionally, he gathered up the nerve to look out the window of his cell.  When he did, he noticed that there wasn’t a lot of activity going on in the tank.  Other than a lone inmate pacing around downstairs, by the table, there wasn’t anybody else around.  Even the noisy monkeys in the other cells were quiet.  His cell became very small.

At first, it had been a challenge to endure his present circumstances.  He envisioned himself in a concentration camp, holed up in solitary confinement.  At any moment, an enemy guard might come by and whisk him off to an interrogation room.  He had to remain strong – not only for himself, but also for America.  When the enemy guard failed to appear, after an hour or so, Edward’s mind took another detour from reality.  He envisioned himself a
s a great liberator, almost like Martin Luther King, who’d stand up and speak out for the down-trodden and oppressed.  Blessed with extraordinary speaking skills, he’d deliver a rousing speech to the Congress of the United States.  He might even be recognized by the President for his contributions to humanity.

Before long, Edward’s grandiose thoughts were chilled by the cold walls which surrounded him.  Even playing games in his head, like Tic-Tack-Toe, failed to lift his spirit.  Edward was sinking, and sinking fast.

As he descended into the abyss, Edward found himself reliving his dreams.  Not only were they calm and soothing, they were also becoming his only escape from his present reality.  He savored each dream.  In the process, his mind conjured up forgotten details which made the dreams all the more real.

Edward put both of his feet up on the wall, as he lay on his back.  He looked towards the window on the door for a minute or two, and then upwards at the light fixture, and the back to the window.  Time dragged on; he could almost hear the clinking sound it made as it trudged past his cell.

Stuart Co. Jail, the Hole

30
August, 11:09 AM

THOUGH EDWARD had rebelled against God, he still believed in Him.  In fact, now that he was in jail, he began to rely more and more on thoughts about God to provide comfort.  Edward also thought that perhaps God was trying to tell him something in his dreams – kind of like He did for Joseph, when Joseph was a captive in Egypt.  To be sure about this hypothesis, he thought he’d better ask the Chaplain for advice.  Edward also just needed someone to talk to and provide encouragement.

WHEN THE C
haplain arrived at Edward’s cell, he found him sitting on the side of his bed looking blankly at the wall.  He was rocking back and forth, mumbling to himself.  The Chaplain was not surprised or even shocked by Edward’s behavior; he’d seen it all before.  Still, he was worried about Edward and wanted to help him.

Upon seeing the Chaplain, Edward snapped out of his trance-like state.  He explained, almost apologetically, that he’d been wondering if it would be possible for someone, perhaps someone who was living in a cave or even in the Hole as he was, to forget how to speak English. 
It makes sense
, he had reasoned,
that if a man seldom hears another person speak, or seldom speaks himself, that he’d sooner or later forget the meaning of words and phrases.
  The Chaplain spent a few minutes discussing the scenario with him.

Edward and the Chaplain spoke with each other for about fifteen minutes.  Edward found the visit to be extremely uplifting, and a tremendous encouragement.  Before leaving, the Chaplain prayed with him and gave him a small Bible.  Edward promised to read it often.

“SLAM!”

Stuart Co. Jail, Cell Block 3West

Holding Room 1

30 August, 3:20 PM

JOSH HAD been in jail for several weeks, and was again meeting with his attorney to discuss his case.  While waiting for this meeting to take place, Josh had spoken with several other inmates about his charges, and the consequences he might expect if he were convicted.  He’d also used the “Law Library” on two occasions in order to do a little research on his own.  Based on the information that he’d gathered from these various sources, Josh was beginning to realize the seriousness of the charges against him.   More than ever, he hated the fact that he was stuck with a public attorney because he didn’t have the money to hire a private attorney.

The room where the meeting was scheduled to take place wasn’t much larger than Josh’s cell.  In the middle of the room there was a small table, and on each of the longer sides was a chair.  Three of the walls were solid cement, but the front of the room – the part facing out into the corridor – was comprised of a steel door in the center with a large one inch thick wire-mesh security window on either side.  There was nothing on the walls, and the room was cold and sterile.

When Josh entered the room, his attorney was already seated at the table.  He was looking for something in his briefcase, but he looked up at Josh as he came through the doorway.  With an extended hand, he re-introduced himself; his name was Mike, and though Josh had met him before on several occasions, it had been at least a week or two since they’d last met.  The two men exchanged greetings, and Josh took a seat.

“Well, how you
hold’n up, partner?” Mike asked.

“Not bad.  I guess it could be worse.  Thanks, by the way, for taking my case.  I really appreciate it.”  Josh was lying, but he was still courteous.  For an instant his mind was
distracted by a timely thought. 
What good would it do me if I tick him off?  He’s my only chance of gett’n out of this hell-hole.

“No problem.  Listen, I’m
gonna get right down to the brass tacks with you.  You know what your charges are, and you’ve probably figured out by now that they’re pretty serious.  Still, the good news is that you and your friends have never really gotten into trouble before, and this little predicament you’re now in can probably be chalked up to the follies of youth.

