Thinking Straight

by Robin Reardon

  All the way to the laundry room I’m chuckling over my conversation with John. If Harnett says it’s too early for me to invite a companion to an Activity, then I get credit for asking permission. And if she says it’s okay, then going with Marie could serve to throw off anyone—like John—who might be suspicious of me. Of course, it will be a sacrifice going with Marie. But she might say no. And if she doesn’t, and I have to go with her, at least I can talk now. And other than violating SafeZone, I’ll bet there ain’t much she could tempt me to do.

  Sean is almost abrupt with me when I ask for my assignment for the day, but I don’t take it personally. I understand he can’t afford to have anyone suspect anything, and that means there can’t be any obvious special understanding between us. So I play along.

  He says, “Do you suppose you and Sheldon could work on sheets today without getting into any trouble?”

  “Sure. Oh, I have to see Harnett at ten.”

  “Mrs. Harnett.”

  “Sorry. Mrs. Harnett. Do I need anything special by way of a hall pass or anything?” I don’t really expect he’ll say yes; I’m teasing him a little.

  “You do. I’ll have one ready for you.”

  Oh. Well. Wonder if it’s time to pick my nose now…. “Thanks.”

  Sheldon isn’t here yet, so I start without him. I’ve almost gotten the fitted-sheet-folding technique figured out when he shows up. I’m happy to see him; we’ll actually be able to talk to each other for the first time. I’ve never heard his voice, other than when he’s laughing. As he’s walking toward me, I hold up my hand for a high-five, but he stops short.

  “Taylor, no. We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s FI.”

  “That’s bogus. Who told you that?”

  “John McAndrews.”

  Careful, Taylor; don’t give anything away. I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Oh well, then. I guess we shouldn’t, if he says so. Is it okay to shake hands?”

  Sheldon looks a little sheepish. “I guess so.” And we do.

  “I have to see Mrs. Harnett at ten o’clock. We can work together until then.”

  “You’ll have to get a pass.”

  “Yeah. Sean knows.” Maybe Sheldon isn’t going to be any fun after all. He seems like a bit of a wuss at the moment.

  We work silently—just like old times—while I try to think of something to say. At one point I see Nate come in, but I’m careful not to take any special notice of him. Finally I ask Sheldon, “So, why were you sent here?”

  Sheldon cringes like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Or like he’s about to be. “Taylor, jeez.”

  “Jeez what? Is it something you don’t want to talk about? I’ll tell you why I’m here, if you want to know.”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’ve left all that behind me, okay? I’ve wiped my slate clean. Dr. Strickland said so.”

  “And Reverend Bartle prayed it out of you?”

  Sheldon looks over his shoulder like he’s afraid people are listening. “I’ve repented. I’m not revisiting any of that. So please stop asking me.”

  “Okay, okay. What do you wanna talk about?”

  “I dunno. Something that won’t get me into trouble.”

  Won’t get him into trouble. I wonder if he knows what trouble is. “How long will you be here?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “Me, too. What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get out?”

  He’s quiet so long, I’m not sure he heard me. We finish a sheet and he sets it on the pile and leans on it. He doesn’t look at me, but he says, “Do you mind if we don’t talk so much?”

  I’m so tempted to ask what he’s afraid of. But I know he won’t tell me, and he’s already freaked out. So I just say, “Whatever,” and pick up another sheet.

  We’re still folding away, as silently as on Tuesday, when Sean signals me from the office door. Pretending I’m still in SafeZone, I gesture to Sheldon that I have to go. I think the point is lost on him.

  Sean hands me a slip of paper that has Mrs. Harnett’s name and his on it. “Here. She’ll give you another one to get back.”

  “Thanks.” Being out of SafeZone isn’t nearly as much fun as I’d hoped.

  Harnett is waiting for me, sitting behind her desk, hands folded in front of her. “Good morning, Taylor. Please close the door behind you and then have a seat.”

