The Insurrectionist (21 page)

 

            Later that evening, Deni undressed and stepped under the head of the steel shower spigot. He turned the faucet and the lukewarm water trickled out. It didn’t matter, it still felt good to rinse off his body. With a bar of soap, he rinsed his hair, beard and scrubbed his armpits with his hand. The water shut off automatically. He wrapped the small, thin towel around his hips and lay down on his bed.

            Once again, he wrapped his pants around his head to block out the light. He felt his way back to the bed and closed his eyes. A stream of thoughts passed through his mind with no beginning and no ending.

            He could hear the screams of the other inmates, crazed by their confinement. Deni closed his eyes tighter and lay his head down. With his ear pressed against the mattress, he could hear his heart beating. It was an odd sensation; he never remembered hearing his heart beat so strongly before. It was a shocking reminder he had a heart.

 

            Deni lay in bed with his ear against his dormitory room pillow. He couldn’t sleep; his mind was still fresh from his visit to Lancaster with Tracy and her maniacal brother, Jimmy. Not being able to sleep, he reached for his cell phone and texted:
Are u around?

            A message returned quickly:
Always. U know that.

            Rolling onto his back, Deni made a call and pressed his phone to his ear. “Hi. Sorry it took me a while to call you back.”

            “Yeah, I was just about to give up on you,” said Heather.

            It was so good to hear her voice; it was so sweet, yet so strong. Heather was such a girl of contradictions. She could be so silly, yet so smart, a total nerd, but so cool, and she could laugh out loud at the most serious subjects. Hearing her voice on the phone, he couldn’t believe he didn’t call her more often. “Don’t you ever give up on me,” he said.

            “I was just joking,” she said. “What have you been up to?”

            “You wouldn’t believe it. I went to Lancaster with a friend. I was actually invited to their backyard shooting range where I was given the option of either shooting at a target of the president or a Muslim,” he said.

            Heather laughed. “Good God that’s horrible. What did you do?”

            “I shot a bird,” Deni replied casually.

            “Oh Deni, that poor bird didn’t deserve to die,” said Heather.

            “Are you going to report me to the Audubon Society?”

            “I hear they can be pretty nasty dudes. I don’t want to tell you what they do with their telescopes,” she said.

            “That’s gross,” he said.

            “Well don’t go killing innocent birds,” Heather scolded.

            Deni grinned. “I miss you. I wish we went to the same school.”

            “You knew I was going to William and Mary, but you had to go to Temple.”

            “I gotta scholarship. Neither William or Mary gave me money to come to their school,” he said.

            “Yeah, you had to go to the heart of the City of Brotherly Love,” Heather said.

            “Where the brothers are dying daily,” he replied.

            “I worry about you,” she said.

            Deni put his arm behind his head. “I’m totally cool, sweetheart. You don’t need to worry about me.” He heard her yawn. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

            “Yeah, I’m pooped. Goodnight. It was nice talking to you,” she said. “Love you.”

            “I love you too,” he said.

             Deni had a hard time sleeping. His mind was swirling through the past, the present, and his very dim future. Between Marsha, Dr. Sodhi, and the wasted time sitting around in his cell, all he could do is think of what was and could have been. He could have married Heather; he wanted to but he knew his mother would not approve and Heather would not convert. He could have ignored his mother’s wishes, but he chose his family over himself.

            Aggressively he switched positions on his hard cement bed and turned to face the wall. He reached his hand out to feel the cold cement and realized his family’s expectations were a wall he could not overcome; he couldn’t break free. Sure, there were plenty of girls at the Islamic center in Reading that were suitable girlfriends and potential wives, and there were plenty in the mosque in Philadelphia. It wasn’t without trying, but none of them were Heather. All were too ready and too complacent to fall into the Muslims traditions.
Funny, how Heather’s independence and rebellion is what attracted me
.
What if I was the one who broke the tradition?

 

            Deni rested uncomfortably on a soft suede couch, watching Heather play Santa Claus for the Atkins family. It was winter break from their freshman year of college and it was either spend the holiday with his parents, or with his brother, who was feuding with his wife. He chose the Atkins.

            When Heather extended an invite from the Atkins family, he lied to his family telling them friends from school were going on a school ski trip. Really, he was a mile from home celebrating the Christian holiday.

            The Atkins were okay people, but they simply weren’t
his
people. They were uptight Anglo Saxons, who’s Christmas cards looked like a picture from Town and Country magazine and there sat Deni, a dissident from the streets of Reading.

            Heather reached under the Christmas tree for presents, “Here’s one for mom, dad, Jess and Jacob.” She searched under the tree and then handed one to Deni. “And Deni.”