“And I’m also innocent.  That should count for something, too.” Josh interjected.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re also innocent.  But, in a way, that’s beside the point.  Like I told you before, I’m gonna get you out of here – don’t you worry about that.  But I’m not gonna spend a lot of time trying to prove that you and your buddies were little angels.  If you want to do that, you might consider hiring a private investigator and a private attorney.”  Mike continued to ramble on about his strategy for getting Josh out of jail.

Irritated, Josh was no longer paying attention to the words coming out of Mike’s mouth. 
How can this guy sit there and say it doesn’t matter whether or not I’m innocent?
 
What a jerk!
he thought.
  No, let me rephrase that.  What an a**hole!!
  In spite of his thoughts, however, he said nothing.  He merely nodded and smiled until the meeting came to a conclusion a few minutes later.

Stuart Co. Jail, Medical Clinic

31 August, 10:27 AM

WHEN JERRY arrived at the clinic, he was surprised by the level of activity.  Some of the nurses were charting, while others were escorting inmates around to the various exam rooms.  In some of these rooms, a nurse could be seen drawing blood, changing wound dressings, or doing whatever else needed to done in order to provide an inmate with medical care.  Off to the side, against a wall, sat a lone inmate; he was soaking his swollen foot in a pink tub filled with iodine and water.  No one was paying much attention to him, and he appeared content to just sit there with his thoughts.

T
he clinic CO asked Jerry for his name, and within ten or fifteen seconds he was escorted into a cage-like holding cell.  Inside, a group of inmates were waiting to be seen by either the Doctor or a Physician’s Assistant (PA).  Some of these inmates had already been screened-in by the clinic nurses, but others had yet to be seen by anyone.  As they sat in the cell, they exchanged news and gossip; and whenever they raised their voices, one of the Clinic-COs admonished them to keep it down.

From inside the holding-cell, Jerry stared out at the clinic.  A short distance away from him, in numbered chairs, sat three men in gray uniforms.  The guy in seat #1 was relatively quiet and cooperative, and had
a blood pressure machine hooked-up to his arm.  The other two inmates, however, were laughing and chatting.  They were clearly making a nuisance of themselves, and the female nurse who was attempting to interview the guy in the #1 chair was irritated by their behavior.

“How are you feeling?” she asked impatiently.

“Uhh – not bad.  I’m not sleep’n much.”

“Are you eating ok?  Are you having any trouble keeping things down?”  She removed the blood pressure cuff from his arm as she waited for his answers.

“Well, I haven’t been that hungry – just a little nauseous every once in a while,” Number One replied.

“Could you extend your arms straight-out for me?  Like this.
..”  The nurse demonstrated by holding her arms out in front of her in a zombie-like fashion.  The guys in seats #2 and #3 laughed and giggled, and she scolded them in a courteous yet forceful manner.  A CO approached and warned the two to be quiet.

THE NURSE continued to ask questions for several more minutes, but Jerry’s thoughts had turned elsewhere.  Suddenly, he was jolted by the sound of someone calling his name.  He was surprised because it had been days since he’d heard
anyone address him by his first name.  Looking up, he immediately recognized the face of a familiar friend.

“Josh!” he cried, as he sprang to his feet.  “Where the heck have you been?  You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to talk to
you and Edward.”  Tears welled up in his eyes as the two men embraced in a hug.  He was oblivious to the heckling and laughter of the other inmates in the cell.  For a brief moment, the harsh reality of jail-life disappeared as he once again experienced the softer side of humanity.

For the next two hours, as Jerry and Josh waited to be seen by a doctor, the two friends shared their lives with each other.  They reveled in each other’s presence, and discussed everything that came to mind.   In the process, they reasserted their identities and became themselves once again.  The conversation, however, began on a dark topic.

“What were you doing in the Hole?” Josh asked.  He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

After a pause, Jerry re
plied.  “That shit-hole did a number on me, Josh.  I don’t ever want to go there again.  They sent me there because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut!  I DEFINITELY won’t make that mistake again.”  He then recounted the “incident” to Josh.

Josh nodded in an understanding way; then explained how he’d ended up in the Hole.  He also mentioned the re
ason he was now in the clinic: His jaw still ached from the fight, and he was having it x-rayed to see if it was broken.

Pulling up his pant leg, Jerry pointed at the sore on his leg.  He said the reason he was there at the clinic was for a follow-up appointment, even though the wound was almost healed. Still, when Josh looked at it, his facial expression betrayed his disgust at what he saw.

“That’s pretty gross, Jerry.”

“Yeah, I know.  You should have seen it before.  It was way worse...”

Soon, the conversation turned to other topics.  “Have you seen Edward?” Josh asked.

“No.”

“He’s
gotta be here, somewhere.”

