The Insurrectionist (23 page)

            Bashir nodded to Victoria and Uncle Boris. As Uncle Boris paid for the Daudov’s new clothing, Bashir walked Deni outside to the hallway of a very large, crowded mall. Together they sat on the bench, watching the Americans walk past and the rest of their family inside the store.

            The only time Deni saw so many people at one time was at train stations and the airports. The difference was these people were not carrying luggage; it didn’t look like they were going anywhere. “Where are all these people going?”

            “They’re shopping,” replied Bashir.

            “For what?” asked Deni.

            “Clothes and stuff,” said Bashir.

            “Why? Don’t they have enough?” questioned Deni.

            Bashir chuckled and then messed with Deni’s hair. “Obviously not.”

            Within a few minutes, Uncle Boris and the entire clan emerged from The Gap. “Okay, how about some cheesecake!” he exclaimed.

            The restaurant was equally as crowded. His legs grew tired for standing and his mind was beginning to ache with boredom. There was really no one for Deni to talk to, so he just hung on Bashir’s arm constantly trying to get his attention. Deni was getting too heavy to be lifted, so Bashir held Deni’s head close to his hip to keep him from getting out of sorts. Deni glanced up at Bashir. “Why do we have to stand in line? Isn’t there enough food?” he asked.

            Uncle Boris laughed out loud.

            Deni didn’t understand how his question could be funny. 

            “We stand in line because the food is very good here,” replied Uncle Boris.

            “No other place has good food?” responded Deni.

            Uncle Boris glanced at Bashir and Kamiila. “A smart little one, isn’t he?”

            “He’s tired,” defended Kamiila.

            The families were eventually seated at a table. Although Deni preferred to sit next to Bashir, he was stuck between his overbearing cousin and his mother. A large colorful menu was placed before Deni. He paged through all the pictures of food he didn’t recognize. So many choices, he was mesmerized by all the pictures of foods, desserts and cocktails. He pointed to a picture of a Mai Tai.

            “No, you can’t have that; that’s for adults,” said Victoria, but Deni couldn’t really understand her English. Victoria paged through the menu for Deni and showed him a picture of a cheeseburger. “How does that look?”

            Deni had no idea what it was, but nodded his head affirmative.

            Kamiila took the menu from Deni and gave Victoria a look to leave her son alone. “Honey, you can never eat all that. It’s bigger than you are.”

            “Oh Kamiila, let the boy have his burger. What he doesn’t eat, I’m sure someone else will eat the rest,” replied Uncle Boris.

            Kamiila handed her and Deni’s menu to Bashir. “Fine. What do I know about raising my own children?”

            Deni slid down the seat between his mother and Victoria. It didn’t matter, he was going get something to eat sometime; he hoped
. If America had so much food, why am I starving?

            Later that evening, Kamiila folded a basket of her family’s washed clothes and packed them in her suitcase. She was in no mood to see anyone, or even talk to her husband. She was inches away from getting her children on the next flight back to Russia.

            Deni entered the room, jumped on the guest bed and stared up at his mother. She sat down next to him, placing her hand on his belly. She didn’t have any words, she knew her son was as lost as she was and was seeking refuge in the safest room in the house.

            “We’re leaving tomorrow to find a house of our own and it will just be us again,” she finally said to him. “You’ll get to go to school and you’ll meet many friends your own age. How does that sound?”

            “Will they like me?” Deni asked.

            Kamiila brushed back his hair. “What’s not to like? You’re a sweet boy. Everyone will love you. They will love you just like I love you.” She could see the doubt in Deni’s eyes and wished she had a crystal ball to assure him. She wished she could look into the future and know without a doubt that everything would be okay, but she couldn’t. Leaning over him, she kissed his forehead. “Whatever happens in your life, I want you to know your mother loves you. That is the one thing you will never need to doubt.”

 

               With his head pressed against the steel door, Deni stared blankly at his cell. “My freedom was lost a long time ago and I have been living in prison ever since,” he said.

            He stood up and walked around his small space. “Do they know? Do Americans know their own captivity? Why do Americans wait at restaurants for food? Refugees of war stand in food lines, not the supposed richest country on earth. People walking around the mazes of malls like laboratory rats being tested by some scientist. No doubt it’s all monitored by those above to gain more influence and power. It is capitalistic porn is what it is—a big corporate dick shoving it into the vagina of the masses.” 