  As I sit, I notice my MIs are under her hands. I say, “Good morning,” and wait for her to start.

  “You’re a very interesting resident, Taylor. And honest, thanks be to God. The tone of these two documents varies one from the other according to the moods you were most likely in when you wrote them. Do you accept Jesus Christ as your savior, Taylor?”

  Was that a non sequitur, or did I miss something? “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You wrote on Monday that bad words had occurred to you multiple times. Are you finding the frequency to be lessening?”

  Just last night I’d changed fuck to heck when I was talking to Nate. That should count for something. So I say, “No, but I’m finding it easier to change them to something less offensive.”

  She blinks at me. “You make it sound as though you’ve been speaking them.”

  “In my head, I have. But on Monday and Tuesday, I didn’t change them to something else.”

  “So you can see how SafeZone can help you. And now that you’re speaking out loud, you change them?”

  “I guess that’s it.”

  “Why are you changing them?”

  Okay, I know what kind of an answer she wants here. I decide to give her as much as I can without lying. “They’re wrong here. I’m trying to leave them outside.”

  She looks at me for a second and then says, “They’re wrong outside, too, Taylor. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But I have to take it one step at a time. I’ve been saying them for years.”

  I think she’s trying not to chuckle. “Very well. Now, you mentioned you were reported to be humming an inappropriate song. You also mentioned you changed the song to something else when you hummed later. Tell me about that.”

  Tell her about it? That’s what I did in the MI. “I’m not sure…What do you want to know?”

  “Were you surprised that someone reported you?”

  “Yes.”

  “When you were humming the first time, did you sing the lyrics in your head?”

  “Some of them. The ones I could remember.”

  “Didn’t you recognize them as FI?”

  “No. Not until Sean pointed it out. Then I started humming something else.”

  “But did you understand, after Sean spoke to you, that it was wrong?”

  I shrug. “That song doesn’t have anything bad in it. So if it’s just a question of reminding me of how I was before I came here, then I understand. But the song itself seemed fine to me.”

  “Do you understand, Taylor, that you’re being born anew in the time you spend with us?”

  I want to say I was born okay the first time. But I just tell her, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When you leave here you’ll be a new person. It’s a chance few people get in their lifetimes, and I hope you will cherish it in the way it deserves. Only God can give you this chance, Taylor. God and the people who love you.”

  I bow my head, hoping that will do the trick. It seems to.

  “Now, your MI goes on to say that you were chafing in SafeZone. You said it made you want to lie about what had happened because you didn’t feel you’d done anything wrong, and yet you couldn’t explain yourself.” She looks at me. I wait her out, and she goes on. “Tell me now what you think about SafeZone.”

  Brainstorm. “I think it’s like a double-edged sword. It cuts both ways.”

  She sits forward just a squidge. I have her. “Go on.”

  “Well, it can still be extremely frustrating, at times when I feel strongly that I need to communicate
something. When I think I’m being misunderstood or misjudged. Like with the sheets in the laundry room, when Nate chastised us. But at other times it’s good. Like, being new, I don’t know all the ways we’re supposed to behave. How we’re supposed to respond to things. So it’s good to be able to watch without being expected to speak. And, like I said earlier, maybe it kept me from saying some things I shouldn’t. Things I’m used to just blurting out.”

  She’s nodding; good. But then she says, “So, what if I told you I was going to put you back into SafeZone?”

  A number of those “wrong” words occur to me at once, and it’s everything I can do not to react. As quietly as I can, I say, “I guess I’d hope you’d tell me why.”

  “I mentioned that you are a very interesting person, Taylor. Many times, interesting people are also presumptuous. Many times, they rebel against authority. Many times, they find humility an almost unbearable challenge. I think you are one of those people.”

  Don’t speak, Taylor. Don’t speak. Say nothing. Presumptuous; that’s what I’d said to John….

  “Are you one of those people?”

