Third Shift - 10. Beret Hansa - Chapters 14,15 & 16

Chapter 14 - Beret Hansa

11:43 pm on February 28^th

Cory McDaniel swore at the computer as it once again started updating files. He had to get reports to his boss and then do some rounds. In the meantime, he had two detainees lined up for conferences and his head hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Three practically sleepless nights will do that to you. His brain had been keeping him awake with recriminations over his behavior. A drunken fiasco had been his Waterloo.

His insides ached something fierce. The disastrous night with Sandy and Casey had tripped a set of pity parties. He went wild. Cory called in sick to work, drank a lot, and had picked up a couple of guys which had led to exactly nothing. Both had quietly left his condo after he’d passed out. He was so lucky nothing worse had happened.

Cory had spent last night reading some old textbooks and thinking about things. He had come to a few conclusions while working the last bits of alcohol out of his system. First, he was a mental health professional seriously going through a mental health issue and pretending he wasn’t. Second, these issues were affecting his work, his life, and impacting all aspects of his being. He could no longer ignore them. He had to face them head on or he’d continue to struggle.

His final problem was John Lawson. He had fallen head over heels for the guy. It wasn’t love. It was a crush, but a bad one. The man haunted his mind. There were two sets of words floating around in his head. The first was an invitation of sorts. The second was an indictment. They competed for space and crowded out his other, more rational, thoughts.

“Even some men like me. Don’t worry. It doesn’t bother me, Mr. McDaniel. It’s flattering.”

"Then fucking leave, you stupid faggot. I don't need you drooling over my ass. I'm not queerbait, you sick piece of shit."

John Lawson floated in and out of his consciousness all the time, day and night, work, drunk, or whatever. He couldn’t get the guy out of his head. As a counselor, a licensed professional, he knew it meant building some distance, a kind of compartmentalization of his feelings. Also, he couldn’t help the guy any longer. There wasn’t enough separation. He had to refer Lawson to someone else, and yet he couldn’t. Not really.

Cory returned to watch as the update bar on the computer screen continued to slowly scroll to the right. Carroll needed his reports before tomorrow morning and the sooner the better. There was an end-of-the-month meeting with the detention center director in two days. Meanwhile, he was stuck watching the stupid computer process data.

Cory felt like his head was filled with Styrofoam peanuts, carefully holding his emotions from breaking as the world jostled him. Last night he’d printed off a copy of a depression assessment rubric. In growing despair, he realized he was experiencing all the symptoms of a serious depressive state. Even though he didn’t have any suicide ideation, the other categories lined up clearly and concisely.

“Knock, knock,” he heard someone say from his doorway. He didn’t know someone had opened it. His mind was so filled with emotions, his senses felt dulled.

“Come in,” he said without a pause. Cory turned and was greeted by the gorgeous sight of Wayne Coolidge in his guard uniform filling it out so completely. His face was stormy with concern though.

“Are you okay?” the guard asked, his forehead crumpled in concern. “You’ve been sick?”

“Just the stomach flu,” Cory lied, giving the other man a grin.

“You’re still a little flushed,” Coolidge said, stepping into the room. He placed a palm on Cory’s brow. He paused and said, “You don’t have a fever. I was worried since it was right after you had a confrontation with our friend, Mr. Lawson.”

The guard stepped back and captured Cory’s attention with his radiant green eyes. “I wonder if you know how manipulative these fuckers can be.”

“I’m not exactly an innocent,” Cory answered sharply. The man’s words stung. It struck a discordant tone in him. Then he considered what it meant. The guard’s impression wormed its way inside him. There was something in what he said that had meaning. Cory wasn’t sure, but the idea began to grow, expand. Was Lawson playing with him and his emotions?

Perhaps that was exactly what was happening to him. He was mesmerized by a handsome man’s issues. Something changed at that moment and for the first time in days, he felt a little better. Cory looked up expectantly. Coolidge continued.

“My first year on third shift was a bit of a roller coaster. These guys have nothing but time all day and all night to think of ways to screw around with us. I remember this one guy, so nice, so polite, really interesting,” Coolidge paused and looked at Cory with a knowing look. “He was something special, I thought. Just caught up in his issues, I told myself. A guy like him couldn’t be guilty of an assault like that. I honestly thought he was innocent.”

Cory leaned back in his chair and saw as the ghosts flitted across the other man’s face. Coolidge continued.

“I did extra things for him. I developed empathy for him. Didn’t mean to, understand that, but I did.” Coolidge rubbed his face distractedly. A shadow seemed to cross his eyes. “Not like that, you know.”