            Deni heard the lock to his cell door open.
What could it be now?
The guard opened the door for him to line up with all the other prisoners. It was his hour of daylight and it couldn’t have come at worse time.
Shit, I wonder who’s gonna try to fuck me now
.

            The weather was horrendous. It had to be over one hundred degrees and heavy humidity hung in the air. Sweat drenched Deni’s scrubs. He walked to the far end of the outside cage, clenched his fingers around the wire, and looked out to the free world.
Have I ever been free? Perhaps this is the freest I have even been?

            He turned around and saw the prison guard standing safely by the door. Deni had to laugh and laughed harder when he felt a few raindrops plop on his head. Thunder roared in the sky and the rain began to pour; it was glorious.

 

            Consciousness versus conscience
, Deni thought as he was just about to drift into unconsciousness. Sleep was almost upon him, but his mind was still very active. His conscious thoughts swirled into a dreamlike state.

            Confined to this small space, it was easy for his mind to escape him. The outside world and all his so-called ideals now seemed surreal like an obscure foreign film. His peripheral senses heightened. He could feel the hair on his arms stand on end, every nerve twitched and his heart beat. He could even feel inhuman entities surround him—angels, demons, and the ghosts of prisoners past.

            Sensing something watching him, he lifted the fabric of his pants covering his eyes to see. He glanced around his cell and saw nothing.
Maybe it was that dark angel that visited me in the hospital
? he thought. “Where did you go?” he muttered, but there was no response.

            Finally, he was able to force sleep but was woken by his breakfast being slid through the door. It was a good one. Deni sat on his bed and slowly savored his breakfast—runny eggs, limp bacon, dry toast, and orange juice which rejuvenated his body and mind.

            After breakfast he did twenty push-ups and fifty sit-ups. He would have done more, but he heard the door to his cell unlock. Deni bounced to his feet and held out his wrist for the guard. “Jesus, peace be upon him,” he said to the big blond guard.

            The guard cuffed Deni’s wrist and then shackled his ankles. “I see solitude hasn’t ruined your sense of humor.”

            “It’s all I have,” said Deni.

            “That’s more than the people you and your brother killed,” replied the guard.

            “Allegedly killed. I haven’t yet been convicted,” said Deni.

            The guard tugged on Deni’s cuffs. “Semantics.”

            This guard hurried Deni through the hallway.
He obviously does not have much of a sense of humor
, thought Deni. Once they reached Dr. Sodhi’s office, the guard pushed Deni into the chair. Deni shrugged the guard away. As the guard left, Dr. Sodhi entered.

            “I think I can change my plea to insanity,” said Deni promptly.

            Dr. Sodhi dropped her file on the table. “Why?”

            “Because I’m talking to myself,” replied.

            “Are you answering yourself?” she asked, taking a seat.

            Deni laughed. “No, that’s crazy.” He paused and then asked, “What is my diagnosis?”

            “Well,” said Dr. Sodhi as she crossed her legs under the table. “I think you suffer with anxiety and depression.”

            “I’m too laid back to be anxious,” replied Deni, reclining in his chair.

            “Are you? Is that why you barely have any fingernails?” she said.

            “I haven’t been to the spa lately.”

            She didn’t respond.

            “So that’s it; I’m anxious and depressed. So is half the world,” Deni said defensively.

            “Half the world doesn’t commit a crime,” Dr. Sodhi said. “There is also something that troubles you deeply that either you’re not telling me or that you have repressed. It caused you to put up a façade to the world, and made you compliant with conflict.” She sat forward and then looked up at Deni. “There is no doubt in my mind you are a smart kid with high ideals, but at some point your high ideals met with an emotional breaking point. Have you any idea what that was?”

            Deni’s eager demeanor retreated to a posture of self-defense. “No.”

            “What you’re resisting the most is the answer to your issues,” she said. “What happened? What was it?”

            Deni grunted and smirked. “I can’t say.”

            “Why can’t you say?” she asked.

            “You don’t understand. You wouldn’t understand,” he said.

