Third Shift - 5. Chapter 6, 7 and 8. Lady Macbeth washes her hands.

Chapter 6 – Lady Macbeth

February 14^th

Cory fingered the array of red roses in the urn. He had paused at the gift shop in the hospital when he smelled the aroma of the flowers wafting into the hallway. This would be his first Valentine’s Day in years without buying or receiving roses. Every year, Sandy bought him a single red rose and a tiny box of chocolates. Cory would buy Sandy tulips, his favorite. Purple. Sandy preferred purple tulips if possible.

Last year he’d given him red tulips. The florist didn’t have any purple ones. Is that when it started going downhill? Had the red tulips doused their love?

Cory snorted and stepped back. It didn’t help to consider such absurd ideas. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Sandy had done the cheating. Casey had been the willing enabler. Cory was the dupe. A tiny ache of emptiness erupted in his chest. He stepped closer to the roses and leaned over. He breathed in deeply, filling his head with the lovely scent.

For a moment, he had the urge to buy a rose and bring it to John Lawson. The urge was brief, though especially strong.

“I’m losing it,” he said, turning away.

“Can I help you?” a woman with a husky voice asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Cory answered. She was in her fifties, looked tired, but eager to help. “I was looking and enjoying the smell.”

“These are very fragrant, aren’t they?” she said, quickly spreading them out evenly in the display. It was like magic the way she could make them look so much more desirable, needful.

“Thank you,” Cory said, saluting her and he left the shop. He walked toward the elevator and mused on his bizarre urge to buy his client a flower. It was obvious the breakup was affecting him in strange ways. First he wanted to touch Lawson. Now he wanted to buy him a Valentine’s gift.

***

“You really don’t know what I’m accused of?” Lawson asked, scooting up in his bed. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

He looked better today, Cory thought, more alive and less despondent. Lawson’s one good eye was almost sparkling today and his bruises had faded a little, to a dark green and subsequently lighter shades of aubergine, still violently purple, just not as sharp.

“What can I say?” Cory responded pulling out a chair and sitting on the edge of it facing the bed. He watched as Lawson seemed to struggle with his presence. His face scowled and then eased into something more pleasant though not a smile.

“People lie, all the time,” Lawson said.

Cory nodded and smiled at the other man, patiently waiting.

Lawson squirmed and grunted. “So, you don’t know I once killed a man,” he said.

“Is this before or after the rape,” Cory answered, suppressing his glee Lawson was finally talking to him.

“I never raped anyone,” Lawson answered. “But, I did kill a guy.”

“Is that what you want to talk about?” Cory asked. He pulled out a folder from his computer bag. Quickly, he opened it to the guard’s report of the assault. "They’ve asked me to talk to you about the attack. I think you should tell them what happened, all of it.”

Lawson shook his head and sighed. “I don’t want to talk about them. I wanna forget it.”

Cory closed the folder. “We can talk about whatever you want to.”

Lawson’s face rippled in distress as he moved to the side. He lifted his injured shoulder and moved it onto a pillow. His face eased and his eye closed. The man breathed deeply and began speaking.

“He was a buddy of mine. The guy I killed.” The man in the hospital bed stopped, opened his eye and peered at Cory. “No, that’s not the right word. He was a guy I knew and did business with.”

“A colleague?” Cory offered.

Lawson snorted and laughed at the word the counselor used. “Not a colleague, more of a business partner, if you wanna call him anything. He was a crook.”

“Drugs?” Cory prompted.

Lawson shook his head and screwed up his face. The man was clearly frustrated and Cory realized something he should have earlier. Lawson was trying to find the words for his story. Cory’s help wasn’t appreciated, and it was annoying him.

In the short time Cory had met with Lawson, he discovered the man wasn’t dumb, not at all. He was slow. He struggled with words and arranging them. If Cory gave him the time, Lawson would eventually get there. In the meantime, he would start and stop, change phrases and words, and interrupt himself.

Cory sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. He placed the folder on his lap and smiled at Lawson. “Take your time. I’ve got all morning.”

Lawson arched his brow and rolled his one good eye. “His name was Gordon Sumter. He was a bad man, like me.”

Chapter 7 - Lady Macbeth

John Lawson Remembers - August 17^th, 2005

What can I say about Gordon Sumter except he was like a father to me. I’d known him all my life. Gordy was always there. Even after my mom told him to take a hike, I’d find him.

My dad left when I was little. My mom always said he was a deadbeat and a loser so we were better off. In his place, I had Gordy though my mom told me he was trouble. I guess Gordy was kinda like my father. He showed me how to change a tire and how to hunt deer.

He also showed me how to steal. Gordy was very good at it. Most people never even knew.

Gordy showed me the scam when I was much younger. I’d be the cute little kid the old bags would talk to while he took their wallets. I would pretend to be lost and they would forget their purse in the grocery cart or on the bench in the mall. Gordy was quick. He’d have the money slipped out before you could say Johnny Appleseed.

