The Insurrectionist (18 page)

            “You said my ass isn’t to touch the ground, coach,” Deni replied casually.

            “You have a lot of potential,” said Coach Schwartz. “Don’t think for an instant your cute remarks are going to keep me from riding you hard. I guarantee you, by the time you graduate high school you will come to despise me.”

            When Coach Schwartz walked away, Deni leaned over to touch his toes.
All I really want to do is have fun, maybe score with a cheerleader or two. Two at a time would be nice
, he thought as his mind wandered,
now I’m actually going to have to work.
“Shit,” he muttered.

 

            Deni sat in his seat before Dr. Sodhi and recalled all the times Coach Schwartz cheered for him from the sideline, how he fought the referees for him, how he defended him, the excited pats on the shoulder and the hugs. It was Coach Schwartz who invited recruiters from Temple, Vanderbilt, and Drexel to see him play and it was Coach Schwartz who also pushed to make sure his grades remained good. He never gave much thought to Coach Schwartz and how much the man did for him until now.

            “Deni,” Dr. Sodhi said. “What is your feeling toward Coach Schwartz?”

            He stared at the white wall behind her desk. “I guess gratitude,” he mumbled and then lowered his head. “I’m done now. I don’t have anything else to say.”

            “We still have a lot of time,” said Dr. Sodhi.

            “I’m done talking,” replied Deni.

            “Is there something else you’d like to talk about—politics, religion?” Dr. Sodhi suggested. Deni said nothing. “Do you know any passages in the Quran that might relate?”

            Deni refused to talk.

            Dr. Sodhi checked her watch. “You’re here for another,” she sighed, “thirty-five minutes. Let me know if you have anything to say.”

            When Deni did not speak, they sat in silence for the remaining time and when the session was up, Dr. Sodhi said, “I’m going to recommend I see you every day. I’ll be back to tomorrow at the same time.” Deni didn’t respond. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            The prison guard entered to take Deni back to his cell. Once alone, Deni turned over on his back. There was a surge inside him that wanted to break down and cry, but Deni fought it. He refused to be broken.
It’s what they want. I’m not going to give it to them
.

            It was such great times in high school with his gang and the trouble they made without anyone ever really knowing.
If my mother really knew what I was doing, she would have had me caned for sure
, he thought. Through the emotional anguish of recalling Coach Schwartz, Deni grinned as he remembered his youthful indiscretions with his buddies.

 

            T-Bone drove by the Daudov’s house about seven o’clock. Deni jumped in the back seat of the 1979 Cadillac Deville next to Hector. Deni admired the maroon leather interior. “Where’d you get this dinosaur?”

            “Hey yo, it was my dad’s first car and it is in mint condition. So no finger prints please,” T-Bone joked.

            Deni rolled down the window and let the wind blow through his hair. T-Bone drove out of Reading city limits to the Tulpehoken creek. Winding around the country road, T-Bone parked, the boys got out of the car and headed through the woods down to creek side to a picnic table.

            T-Bone lit a joint. “So boys, what are we going to do to get Daudov initiated?”

            “Initiated?” said Deni as he took the joint from T-Bone. He had never smoked weed before, but he had seen it smoked in movies. He was game and ready.

            “Yeah, assuming you’re still a virgin,” said T-Bone.

            Deni choked on the smoke and all the guys started laughing.

            “Who should it be¾Carla, Eva, Stac-cy?” asked T-Bone with another drag on the joint.

            Devon reached in a brown paper bag and pulled out a six pack. “I dunno. What kind of chicks do you like Daudov?” He handed Deni a beer.

            Deni opened the bottle with the aid of his t-shirt. “What?” he asked with a laugh.

            “You know—black, white,” Hector swayed his hips. “Latino.”

            T-Bone smacked his lips. “I suggest Carla. Heard her say she wanted to do a white boy.”

            Deni took a large gulp of his beer. “So that’s it. That’s my choices?”

            Devon laughed. “Who do you think you are, man?”

            “Look,” said T-Bone, “we did the pre-game research and found three chicks that’d do you on the spot.”

            “And they all say chivalry is dead in America,” joked Deni.

            T-Bone stepped up in Deni’s face. “Here’s the deal. No little boys on the football field. You wanna play with us, you gotta be a man. Now finish your beer.”

            T-Bone put his arm around Deni’s shoulder as they headed back to the Cadillac. Deni felt like he was walking to face a firing squad; he had no idea what to expect, but he knew what ever happened, his life would be forever changed.

            In the car, Devon turned around and said to Deni. “You’re not going to chicken out on us, are you?” Devon laughed and said to T-Bone. “Remember that kid, Scot Hanson? Wanted to hang with us, so cool and when it came time to be a man, he vomited all over your backseat.”