  “Do you think that because of what I did last night? Because if you do, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

  “No, I don’t think you did mean to do anything wrong. And strictly speaking, you didn’t. But you revealed many things about yourself nevertheless. Initiative is not necessarily a bad thing, Taylor. In fact, once it’s harnessed, it’s a very good thing. Yours has, I think, yet to be harnessed. Partly that’s because you’re young. And partly it’s because you are a leader. But because you are a leader, it’s that much more important for you to learn to curb your impulses, to manage them, to shepherd them in ways that lead others to the glory of God rather than in ways that break down discipline. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Okay, this is a trap. If I say no, I get SafeZone as punishment. If I say yes, I get it because I asked for it. I try a distraction. “Are we going to talk about my second MI?”

  I hate the look I see on her face right now. It’s like she’s not falling for it, but she knows I’ve tried.

  “Your second MI isn’t nearly as interesting as your first. It’s more a laundry list of transgressions, and the one that preyed most heavily on your mind was forgiven last night. And I think you understand now about the writing.” Oh, I understand, all right. I understand you’ll see anything I don’t flush down the toilet. “So, no, I don’t think we need to dwell on the second one. But we do need to figure out how to address the situation that has arisen around your leadership. Were you aware of the effect your Public Apology had on your brothers and sisters?”

  Effect? No; what effect? “Some of them spoke to me afterward, that’s all I know.” I’m trying not to sound sulky, and not succeeding. I know where this is going, and I can’t see a way out.

  “They were very impressed. Some of them who typically speak out when the Apology is finished were silent. And as for speaking to you afterward, I don’t think I’ve ever seen residents praise a brother or sister after an Apology. If they express anything, it’s sympathy or understanding. Support. But they praised you.”

  Thanks, Dawn. Thanks for nothing. I’ll have to learn to hide my light under a bushel from now on. “I wasn’t looking for praise. I just wanted to be understood.”

  “I believe you. If I thought you had deliberately set yourself forward in pride, your punishment would have been severe. As it is, I think one more day of SafeZone will help you understand how you must modify your—let’s call it zeal. Redirect it.”

  She sits back and folds her hands on the edge of the desk. “You are bold, brother Taylor. This is a good thing. But your boldness, your energy, must be harnessed and directed toward the glory of God. Perhaps you didn’t intend to direct it toward self-glorification, but it would be far too easy, and extremely dangerous, for others to glorify you because of it. And that can lead to delusion, to glory of self. Do you understand?”

  Am I in SafeZone yet, I want to ask? Foolish. That would be beyond foolish. So I tell her the truth. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

  “Very well. Because you’re in SafeZone again until noon tomorrow, you will be released from your work assignment at four o’clock today for Contemplation. I suggest you spend that time to come to the understanding you don’t yet have. And don’t forget to do your third MI. I’ll see you here tomorrow at noon precisely.” She picks up a pen and writes something on a paper. “Keep this note with you until I see you again, in case anyone stops you in transit.” She hands it to me and then reaches into a drawer. In her hand is a sheet of yellow stickers. “Do you have any questions before you enter SafeZone?”

  It’s an effort to breathe normally. I’m sure my face is beet red, and fury is making my stomach boil up whatever it was I had for breakfast. I struggle to keep my voice even. “Yes. I was planning to ask you whether I could invite Marie Downs to accompany me to tomorrow night’s barbeque. But if that would be putting myself forward inappropriately, I won’t.”

  “I’m glad you understand, Taylor. It would, in fact, be putting yourself forward inappropriately. Not only because this is your first week, but also because I suspect your reasons are not altogether admirable. Why Marie?”

  Think fast, Taylor. “Well, she seems to be kind of desperate. Like she’s struggling for something she can’t quite see. And it can make her seem abrasive. No one had asked her, so I thought it might make her feel better if someone did. That’s all.”

  Harnett gives me a long look, like she’s trying to see into my brain. “Well, maybe for some future Activity you could ask her. But for now, I think you should go with John.”

