The Classic Crusade of Corbin Cobbs

by Michael Ciardi

When I reopened my eyes on this occasion, my field of vision didn’t clear as readily as before. The room I sat in appeared fumigated by a gray fog for more than a minute. After the haze finally faded, I wished that it hadn’t. The chair where Drew had contently wasted most of this day was now empty. Apparently, my spell provided enough time for him to escape his confinement undetected. My lack of judgment in this instance proved alarmingly consequential, because I already predicted Lemus’s reaction once he discovered that I had failed to contain Drew for even five minutes.

  My wait for a reprimand was brief. Even before I reclaimed the energy to hoist myself from my seat, the principal and his secretary returned to the office. It didn’t require the perceptive powers of a soothsayer for me to forecast Lemus’s reaction. After observing that Drew was gone, he bolted into the room in a fit of angst. His eyeball flashed like a reddened ingot in a blast furnace as he whirled about the room as if such awkward movement would’ve altered the circumstances.

  “Where’s Drew Mincer?” Lemus barked at me like a rabid hound. “Did you just let him walk out of here?”

  “I didn’t let him do anything,” I muttered while rubbing my temples. I shamefully tried to devise a delicate way to explain my crisis, but I had no explanation to soften the current reality. “It’s my fault, Dr. Lemus. I blacked out momentarily, and Drew seized the opportunity to sneak out of here.”

  Lemus paced back and forth in front of me as if he was digging a trench, and based on the volley of F-bombs hurled from his flapping lips, I viewed this as a strategic maneuver on his behalf. I couldn’t do anything but absorb the brunt of the principal’s explosive words.

  “Are you trying to make me look like a damn fool? Is this your real agenda for today?”

  “I was only hoping to help, sir. I should’ve remembered the unpredictable nature of my episodes.” Even as I spoke, my voice became less persuasive.

  “Episodes? What the hell are you talking about?”

  My bid to conceal the gravity of my illness from Lemus ostensibly ended here. I, of course, had no illusions of generating any compassion from the principal at this juncture. “I’ve been sick for a couple months,” I said aloud. “I’ve tried hiding my symptoms from the people here, but it’s beyond my control now.”

  Lemus paused in his unbalanced footwork and glowered at me. It was a reaction that I expected. “Are you saying that you have a disease? What’s the matter?”

  “You can relax,” I said, hoping to appease him. “I’m not contagious. Whatever is wrong with me is inside of here,” I continued, pointing to my head. Lemus rated the validity of my claim before proceeding with his nervous strut.

  “Have you seen a doctor about this so-called illness?” he questioned as though he had already surpassed his quota of phony excuses.

  “I have an appointment in less than an hour,” I returned.

  “And this sickness causes you to pass out randomly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you drive your car to work today, Mr. Cobbs?”

  “I did.”

  “Based on your alleged condition, do you think it was a wise decision to operate a vehicle? You could’ve blacked out behind the wheel on the highway and killed someone, maybe even a student.”

  I had no defensible solution to this scenario. Lemus was hardly ever right about anything of substance, but I couldn’t rebuff his logic here.

  “At least you accept your irresponsibility in silence,” he scoffed.

  I nodded, and once again anticipated a livid rebuttal. Lemus rarely disappointed me in this capacity. He stalled in his movement entirely now, squaring his feet directly across the table from me. His one focused eye seemed to jitter and boil in its socket when he spoke. “Can’t you see the hassle you’ve caused me? I trusted you with one simple task only because I was stupid enough to believe that you and Drew had some sort of rapport. Now, as a result of my foolish assumption, I’m faced with not only finding the culprits responsible for this bomb scare, but also locating Drew before his father arrives, who incidentally is due to pick him up here in about twenty minutes.”

  If an apology would’ve changed the circumstances, I might’ve forced myself to forward one. Instead, I hoped to rectify this as quickly as possible. “I think I have an idea where he’s going,” I offered. “Check Regan Cordell’s schedule. I’m sure he’s looking to get together with her. At the very least, she’ll likely know where he is.”

  Naturally, Lemus was visibly less responsive to my suggestion, and I didn’t anticipate that he’d pursue it with any vigor in the near future. Any credibility problems I merited with him before this moment now increased threefold.

  “Sickness or not,” Lemus grimaced, “you’ve put me in quite a bind, Mr. Cobbs. I’m going to keep kicking myself in the pants because I should’ve realized that you’d botch things up. You’ve somehow acquired a knack for making every intolerable situation worse.”