            “Man, took me a week to get the smell out of my car.” T-Bone looked at Deni through the rear view mirror. “You ain’t going to throw up are you?”

            “I think I can handle myself,” Deni said. It was the biggest lie he ever told; he was scared shitless.
Everything seems like such a good idea in theory, but when it comes time to do the dirty deed, am I man enough
?

            Within a couple minutes, T-Bone drove back into Reading and parked outside a run-down brick row home. He got out of the car and opened the back seat door for Deni. “Your future awaits.”

            Deni got out of the car and they walked to the front door. T-Bone rang the doorbell, reached in his pocket and handed Deni a condom. “Don’t let it rip.”

            The door opened and a pretty Puerto Rican girl answered. It was Eva Sanchez. Deni recognized her from the practice field. She was one of several girls who hang around the players.

            T-Bone patted Deni on the back. “We’ll be waiting. Don’t take too long and don’t come too soon,” he said with a laugh.

            Eva opened the door for Deni to enter. He looked around the house decorated with miscellaneous décor. Nothing really matched; it was all just thrown together.

            “No one’s home,” she said, taking his hand. “We can do it wherever you want.”

            Deni was speechless about the casualness of the whole thing; how this girl could give herself away so easily to a boy she never met before. He was shocked by the extent a girl would go to belong in America, but he was not about to argue. “Wherever is fine with me.”

            Eva giggled and then closed the front curtains. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. He kissed her and then guided her down to the couch.

            Twenty minutes later, Deni opened the Sanchez’s front door, tucking in his t-shirt. He stepped out onto the front porch and sighed. He did it; he was no longer a virgin. He didn’t even recall saying goodbye to Eva or leaving her. Everything was a blur.

            Deni shuffled down to T-Bone’s car and got in the back seat. T-Bone, Devon, and Hector turned to him. “All right man, you’re in!” yelled T-Bone. They all fist pumped Deni and T-Bone drove on.

            It was around midnight when Deni returned home. He snuck into his bedroom and fell into his bed. As he lay in bed, he thought of his mother asleep in the room next door.
Man, she’d kill me if she knew
, he thought with a wide smile on his face.

           Deni reclined against the cement wall of his cell and stared at the steel door. Everything seemed so surreal and for a brief moment, he felt the cell walls closing in on him. Feeling suffocated, he wanted to scream out for help, for someone to let him out. He recalled the night he heard the distant screams of inmates.
Animals
, he thought,
now I’m one
.

            He wondered what animal he would be.
Am I a wolf, a lion, a tiger or bear?
Oh my!
he thought and then stood from the bed and started pacing. “I’d be a lion, no a tiger…no a panther,” he said and then roared out loud. As he paced the small room, he imagined himself lounging on a tree and then spying a deer in the underbrush; he leaped down and ripped it apart with his teeth. He jogged in place for a few moments and then dropped down to the floor and did a series of pushups. The exerted effort burst the scabs of his gunshot wounds. Looking down while pushing up, he saw blood trickle down his arm.

            Deni stood up and watched mesmerized as the blood run down his forearm and reached his hand. He took off his scrubs, stood in his underwear and continued to watch the blood ooze from the wounds on his shoulder, upper arm, and leg.

            Gazing downward, he watched the blood plop into drops onto the floor creating a dot pattern. “Proclaim! In the name of thy Lord and Cherisher, who created—created man, out of a mere clot of congealed blood,” he said.

            When he grew bored with his own blood, he tied his pants around his head and felt his way back to his bed. Finally there was darkness and relief from the overhead cell light that never went out. He rested his head on his bed and shut his eyes. His pants wrapped around his head not only provided him shade from the light, but extra cushioning for a pillow. It was genius.
I’m surprised I didn’t think of it sooner
.

            In his self-created darkness he fell into a deep sleep. The next morning he was roughly woken by medical interns placing him on a gurney, tossing a blanket over his body and then strapping him down.

            “What’s going on?” he asked, but neither of the men responded.

            He was wheeled back to the prison hospital where a doctor tended to his open wounds. As the doctor was finishing bandaging Deni, he saw Dr. Sodhi approaching.  “Ah shit,” he muttered.

            Dr. Sodhi pulled up a chair and sat by Deni’s bed. “I received a call. They suspected another suicide attempt. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

            Deni laughed and rested back with his hands behind his head. “I needed to work off some steam, so I did some pushups. I happened to bust open the scabs of my wounds. I took off my pants, tied them around my head to block out the god-damned light that never goes out so I could get a good night’s sleep, which I did. Next thing I know, they are putting me on a gurney and wheeling me in here. And I suppose you’re here to find out if I finally cracked.”

