Deni closed his eyes and recalled her face when she reached orgasm—the sound of her voice, and the way her body arched. It was all he needed to gain release.
Immediately he sat up in his bed and dumped his head into his palms disgusted with himself. “Glory be to Allah; praise be to Allah; there is no god but Allah; Allah is the Greatest. There is no power or strength except by the will of Allah. I ask forgiveness of Allah from all my sins and repent to Him,” he prayed.
Trying not to think or feel anything more, he stood and washed himself off with the water from the small sink in his room. He rinsed water over his face and felt the beard on his face. It was the first time he had given any thought to his appearance.
I must look and smell like complete shit
, he thought.
Deni slumped back down on his bed and imagined himself as one of those dirty, filthy vagrants who lust after the pretty young girls on the street.
At nineteen, that is what I have become – a dirty, filthy vagrant
.
The next day, Deni sat awkwardly before Marsha at the table in the interview room, twisting in his seat and biting his nails. Suddenly, he was very self-conscious of his appearance and the thoughts of lust that still filled his mind. “Can you get me a Quran?” he asked.
Marsha studied him carefully. She was well aware of his sudden shifty behavior and paused before answering. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” Deni exclaimed.
“If I get you a Quran and the prosecution uses it to demonstrate your fundamentalism to the jury, it could damage our case.” said Marsha.
“Fundamentalism, you know nothing. You’re just like all the rest with your ignorant prejudice. Don’t tell me you’re just like all the others who believe what your media tells you about Islam?” Deni stood from his chair and paced around the interview room biting his nails.
“Deni, I don’t care if you’re a warlock who practices black magic and cuts the heads off chickens. It is not my job to judge you, but to represent you and defend you. Once this trial is over, I will personally buy you a hundred Qurans and all the virgins to go along with it, but as for now, I think its best that we are prudent with your faith.”
Deni turned away disgusted. “Funny, if I were a Christian fundamentalist, there would be no problem. It’s unfair. I thought America boasted religious freedom.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Deni. You and I know better,” said Marsha as she studied his slumped demeanor. He no longer boasted a cocky appearance and she wondered what was going on inside. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”
Deni laughed. “Am I okay?”
“You’re not yourself,” replied Marsha.
“And how would you know? How do you know who I am?”
“How is solitary?” she asked.
He waved his arms in a dramatic gesture. “It’s great; it gives me the me time I’ve been so missing. I can get in touch with my feelings and really get to know myself…literally,” he said with heavy sarcasm.
“I’m not new to this Deni. I’ve dealt with many others who faced solitary. It is torture. So, talk to me.”
“Sure Marsha, it’s great to have someone to talk to now, but what happens when the trial’s over and I’m stuck there for the next fifty or so years of my life. Who’s going to talk to me then? If only I had a multiple personality disorder, then my personalities can enjoy each other’s company.”
Marsha chuckled. “What’s the deal with the Quran? This is the first time you asked for one since you’ve been lucid and talking.”
Deni returned to his chair. “I’d like to practice my faith; is that so wrong?”
“No. Why? Are you looking for excuses, or redemption?”
“I want to purify my mind, my body and soul,” he said.
“From what?” she asked.
“You’re not my shrink; you’re not even my clergy. You’re my attorney, so can we leave it alone?”
“I need to know your mental, physical and even emotional state in order to best defend you. If you hold back from me, I cannot do my job effectively for you.”
Deni circled around the room. “Can we please not talk about this?”
Marsha reclined and folded her arms over her chest. “It must be hard for a young man to be alone with certain needs.”
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“Deni, I have two sons around your age. Don’t think I don’t know. You’re nineteen; the feelings you have are natural,” replied Marsha in a mothering tone.
“But it’s wrong,” said Deni quickly.
“Having feelings for a girl, no that’s not wrong.” Marsha sat forward, resting her elbows on the table and watched him. “Maybe this is something you need to discuss further with Dr. Sodhi.”
“Fuck no,” Deni muttered. “I suspect she’d get too much of a kick out of seeing me suffer.”
“It is really discouraging to me that lust is what you suffer; it is rather self-indulgent,” said Marsha.
Deni lifted his head and stared at Marsha. “And that is exactly why I requested the Quran so I can purify the thoughts in my mind.”
“God damn, you’re exhausting,” said Marsha. “I’ll bring one in for you tomorrow.”