  Maybe I deserved a fragment of this principal’s stockpiled wrath, but it irked me that his insult was all-encompassing. Before today, I couldn’t even remember the last time any of my actions aggravated a security situation at this high school. “Hold on a second,” I said. “I’m prepared to admit that I was negligent in watching Drew, but that doesn’t give you a right to attack me personally.”

  “Well, luckily for me I don’t care what you think your rights are,” he responded.

  “You know, Dr. Lemus, it’s been clear to me for a while that you haven’t liked me since you arrived at this school. I don’t know why you’ve decided to target me as an object of your ridicule, but maybe you should just say how you feel now so we both know what to expect from this point forward.”

  I should’ve been mindful of the old maxim of being careful what you ask for, because you ultimately might receive it. Lemus salivated like Pavlov’s Dog at the sound of my request. I suspected that he wouldn’t have used any buffers to cushion the impact of his next verbal tirade.

  “There’s always going to be duties regarding my job that I’ll find awkward,” he said. “But I’m happy to say that this instance isn’t one of them, Mr. Cobbs. We’ve been long overdue for such a conversation.”

  “Should I sit down for this?”

  “That’s your choice, but considering your brittle condition, maybe it’s best if you take a seat.”

  Lemus waited until I settled back into the folding chair. Rather than join me in an eyes-to-eye exchange, he continued to groove a footpath into the carpeted floor. “I first want to say that due to budget deficits I’ve been forced to let nine untenured teachers go in the past two years. The absurdity of that obligation is that each one of those young educators cared infinitely more about their jobs than you do. Had it not been for your tenured status and seniority here, you’d be the first on my list for a rift.”

  “I assumed as much,” I said.

  “But that’s not the worst part, Mr. Cobbs. What’s more regrettable to me is that the students at Ravendale are being cheated out of a quality experience in your classroom because you refuse or are unable to provide a one hundred percent commitment to this profession. It’s not your competence I question, it’s your dedication, and that’s a difficult hurdle to jump if you’re sitting on my side of the desk.”

  “I’m shocked that you feel as you do, sir.”

  “Cut the crap, will you. You think I can’t see what the hell is going on around here just because I don’t have two good eyes? You’re even duller than your lesson plans if you think I haven’t seen you waltzing around here in a mindless daze half the time. Let me assure you, I’ve watched your kind come and go, but you just linger around like a stale fart in an elevator.”

  “At least you’re not mincing your words,” I replied, quite placidly. “I admire your honesty.”

  “What’s this? You’re not even going to challenge what I’ve said?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and gazed at him as if he was a preacher on a pulpit. “You’ve stated your feelings earnes
tly,” I said. “And I’ll even credit you on the accuracy of at least half of what you mentioned. I’ll leave it to your acute powers of observation to determine which half is true, and which half is as fictional as anything I teach.”

  Lemus’s glass eye nearly splintered in his skull as rage swelled his face with crimson patches. He then loosened his bowtie to let some steam filter out of his shirt’s collar. “You’re always twisting words so that they work to your advantage,” he fumed. “But, if I may speak off the record, I find you as irritating as a boil on my ass. Your condescending tone validates my point.”

  “I’m just listening to you, sir.”

  “You only appear to listen, Mr. Cobbs. In truth, you don’t really give a shit about what I’m saying now. The one thing that galls me more than anything else is that you had the potential to be a superb educator. The problem is that you just don’t want it anymore, or maybe you never wanted it to begin with.”

  Perhaps Lemus latched onto something profound after all, but then again, it didn’t require a cardiologist’s diagnostic skills to determine that my heart wasn’t in teaching as it once had been. I waited in silence as the principal proceeded with his cruel dissection of my character.

  “For the past five years I’ve been hoping—even praying—that you’d submit your letter of resignation. If you don’t plan on making a difference around this school, why are you still here? Give someone else a chance to do what you blatantly can’t handle.”

  If Lemus expected me to rise from my seat and meekly declare myself as an abject failure, then he was wasting his bravado. Even if he jangled a sensitive nerve within me, I wouldn’t have supplied him with any encouragement to analyze my disappointments. Since he showed no deference toward my welfare, I in turn felt no obligation to respect him. My reluctance to respond afforded Lemus with a long-repressed chance to wedge his polished shoe into the backside of someone already lying on the ground. In this instance, as it often happened with washed-up braggarts, the principal segued into his own superfluous remembrances.