            “Curiously, that is the most sane thing I have heard you say to date,” Dr. Sodhi replied.

            “Yeah, well I feel like a fucking animal. You know like the ones they keep in cages in laboratories and perform all kinds of tests on. I suspect next they will start spraying me with perfumes and painting me with makeup to see if I break out or contact cancers,” said Deni.

            “I’d thought you’d be more at peace since we bought you the Quran. Did you even look at it last night?” she asked.

            “Sort of,” he said. “You want to hear something fascinating?” started Deni.

            “Sure,” Dr. Sodhi replied.

            “The origin of mankind as described in the Quran emerged from a blood clot suspended in fluid. What was described is an embryo growing in a womb—science. How could Muhammad have known about human biology that wasn’t discovered until almost a millennium later if it wasn’t passed down to him directly from God?”

            “I don’t know,” replied Dr. Sodhi.

            “And then you have the Christians who believe a man mysteriously appeared in some oasis and then God made a woman from his rib. It’s a fairytale. See, Islam is based on science, Christianity fantasy. That’s why it is the true faith, the true religion.”

            “In Hinduism, God Brahma emerged from an egg, an embryonic sack, and created the world. Hinduism is a lot older than Islam. But then Hinduism isn’t that specific, the origins of mankind are much more philosophical. Hinduism revolves more so around consciousness. Our reality is primarily based on our perception. If you perceive Allah to be the one true God and the creator of mankind then it is your truth,” explained Dr. Sodhi.

            “Doesn’t Hinduism have all those weird Gods with six arms and doesn’t one have the face of an elephant?” questioned Deni. “Talk about fantasy. Is that what you really believe?”

            “I believe in science. That God is nameless, faceless and has no religious affiliation. God is the force of the universe that connects all people through consciousness. What we think, we become as an individual and as a society. If you look at the world today, the majority of the problems are generated by the overall consciousness of the people. If the consciousness is hate, then there will be hate. If consciousness is peace, then there will be peace.”

            Deni stared at Dr. Sodhi and laughed. “Okay, but I have my faith, thanks.”

            “Do you?” questioned Dr. Sodhi. “One thing I have read in the Quran is that it specifically speaks against violence. ‘Whoever has killed a person who has a treaty with the Muslims shall not smell the fragrance of Paradise.’ To be fully faithful would be to remain at peace with oneself and the world. That doesn’t quite sound like you Deni. You’re not even at peace with yourself.”

            “You read the Quran?” Deni questioned.

            “Yes. I have many clients of many faiths, including several Muslims. I try to acquaint myself with everyone’s faith so I can help understand. So I ask you again; are you at peace with yourself?”

            “Sure I am. I’m totally cool,” replied Deni.

            “Is that why you tried to commit suicide a week ago?” questioned Dr. Sodhi.

            “It’s not me; I was escaping. It is this fucked up world. I’m fine. Besides, why stick around in this world if I’m not wanted. Everyone wants me dead, so¾”

            “So you’re fine, everything’s cool?” she asked again.

            Deni laughed. “Isn’t that exactly what I just said?”

            “That is why the prison guards on breakfast rounds found you bloody, naked with your clothes wrapped over your head. You could understand how that could be misunderstood by someone,” said Dr. Sodhi.

             “Big brother is watching,” Deni sighed.

            Dr. Sodhi glanced down at her notes. “Talk to me about your mother?”

            “She loves me,” he said.

            “Well, from previous conversation, she disapproved of you playing football. Did she disapprove of your friends, or girlfriends?”

            “I don’t know,” he said, but he did know. For some reason Kamiila hated Heather and Deni never could understand why. The irony was they were a lot alike—strong-minded and passionate. “Why do mothers hate any guy’s girlfriend?”

            “I suspect it is because mothers do not want to let go of their boys and feel threatened when another women takes their place. Most mothers always want to remain queen of their son’s hearts.”

            “That’s kinda sick isn’t it? Sounds like some Greek or Shakespearean tragedy,” said Deni.

            “It’s biology, and sometimes psychology. So back to the question, did your mother disapprove of any of your girlfriends?”

            Deni laughed. “She disapproved of all girls who she didn’t pick out for me. Apparently I wasn’t qualified to pick out my own girlfriends.”

            “Why do you think that?”

            “Mothers look for unattractive bitches who can cook, clean, and bare children.” Deni grinned. “I don’t care if she can cook and clean. I gotta look at her for the rest of my life. I wanted someone I liked to look at.” He glared at Dr. Sodhi. “I suspect you’re gonna think I’m sexist or superficial.”