            Dr. Sodhi sat back in her seat. “Try me.”

            “Loyalty,” he said.

            “I don’t understand loyalty?” she questioned.

            “Would you die for someone you loved? Would you kill for someone you loved? What is the limit you would go to, to protect someone you love?” he asked.

            “Who are you protecting?” she answered with another question. “Is this about your brother?”

            “Jesus fucking Christ, do I need to spell it out for you?” Deni exclaimed.

            “Yes Deni, you do,” Dr. Sodhi responded strongly.

            Deni pushed back against his chair. “I got fucking nothing!”

            “Does this have to do with your brother?” she pushed.

            Deni laughed. “Leave me the fuck alone! Why can’t everyone just leave me the fuck alone?”

            “You’re alone now. You’re going to spend your remaining years in solitary unless you start helping me and yourself!” yelled Dr. Sodhi.

            Deni closed his eyes and recalled a bullet eject from the barrel of a Smith & Wesson 9mm, and then another one, and another one. He watched helpless as the bullets repeated in slow motion with the casings dripping to the floor.

 

            Five-year-old Deni lifted his gaze at grass at level and saw a pheasant a few yards in front of him. He sat back on his heel and silently picked up his rifle. Letting it rest easily in his small hand, he placed his chin on the barrel and saw the pheasant in the sight. The pheasant turned and looked in Deni’s direction, and Deni shot. The pheasant fell slowly and its body disappeared in the tall grass.

 

            “Deni,” Dr. Sodhi said to get his attention. “Deni.”

            Deni lifted his head and wore a stiff, contorted expression. “Have you seen a being die?”

            “I sat with my grandfather as he passed, yes,” said Dr. Sodhi.

            “The moment you can see life in their eyes, and then there is nothing. You can actually witness the soul leaving the body,” he explained.

            “I found it to be a very special experience to watch a person pass from this existence to the next,” said Dr. Sodhi.

            “I no longer fear death. The body ceases, but the soul continues. I will continue, long after my body dies,” replied Deni.

            Dr. Sodhi sat back in her seat and stared curiously at Deni. “Where will you go?”

            “Warriors who die fighting in the cause of God are ushered immediately to God’s presence,” replied Deni. “When I leave this body, I will meet God, Allah. You see, this trial, these therapy sessions are meaningless. What happens here on earth is trivial and mundane in comparison to Paradise.”

            “Deni, we’re getting off subject,” replied Dr. Sodhi. “Do you want to tell me what spurred your inspiration with the divine?”

            Deni grunted and looked away.

            “If the truth is God and all that is meaningful is Paradise, why are you clinging so fast to the mundane? Why hold on so tightly if it doesn’t serve you in Paradise?”

            “Because I will meet my loved ones there,” he responded.

            “Your brother?” questioned Dr. Sodhi.

            “All my brothers,” replied Deni, “and sisters. I will be one with them all.”

            “Deni, knock it off!” scolded Dr. Sodhi. “You haven’t made it to Paradise yet, you’re still here and will be for some time, so before you move on, it’s best you set things right here. You seem to be diverting questions about your brother, so I’m going to assume that’s your issue. Am I wrong?”

            “I’m done,” he said.

            “Okay,” said Dr. Sodhi with a sigh. She rose from her seat and collected her file. “I’ll have the guard take you back to your cell.”

            Within a few minutes, Deni was manhandled by the guard and then escorted back to the cell. Once released of his shackles he buried his face in his palms and cringed.

 

            “What the hell are you doing? What the fuck? Why’d you do that? Why would you do that!” Deni yelled.

 

            Deni raised his face from his hands, gazed around his cell and then stripped naked. Stepping into the shower, he could barely feel the lukewarm water rinse his body.

 

            Deni stood in his Mikail’s shower with his head lowered under the shower head. The water rained over him, but it could never wash away his suffering. He wanted to cry, but his body was frozen, paralyzed with guilt and fear. No longer could he face himself—ever.

 

            Mik’s wife, Jamie, handed Deni a plate of fried eggs with the sweetest smile. Deni looked up into her brown eyes and round cheeks. She wore the soft, delicateness of the Pennsylvania Dutch. “Mik has been real worried about you lately. He said you’re having a lot of problems,” she said.