Deni was returned to cell after his meeting with Marsha. Sadly, it had only been a couple days and already it seemed like home.
Maybe I can get a couple plants and a throw rug and it will really feel homey
, he thought and then collapsed down on his cement bed.
He rolled over on his side and stared at the side of his cell—the desk, the toilet and sink. Although he had gotten what he wanted out of Marsha, he was haunted by her words. He never thought of himself as self-indulgent, on the contrary. According to Dr. Sodhi, he didn’t give much thought to himself at all. As he lay in his bed, he wondered about his contradictions, what it meant and how he came to this place.
It was a hot June day
a
nd the 2011 Reading High School graduating class melted in their seats, dressed in black cap and gowns in rows on the football field before a stadium of family and friends. Deni surveyed the crowds to see if he could find his parents. He couldn’t really make out anyone.
He rested his head on Heather’s shoulder as the student valedictorian gave their speech; it was boring as hell. While the valedictorian
delivered their speech of reaching goals and dreams
, Deni knew most of his fellow students would be standing in long unemployment lines. Many will not make sufficient money to support their families and would need to depend on welfare; others will find criminal means of making a living and most likely find themselves in jail.
Why give false hope?
he thought, but then he looked around and realized no one else was listening either.
“Why do you always put your head on my shoulder?” Heather said. “Why can’t I put my head on your shoulder?”
“‘Cause I’m sleepier than you,” he said.
“Don’t stay up so late,” she remarked quickly.
“How do you know I’m up late,” he replied.
Heather rested her chin on his head. “Because you’re texting me at midnight.”
Deni reached for her hand and played with her fingers. “I can’t sleep. I’m up all night thinking of you.”
“Bullshit!” she laughed.
Deni chuckled. “But you have to admit it was a good line.”
“It was a good line, just know your audience sweetheart,” she said. “It may work on all the other girls, but not on me.”
He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. “What other girls?”
“Now that’s a good response,” she replied. “My folks are having a graduation party for mostly family and family friends later this afternoon. Do you think you can come by?”
“Am I family or a family friend?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Okay. I’ll try to make it.”
After the graduation ceremony, Deni returned home. Kamiila made a large dinner for the family in celebration, including many of the Daudov’s own family friends from the Islamic center. Kamiila raised her wine class to toast her son, “To our future doctor.”
Everyone raised their glasses to Deni. Deni grinned and raised his glass to the toast. “Thank you,” he said.
When dinner was over, everyone dispersed and moved on about their business. Family friends gave their congratulations and best wishes to Deni. Jamie tried to make up bonus points with Kamiila by helping with the dishes. In the living room Bashir and Mikail played with his new born baby Elena. His sisters and their respective boyfriends hung outside on the patio. Everyone left graduate Deni to himself.
“Ma, I’m going to go visit a friend. They’re having a graduation party,” he said.
Kamilla turned to him. “Don’t you want to spend time with your family?”
My family doesn’t want to spend time with me
, he thought, but said, “I promised my friend I’d stop by.” He stepped toward Kamiila and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I won’t be late.”
Deni stepped outside the Daudov house with a big sigh of freedom.
Funny, I feel freedom from my family
, he thought as he drove away, but parking outside the Atkins’ home caused Deni even more stress. There were more Mercedes and Lexus’ then he had seen i
n
a car lot. It was obvious the affluence extended beyond the immediate family.
He got out of his dented Toyota, headed toward the front door and knocked. A handsome blond teenage boy answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Deni. Heather invited me,” Deni replied trying to hide his nervousness.
“Oh hey, Deni. Yeah, we heard all about you,” the teenage boy said. “Come on in.”
Deni walked inside and out to the back patio where it seemed that every person was a character in a Norman Rockwell painting. He felt like an eyesore and a blemish on a shiny American magazine cover.
Dr. Atkins immediately walked up to Deni and surprisingly handed him a beer. “Looks like you need to loosen up.”
Deni flipped open the tab. “Am I that obvious?”
“Painfully,” said Dr. Atkins. “You’re among friends here, not the enemy. I spoke to your parents at the graduation. They’re so proud you’re going to be studying medicine just like your father.”
Deni took a sip of beer and then shrugged awkwardly. “Actually I’m not studying medicine.”
“Oh,” remarked Dr. Atkins surprised.
“Yeah, uhm, I was accepted to Temple’s school of journalism,” replied Deni.
“Journalism,” repeated Dr. Atkins surprised.