  Ha! So he is in on this with her. Otherwise, how would she know there had been any plan to go with him? It’s so tempting to say something here. Like, “Did he tell you he wants to understand my scriptural-research methods?” But I just sit there, trying hard not to look angry. Hell, trying not to look like the wrath of God. Plus if I say anything else, she might make me do a Public Apology for my Public Apology.

  She asks, “Anything else?”

  But I’ve said all I’m going to say. I was trying to be honest in here, at least as honest as I could be. But this isn’t the first time being honest has gotten me into something shitty. If I’m forced, and I’m beginning to think I am, I can give her only what she wants to hear. I can play her game. I can fake humble and harnessed and curbed. Because now I’m in the circle. And because Will is waiting for me. “No.”

  “Stand, then, brother Taylor, and accept your mark.”

  The mark of Satan? The mark of something evil, that’s for certain. She hands me a sticker, I take it, and I slap it onto my shoulder. It’s an effort not to extend my arm into the air. Heil, Hitler.

  “You have the note I gave you?” Nod. “Go with God, Taylor.”

  I turn on my heel and leave, shutting the door behind me as quietly as I can manage.

  Chapter 9

  The disciples told him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and are you going there again?”

  —John 11:8

  I head for the nearest boys’ room. How could she do this to me? I was trying so hard! Inside a booth, I stand so no one can see my face. Christ, but I hate this place. How can Nate stand it? And how could he willingly have sacrificed two fucking summers for it after having suffered through one?

  It’s a misery just thinking of what the rest of my day will be like. Everyone who knows me will see this mark of disgrace—and that’s what it is now, not an indication of new arrival any longer—and imagine all kinds of things I’ve done wrong to deserve it.

  I did nothing wrong! At least, not as far as Harnett knows. Unless Nate isn’t what he pretends to be. Unless he’s really some kind of mole, tempting kids like me and trapping them. Is that what’s going on?

  No. It can’t be. For one thing, I refuse to allow myself to fall back into the state of confusion I was in before he conscripted me.
For another, it just feels wrong. He’s good at this game, but he can’t be that good.

  Shit. He’ll see this sticker, too. He’ll think I’ve done something wrong. Something that might disqualify me from the circle, and he won’t be able to ask me what. At the very least, it will alert him that Harnett’s got her eye on me.

  Will I still be able to go to the meeting tonight? And if I do, can I talk?

  I want to hit something so badly! My eye falls on the toilet paper roll. If I attack it where it is, I’ll catch hell for destruction of property. It takes me a frustrating ninety seconds to figure out how to release the thing from its holder. Then I pound it.

  I don’t even put it back on the holder when I leave the booth.

  What a rebel. (Sarcasm alert.) I used to be pretty gutsy. What the hell’s happening to me?

  I’ll have to go back to the laundry room now, where pissy little Sheldon will see this and be glad he’s such a coward. Well, if I’m yellow on the outside, he’s yellow on the inside. I will not be humbled. And even more, I will not be humiliated. I stand in front of the mirror and square my shoulders. Chin up, Taylor! Look ’em in the eye, and smirk!

  Back at the laundry room, I show Sean my note. He starts to take it, but Harnett had said to keep it, so I pull my hand back. Sean looks up at me.

  “What’s going on? Oh…” And he sees the sticker. He closes his eyes and works his jaw for a second. “You need to keep this note?”

  Nod.

  “I, uh, I’m sorry, Taylor. I dunno what to say.” He looks around like he also doesn’t know what to do next. Then he says, “I put someone else on with Sheldon, so why don’t you portion out detergent again. Do you remember where everything is?”

  Nod. This could be worse; at least I don’t have to watch Sheldon avoid my eyes as we fold sheets together.

  I’m hard at work, if this can be said to be work, when I sense someone near me. I turn. It’s Nate. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then he sees the sticker. The tiniest gasp escapes him. He pretends he needs to get something on a shelf over my head, and under his breath he says, “Do you still want to come tonight? Nod or shake.”