“It was very early morning, late in the third shift. He was ill, vomiting into the toilet in his cell. He called out for me, begging me for help. I went in to see what I could do.”

Coolidge stopped talking. His demeanor changed dramatically. His face was flushed. His breathing was shallow and swift. As the memory developed within him, Cory could see the man was reliving it.

“I went into his cell without calling in. He seemed in such distress I didn’t want to wait. I wasn’t thinking. I went in and bent down. He was on me in a second, a sharp something pressed into my side. I could feel as the thing sliced into me. Blood was trickling down when he whispered I needed to let him out.”

The guard’s voice was flat, unemotional. This was a survivor’s retelling.

“I was terrified as I felt it rip into me again, this time right above my groin. I tried to pull away but the guy was strong, really powerful.” A sob escaped Coolidge’s lips. “I pissed myself, I was that scared.”

“How did you get away…?”

“Passing guard. I was lucky. There are usually only a couple of us during third shift in each section. That night Matt was also on duty and walked by. He saw what was happening, called it in and separated him from me. Do you want to see the scar?”

Cory nodded and Coolidge pulled his light brown shirt tail out of his dark brown trousers. Down his side was a jagged scar, at least three inches long. It was pale pink and scary. Against his snow white flesh, it seemed almost alien.

“I realize you’re treating them and so you need some connection or something. I know your boss is big on not knowing what offenses they’ve committed. I don’t believe that’s too smart. They are animals.” The guard paused, looked a little guiltily at the counselor and continued, “Hell, we’re all really animals, I know. But these people are dangerous. If you think John Lawson is a decent human being who’s just misunderstood, you’re kidding yourself.”

As he listened, Cory felt a series of emotions, both fearful and sympathetic, passed through him. The guard’s characterizations and generalizations were incredibly brutal and succinct. However, one thing was ringing true. These men were in the cage. He was outside the cage. He couldn’t know what being in the cage could do to you. Cory knew it changed a person in ways he studied, but did he really know. What did the cage do to people who were otherwise, well, nice?

He also knew how being outside the cage and running the cage could affect you as well.

After Coolidge finished his story, Cory looked up at him reassured. “Actually, your story helped a lot. I have been dealing, or not dealing, with some personal issues. I’ve been letting things spill over and mixing my life problems with work ones.”

At first Coolidge just nodded his understanding. Then he seemed to move towards Cory as though to embrace him. He stopped himself though. Cory wasn’t sure how to react.

“Would you like to have coffee and talk?” Coolidge finally said after a few awkward moments.

“I’d like that,” Cory answered almost immediately. He realized during this exchange he had to get some things out.

One of the key tenets of mental health counseling is ‘talking it out.’ Cory knew human beings needed to express their emotions in order to organize and process them. It was incredibly easy for the human brain to fall into schizoid, also called, circular reasoning patterns, reprocessing and regurgitating the same things over and over. To better weigh and gauge thoughts and feelings, humans needed to express them to someone else or at least to an abstract medium. Once out of the head and into another place, a kind of shift happened. These emotions and ideas took on different meanings. They could be ordered in a way that allowed growth and change to occur. At least, that was the theory he had developed from his work.

“I have a better idea,” Cory said to the guard. “Let’s go have some dinner after work. I can tell you all about what’s bothering me. Or do you have to get home?”

“Nothing at home I need to do this morning. I’d really like that, McDaniel.” Coolidge was now fidgeting and seemed a little uncomfortable or nervous.

“Call me Cory, okay?”

“Okay, dinner it is Cory.”

Chapter 15 - Beret Hansa

12:37 am on March 1st

John Lawson was lying on his bunk and staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t crying or anything for once. He had a nightmare, woke up, and was now simply calming down. It hadn’t even been a really bad one. He felt hollowed out though, like a Jack O’ Lantern or something, empty with only a dim candle burning on the inside.

He needed to apologize to Mr. McDaniel. He was the only person who seemed to help him deal with things. It was strange, but the younger man had a healing effect on him for whatever reason. He had to admit, he liked the way the man’s eyes drank him up. When Lawson figured something out that was new, McDaniel lit up like a Christmas tree. He appeared so pleased and excited.

Lawson closed his eyes and drifted away with pleasant dreams, for now.

