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.
“You said my ass isn’t to touch the ground, coach,” Deni replied casually.
“You have a lot of potential,” said Coach Schwartz. “Don’t think for an instant your cute remarks are going to keep me from riding you hard. I guarantee you, by the time you graduate high school you will come to despise me.”
When Coach Schwartz walked away, Deni leaned over to touch his toes. All I really want to do is have fun, maybe score with a cheerleader or two. Two at a time would be nice, he thought as his mind wandered, now I’m actually going to have to work. “Shit,” he muttered.
Deni sat in his seat before Dr. Sodhi and recalled all the times Coach Schwartz cheered for him from the sideline, how he fought the referees for him, how he defended him, the excited pats on the shoulder and the hugs. It was Coach Schwartz who invited recruiters from Temple, Vanderbilt, and Drexel to see him play and it was Coach Schwartz who also pushed to make sure his grades remained good. He never gave much thought to Coach Schwartz and how much the man did for him until now.
“Deni,” Dr. Sodhi said. “What is your feeling toward Coach Schwartz?”
He stared at the white wall behind her desk. “I guess gratitude,” he mumbled and then lowered his head. “I’m done now. I don’t have anything else to say.”
“We still have a lot of time,” said Dr. Sodhi.
“I’m done talking,” replied Deni.
“Is there something else you’d like to talk about—politics, religion?” Dr. Sodhi suggested. Deni said nothing. “Do you know any passages in the Quran that might relate?”
Deni refused to talk.
Dr. Sodhi checked her watch. “You’re here for another,” she sighed, “thirty-five minutes. Let me know if you have anything to say.”
When Deni did not speak, they sat in silence for the remaining time and when the session was up, Dr. Sodhi said, “I’m going to recommend I see you every day. I’ll be back to tomorrow at the same time.” Deni didn’t respond. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The prison guard entered to take Deni back to his cell. Once alone, Deni turned over on his back. There was a surge inside him that wanted to break down and cry, but Deni fought it. He refused to be broken. It’s what they want. I’m not going to give it to them.
It was such great times in high school with his gang and the trouble they made without anyone ever really knowing. If my mother really knew what I was doing, she would have had me caned for sure, he thought. Through the emotional anguish of recalling Coach Schwartz, Deni grinned as he remembered his youthful indiscretions with his buddies.
T-Bone drove by the Daudov’s house about seven o’clock. Deni jumped in the back seat of the 1979 Cadillac Deville next to Hector. Deni admired the maroon leather interior. “Where’d you get this dinosaur?”
“Hey yo, it was my dad’s first car and it is in mint condition. So no finger prints please,” T-Bone joked.
Deni rolled down the window a
nd let the wind blow through his hair. T-Bone drove out of Reading city limits to the Tulpehoken creek. Winding around the country road, T-Bone parked, the boys got out of the car and headed through the woods down to creek side to a picnic table.
T-Bone lit a joint. “So boys, what are we going to do to get Daudov initiated?”
“Initiated?” said Deni as he took the joint from T-Bone. He had never smoked weed before, but he had seen it smoked in movies. He was game and ready.
“Yeah, assuming you’re still a virgin,” said T-Bone.
Deni choked on the smoke and all the guys started laughing.
“Who should it be¾Carla, Eva, Stac-cy?” asked T-Bone with another drag on the joint.
Devon reached in a brown paper bag and pulled out a six pack. “I dunno. What kind of chicks do you like Daudov?” He handed Deni a beer.
Deni opened the bottle with the aid of his t-shirt. “What?” he asked with a laugh.
“You know—black, white,” Hector swayed his hips. “Latino.”
T-Bone smacked his lips. “I suggest Carla. Heard her say she wanted to do a white boy.”
Deni took a large gulp of his beer. “So that’s it. That’s my choices?”
Devon laughed. “Who do you think you are, man?”
“Look,” said T-Bone, “we did the pre-game research and found three chicks that’d do you on the spot.”
“And they all say chivalry is dead in America,” joked Deni.
T-Bone stepped up in Deni’s face. “Here’s the deal. No little boys on the football field. You wanna play with us, you gotta be a man. Now finish your beer.”
T-Bone put his arm around Deni’s shoulder as they headed back to the Cadillac. Deni felt like he was walking to face a firing squad; he had no idea what to expect, but he knew what ever happened, his life would be forever changed.
In the car, Devon turned around and said to Deni. “You’re not going to chicken out on us, are you?” Devon laughed and said to T-Bone. “Remember that kid, Scot Hanson? Wanted to hang with us, so cool and when it came time to be a man, he vomited all over your backseat.”
The Insurrectionist Page 14