  “Many moons ago when I was a teacher, I encountered my fair share of unruly and apathetic students. It’s an unavoidable hindrance in this profession. I can fully understand that some teachers come to a roadblock where they become ineffective. Many have the good sense to retire at this phase of their careers, but others hang on, grappling for a piece of the past, if you will. They simply refuse to leave, even though they’re completely aware that they can no longer function at an appropriate level in the classroom.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, how many years did you teach before you became an administrator?”

  My question was intended to elevate his dander. I watched gobs of sweat glisten on his meaty brow as he pondered a passable response. “I taught at least six or seven years in an inner-city middle school. Most rewarding experience in my life, really.”

  “Six or seven years,” I repeated for emphasis. “I have neckties older than that.”

  “Well, let’s not stray away from my original point. I’m more than capable of assessing the level of pedagogical talent in this building, Mr. Cobbs, and from what I’ve observed and heard about you, I’d say that this sickness you’ve developed may be a welcomed omen from both of our perspectives.”

  As Lemus prattled on like a pundit for an educational fundraiser, I sensed my headache resurfacing with an acute ferocity. Without offering him an explanation, I lowered my head onto the tabletop in front of me.

  “Are you listening to a single word I’m telling you?” Lemus questioned.

  “Every syllable, sir,” I replied groggily. “My head is still pounding, though, and I feel a bit dizzy.”

  “We would’ve been wiser to discuss this another time,” he grumbled. “But at least I’ve given you something to mull over. If there’s any possibility of you attempting to change your habits, I suggest you observe some of the better teachers in action around here. Maybe they’ll remind you of what you can no longer accomplish.”

  I was being transparently glib when I countered with this: “Do you have any suggestions on who I might peek at for this burst of inspiration?” Lemus, who had the aptitude of a dishcloth, didn’t hesitate to provide me with a name he most likely recited whenever he wanted to sound erudite.

  “It’s to your advantage that you already know Mr. Winger,” he said. “Now he’s the paradigm of who I want teaching in every classroom in this high school. If I found fifteen or twenty teachers with even a quarter of his skill, compassion, and enthusiasm, we’d be a blue ribbon school within three years. Look at the way he dedicates himself to this career, Mr. Cobbs. He’s the first person here every morning, and the last to leave at night. That’s the kind of ethics we need around here if we ever hope to make a difference in the lives of our students.”

  Even in the midst of my suffering I found it challenging to stifle a chuckle in regard to Lemus’s shortsighted tribute. In fairness to this man’s gullibility, however, had Shawn Winger not confided in me this very morning, I too might’ve obtusely overlooked his lascivious lifestyle. Yet I still couldn’t help but to wonder what sordid deeds the principal would’ve uncovered in connection with his protégé if he scrutinized his habits as stealthily as he examined my own. Perhaps this moment might’ve been the proper time to spoil Lemus’s naïve illusion, but I resisted this compulsion for now. I wasn’t prepared, however, to end our conversation. I even lifted my head off the table to prepare for the next volley of grievances.

  “Correct me if I’m mistaken, Dr. Lemus, but it seems to me that you dribble away an inordinate amount of time and energy spying on teachers who you deem as inferior.”

  “I have no wish to deny such an accusation,” he returned stoically. “In fact, I view it as my primary responsibility to weed out unwanted vegetation from my little garden. No one will be spared. I’ll eventually have this place in order. I’d bet my lone eye on it.”

  Lemus’s pledge to rectify this high school’s tainted reputation sounded so genuine that I almost wanted to believe he possessed an intellect to create a solution. As I listened to him pontificate on this and other points, I couldn’t displace a scent of cucumbers wafting off his open suit jacket. Since Mrs. Finnegan was currently in the adjacent room, I presumed she had already applied her signature fragrance to the principal’s clothing through alternative methods. But, keeping to the topic at hand, I offered my own opinion on the plummeting trend in education.

  “I’ve been teaching in the classroom for almost twenty years now,” I started. “In that time, I haven’t complained about shrunken budgets, frozen wages, or expanding class sizes. But what I see as the primary problem here is that the apathy belongs to the parents as much as their children. By the time they get to high school, the majority of teenagers are burnt out, and they reject anything that smells remotely like work. Parents, administrators, counselors, and even some teachers have become enablers more than educators. I’ve tried just about every method formulated by self-proclaimed gurus to improve students’ motivation. But the humbling truth, as any honest English teacher will verify, is that most of these kids don’t read anything of substance anymore. They don’t care about Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Dickens. Even the so-called honor students would rather take shortcuts than peruse five hundred pages of Melville.”