He never got caught when I was a kid. Gordy was good, so good, he got sloppy. My mom caught him taking her money, and she made him leave.

I didn’t see him for at least ten years.

Then he showed up at my apartment when I had moved out. Gordy hadn’t aged well.

Maybe it was prison or maybe he just drank too much. Anyway, he showed up on my doorstep gray, wrinkled, and shaking. His hands were gnarled and misshapen. His breath stank of gin.

At first I didn’t want him there. Mom had warned me he was trouble. She was always telling me to stay away from people. Gordy was so nervous and seemed scared. I felt bad for him. After all, the guy had kept me in pocket money and showed me how to drive a truck and pick a lock. I kinda owed him something. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Gordy said he didn’t have anywhere to go. He’d been sleeping in the woods in a tent. The night was chilly and rainy. I remember thinking how he looked sick. His cheeks were gray and under his eyes were almost black. I gave him a beer and we talked.

After his second beer, his hands stopped shaking. His cheeks got some color. Gordy was talking with me about some guys he knew and how they’d stolen an SUV and got thousands for it. It was a funny story.

I don’t remember how it went, but it was good enough I let Gordy stay the night, and then the next. And pretty soon he was living with me.

I was working construction at the time, pouring concrete pillars I think. I had a steady paycheck and it was nice having Gordy to talk to. At least, it was until I got laid off.

Even as I tell you about Gordy, I can’t believe what happened. One day he was sleeping off a drunken night and the next night, well I’ll get to that shortly.

I guess my drinking started to get worse too.

You see, Gordy needed the booze, I didn’t. I could take it or leave it. Gordy couldn’t. He had to have whiskey and beer and gin or he’d start getting the shakes again. I would go to the liquor store and buy a bottle or two and then we’d start drinking and playing cards or throwing darts or even just shooting the shit. Before you knew it, I’d be passed out and I suppose Gordy would too.

A couple of times, I wouldn’t make it into work, or if I did, I wasn’t in the best shape. I got laid off.

Turns out, Gordy had been pulling some of his scams out at the casino. After a few weeks, I went with.

At first, I didn’t have anything else to do. I wasn’t working and had lots of time on my hands. Gordy was pulling the same tricks as he did when I was a kid. Only thing was, he was now old, out of shape and slow. He didn’t get much. It was only the really old people who he could trick.

I wasn’t going to go back to it again. I kinda thought it was wrong. Besides, I wasn’t a cute little kid anymore. Who was going to fall for that trick with a twenty-one-year-old man? Nobody right?

Wrong. You see, I’ve always been kinda popular with women. They see me as some sort of bad boy or something. I’m also not too hard on the eyes.

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

Anyway, I found out by accident I could flirt with these women and distract them. It was different from when I was a kid, but kinda the same too. Gordy could lift their wallets and drain their cash. It worked pretty well that day. Gordy ended up taking about two large off of six women I talked with.

Unfortunately, they have cameras at Mystic Lake and they saw him. They saw me talking to him too. Before we knew it, we were in the parking lot being escorted to my truck. Seems they couldn’t prove he’d taken the money so we were ‘disinvited’ to ever come back.

I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but I have a bit of a temper. When things don’t go well, I have trouble with it. Gordy got it all started though. If he’d been fair about things, it never would have got out of hand. He had to pocket more of it and give me a smaller cut.

He thought I didn’t know. I did. As we drove back into town, into Richfield, I told him to give me my fair share. Gordy denied having kept more. He kept saying he’d given me half. I knew he hadn’t.

So I stopped the truck alongside the road. I can remember how I felt. It was a blind rage. I marched around the front of the truck and pulled open the passenger door. I pulled his ancient, lying ass out of it. I slapped him around a little, told him to hand it over. He actually started crying and ran down the road.

I was so mad. I jumped back into my truck and roared towards home. I kept thinking ‘fuck him, fuck Gordy.’ He was living rent free on my couch. He was drinking my booze and eating my food. And then the fucking asshole decides to cheat me. I kept getting madder and madder at him.

I ran a red light and that made me stop the truck. All the things Gordy had done for me over the years came back to me, the little things like a father would. I could feel my hot blood cooling. I started getting my head back on right. Gordy had been good to me. He was old and sick and not getting any better.

I turned the truck around and went back towards where he’d run off. I figured I would get him home and talk to him calmly. We’d find a way to make things right. It would work.

Well, maybe I wasn’t really calm yet. The blood was still kinda pounding in my head. My foot was still too heavy on the accelerator. I only remember the thud when I hit him. He bounced off the front grill. My wheel went over him as I tried to stop. I swear, I didn’t mean to kill him. I had forgiven him. I wasn’t mad, well, not real mad anymore. I guess I was a little messed up.

I was going to pick him back up. It was an accident. You know. An accident.