***

2:11 am – same day

Cory finished up the report and was about to send it to his boss, Carroll, when his radio bleeped loudly. He hit the ‘on’ button and put the instrument to his ear. “McDaniel here.” The man listened to the heated, frantic words, and then agreed with the caller. He quickly got out of his chair and hit send on his email. Grabbing his bag, Cory rushed out of the room and toward Section B.

An inmate he previously counseled had gotten a handmade knife, a shiv, and was cutting his wrist with it. The Section B guard on duty found him with his arm laced with a trickle of blood. Now they were in a standoff in the guy’s cell. Cory figured he needed to focus on this situation. He could get through this in spite of all his recent self-doubts. He tried to ignore the cold stab of fear that was creeping into his head.

By the time he got to Section B, the situation had defused itself. The guard had taken the implement from him, but the detainee was still sobbing in the corner. Cory entered the cell and walked into the center of the room past the other staff.

“Joey, what’s going on?” he asked calmly. “What possessed you to hurt yourself? Bail has been set. You’re about to go home.”

The man wailed in response. He covered his head with his bloody arms and pulled his head into his chest. “The bitch dumped me,” he whimpered between the cries.

Cory almost approached and then paused. The counselor slipped on latex gloves unobtrusively assessing the man’s condition, and then moved closer. He crouched on the floor to get to eye level. “It’s okay. Let it out,” he said, ignoring the small crowd of guards which had gathered for the confrontation. “This isn’t the end.”

After a few minutes of howling, Joey Carruthers lifted his head. His cheek was smeared red with his blood. Snot was dribbling down from his nose. His cheeks and lashes were wet with tears. “What do I have left?”

“You said your brother came to see you,” Cory said. “Maybe he’ll let you stay with him.”

The man didn’t really react to the statement. Cory watched as the idea wriggled its way into his brain. With many of these men, their relationships were tenuous in the first place. Families were splintered. Girlfriends came and went. Sometimes their friends were the most intimate relationships they had. It was hard to tell just talking with them, so sometimes Cory had to guess. They clung to the fictions they told themselves.

“Maybe Dewey would let me stay with him. He’s all by himself in the house.”

Cory smiled encouragingly at him. Joey seemed to relax a little. He even tried to smile. His legs fell apart and he looked at his arms. The man poked at the cuts, really more like scratches on his skin in disbelief. “What the fuck did I do?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

Cory could relax as well. Once the mania ended, it was over. Reason and proportion would return. Now Joey Carruthers would realize how stupidly he acted.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary. I don’t think you’ll need stitches, just some bandages.”

Joey nodded, his dim eyes accepting the instruction. The man had always been quite docile. This tantrum and effort to hurt himself was odd. Cory had come to expect the unexpected though, even after only four months or so. It was strange the things men would do when under pressure.

Cory got off the floor and offered Joey his hand. He helped the other man to his feet and then watched as two guards strapped his hands in front of him and led him into the hallway.

“You are really good with them,” he heard someone behind him say. He turned and saw Coolidge grinning at him. “You defused him with a couple of sentences.”

“I have talked with him before,” Cory responded, feeling a little awkward. He wasn’t used to such praise.

“Lawson woke up screaming again. I tried talking with him, but he isn’t responding to me. I think he wants to apologize,” Coolidge said. He approached Cory and touched his shoulder. “He didn’t really mean it.”

“I’m not sure it’s wise for me to talk with him,” Cory said quickly. In his mind’s eye, Lawson’s face loomed large.

Coolidge put his other hand on Cory’s shoulder and turned to face him squarely. “You can do this. He’s shaking from those nightmares he has about this time of night.”

“Alright,” Cory finally said, unable to break away from Coolidge’s eyes. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Coolidge nodded and let the other man go. He walked beside Cory as they headed towards Section C. “I think you need to know what he’s charged with.” The guard said after they’d walked for a while. “I know your boss is big on keeping you in the dark, but I don’t think he’ll get better until you understand the situation.”

“I don’t know,” Cory said with a sigh. “I know it’s bad, really something serious. I think he needs to tell me. For his sake, I think he should be the one to explain things to me.”

The two men continued on. Coolidge thought about Cory’s comment and tilted his head, looking at the other man. “You know what he’s charged with, don’t you?”

Cory started to shake his head, but then saw the wry grin on the guard’s face and he stopped. “I Googled his name after our second session. I couldn’t resist.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Coolidge said with a smirk. Cory noticed his lips were full, red, and enticingly open. He looked away before he gave anything away. Coolidge shook his head and chuckled.