  Lemus’s eye flashed defiantly at my assertion. Obviously, he absorbed enough political rhetoric to know that the root of declination in students’ achievement started and ended solely with the teachers. “I’ve heard this argument before, Mr. Cobbs, and I don’t buy it. As a teacher, it’s your job to get these kids excited about reading those authors. When I walk by Mr. Winger’s classroom on any given day, all of his students are engaged in the activities he’s devised.”

  “It may look that way to you,” I conceded. “But, as you well know, Dr. Lemus, people can appear to be busy at one task while really doing another. As a passerby, you may observe what you wish for, but the teacher reviews the final product.
I guess we can’t really fault the kids for their stunted attention spans. Society has conditioned them to streamline everything nowadays. There’s no real time to savor the flavor of words in today’s gluttonous world. I’m afraid I’ve become a little more than a book salesman for a group of adolescents who view reading the classics as a pointless chore.”

  “If you really feel as you say, then why don’t you simply resign and let some bright-eyed upstart try to change the negative climate you’ve forecasted? Personally, I don’t see the problem as widespread as you do. Many students in this building still read on a regular basis. You just have to come up with some new strategies to make your students want to learn.”

  I would’ve recruited Lemus for his guidance in this area if I thought he had a cogent remedy to impart. But like most administrators I’ve encountered throughout my career, he was a crackerjack at identifying the system’s obvious flaws without implementing any methods to correct them. In this way he was like a surgeon who had the mental acuity to diagnose a disease, but no tangible tactic to cure it.

  “When the time comes,” I proceeded, “and that time may be sooner rather than later, I will know that my days here as a teacher are done. Even facing retirement, however, I still occasionally have this optimistic dream that my students will one day appreciate classic literature in a manner that maybe only our parents or grandparents did. You know, Dr. Lemus, I once thought I had the ability to make an impression on young people. But as the years drifted by, I realized that an occasional nod of recognition wasn’t enough to convince me. I’ve since come to term with my limitations.”

  “There’s only one thing left for you to do now, Mr. Cobbs. Retire with some dignity intact. After all, there’s something to be said for a professional who knows when it’s time to hand over the ball to a new pitcher. Be that professional, wont you?”

  “Thanks for your heartfelt encouragement,” I returned, “but when I finally leave my classroom behind, I intend to do it on my terms, not yours.”

  Lemus’s one natural eye began to crack with blood vessels as he swallowed my words like a goblet full of cod liver oil. I suspected that he discharged enough tension to unstitch the soles from the bottom of his shoes. “Have it your way,” he said, gritting his discolored dentures. “But there are procedures in place to extract tenured teachers from this school. For as long as you remain under my regime, know this: I will do everything within my legal authority to make your remaining time here as contractually unpleasant as possible. You’ll rue the day that you decided to cling on this teat for a final gulp of glory.”

  I nodded my head contritely, but not nearly as sheepishly as the principal would’ve preferred. It was now my turn to resort to a countermove in this exchange of wily wits. “Under normal circumstances, sir, I’d say you had the upper hand to emasculate me. But you’re forgetting about something that I can’t quite overlook.”

  “What are you babbling about now?”

  “Cucumbers, of course.”

  “Cucumbers? What the hell does that have to do with anything we’re talking about?”

  I then paused to accentuate the manner in which I inhaled the prevailing aroma circulating throughout the room. Naturally, Lemus watched my behavior as if my illness was more closely linked to a mental deficiency rather than anything physiological. I continued this action for several seconds before he became wildly impatient.

  “What are you doing? I’m not in the mood for any games, Mr. Cobbs.”

  “Really?” I remarked with a certain conceit. “Well, I guess I wouldn’t be the type of person whom you’d normally engage in playful activity, would I? After all, I’m sure your one serviceable eye has focused on more supple prey.”

  As I uttered this boast, I motioned toward the receptionist’s desk through the doorway. From our vantage point, we both plainly viewed Mrs. Finnegan, who was perched in front of her desk like a voluptuous creation from Rembrandt. We both detected a container of scented lotion on the corner of her desktop, too. Lemus’s eye nearly squinted shut as I continued to exaggerate my penchant for vegetable moisturizers. I sensed that the principal aimed to leap across the table and devour whatever remained of my flesh during these tense seconds. Whether he wanted to openly concede to my backhanded implication or not made no difference to me now. He understood that the balance of power had unexpectedly tipped in favor of his underling. But Lemus wasn’t the kind of guy who rolled over passively while waving a white flag.

