The Insurrectionist (24 page)

            “He’s a good and just God—a God of love and peace. Do you believe he would want to see any of his children in pain? Just as he didn’t want to see all the innocent civilians killed and maimed in America’s war you protested, he would not want to see your anguish.”

            “Those are good people, living a just and virtuous life,” responded Deni. “I am not.”

            Marsha sat back in her seat. “Clearly, I cannot make you see what you refuse.”

            “What’s that?” he asked.

            “A good soul,” she said. “Good souls get lost; they face adversity and struggles. They suffer personal judgments and have deep reflections, but they always come back to the bright side. You had the opportunity to find that bright side, but you chose the dark path. Why? That’s all we want to know. Why did you choose the dark path?”

            Deni stared at Marsha and said the first thing that came to mind. “Because it’s what I deserved.”

            Marsha reached out to Deni and took his hands in hers. “Confess to me. Bare your burden so your soul can be liberated.”

               It was the winter break of Deni’s sophomore year; Deni stayed with his older brother, and his wife. If Deni thought the Atkins’ were uptight Anglo-Saxons, staying at Mikail’s house was like living in a military barracks. The Atkins took consideration making sure Deni was content and comfortable.
Funny
,
that family does not have the same consideration for one’s comfort and contentment
, he thought.

            There was relatively no concern for Deni at Mikail’s house. Under Mikail’s roof, everyone lived to his standard. They watched the television shows he wanted to watch, eat what he wanted to eat, and went to bed when he was tired. Jamie had grown accustomed to Mikail’s schedule and like a dutiful wife, she obeyed. Deni marveled at how Jamie was able to keep her sweetness despite Mikail’s pressures.

            Deni didn’t speak too much; he understood. Years ago he admired his older brother, but the move from Russia to America had been harder for his brother. Barely able to speak and read the language, Mikail found promise as a football player and a pretty girlfriend, but that promise was taken away shortly after it was given. It was like giving a dog a bone and taking it away as soon as the dog tasted it.
Of course the dog would growl
, thought Deni, and Mikail did a lot of growling.

            Resting back on his brother’s couch, watching some news channel on the television, Deni wondered why his life turned out so differently than Mikail’s
. Was it because I was younger when we moved to America? Is it the opportunities I received? Do I really deserve the opportunities? Is it just personality that it was easier for me to adjust?

            It didn’t really matter what Deni thought, in Mikail’s house, Mikail did all thinking, so Deni didn’t offer much conversation. He quietly sat on the couch, doing time until he was able to escape back to the college dormitory room at Temple.

           

            The next morning, Deni was woken and pushed out of Mikail’s living room sofa bed. Mikail had heavily encouraged Deni to go jogging with him in the morning. Deni was used to getting up for early morning football practice, but on his vacation—forget it.

            Mikail drove to a park at the edge of the Schuylkill River. Deni pulled himself lethargically out of the car and slowly followed Mikail down a dirt path alongside the river. It was arduous, painful running. The sky was gray; the bare trees gave an overall sense of death, which was what Deni felt like doing. His lungs froze with the heavy cold air, and his legs stiffened.

            Looking back, Mikail laughed. “You’re supposed to be in shape? How can you let an old man like me beat you?”

            Deni didn’t respond and kept running. No answer would be good enough. Perhaps it wasn’t the jogging, perhaps it was the company; perhaps it was the pressure and the competition. He never really minded jogging before.

 

            Summer leaves newly emerged on the trees. The morning dew was still heavy in the air with the summer sun trying to burn through. Deni always hated running laps around the track, or even the treadmill, which seemed futile. There was something about running through nature, winding alongside the river that felt more natural, or maybe it was his company.

            It was amazing she could keep pace, and even pull out ahead, but Heather did run long distance for several years. She had beautiful long legs and a very easy stride. Many times, he’d lag behind a few steps just to watch her run.
She is like a gazelle and I guess that would make me the wolf
, he thought.

            Heather looked back over her shoulder, “Am I going too fast for you?”

            Deni chuckled, breathless and then caught up to her. “Nah, just trying to make you feel good.”

            She picked up a bit of speed and jogged out in front of Deni. “Yeah, care to put it to a race.”

