Third Shift - 7. Chapter 10 William Foster

Chapter 10 - William Foster

February 17th

Sandy and Casey had stepped into the lobby of the apartment building. It was obvious they were deeply in love. They'd walked down the sidewalk from the convenience store holding hands the entire two blocks.

Cory knew because he'd followed them. Like a private dick or a stalker, he'd shadowed them from Casey's apartment down the street to the store and back again. They'd bought ice cream, a magazine, and a pack of condoms. The entire time, Cory felt his flesh seething to confront them. His chest ached to scream obscenities at them. He wanted to rage and stomp and throw a fit about how they'd both betrayed him.

Instead, he watched them from afar.

Originally, he drove from work this morning to Casey's building. He wanted to push Sandy's note in his face, once in tatters and now taped together. As he reconstructed the paper, he'd imagined what he'd say to his ex. He could see Sandy's guilty face and hear him beg for forgiveness.

All the anger and feelings of betrayal had started to change as he drove. Time made him start thinking about the past and the man who had once loved him.

Cory realized his expectation for Sandy's remorse was probably wrong. If he flamed out at the man, he might get mad instead. Cory thought about how Sandy supported him over the years as he worked for his degree and then license. The man had worked long hours and bought almost everything now in the condo.

Everything. When he'd first read the word, it enraged him. Now as he considered it, the words rang true. Sandy had been there for him until he was no longer needed.

Cory put his car into drive and pulled out of the parking spot. He'd never thought of it that way. Sandy had stayed with him until he was settled and then moved in with Casey. This realization filled him with an ache of regret and at the same time, indecision. How long had Sandy been in love with someone else, with Casey? How long had Sandy stayed with him not loving him?

All of the anger flowed out of him. He was glad he hadn't pulled a 'Lawson fit' at Sandy and Casey. These considerations suddenly made everything turn ninety degrees and look quite different. His perspective had changed and while he wasn’t ‘over’ things, he was seeing them more objectively. Somehow, thinking about his talk early this morning with Lawson had done something for him. He was seeing things more clearly.

He recalled hearing the page at 2:37 am, as expected.

Cory walked down to the conference room in Section C. Sometimes they'd bring the detainee to the mental health offices for discussions. When he worked third shift, Cory liked to go to the clients. It made more sense for the sleepless, often agitated, men to be closer to their bed. Oftentimes after a dark or intense discussion, the clients were ready to sleep. With the stress of their problems gone, exhaustion sets in quickly.

After John Lawson's rant about his mother yesterday morning, Cory had been expecting the man to talk. In their first session, Lawson revealed he would awaken every morning at 2:33 am. There would be screaming in his head and he couldn't go back to sleep. Therefore, it was the perfect time for a counseling session.

Cory had wondered why Lawson awoke at the same time every night, but didn't ask. He figured, once again, if the man wanted to tell him, he would.

As he approached the Section C block of rooms, he saw a guard come out of the door. He had a metal clipboard and was whistling a tuneless, careless, tone. He looked up and his handsome face broke into a smile. Cory smiled back. It was Wayne Coolidge, Lawson's usual guard. While Cory considered Lawson savagely attractive, he thought Coolidge was eerily beautiful and almost pretty for a man.

"He's ready for you. Pretty riled up earlier," Coolidge said, brushing back a lock of his sandy blond hair behind his ear. He gestured with the clipboard. "Kept going on and on about his mother. Do you know what's got him so upset?"

Cory watched as the concern knit the other man's golden forehead. His cheeks were downy with a light honey brown scruff. With the light behind him, Coolidge's oval face was practically glowing and almost holy. Cory swallowed hard.

"He had a meltdown at the hospital about his mother. Apparently she never contacted him in the hospital and he fell into a rage about her."

"She's been by here a couple of times according to the log. Lawson refuses to see her. What did he say about her?" Coolidge asked. Cory had to stop himself from speaking because when Coolidge's voice hit his ear, he wanted to say 'yes' to whatever the other man wanted.

"I can't repeat what a client says to me," Cory said quietly.

"Oh, yeah," Coolidge said quickly. "I forget you're a doc."

"I'm not a doctor, but I have the same ethical considerations." Cory smiled as Coolidge stepped out of the doorway. He gestured for Cory to enter and he did.

Lawson was sitting at the table, his hands in a plastic tie and from the sound of the jangling, his feet chained to the floor. His eyes were bloodshot and the bruises looked worse in this light. Even though it had only been a day, the man looked much worse, more exhausted and drained.

"How're you feeling?" Cory asked, setting down his folder and pad. "Is the pain worse tonight?"

Lawson nodded once, and then wiped his eyes with his good hand. "It's not so bad, the pain. Something else hurts more."

Cory sat down in the chair and waited expectantly.

"I, um, so you know the truth, my mother wasn't a whore. After my father left us, she did her best to take care of us. I was angry and trying to blame someone else for my failures," Lawson said in a low voice. "It was wrong of me."

"Why her?" Cory asked. "Why pick on her then?"

"I can't control myself sometimes. There are times I fly off the handle and I can't stop it. My mother once said if I had a father, maybe he'd teach me how to end the pattern."