  “I’d be extremely cautious with your veiled accusations, Mr. Cobbs.” Lemus’s voice was pitched as shrewdly as an attorney’s summation.

  “I’ve been careful for far too long,” I countered. “You’ve gone to considerable lengths to verbalize your threats toward me. I’m just preparing to return the favor.”

  “Whatever you say won’t change anything. If need be, I’ll stand by my oath to oust you from this school with my dying breath.”

  “That’s a bold claim for an administrator who has spent the larger part of this year slathering Mrs. Finnegan’s cucumber lotion on his body. In any event, I’m sure your wife will be thrilled once she discovers how rejuvenated your skin has become. By now it must be at least as lithe as your secretary’s legs, which I bet feels like rubbing up against melting butter compared to what you have waiting for you back at home.”

  “Who the hell do you think you’re speaking to? Nobody talks to me like that. I’ll wipe the gymnasium floor with your face before I let you blackmail me. Besides, you can’t prove a damn thing.”

  “I don’t need to prove anything, Dr. Lemus. I’ll just plant seedy seeds in a few ears around here and wait for them to germinate. It’ll be enlightening to see what sprouts from your little garden then, don’t you agree?”

  “So that’s your best hand, huh, Corbin? You’re going to deal your cards dirty?”

  “Please, let’s not get informal now,” I suggested. “Mr. Cobbs will do, as it has always has done before.”

  “I should’ve suspected what depths you’d sink in order to gain leverage here. It doesn’t surprise me as much as it sickens me.”

  I considered prolonging Lemus’s torment simply because of his intent to sabotage my life, but I hadn’t forgotten about my doctor’s appointment. The bliss of watching Lemus squirm like a salted slug still didn’t overshadow my desire to uncover the precise nature of my disease. I stood up from the chair without any further direction, noticing that the principal suddenly appeared pale enough to take my place.

  “I’m willing to forget this conversation ever happened,” I said, while motioning toward the room’s exit. “From this point forward maybe we’d be wise to stay away from one another.”

  “You think you’ve scored yourself a victory, Mr. Cobbs? I have no doubt that you rate yourself as a clever man, but I’ve traveled around the block a few times myself. I still stand behind every word I’ve uttered here today.”

  “I guess we’re not so dissimilar from one another in one respect, sir. I’m sure you’ll find that I’m a man who’s true to my word as well.”

  Lemus’s hands dropped like iron bell bars onto the tabletop, this time bending its cheap frame. He barely managed to control an urge to lunge at me, but his icy eye projected pure hatred. I seldom sensed anything as wickedly potent in any man’s expression. I left Lemus as he spewed forth obscenities with the same randomness that a broken sprinkler watered a lawn. Before exiting the main office, however, I caught a glimpse of the principal throwing Mrs. Finnegan’s bottle of lotion into the nearest trash receptacle. He may have feigned his bid to undo me, but I predicted that this caveat had no more substance than any of his ill-planned policies.

  With my headache throbbing with an ongoing relentlessness, I staggered forth into the corridor to escape the school. I didn’t even know if I had the stamina to make it back to my vehicle, let alone drive to Ravendale’s medical plaza across town. Fortunately, after pausing only twice to maintain my balance, I reached the rear parking area. But before pa
cing within twenty feet of my car, I noticed an all too familiar figure leaning against the hatchback of my VW Beetle.

  On this occasion the custodian carried no mop or broom. I identified him at a distance only by the cement-colored overalls he sported. Unlike many of my previous encounters with him today, however, I didn’t scowl when noticing his presence. In fact, I felt somewhat indebted to him for providing me with information to disparage the principal’s reputation, if it ever came to such an extreme.

  The custodian appeared at ease with the day’s inclement weather. Despite a majority of tin-colored clouds governing the skyline, he was content with a few bands of sunlight sprinkling through the leaden heavens. After he noticed me nearing my car, he didn’t bother to inquire as to where I was going. I assumed he must’ve already ascertained this information by way of his clandestine methods.

  “I guess I owe you some gratitude after all,” I said to the custodian.

  “Really?” he chimed like a mistuned instrument. “And what ushered in this unexpected change?” The custodian grinned at me as if he knew the answer to his own question.