***

Lawson was in his cage, his room, curled on his bunk. His arms covered his ears protectively. As always, Cory knocked first, waited a few moments, then entered the room. He stepped inside with Coolidge watching from the outside. After the last session, he wasn’t sure he could trust the detainee with a conference room and privacy. He wanted a witness, someone who understood the tenuous situation between counselor and client.

Cory stepped to the middle of the room and spoke. “John, how are you? Did you have a nightmare?”

The inmate didn’t respond except to curl up a little more tightly into a ball. His large, strong hands were taut around his head, his knuckles white.

“I know our professional relationship has taken a hit,” Cory began. “But, I want us to make things right.”

“I’m sorry,” Lawson croaked from within his infantile state. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, you did,” Cory said almost immediately. It was a reflexive response which he then tried to cushion. “You were mad at, well things, and so you lashed out.”

Lawson’s hands unlaced and his head rose. His stricken face lifted. There were no tears. His cheeks were dry though his eyes were red as was his skin. “Yes, I do that. I act before I think.” The man uncurled and sat up. He ran his fingers through his wildly messy hair and cleared his throat. “I need your help.”

“Then let’s talk,” Cory said. “Let’s start with you telling me what you did.”

“You’re right,” Lawson responded sighing and hunching his shoulders. “I need to tell you about what I did to that poor little girl. I think that will explain everything.”

Chapter 16 - Beret Hansa

Lawson’s second narrative –Events on July 10^th, 2009

I met Hannah online right after I got out of prison. She was a little older than me. She was a divorced administrative assistant at a law firm. Hannah was pretty and friendly and vulnerable.

I felt really bad for her. Even as an ex-con, I didn’t have things as bad as she did. She had a little girl named, Allie, Allison. The guy who knocked her up, I can’t call him a father, refused to be part of her life. He was a real low-life scum by the name of Justin. Hannah told me all about the piece of garbage. Anyway, that’s not the point. Hannah wanted Allie to have a father figure. She liked me. I liked her.

I loved Allie.

After I got a job, I took Hannah out. Well, I took them both out bowling. We really hit it off. Hannah was a pretty good bowler and we had some laughs. Allie was very shy, but we talked a little bit. You see, I don’t think I ever told you this. I’ve always wanted to be a dad. My own father isn’t a good guy. He wasn’t around a whole lot so I wanted to be everything he wasn’t.

I know that sounds crazy. How can a guy be a father without having known what a father can be to a son or a daughter? I saw how other dads are with their kids. Dads are kinda dorky and really love their kids. They do anything they need to, right? A father is there for their kids and buy them stuff, you see. You know how dads are supposed to be, right?

Anyway, I decided I was going to be Allie’s dad. It was my only chance being a father since I had an accident when I was a kid. I got kicked and I lost one of my testicles and, nevermind… Needless to say, I couldn’t have children. I’m sterile like a mule or something.

I kept dating Hannah and we had nights together. I always included Allie. She was a special kid. You know, one time when I came over to Hannah’s house, Allie had picked some dandelions for me, the ones gone to seed. She had put them in her favorite little glass and she ran outside to me. As she ran, the seeds came loose and they were floating behind her as she ran. By the time she got to me, the dandelions were pretty ratty looking. Allie was so crushed. I could see it on her face. She was upset.

I took her in my arms and hugged her. I thanked her for the beautiful flowers and told her she had planted so many more for me. Those seeds floated off, they would settle down somewhere and grow and be flowers she’d planted for me. Instead of a handful of flowers, she’d given me a whole garden-full.

That made her smile and she squeezed me back. I remember thinking this sweet, innocent, little child was so special. She was special too. I don’t think Allie was all there. Hannah said she was challenged, but I thought that made Allie was even more adorable.

So, while I didn’t really love Hannah, I did love Allie. I could put up with Hannah to be with Allie. All I wanted was to be her dad, you know. Do you want to be a dad? Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. But I did, once upon a time. I thought I could be there for Allie.

If it wasn’t for Allie’s fucking father, it would have been fine.

No, I’m fine, really. I need to tell you this or else you won’t get me. You’ll think I’m the kind of guy who beats his mother and kills the guy who kinda acted like his father. I’m not that guy. It’s not that simple.

The only thing Justin, that was Allie’s father’s name, ever did for Allie was give her a dog. He wouldn’t buy diapers and even at four years old, she couldn’t remember to use the bathroom. The motherfucker wouldn’t give Hannah money for groceries or rent, but he did give the little girl a dog, which they couldn’t afford. Hannah struggled to get food on the table so it was hard for her to buy pet food as well.