“Yes – I k
now.  I sure hope he’s alright...wherever he is.  This place will swallow a person alive, and Edward doesn’t seem like the kinda person who’d do well in here.”  As he said this, Jerry rubbed his forehead with his hand.  This was a habit he’d developed shortly after his parents had divorced; it was something he’d do whenever he felt stressed-out.  “Do you know why we’re in here, Josh?  I mean, I know that I’ve been charged with 1
st
degree assault with a deadly weapon.  And you were charged with – what, 2
nd
degree assault?”

“Yeah, 2
nd
degree,” Josh replied.

“What about Edward?  What was he charged with?”

“The same thing as me; 2
nd
degree assault.”

“Josh, I think we’re screwed.  Do you realize that 1
st
degree and 2
nd
degree assault are both felonies?  The minimum sentence for me is probably 10 years.  For you and Edward, I’m not sure, but I think it’s gotta be at least a few years.  I’ve talked to my attorney several times, and he says I should plea-bargain.  But here’s the thing: I didn’t do anything.  Neither did you or Edward.  How did we end up here?  I’ve watched all those detective shows on TV, the ones where they do all those fancy forensic tricks.  Why can’t they see that the three of us are innocent? ”

Jerry continued to ramble, but Josh interrupted him.  “Jerry.  Jerry!  You’ve
gotta take it easy.  We’ll figure this out.  Our attorneys are smart – and if we all put our heads together, we’ll get out of this.”  Josh didn’t mention the meeting he’d had with his attorney.

Jerry stopped rubbing his head, and Josh continued.  “What do you remember about that night?  Is there anything that stood out to you?  As much as you’re able, try to remember everything – and then write it down before you forget.  I’ll do the same.  Hopefully, we can speak to Edward at some point and see what he remembers.”

Jerry began to recount his memories of the fateful night.

As he listened, Josh realized that his memories of the incident were not that much different from Jerry’s.  The biggest difference was that he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, while
Jerry and Edward continued to sip beers at the table.  As a result, he’d missed the whole interaction between Jerry and the cute brunette.  He’d also missed the initial part of the argument between Jerry and the guy with the mustache.  Only after the struggle had already ensued had he come out of the bathroom.

Josh was curious, and wanted specific details.  “By the way, how DID you get into an argument with those guys?  What exactly did you say?”

“Well, like I told you, the guy with the mustache didn’t like me talking to the brunette who was sitting at the table next to us.  Apparently, she was his girlfriend or something.  All I said was, ‘If you don’t want somebody hit’n on your girl, especially here in a Bar, you might want to be sitting at the same table as her.’  That’s it, Josh.  That’s ALL I said.”

“Jerry, Jerry, Jerry.  You’ve got to watch your mouth,” Josh replied.  He couldn’t help but grin.

Jerry grinned back.  He hadn’t done much smiling lately, and it was almost therapeutic.  He continued to grin as Josh launched-off into his account of what had happened.

When Josh was done retelling his version of the story, it became clear to both of them that the struggle which had led to the stabbing was mostly a blur.  Neither of them could recall exactly how the black guy had ended up on the floor with a knife in him.  They both agreed that it would be extremely beneficial to their legal situation if they could talk to Edward, AND he was able to recollect more details than they’d been able to recollect.

For a moment, the two friends were quietly absorbed in their thoughts.  Suddenly, the intercom system came alive with a loud “Ding, Ding, Ding” sound.  Throughout the clinic, nurses and COs stopped what they were doing – and paused.  Some of the nurses even looked up into the air towards the overhead loud speakers, expectantly waiting.  After several dings, a calm voice announced the reason for the alert.

“MEDICAL EMERGENCY
IN TWO SOUTH GOLF.  MEDICAL EMERGENCY IN TWO SOUTH GOLF.”

The dinging continued.

Jerry and Josh watched with increasing interest as a flurry of activity erupted in the clinic.  Pens and pencils were dropped, and chairs were shoved around as nurses got up from the desks.  One nurse ran over to a wheelchair, which appeared to be loaded down with an oxygen tank and other medical supplies, and began wheeling it towards the exit.  Other nurses, and even the PAs, materialized as if from nowhere from offices and exam rooms.   Soon, within thirty seconds, a whole group of medical staff was heading towards the hallway leading out of the clinic.

All activity in the clinic came to an abrupt halt.  The medical staff had seemingly vaporized, and the only people remaining in the clinic were COs and inmates.  For a short time, the only sound that could be heard was the dinging.  Josh was the first to speak.

“Wow.  What do
ya think about that?”

“This place is a trip – I’ll say that much,” Jerry replied, as he shook his head back and forth.  He continued to muse.  “It seems like there’s always an emergency of some sort taking place around here.  If I ever get out of this place, I’m
gonna have nightmares whenever I hear a dinging sound.  I’ll be like a war-veteran who has PTSD.  Even a little noise like an alarm clock will probably set me off.”