            “With you? Fuck no! I’d be choking on your dust,” Deni said.

            Heather laughed; she knew it to be true. She could smoke him, maybe not in a quick sprint. He had the speed but she had the endurance. It seemed to be the nature of their relationship. He was fast in short spurts, but she always had the patience. Soon, together they found the same stride and ran in silence. Being alone with Heather was Deni’s most peaceful and comforting time.

 

            Somehow Deni endured the jog with Mikail; maybe it was because he feared the repressions of stopping or taking a break. Deni was one of the few people who understood Mikail—this sibling competition Mikail needed. He needed to succeed; he needed to win and be the best. Deni played his game. It didn’t matter to him. If he could make his brother feel good, then it would be the best for everyone.

            When they returned, Jaime had breakfast waiting—pancakes and eggs. After Jamie had left for work, Mikail collected Elena’s belongings and they all headed off to the Islamic center just outside of town.

            It had been a long time since Deni visited the center; it had to be Mikail’s marriage to Jamie. He remembered it well; he was hung over from drinking the night before with T-Bone and the guys. Surely, his parents and Mikail did not know, but Allah sure did. He was punished throughout the ceremony with a throbbing headache and swirling stomach.

            “When was the last day you prayed?” asked Mikail.

            Deni didn’t know the answer, but said, “I pray every day.”

            “Good,” said Mikail.

 

            Later that evening, Deni met with his family for dinner and tonight Kamiila had a surprise for him¾a mystery guest. Her name was Ceyda Terzi, and Kamiila made sure to point out to Deni that Ceyda’s name meant beautiful. Ceyda, a biology major at Albright College, had a mound of dark hair and was smart, polite and most importantly Muslim. She came from a well off family outside Philadelphia and of course her father was a doctor.

            Everything seemed to be going the way Kamiila desired. She kept close ties with her daughters, and her relationship with Jamie was warming despite a chilly beginning. Finding the right girl for Deni would complete her goal.

            Deni was quiet during dinner. He let Ceyda speak for him, as if they already were married.
What the hell, there’s nothing to say. My life is already signed away. Ma probably already signed the marriage license
, he thought. He realized now why his father was so quiet and his brother was holding on to control; when a woman gets a hold of a man’s life, there is no turning back.
Marriage is the death sentence of a man’s soul. It’s just a tool for child production and bread winning
.

            After dinner, Ceyda followed Deni to the family living room and took a seat alongside him on the couch. “I get the feeling this was a surprise for you,” she said.

            Deni laughed. “My mother is a matchmaking ninja. I never know when she’s going to sneak someone on me.”

            “My mother came at me like a car salesman. She kept selling you until I broke down,” Ceyda admitted.

            “I hope she didn’t tell you how much mileage I have on me, or the condition of my engine,” Deni joked.

            “Ha, no. She just said you were pre-med at Temple and on the football team,” replied Ceyda.

            “Right, pre-med,” said Deni with a sigh. He checked his watch. “You know Ceyda, it was really nice meeting you, but I did make plans with high school friends tonight. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

            Ceyda stood awkwardly from the couch. “Oh, okay.”

            Deni rose to meet her. “It’s not you, really. It’s just I have—”

            “Plans,” she said.

            “Maybe we can get together later this week for lunch?” he said.

            “Sure, sure,” Ceyda replied.

            Deni and Ceyda said their goodbyes to Deni’s family and walked outside together. “I’ll give you a call later,” said Deni.

            Deni got into his car and drove through all the familiar streets of Reading, feeling a bit like an unfaithful husband. The infidelity stemmed from what had been going on in his heart since the first day of his senior year of high school, his secret from the family.

            He pulled up onto the Atkins’ driveway and got out of the car. The windows were illuminated with a soft warm glow. Sitting alone in his car, he thought about going up and knocking on the door to see if anyone was home
. What good would it do to see her?
he thought as he realized what he really needed.

            Deni soon arrived at Hector Ramirez’s house. He was immediately greeted with iced sugar cookies and a joint.
Sweet
, Deni thought as he reclined on the couch, smoking and listening to Christmas music playing on the stereo.

            Hector’s brother, Luis, served them both a beer. “How is it?” asked Luis.