“Yeah, you know. I hear TMZ, the National Enquirer and Yahoo are looking for journalists,” said Deni.
Dr. Atkins laughed. “You mean you want to be a creative comedy writer.”
Deni grinned, relieved and loosened up to Dr. Atkins. “Actually, I’d like to be a foreign correspondent.”
“That’s impressive. Why journalism?” he asked.
“Well, to be honest with you Dr. Atkins, there is a lot of bull crap in the world and I’d like to cut it out. The world is lacking true journalists who actually care to write the truth,” replied Deni.
Dr. Atkins nodded. “That’s great! Good for you.” He put his arm around Deni and led him into the backyard. “Let me introduce you to the family.”
Deni glanced over his shoulder at Heather, who was talking with her mother and aunt.
A short time later Deni found some alone time with Heather. She put her arm around his waist and glanced up at him. “What did you say to win over my dad like that?”
“We were talking about journalism,” Deni replied.
“Huh. I really think you should tell your parents about your decision. Sooner or later they’re going to find out you’re not a doctor,” said Heather.
He kissed her on the head. “And ruin my mother’s dreams and delusions, heck no. I’ll just keep telling her all the lives I’m saving and she’ll be happy.”
The overhead lights of Deni’s cell dimmed and he knew it must be bed time. He gazed out the frosted narrow window of his cell. Yes, it was black outside. Laying on his side, memories flooded his mind like ribbons with no beginning and no end. He couldn’t escape them; the memories were like a tangled rope around his heart.
Deni rolled on his back and closed his eyes. When he opened them he had a vision of Heather on top of him, her blonde hair falling onto his face. The illusion was so real he could almost feel the softness of her hair. When he blinked she was gone and heartache set in with the realization he would be alone forever.
Chapter 13
He was finishing his chewy cheeseburger and freeze-dried French fries when the guard knocked on the door and entered. Deni set his tray on the desk and reclined back in his bed. “What now?” he asked.
The guard rattled Deni’s shackles. “Shrink.”
“Fantastic,” he said with heavy sarcasm and allowed the guard to shackle his wrists and ankles.
As the guard paraded him down the familiar hallway, Deni was relieved to have at least some contact, even if it was some hot Indian chick picking at his brain. He knew the game; he could just give her what he wanted.
They want to label me, I’ll just make it difficult
.
The guard opened the door to Dr. Sodhi’s office and removed Deni’s shackles. “How you doin’ doc?” he asked, shaking out his wrists.
“Just dandy,” she said, gesturing for him to take a seat. He obeyed and sat coyly with his hands folded neatly on his lap. Dr. Sodhi reached in her desk drawer, retrieved a book and handed it to Deni.
Deni got up and reached for the book; it was a Quran. “Great, I take it you talked to Marsha.”
“She said you could use some reading,” Dr. Sodhi said.
Deni mindlessly flipped through the pages. “Thanks.”
“So, how are you adjusting to your confinement?” asked Dr. Sodhi.
“What did Marsha tell you?”
“Nothing. Your conversations with her are privileged just as they are with me.”
“Bullshit. You’re documenting everything I say for the trial and my guess is there are many eyes and ears all over this prison. There is no privacy and privilege.”
“Today you’re concerned with privacy and faith. A few days ago you are willing to go on record with your political ideology. The thing I noticed about you Deni is everything okay to discuss as long it doesn’t get personal. Every time the conversation comes around to you, you get defensive. You see your crime is not against your ideology, it is against you; therefore it is you we need to discuss.”
“I’m cool,” he said casually.
“Are you? Are you really?” she questioned.
“Sure,” Deni said flatly.
“You are more comfortable talking to Marsha than myself, aren’t you? Why is that?” she asked.
“Because she at least tries to understand me; you’re just picking my brain to report back to the authorities. You need to give them a diagnosis so they can use it against me.”
“Actually, I am working for you, to help you.”
“It’s too late now, doncha think?” Deni asked.
“You’re still listed on suicide watch. Do you still have those feelings?” questioned Dr. Sodhi.
“Not until now. Right now, I’d like to hang myself,” he said.
“Have you always distrusted people who wanted to help you?” she asked.
“I trust my family,” he said.
“And yet you are in prison because of your brother,” countered Dr. Sodhi.
Deni turned his head away. “You don’t understand.”