            The fried eggs Jamie placed before him were perfect. He was amazed she was always able to flip an egg without one oozing wound, yet he had absolutely no appetite. In order not to offend her kindness, Deni cut into the soft fleshy egg and watched the yellow yolk flow.
The life source of the embryo chicken; the embryo sack is the creation of all beings
and here I am about to eat it
.
What is life; is it just a container full of fluids?

            “Are you okay, Deni? If you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me,” said Jamie.

            “I’m cool,” he said.

 

            The prison shower had shut off and Deni stood naked with goose bumps forming on his cooled skin. Bringing himself back to consciousness, he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. Having no energy to dress, he fell naked, face-down on his cement bed.

            Hours later, the guard opened the food slit and set inside his dinner. Deni didn’t bother getting up to get his food; he let it sit there until morning. When his breakfast arrived, he again made no motion to get up or eat.

            Deni didn’t know how much time had passed, when a guard came into his cell and wrestled him up. “Get up! Get dressed! You’re attorney’s here.”

            Deni let his body go limp in the guard’s grasp.

            “Either you get up and get dressed, or I am dragging you down there naked,” said the guard.

            Slowly Deni peeled himself off his bed and dressed into his scrubs. He was barely cognizant as the guard escorted him through the prison hallways and to the interview room with which he had become far too acquainted. He watched Marsha standing in the doorway talking to the guard.

            “He didn’t eat his dinner or his breakfast,” the guard said to Marsha, “Found him naked and faced down in bed with his pants covering his head.”

            “Thank you,” said Marsha as she stepped inside the interview room. She glanced down at Deni. “Deni, what’s going on?”

            “I want to die. Can you please stick the needle in me now?” he asked.

            “No,” she said. “I talked to Dr. Sodhi yesterday afternoon after your session. She thought maybe you’d open up to me.”

            “Why would she think that?” he asked.

            “I don’t know. Maybe you trust me more,” she said.

            “Marsha I can’t tell you this.”

            “Why?”

            “Because it’s a betrayal, I will not betray those I love,” he said.

            “What about yourself? You’re betraying yourself by carrying this burden, Deni.” Marsha broke professionalism and reached out to Deni as a mother. She held on his hands and said, “Honey, you have to let it go. You must let it go. They only thing that is killing you is your own pride, guilt and fear, no other killing device can destroy you. We can put the needle in you, sweetheart, but your soul will never be at rest.”

            Deni removed his hands from Marsha’s clutch and stood up. He stumbled to the far corner of the room in his shackles and pressed his face against the cool cement. “I’m not good. I’m flawed. I’m corrupt.” He turned his back toward Marsha. “I wasted a lot of time doing meaningless shit, I did a lot of drugs, drank a lot of alcohol, had a lot of sex.” He lowered his head. “And yes, I masturbated to porn. I like cheerleaders, blonde cheerleaders…blonde lesbian cheerleaders.” He turned his face slightly to Marsha and joked, “I jaywalked, didn’t come to complete stops at stop signs. I tore labels off of mattresses.”

            “You just described half the teenage boys in America,” replied Marsha calmly and then she chuckled. “And you would have been the envy of the other half.”

            Deni turned around to face Marsha. “That’s the problem; America is a corrupt, sinful place. Americans are so desensitized to everything that makes a person humane and virtuous. I fell into America’s trap and also became desensitized to everything that is good and pure. Love, beauty, and sexuality are not masturbating to porn, but I was sucked in. Drugs and alcohol do nothing but dim one’s mind and poison one’s body. I fell for it.” He wandered back to the table and sat before Marsha. “I was eight and I saw it. I saw the craziness that was America, yet I fell.”

            “I agree with you. America may not be the most virtuous place on earth, but Deni, what you described to me hardly makes you a bad or evil person. It makes you human. It made you a young man trying to cope with the stresses around you,” explained Marsha. “Every person must find their way through the madness, true you may have lost yourself in it, but eventually you would have grown past. There is nothing you should feel ashamed about.”

            “Maybe not in your eyes, but in God’s,” said Deni.

            “I’m positive Allah would not want to see you suffer,” replied Marsha.

            “What do you know of Allah?” questioned Deni.