  “Let’s just say that I don’t think Dr. Lemus is going to keep me in his crosshairs too much longer. It seems that your eavesdropping has served me well.” I presumed that my appreciation would’ve satiated the custodian’s hankering for recognition. But even with my acknowledgement, he didn’t make an effort to back away from my car.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked glibly.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. And, not to be rude, but I’m running a bit late.”

  “You’re always on the get go, Cobbs, but in this case I can’t blame you. How can I expect you to concentrate on the mischief of this place when you’re worried about your own health, right?”

  At this point, the custodian’s insight into my personal business outside of school as well as within it didn’t startle me. I already accepted the inevitability of this day’s rhythm, and merely stepped in beat with its predestined arrangement while pulling my car’s keys from my pocket.

  “I’d stay and chat longer,” I said, “but I really do have an important appointment to keep.”

  “Of course,” the custodian responded. “As I said right from the beginning, a teacher’s responsibilities don’t stop at the last bell of a school day. Heck, my job is a lot like that, too. Some might even say that the real cleaning doesn’t even start until after the kids go home.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.”

  “But because of your dedication to work, Cobbs, I wouldn’t want you to forget about your promise.” The custodian then stood upright so that his eyes connected squarely with my own.

  “Promise? I don’t remember making you any promises.”

  “Not to me. Don’t you remember telling Mitch Dalton that you’d help him with his college essay after school today?”

  The custodian’s wisdom into my business now made me uncomfortable again. I didn’t even notice him standing in the hallway when I spoke to Mitch earlier. “It looks like you’re right,” I admitted. “If you hadn’t reminded me, I would’ve forgotten all about that.”

  “Well, it’s encouraging to know that a guy like me can do more than swirl a mop head and broom around this joint.”

  “So I’ll be back here after all.” Despite my scheduled meetings with Dr. Pearson and then my wife, I couldn’t simply shirk my duties. I might’ve never been the most committed teacher, but I didn’t intentionally abandon a student when he requested my assistance. The custodian seemed elated by my sudden show of altruism.

  “Despite what Lemus thinks of you, Cobbs, I always knew you had a soft spot for these kids. Oh, sure, you may appear a little aloof at times, maybe even distracted by the big dreams that got away. But at the end of every day, you can put your head down on a pillow and sleep like Rip Van Winkle. Not many of us can make such a boast.”

  “Maybe you should be my supervisor,” I smirked. “The truth, however, is that a lot of people lost faith in me around here. I just don’t know if I have enough time or energy to earn it back.”

  “Don’t get so down on yourself. Besides, I think by the time this day is over, you’ll have a pretty clear idea of what the future will look like.”

  The custodian’s sudden flash of optimism in my potential to do anything worthwhile was refreshing, but I didn’t plan to become reliant upon his predictions. Perhaps my distrust for the custodian’s intentions kept me from embracing his words. After all, I still wondered if he knew about the gun that I found in the lavatory. But the real mystery, of course, was what compelled me to pilfer the weapon in secrecy. If I couldn’t even comprehend my own motivations, how could I convincingly dissect anyone else’s mindset?

  Since the custodian didn’t attempt to engage me in any further interaction, I proceeded to get inside my car, only to discover that my hands trembled as I clutched the steering wheel. Even the routine task of inserting a key into the car’s starter would’ve been cumbersome with my fingers quivering in such an uncontrollable manner. I assumed the custodian would’ve pacified my nerves with another homily, but when I glanced through the windshield to monitor his position, he was already gone. I couldn’t have looked away from him for more than ten seconds, but there was no trace of his presence anywhere within the parking lot.

  My thoughts didn’t linger on this man’s disappearance for too long. I soon found myself fidgeting in place as I stared across the car’s dashboard at the glove compartment. A momentous question reverberated against my skull again: why had I taken the gun? The quandary wouldn’t simply go away. Until now, I hadn’t wittingly debated whether my objective was to inflict harm upon those who caused me such heartache. Or did I subconsciously secure the gun to end my own suffering? The mere meditation of either scenario verified that I was in the midst of relinquishing all self-control.

  At present, I had only my spells to fault for such a rash alteration in my disposition. Even a brain unspoiled by disease couldn’t endure such turmoil. I was obviously more susceptible to my life’s sorrows. I didn’t want to accept the inexorableness of my emotions gradually devouring me, but each ensuing episode made this conclusion impossible to reject. As I slumped behind the steering wheel, this journey’s route delivered me even farther into the taboo regions of my conscience.

  Chapter 55

  2:34 P.M.