I bought dog food. I worked in the kitchen at Culver’s, you know, the frozen custard place. I made fifty cents an hour more than the minimum wage. Justin worked construction. He made good money. He could afford an almost new Chevy Silverado. I didn’t even have a driver’s license then. I’d lost mine.

Doesn’t matter.

I bought that fucking dog, Ginger, his food. I would drag a fifty-pound bag of kibble from the store on the bus to Hannah’s house. Allie was so happy when I walked in the door. She’d hug me so tight. Her little moon-shaped face would look up and it beamed. I never knew what that meant until after I met Allie. She would smile so wide it would touch my soul, I swear.

God, I loved that little girl. I gladly brought food for her dog.

Sorry. Remembering it is tough. I need to tell you so you understand me. Okay? I’m fine.

Like I said, I loved Allie to pieces. I think Hannah knew I didn’t really feel that much for her. It was a mistake for me to get so attached. I loved the little girl, and I liked Hannah a lot, I mean she was pretty fat and everything, but she was good to me.

That motherfucking Justin was the one who screwed everything up. I get a call at the halfway house from Hannah. She tells me it’s over. Justin wants to make things work. He finally is done fucking around and wants to be a family. I’m out. John Lawson buys their fucking dog food and dotes on her retard daughter and just like that, I’m out.

It came out wrong. I loved Allie. She was a sweet, innocent girl. Her goddamn father wouldn’t buy her diapers, but when he came calling, Hannah would drop her panties in a second. Screw you, John Lawson. Fuck off, you sterile piece of shit.

Now, this part is real tricky. You gotta understand, I was so upset. Hannah dumped me and basically told me I couldn’t see Allie anymore. That wasn’t right.

I had to talk to her. I borrowed a car. Well, I stole a car and went out to Jordan, you know, the town, to see her. I don’t know exactly what I was thinking. I just knew I had to talk to her. I felt like I had given up so much for Hannah and Allie, I couldn’t let it go like that.

I drove out there fast. My blood was racing. My eyes were watering. You gotta understand, I was losing my family at least that’s what it felt like. I drove over to Hannah’s house and as I barreled up the driveway, I saw Allie’s dog. He was running toward the car. I swear, I didn’t mean it. The dog seemed to run right under the car. It was like it committed suicide or something. I swerved but the dog went under the wheel. That stupid dog I bought food for killed itself. At least, that’s what I think happened.

I didn’t know what to do at first. I could see the dog wasn’t moving any more. I picked it up. I thought Allie needed to know it was an accident. I walked up to the front door.

Justin answered the door. He didn’t have a shirt on. He was a flabby piece of shit. Hannah was in the background. She was washing dishes. Allie just appeared out of nowhere beside her loser father. I didn’t have a chance to explain.

Allie started crying, sobbing and screaming at me. She said I killed her dog. Justin was yelling too. Hannah tried to comfort her daughter. I laid Ginger down on the doorway and began to speak. Allie was really upset and she called me names. I lost it.

I hit her, pretty hard, across the face. I didn’t mean it. I loved Allie. I loved that little girl. I didn’t mean it. It just happened.

They got a restraining order against me. I didn’t even show up to court. I knew I’d never see Allie again. I didn’t care so much about Hannah. It was Allie I missed. I missed how she got so excited to see me and how she beamed at me. I’m still sad I can’t see her. I guess I’ll never make a good dad. I know it now.

***

Cory watched as Lawson melted or at least his personality did. The man seemed to have drifted into another place. Finally, Cory asked him, “She’s not why you’re here, is she?”

“No.” The answer came short and curt. “I’m not here because I slapped Allie.”

“Are you ready to tell me why you’re here?”

Silence.

“Did you hit another kid, John?” Cory asked with a hollow sounding voice.

“I’m here because I don’t know how to love,” was Lawson’s answer. “Not all of us know how to love. Some of us only know how to hurt. I loved Allie, but the only thing I ever did to her was break her little heart.”

“I don’t understand,” Cory responded, leaning closer as though that would give more clarity to Lawson’s response.

“Just let it go,” Lawson said, pulling away. He seemed to shrink back into his chair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just sorry for all of it. My whole life is a sorry mess.”

“No, it’s not,” Cory said, trying to get the other man’s attention. His stare was off somewhere else now. Lawson had drifted out, away. Tears were streaming from his eyes. His face wasn’t sad or hurt. It was blank. Cory shivered as he realized he was watching the disintegration of a personality.

He thought it possible John Lawson was gone.