Cory sat back, stunned. It was well established most repeat criminals had poor impulse control skills. Emotions carried them instead of the other way around. Thieves coveted what they saw and so they connived to take it. Rapists craved forcing submission of another and so took it by force. One thing criminals were also bad at was contemplation and self-knowledge.

Lawson was the exception apparently. Lawson's fit wasn't a huge surprise the previous morning. The man was working through whatever act he'd committed to get him put here. It was normal and natural to watch the detainee process the loss of freedom and deal with what they'd done. The healing progression wasn't the same for everyone though everyone had a path.

Cory smiled at him and said, "Your comment is very telling because you're right. Until you learn some self-control, you will continue getting into trouble. You don't need a father to learn. You can teach yourself."

Lawson looked even more miserable at the other man's words. Finally, he stammered out a response. "I haven't been able to so far. Look at me this morning. I bet you thought I'd lost it."

"I did." Cory nodded and kept a steady gaze on the other man's one good eye. "I also know you're going through a lot. That's why I'm here. We can work through this together. You need to trust me though."

"I trust you," Lawson said almost immediately. "I do."

"I'm glad. So tell me why you won't see your mother?" Cory asked.

"Wayne told you, huh?" the man grinned. "I have put her through enough. I don't want her to see me in prison again especially after what I did."

"She's going to hurt whether she sees you or not. Right?"

Lawson nodded. "I know."

"You're only taking away the relief at seeing you are okay."

"I don't want her seeing me like this," Lawson said, pointing to his bandages. "Did you know I can't see out of my eye? They think it's nerve damage I'll never get back."

Cory reached over and patted the man's hand. "I'm sorry to hear it, John. Have you considered telling the authorities who did it?"

Lawson shook his head violently. "If I do it, I'm as good as dead. Maybe it would be for the best, but I'm not ready to die."

"No, of course not," Cory said. He paused and let the other man calm down. "Do you want to tell me about your mom? The real story this time?"

"I'm not ready," Lawson sniffled and wiped his nose. "Give me a minute."

"Take all the time you need. I'm here for another half of an hour," Cory said, leaning back.

Lawson closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He held the air for a moment and then slowly let it out. Cory was shocked at the man's use of his suggestion and so quickly. He'd only demonstrated the practice twenty hours prior. Now, here was John Lawson using it to collect his thoughts.

"I've always had trouble with my emotions. My mom tried hard to help when she could. I'd get in trouble at school and we'd talk through it. She was so patient with me. I tried, really tried not to be bad and do stupid things, but I couldn't stop myself sometimes."

Lawson had his eye closed and was leaning back as he talked. Cory noted the tone was flat, almost robotic, as though he were describing someone else instead of himself.

"Once I quit school, I tried working at normal jobs. I didn't take direction well and usually got shit canned. Then my mother and I would get into discussions about working and handling a boss. I even tried talking to Gordy about it. He just told me they were all assholes so I stopped talking to him early on."

"Probably a good idea," Cory responded. "What things did your mom suggest you try?"

"She said to step away until I got myself under control. I should try picturing the situation from their viewpoint. I tried all kinds of things. Problem was, by the time I'd figure it out, it was too late. I'd be in the middle of breaking something or yelling at someone." Lawson paused and opened his eye. Cory thought he was checking to see if he was listening. He closed it again.

"After the accident with Gordy, I was riding in the car with my mom to a court date. She started in on how I lost my temper and killed him. She said I was going to prison forever because I didn't try hard enough. I love my mom, but she got my blood boiling. I was so mad…I didn't mean it."

Cory watched as a now distraught man was leaking tears. He made no move to wipe them.

"I hit her. I hit her hard right across the face and broke her jaw."

Cory didn't know how to proceed. One thing was certain, this man was seriously mentally ill. He had emotional, behavioral problems which probably were hormonal in nature. However, he could see the man wasn't cold or sociopathic. He was now a weeping mess filled with remorse for his action.

"What happened then, John?"

"We got to court and they arrested me for assault. My mother got a restraining order against me. They ended up dropping the charges after I accepted a plea bargain for Gordy's death. It was a charge of vehicular homicide. They dropped the assault charge."

"Have you spoken to her since?" Cory asked.

"Oh, yeah," Lawson answered. "She forgave me and visited me in prison. I lived with her for a while when I first got out. I was always really careful around her from then on."

Cory watched as the man pulled himself together. He was feeling those waves of empathy again. The vulnerability evident in such a strong, hard man was too attractive. He needed to distance himself. He had to focus on separating and compartmentalizing the emotions.

As he drove here to Casey's apartment building, and now Sandy's as well, he started comparing himself to John Lawson. If he ranted and raved at his ex-partner and ex-friend, would he be any different than the guy who ran over his father figure? If he pressed a stupid note into his former boyfriend's face, was he better than the guy who cracked his mother's jaw?

There was a sense of proportion after all. Killing a person and breaking another's bone were extremes. Cory considered that point, but in the end, it didn't matter. Acting out of pure emotional release wasn't helpful. Sure, he would get his anger out and into the open. He might be able to get Sandy and Casey to cry. Would it make him feel better?

In the end as he watched them walk down the sidewalk holding hands and poking at each other, he knew it wouldn't. He'd get a rush of energy and a burst of relief which would quickly dissipate. He wouldn't feel any better.

Cory slowly drove to his condo and parked. A sense of peace passed over him and it felt good.

It felt like relief.