            It was a wrapped shirt box. Deni held his ear to it and shook it hard. “What could it possibly be?” he asked sarcastically. He wildly unwrapped the package, and lifted the lid of the box. “What do you know,” he said, pulling a sweatshirt out of the box, “A William and Mary sweatshirt. What a surprise.”

            “I noticed how you were always envying mine.” Heather demonstrated the sweatshirt she was wearing. “Now we can match. We can be twins and maybe give you a hint.”

            “Good Lord, sis, are you a nerd. Deni, I apologize for her nerdiness,” said her sister Jessica.

            Deni pulled off his gray heather hoody and put on the William and Mary sweatshirt. He and Heather jokingly posed with goofy smiles and thumbs up for her mother’s picture.

            “Well that will certainly be one for the family photo album,” said Mrs. Atkins.

            Dr. Atkins reached under the tree and handed a present to Deni. “This is from me and Heather’s mom.”

            Deni handled the gift carefully, shocked to receive a present from Heather’s parents. He unwrapped with much more care and found it to be a Citizen Eco watch. It must have cost a couple hundred dollars. “Thank you,” he said.

            Dr. Atkins patted him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

            Heather curled next to Deni to get a better look at the watch. “Put it on.”

            Deni put on the watch and modeled it for Heather.

            “Very sexy,” she said.

            “It’s not supposed to be sexy. It’s not jewelry,” remarked Deni. “I’m sorry,” he said Mr. Atkins. “I don’t have anything. I’m kind of embarrassed.”

            “Do not feel sorry at all. It’s Christmas; it’s about giving,” replied Mrs. Atkins who then pat Deni on the back. “We consider you part of the family. You’ve already made the family Christmas photo album.”

            Deni nodded shyly. It was barely a year ago that this man wouldn’t even let him in the front door to see Heather after the prom.
Surely he would have thought I’m not good enough for his daughter, let alone buy me an expensive watch
, he thought.

            “I hope you’re not offended, in that you don’t celebrate Christmas,” said Heather’s mother.

            “Muslims believe in Jesus; it is a special day, although Jesus wasn’t born in December. Christmas is really based on pagan rituals,” responded Deni.

            Heather’s mother nodded politely. “Interesting.”

            Deni bit his bottom lip, realizing he may have said too much. “The watch is really nice. I really like it. Thank you.”

            “Who wants to sit next to a roaring fire and drink hot egg nog in June?” remarked Heather.

            “Is that how it works: celebrate the birth of your savior when the mood suits?” joked Deni.

            Heather glared at him and then nudged him with her shoulder. “Why do you need to be so smart?”

            He leaned in to her and smiled. “I really like my William and Mary sweatshirt.”

            “You better. I spent hours picking it out,” she joked.

            Later after the unwrapping festivities ended, Heather and Deni sat together alone in a back enclosed porch. Only a single candle provided the light, while outside a wet, thick snow fell, covering everything in what looked like a white cake frosting. Deni never thought he would understand Christmas, but sitting alone with Heather in the candlelight, sipping egg nog and watching the snow fall, he definitely felt the spirit.

            Deni played with the timers and gadgets on his watch. “There’s even a sprint timer,” he said.

            “I think that’s the point,” said Heather, “You’re an athlete. Plus my dad thought it would be cool to get you a watch that has multiple time zones.”

            “And I can always know what time it is at home,” he said.

            Heather laughed. “Yeah dummy, you can just check your phone for the time here.”

            “No, I meant Russia,” he said.

            “You think Russia is home?” she asked.

            “Well of course. I’m not from here,” He messed with her hair. “Now who’s the dummy?”

            “You sound like you’re just doing time here, like you’re on a vacation or business trip,” she said.

            “Sweetie, it’s been no vacation,” he said.

            “What are you talking about?” she asked with concern in her voice. “Life’s been hard here? You don’t enjoy me or my company?”

            Deni nudged his shoulder against hers. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s like this; wherever you go in life, no matter where you live, Reading will always be home, right?”

            “Yeah,” Heather sighed. “Do you ever think of going home?”

            “Yes,” he said, “a lot.”

            “What’s there, that isn’t here?” she asked.

            “Me,” he responded quickly and then looked into her eyes. “I can tell you what’s here, but not there,” he said with smile.

            Heather slumped in her seat. “I feel bad.”

            “Why? It’s Christmas Eve; you should be happy,” he said.

            “But you’re not,” she replied.

            “I am. I have a spanking new watch and a cool new sweatshirt.” He could tell she didn’t believe him. He put his arm around her neck and pulled her close. “I can’t believe your father bought me a watch. I didn’t think he liked me.”

            “Why would you think that?” she asked.

            “Well let’s see, I ditched you for the prom. We had sex numerous times in your bedroom,” he said.

            “He got over the prom and well, he doesn’t know about the sex.”

            He kissed her head. “Don’t tell him; I really like the watch.”

            Heather laughed and pushed him away. “You’re a nut.”