Climbing out of my vehicle, I started to panic. The cops would never believe it was an accident. They’d say I did it on purpose. I didn’t. I really didn’t mean it.

I pulled him into the trees. There was a close, foresty-like grove of trees around that park and I put him there. Even now it seems unreal, like it didn’t happen.

Some limbs were lying on the ground nearby. I dragged a couple of them and put them over him. It didn’t really cover him. I looked around for more, but that was all.

A siren started from far away. I waited for a second and realized it was coming closer to us. I ran to my truck and took off.

They came and picked me up an hour later. Someone saw my truck and took down my license plate. I explained it was an accident, but it didn’t matter. There were witnesses and blood and stuff on my truck. There was paint on Gordy that matched mine. Anyway, I had admitted to it. It was an accident.

I didn’t mean to kill him.

They gave me 41 months for vehicular homicide. I got out after 33 months. Being in prison messed me up. It messed me up big time.

***

Cory finished up his notes from the meeting with John Lawson. He looked over the story about Gordon Sumter and shook his head. Obviously, Lawson had reconstructed his reality in some odd, and illogical, ways. The man’s emotions were mixed about Sumter and the accident. Part of Cory believed it was an overreaction and therefore an accident. Another part knew Lawson intended on killing the old man and was then remorseful.

Regardless, the man had serious issues.

Lawson’s story about Sumter was quite revealing though it didn’t exactly explain what he was doing in lockup. Until Lawson actually dealt with that, he wouldn’t start getting better. The man’s suicide ideation was quite strong. Without starting to heal, he was in grave danger of killing himself.

Maybe it would take some time for Lawson to open up. Obviously, what he’d done was bad enough he couldn’t quite handle it yet. Telling the story about Sumter had seemed to make the detainee a little less agitated. Sometimes baby steps were the best a counselor could hope for. Sometimes the psyche guards its scars carefully only revealing them a little at a time.

Cory placed his notes in a folder in Lawson’s file. He would need to be patient with this one. Hopefully that would be enough to help save him.

Chapter 8 - Lady Macbeth

February 14^th

Cory unlocked his door and pushed it open. There was something different. Maybe it had been the story John Lawson told him. It had haunted him ever since he'd left work. No, it was something else. Something was wrong.

Someone had been in his apartment.

Cory walked into the hallway and saw a couple of pictures missing, the ones of Sandy’s family. It didn’t bother him except his ex hadn’t called and asked to come over.

Throwing the mail on the side table, Cory stepped into the living room. It had been emptied. Their, his, television set was gone as was the coffee table. The couch and loveseat remained but the lamp behind the end table was missing.

Cory felt his heart race, and blood pressure rise as he stomped through the doorway into the kitchen. His table was gone, though the sideboard was still there. He opened cupboards and found empty gaps like pulled teeth in places. The blender was gone. The toaster was still on the counter. The bread machine wasn’t where it should be though the food processor was still sitting there next to the now empty space.

“Motherfucker!” Cory exclaimed and saw a note, really more of a letter, on the counter by the sink. He snatched up the paper and read the words in growing dismay.

“Cory,

I’ve only taken a few items I felt I needed. I’ve left most everything else for you. I felt bad taking the television so I left an envelope with money in the bedroom. Buy a new one. There should be enough for a larger, smart T.V.

I know this may be a shock to you. I wanted to call. In the end, I couldn’t. I feel so badly about it all. Even though I bought almost all of these things, I’m leaving most of it here. Consider it my apology.

Please give me a few more weeks and then we can talk.

Love and affection,

Sandy.”

***

Cory looked down at the broken glasses on the floor of the kitchen lying amidst the ripped pieces of paper that had been the note. He was breathing deeply, thinking about what he needed to do next. Finding the offensive, ridiculously worded note and the missing items, threw him into a fury. He’d rampaged throughout the apartment, smashing things, glass, wood, plastic, until the wildness had worn away. He was so upset that now he was just tired and empty.

It was gone now. All of the anger and rage, were gone. Sandy felt leaving the items he’d paid for made up for abandoning him. Sandy thought he could pick and choose the items he wanted. His ex could leave a little cash on the nightstand as recompense.

Cory felt dirty and used. The hot tears that had burst as he threw his fit, returned with a vengeance. His sobs were loud and yet sounded hollow as they echoed off the walls. He could feel his cheeks burn with the humiliation. His face was scalded like boiling water had been poured over his head. The fucking bastard had taken their life together away.

How could this have happened? It wasn’t fair. Sandy and he had been partners for life. Now their combined existence was permanently split apart. The things had been divvied up, not in a shared way. Just like how he left, Sandy picked and chose what he wanted without a thought for Cory.

Cory wiped his tears with his hand. After drying it on his pants leg, he walked into the living room. He curled up on the couch in a ball. His last thought as he fell asleep was of John Lawson saying to him.

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

Somehow, it didn’t help. It made him a little sick.