“Yes, Americans don’t understand loyalty.” Dr. Sodhi sighed and sat back in her chair. “What is loyalty to you Deni? Who is loyal to you? Who is truly looking out for your best interest?”
Deni didn’t respond.
“Your mother and brother were concerned about your partying and your associations in school. They claimed your friends were leading you down a bad path and they wanted to reintroduce you to your faith. How did that make you feel that they didn’t approve of your lifestyle and friends?”
“My mother and brother loved me more than anyone, so I think they were right,” said Deni.
“That’s not my question. I didn’t ask what you think; I asked what you feel,” replied Dr. Sodhi. “When your family criticized your lifestyle, your friends and possibly girlfriends, how did that make you feel?”
Deni tossed his head back and forth and grunted. “I don’t know. Ashamed maybe. So what, you want to blame this on my mother now?”
“No, most mothers have their child’s best interest at heart. They do what they feel is right for their children. I’m just trying to gauge you and how it affected your life.” Dr. Sodhi checked her notes. “How did your mother feel about you playing football?”
“She hated it. She didn’t like me getting hit,” he said.
“Your brother played football too. She hated it when he played?” asked Dr. Sodhi.
“He played defense; he did the hitting. I played offense and was hit quite often. I usually always had some injury,” Deni said.
“Your brother had hopes of a football career, but it faded when he didn’t make the grades to go to college. You were recruited to a good school? Do you think there were any hard feelings?”
“Nope,” Deni said flatly.
“No sibling rivalry?” questioned Dr. Sodhi. “Your brother’s dreams didn’t come true; he didn’t have many friends. You had everything he didn’t. You don’t suspect there was a hint of jealousy on his part.”
“Nope,” Deni repeated quickly, not giving any thought to the question. “My brother loved and supported me.”
Dr. Sodhi sighed quietly. “Tell me about Coach Schwartz. He gave you a stellar reference for college. He said you were not just a talented athlete, but you were a source of support and encouragement for your fellow teammates. And yet today, considering everything, Coach Schwartz still has your back. He feels discouraged that somewhere along the lines he let you down. Didn’t he recommend Temple where you got a scholarship? He feels guilty that you were lost in the system.”
Deni crossed his ankles and folded his arms across his chest. “He should not feel guilty.”
“What do you think of Coach Schwartz?” questioned Dr. Sodhi.
He laughed. “He used to ride my ass hard. I can’t believe he would actually say those things.”
Fifteen-year-old Deni reclined in the grass and stared mindlessly at the clouds passing above. The grass felt cool against his back and it felt good to rest. Reading High School football coach, Charlie Schwartz, as wide as he was tall, walked through the lines of high school sophomore students trying out for the football team. Despite his size and tough demeanor, he had a jolly, almost Santa Claus look to him.
Coach Schwartz wasn’t too jolly however when he loomed over Deni and asked, “Comfortable?”
Deni grinned and sat up upright. “Sorry.”
Coach Schwartz checked his clipboard. “So who are you and why you working on your suntan on my field?”
“Deni Daudov,” he said, shading the sun with his hand as he looked up at Coach Schwartz.
“Ah ha, any relationship to linebacker Mikail Daudov?” asked Coach Schwartz.
“Yeah, he’s my brother.”
Coach Schwartz sized Deni up and then laughed boisterously. “That’s hard to believe. Your brother is a mountain and you well, somewhat of a twig. What’d you play in junior high?”
“Left tackle,” replied Deni.
Coach Schwartz roared. “You!”
“I was second on the team in tackles,” defended Deni.
“And what was Northwest Junior High’s record?” questioned Coach Schwartz with a smirk.
Deni said nothing of his team’s losing record.
“Right,” said Coach Schwartz.
Deni sat up and watched him walk away. He had no idea what it meant, but then he had really no idea what anything meant, so he collapsed back down in the grass and stared at the sky.
Throughout the day, Coach Schwartz put all the young players through intense drills. He certainly wasn’t as big as his older brother Mikail, but Deni was quick and agile and he had his thoughts on where he belonged on the team.
Later that afternoon, as the temperature reached a humid ninety-five degrees, Deni doubled over to touch his toes and take a deep breath. He was drenched with sweat and was desperately hoping practice would soon be over. He stood up and nodded to the exhausted student next to him, “Do you have the time?”
“Hopefully it will soon be quitting time,” said the student wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Don’t I know it? I’m about to lose my lunch,” said Deni.