            Deni inhaled the joint and then slowly exhaled. “Goood,” he slurred. It felt so good to allow the smoke to calm his mind and body as he melted into the Ramirez’s tweed couch. “Where’s Mama Ramirez?”

            “At some Christmas pageant in Harrisburg, won’t be home until late tonight,” replied Hector.

            Deni nodded and then looked up at their wiry, ill-shaped Christmas tree with a few old, scratched and dented decorations. He laughed at loud. “What the hell kind of tree is that?”

            “All trees need love, dude. We always give love to the ugliest of the bunch,” said Hector with a puff of his joint.

            Deni viewed his distorted reflection in one of the Christmas balls; his nose looked huge. “Just like your women,” he said.

            “Ugly women give the best love; it’s a fact,” replied Hector.

            Deni admired his distorted nose in the Christmas ornament. “And the best blow jobs.”

            Hector chuckled. “Like I said—love.”

            No one really gave much care to the doorbell that rang, until it rang again. “Who could that fucking be?” asked Luis as he headed to the door.

            He opened the door and found Mikail on the doorstep. “Yeah, what you want?”

            “My brother,” replied Mikail and then pulled out a Smith & Wesson with his gloved hand from his coat pocket. He shot Luis in the chest and then in the temple.

            As Luis fell against the wall and slumped to the floor, Mikail entered the Ramirez’s house and found Deni and Hector giggling like schoolboys on the couch. Both Deni and Hector looked up at the same time to find Mikail looming above.

            “Mik, what up? Why are you following me dude?” questioned Deni and then snickered.

            “Yeah, what’s with the serious brow dude?” asked Hector and then dragged on the joint.

            In a flash, Mikail pulled his weapon and shot Hector at close range in the head and then in the chest. Blood splattered all over the couch and Deni’s face and shirt.

            “What the hell are you doing? What the fuck? Why’d you do that! Why’d you do that!” Deni yelled.

            Mikail grabbed Deni by the shirt and pulled him off the couch. “Come on, let’s go!” With gloved hands, he leaned over and picked up the shell casings.

            Deni stared at the bullet hole in his childhood friend’s head. The life that just existed a few seconds ago was gone.

 

            It was the first summer in Reading and Bashir took the family up to Blue Marsh to picnic on a small man-made beach. While the rest of the Daudov family kept to themselves, Deni wandered off and made friends with a young Puerto Rican boy of the same age. They didn’t need to exchange names and when they spoke; they spoke in their native languages. Somehow, they understood each other.

            “Get some more sand, we need to build another tower,” said Hector in Spanish.

            Deni watched what Hector was doing and imitated by getting a handful of sand. He helped Hector erect another tower with the sand they both collected.

            “I’m going to build a moat,” said Deni in Russian.

            Hector watched Deni dig a line in the sand with his fingers to the water’s edge. When a stream of lake water circled to the tower, Hector jumped up excitedly and helped Deni dig the moat around the entire sand castle. By the end of the afternoon, they were best buds.

 

            “Mik, what the fuck did you do!” screamed Deni.

            “Calm down,” replied Mikail and then picked up the joint butt. “Did you smoke this?” Deni nodded numbly. Mikail then picked up the beer can? “Did you touch this?”

            “Yeah. Mik, what the fuck?” questioned Deni again.

            Mikail picked up the beer can. “Did you touch anything else?”

            Deni couldn’t think; he couldn’t recall anything in his life before the moment Hector’s head exploded.

            Mikail grabbed Deni by the shirt and pulled him off the couch. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

            Mikail surveyed the scene looking to remove any evidence on his way out. Deni cringed seeing Luis’ body just inside the doorway. “What the hell Mik? Why?” Outside, breathing the cold, winter air, Deni’s mind refreshed from the pot, but he was still in a complete stupor.

            “Follow me home,” commanded Mikail.

            Deni nodded and climbed into his car. As he looked at the steering console, he had temporarily forgotten how to drive. Mikail turned on his lights and honked his horn at Deni. On pure instinct, Deni started the car and followed Mikail back through the streets to his home.

            Once at home, Mikail removed his gloves and jacket and calmly washed his hands in the sink. Deni leaned against the kitchen wall and then glanced down at Hector’s blood on his shirt.