            “You’re a fruit cake,” he teased.

            They sat together for a while longer in quiet, just appreciating the night. When the time came for sleep, Heather helped him pull out the sofa bed and provided him with clean linen. “There’s a downstairs washroom if you’d like to take a shower.”

            “I know,” he said with a wink. “I’ve used it before.”

            Heather grinned bashfully. “I wish you could sleep with me, but it wouldn’t be prudent.”

            “I know. This is cool. Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

            “Merry Christmas,” she said and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

            When Heather left, Deni took a quick shower in the Atkins’ first floor guest washroom. It was like bathing at a spa. There were so many fragrances and bath gels. Deni didn’t know what to smell like—lavender or coconut. He went with coconut believing it to be just slightly more masculine than lavender
.
There were not just two soap scents, but soap for his face, shampoo and two types of conditioner.
Just how much soap do Americans need to keep clean
,
when one bar will do
?
Does my hair need extra volume or do I want to control my split ends? And yes, my pores do need tightening
, he thought and then covered his face with a green mask.

            After his shower he lay on the pullout couch. It was more comfortable than any bed he ever slept in.
Maybe one day I’ll have the dough to have a pad like this? I’ll be able to sleep like a king in a guest room
. Looking outside the window, he noticed the snow had stopped and the sky was pitch-black. Despite the company, the warmth of Heather’s family and their generosity, he felt even more alone and isolated. It wasn’t him; he didn’t belong there.

 

            Deni blindly traced the outline of a cement brick with his finger.
If only I could have accepted
.
Why is it so hard for people to accept the goodness that is handed to them and just accept the bad?
Dr. Atkins has always been supportive and kind despite me
.

            For a brief moment, Deni allowed himself to do something he knew would cause him more pain, and that was dream of the future. He imagined marrying Heather. They would have a multi-religious ceremony and both families would be accepting. Knowing her, she would have worn a simple gown with little frills and a short veil.

            He stopped there, anymore would cause too much heartache. Confined to his solitude the heartache would breed to insanity and maybe worse. He rolled over and grabbed the Quran placed by his bed. Flipping to the nearest page, he started reading.

 

            A guard stood behind Deni as he sat on a chair at a phone booth. Not much privacy as all the phones were right next to each other with only a thin plastic divider separating callers. Of all the people he wanted to talk to it was Heather, but he was denied. He bit his bottom lip with hesitance and dialed.

            Upon hearing his mother’s hello, he glanced over his shoulder and started mumbling quietly in Russian, “Hi ma, it’s me, Deni.”

            She was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “How are you doing? Are they treating you okay?”

            “Yes,” he said. “Wounds have pretty much healed and everything is fine.” There was a pause in the conversation and he heard her crying. “Ma, everything is going to be fine.”

            “How can you say that?” she asked tearfully.

            Deni slid back in his seat; he didn’t know. Nothing was going to be fine again; it’s just the words that came out of his mouth. There wasn’t really any point in talking about life at all; it was pretty much over. Any positive words would be a lie and both he and Kamiila knew it.

            “What’s going on with the case?” Kamiila asked.

            “I can’t talk about it, and if I could, I really don’t know much. My defender seems to be on top of everything, but I don’t see her very much. She only comes by when she has something to talk to me about,” he said. “And then I see a psychiatrist almost every day.”

            “Why do you need to see a psychiatrist? You’re not crazy,” replied Kamiila.

            Deni laughed. “I think that depends on who you ask. It’s just the standard stuff, talking about my life, my family, blah, blah, blah…”

            “Your family? What did you say? They’re not trying to blame me,” responded Kamiila.

            “No ma, it’s me and Mik they’re blaming,” he said.

            “Well, you were both such good boys. They should know that. You should tell your psychiatrist that. Tell them it is American society that is crazy,” she said.

            “Right,” Deni said with a sigh, “Is pop around?”

            “Yes, he is right here,” she replied.

            At the sound of Bashir’s voice, he felt comforted and ready to purge his entire soul. He wanted to beg his father to get him out, to help him, to save him, but he knew it was useless. “Hi pop.”

            “Are they treating you okay in there?” asked Bashir.

            “I guess as good as possible. I haven’t been raped yet,” Deni joked.

            Bashir didn’t respond.

            “Sorry,” Deni said. “I just don’t know what to say. I sit around all day and night not having anybody to talk to. You’d think I’d have tons to say, but I have nothing. I haven’t watched the news so I can’t talk about current events. Hell, I don’t even know what the weather is like. I only get outside for like an hour a day.”

            Bashir was quiet and then said, “I love you. You make sure to take care of yourself. Don’t take any abuse from anyone.”

            Deni rested his forehead on his palm. “I was pretty good at getting away from tacklers on the football field, I think I could do pretty well in here,” he joked.