            “I think you’re an average young man. There’s nothing sexist about attraction, but there is a power of sexual attraction that mothers can’t compete with. If a young man falls in love with an attractive girl, their mothers have a hard time keeping control of their sons.” Dr. Sodhi eyed Deni. “Any one in particular come to mind? Anyone you had your eye on?”

            Deni sat back in his chair and stared past Dr. Sodhi. “Nope. No one in particular.”

 

            A warm May breeze blew through the Daudov’s bay window. Alone, with no parental supervision, Deni took the opportunity to invite Heather for some alone time. On the couch, they were rounding second base when Mikail entered. Neither Deni nor Heather heard him pass through to the kitchen and return with a glass of iced tea and a handful of cookies.

            Mikail stood above Deni and Heather on the couch. “Whenever a man is alone with a woman, Satan is the third among them.”

            Deni pulled away from Heather and glanced up at Mikail. “I guess that would make you Satan.”

            “Funny,” replied Mikail. “I wonder how ma would feel about you making out with some chick. I don’t know what would be considered a worse fate, ma finding out, or hell.”

            “Ah come on Mik, don’t get such a hard on. Just ‘cause you’re having issues at home with Jamie, don’t take it out on me,” replied Deni.

            Mikail grabbed Deni by the collar. “What’d you say?”

            Heather rose from the couch. “I should be going.”

            “I’ll walk you out,” said Deni and then escorted Heather out the door. On the front stoop, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. “I’m sorry about my brother. He’s going through a bad time.”

            “I understand.” She returned his kiss. “You and I can pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

            Deni held her tightly, so tightly he could feel her heart beating. “I guarantee it.”

            Heather held on to him for a moment. “Oh, it’s so hard letting you go, even for a night.” She removed her arms from around his shoulders. “Bye.”

            When Heather reached her car, she blew Deni a kiss. Deni pretended to be knocked over by her kiss.

            Deni paused before going back inside to confront his brother. Times with Mikail had become so intense, but he had compassion. His brother was suffering. He walked back inside to find that Mikail had turned on the television and was watching the military channel. He reclined on the couch and said nothing.

            “You know what you’re doing to that poor girl,” said Mikail.

            “No, what?” asked Deni.

            “You’re leading that girl straight to heartbreak and it’s leading you straight to hell.”

            “Chill out Mik. It’s my soul, not yours,” replied Deni.

            “I can’t help it. You’re my little brother. I will always be looking out for you,” said Mikail. “Besides, ma would never approve. You know that.”

            Deni slumped on his seat and said nothing. He already knew it to be true.

 

            Deni sighed as he reclined in his seat and glanced away from Dr. Sodhi. “Is this going to be an angle for the defense?”

            “No not at all. It’s not about your mother, or any girlfriend, it’s about you and your behavior and actions. You’ve hidden a lot from your mother, protecting her from who and what you really are—a young man with a healthy libido. You didn’t want her to be disappointed with you,” said Dr. Sodhi. “Do you think you disappointed her or were you ashamed?”

            “Why does it always gotta be this way with you? We start off with an interesting conversation on religion and then you gotta turn it to something else?” he asked.

            “Like your feelings?” questioned Dr. Sodhi.

            “Feelings, I hate feelings. They cause way too many problems with the world—hate, anger, fear, greed, shame, rejection, resentment, disappointment,” he said.

            “Love, peace, gratitude, unity, loyalty, compassion,” she countered. “I know you experienced those feelings. Yesterday you said you felt gratitude toward your coach.”

            “Yeah sure,” Deni sighed.

            “Unity and loyalty toward your friends,” Dr. Sodhi added.

            “Of course,” Deni admitted.

            “So now tell me, what’s so bad about feelings?” she asked.

            “When they’re bad,” Deni replied.

            Dr. Sodhi sat back in her seat. “Ah, but you cannot have the good without the bad. You can’t know happiness without knowing sadness. You can’t feel contentment without ever being angry. If you rid yourself of the bad feelings, you end up feeling nothing at all.”

            “Exactly,” said Deni with a wide grin. “I prefer to feel nothing at all.”

            “Have you ever had your heartbroken?” she asked.

            “Nope,” he replied quickly.

            “Have you ever broken hearts?” she persisted.

            “I do not know.”

            “So that’s your plan, to coast through life in a bubble not being truly connected to another heart or soul?” questioned Dr. Sodhi.

            “It appears to be my fate, yes. I am in solitary confinement. What’s the point of me feeling something now?” he asked.

            Dr. Sodhi looked down at her notebook. “What if tomorrow was your last day in this world; how would you feel?”

            Deni sighed and said, “Well, I’d probably say relieved. I wouldn’t have to answer any more ridiculous questions.”