Coach Schwartz noticed Deni talking. “Daudov!” he yelled and immediately threw the football at him.
Deni caught the ball without a blink of the eye. He stared at Coach Schwartz for a moment and then tossed it back to Coach Schwartz.
“Daudov, give me a mile!”
He has to be joking.
I’m about to fall over with exhaustion. There is no way I can make an entire mile
, thought Deni.
“Are you deaf and dumb Daudov?”
“No sir,” mumbled Deni.
Coach Schwartz nodded toward his assistant. “Go push him on. Don’t let him lag and when he’s done tell him he made the cut.”
The assistant coach walked to the edge of the field and clapped his hands. “Come on Daudov, no lollygagging.”
Deni’s legs were weak, his stomach felt like it was in his throat and he couldn’t see straight through the exhaustion. After four agonizing laps on the track, Deni fell onto the field at the assistant coach’s feet.
The assistant coach helped Deni to his feet. “Coach wanted to give you his congratulations! You made the squad.” As the assistant coach helped Deni back to the locker room he said, “Coach Schwartz seems to be a fan; you two are going to be real tight.”
Deni leaned onto the assistant coach and mumbled, “Great.”
The next morning the alarm rang at 5:30 in the morning.
Fuck, why am I wasting my summer vacation for this bullshit
, he thought as he slammed off the alarm clock. He could barely move. Every muscle in his body ached from yesterday’s practice and today he would have to do the whole nauseating exercise again, this time with psycho Coach Schwartz breathing down his neck.
Today the team was divided into their respective football positions and he surprisingly found himself on the wide receiver squad along with some very fast black guys—notably the fastest guys in the county. In fact, he was the only white guy with a last name many struggled to pronounce in the group.
There must have been some mistake or this Coach Schwartz hates me
, thought Deni.
Tall, slender and very muscular T-Bone looked at Deni and laughed. “You, you’re one of us?”
Deni could only agree. “I know it’s hysterical.”
“No man, I saw you yesterday. You have great hands. You think I could catch a ball on the fly like that,” replied T-Bone.
“Yeah,” replied Devon, “T-Bone’s one of the fastest guys in the state, but can’t catch a ball for shit.”
T-Bone gave Devon a playful shrug. “Eh, knock it off!”
“Hey yo, just saying, your speed, Daudov’s hands, combined you guys could go pro.”
T-Bone put his arm around Deni’s shoulder. “You’re in a good place my man. Receivers are stars of the show and chicks love us.”
“Chicks?” Deni said with a wide grin. “I like chicks.”
“Girls!” yelled the assistant coach. Deni, T-Bone, and Devon glanced across the field at the assistant coach, followed by the quarterbacks of the team. “Let’s stop cackling and get on with practice.”
The receivers took turns running patterns and catching passes. T-Bone, although very fast, always outran every ball. It was true, he was fast, but had a hard time focusing on catching the ball. Deni, who was not nearly as fast, had better concentration; he caught every ball that was thrown to him.
After catching a pass, Deni collapsed on the grass and reclined back casually. He stared up at the sky and dreamily watched the clouds float across.
Coach Schwartz quickly approached Deni and roughly pulled him up by the shoulder pads. “The only time I want to see you on your ass on the ground is when you’re tackled by a defensive end and even then I’m going to be pissed.”
He pushed Deni to the front of the line. As Deni ran the pattern, he saw Coach Schwartz tell the quarterback how to the throw the ball. The quarterback threw the ball. Deni put his hands out to catch it, but the ball bounced off the top of Deni’s helmet and hit the ground.
“What the hell was the matter with that pass Daudov?” screamed Coach Schwartz.
It was thrown at my head, you mad ass clown
, thought Deni. He smiled and said, “Sorry coach, I took my eye off the ball.”
“You’re a genius, Daudov,” said Coach Schwartz, “You’re up again.”
Deni shook his head and wondered what he did to deserve this punishment. While the other receivers waited, Deni had to run several routes with the ball thrown at his feet, high over his head and most often way out of his reach. He had to keep running until he consecutively caught the badly thrown balls. By the end, he was exhausted. He glanced at his receiver teammates who jokingly applauded his attempt.
At the end of practice, while the rest of the team sat in the grass doing warm-down stretches, Deni stretched standing up. There was no way in hell he was sitting down, even though the rest of the team was doing so.
Coach Schwartz walked up to Deni with his arms folded and gave him a stern look.