MEMOIR
James is ComingTHE DEEP SOUTH 27 May 2009 |
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I step into the isolation cell, deep in the belly of the county jail.
"James?" a voice calls from the darkness.
My eyes adjust; a wild-eyed man sits upright on his bunk.
"Are you James?" he asks breathlessly.
"Um, hey there. What's your name man?"
"Adam," he says. "Please tell me you're James."
The jail nurse called me earlier. Stated the prisoner had removed his clothing claiming he must purify himself from the demons, that he wrote on some paper towels and pressed them against his skull, sat in the corner and screamed. "Got him by hisself in L Pod," she said. "Thought you better take a look."
I look back to Adam and shrug. "That's me," I reply.
"Thank goodness," he cries. "God told me you would come -- and get the devil out of my head."
I sit back on a narrow cinderblock slab. "Devil talking to you?"
The inmate winces and clutches at his chest. "My heart, it hurts so bad right now. So bad."
Many try to fake it for a trip to state hospital where they can smoke, watch movies and be closer to the opposite sex. I've been fooled before and I'll be fooled again. This guy truly seems spooked.
"Are you seeing things too?" I ask.
"No. No sir."
"You feel suicidal? The voices telling you to hurt yourself?"
"No sir."
"You work?"
"Yes sir, I am a cook. Over at the Shiloh."
"I know that place. Good food."
"Really good," he says, with some measure of pride.
"You like working there?"
"I like it. I like the people."
"Had that job awhile have you?"
"Almost a year now."
Lt. Barnes and two other officers join us in the cell. The inmate finds them with his eyes and tenses, fists drawn over his mouth.
"Hey, hey." Barnes says calmly. "We're just here to make sure everything is alright."
"You're in on domestic, judge is forgoing your bond," I tell Adam. "You know you can go soon as someone comes to get you right?"
"I didn't hurt anyone. I told my mother God loves her. God and Satan fight inside me and I am too weak. The devil, he is inside my heart. He says he will hurt me, that I will never get out of here alive." Eyes wide, he looks me over, fraught with peril. "Are you sure you are James?" he pleads. "God told me James was coming. To help me."
The guards turn, waiting for my response.
"I'm the one," I say. I step in closer, my words measured and slow. "No one will hurt you. The voices are not real. It's only fear. You are in the most secure of places. We are all here to help you. And keep you safe."
The officers nod. Adam looks around the room at us and lays his head back upon the mat. After a long breath he says, "I knew you'd come James."
"Sleep now," I tell him. "Everything will be fine. We'll be back to check on you soon."
"Ok" he replies softly.
Just outside the cell Barnes catches my sleeve. "You know this fellow?"
"I don't."
"Oh. He's been going on about "James" all night. That's not your name right?"
"No."
"Yeah, well. He's out there, huh? Seems calm now but whatever you want to do with him."
"Just put him on watch."
"Five or fifteen?"
"Fifteen."
"Paper or safety smock?"
I pause. "Paper."
The guards call the tower for the hallway door. With a clang the latches loose, the men spill out into the long hall. I hang back and check through the slat one last time.
Adam stares back sedately, slowly mouthing the words i see you. The floor of the cell is scattered with the signs he made, GØD HξLÞ and JΞ§Ù§ ŠΛVΞ, scriptures scrawled, scribbled frantic. One sign catches my eye, near the foot of the bunk, stuck to the cinder block wall. In scratchy ink, a stick figure with wayward curly hair. Cursive beneath reads:
James is Coming
"Come on," calls Barnes. "Don't let the door catch you. You don't want to get stuck in there."
Out the side door and into the night. I turn to look back at five stories of cold stone and steel, razor wire and lights. The windows are empty except for one.
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Original Comment Thread Below:
31 Comments »
Comment by Lenore
2009-05-27 20:44:25
oooo i want more right now.
teaser.
please give the rest. it’s not fair if you don’t. tell us the rest.
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Comment by James Michael Blaine
2009-05-27 20:55:54
Adam fogs the glass with his frosty breath and starts to trace new words with a shaky finger.
Eerily the letters form:
…TO GET LENORE
he slashes the window with wicked exclamation, dotting each point with his fist until shards of glass smash to the street below.
“Dude,” I say as he lands at my feet. “You’re not her type. She likes crazy guys.”
THE END
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Comment by Lenore
2009-05-30 20:35:54
oooh! you know how happy talking about me makes me!
Comment by Erika Rae
2009-05-28 00:26:33
From now on I am going to measure my own internal crisis levels with that question:
Paper or safety smock?
The things your eyes have seen…
Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 05:44:19
Mine eyes have not always seen the glory.
Well, depends on the definition of Glory.
There’s a day coming soon when I will just go back to being the fellow who calls for a straight line in the middle of the floor at the roller rink.
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Comment by Kip Tobin
2009-05-28 02:14:09
pretty tense situation here, and spooky.
“I’ve been fooled before and I’ll be fooled again.”
i would definitely like a follow up, if one exists. did you snap that blurry jail photo? if so, doesn’t kind take balls to do so? i mean, i would imagine they wouldn’t like that too much.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 05:47:28
I did take the blurry jail pic, right there on the way out.
They probably wouldnt like that too much unless it was taken by another they.
Comment by Rich Ferguson
2009-05-28 05:28:32
It’s a good day, a *very* good day when I can start out with one of your posts, Brother Blaine. Your stories: they get in my blood. Do their hoodoo literary juju. Make me dance the electric yes indeed.
Yep.
It’s gonna be a very good day.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 05:48:32
Here comes Rich,
his blood electric and red.
thanks friend.
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Comment by Reno
2009-05-28 08:53:42
that was great, 11.
james is coming.
there’s something reassuring when we believe something is coming. it’s this invited something. but it does things for us. i guess we call it hope. anyhow, it feels good to us. we eat it up.
i’ve mentioned before, i like short tales. one of the dearest things in my life is the short story. they’re simple magical.
you, homie, are one hell of a short story writer. just know that.
yup,
rene
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 10:24:06
You and me and Rich, we need to form some sort of literary hell-raiser club for hope subversive.
Something like “Those Swarthy Darlings of Angst - TNB Jihad~”
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Comment by Rich Ferguson
2009-05-29 05:36:09
Hell yeah, Brother. Light that bomb.
Hear it go B-BOOM!!!
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Comment by Marni Grossman
2009-05-28 10:09:34
You MUST feel like the Messiah sometimes. Of course you can’t save people. But still. You’re there for them in some of their most terrifying times and dire circumstances. You’re kind and thoughtful and present. And for most of us, that’s the most we can for from a savior.
As always, haunting and lovely.
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Comment by Megan
2009-05-28 10:48:35
Well-told. Very edge of my seat. But now I’m also quite concerned for your safety, hanging around as you do in jails, mental wards and such. Do you carry a pocket knife or a taser?
Can I be in the hell-raiser club? I feel angsty too. At least, this week. Maybe cuz I’m hormonal.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 10:55:56
TNB angels are encamped around me my number one chula.
In our club, you are that chicas in the green bikini, leaning on the hood of our TNB Tour Camino.
THanks for your concern though. All the inmates are shackled or restrained in some manner. Awhile back a big psychotic guy stood up over me and droned,
“the voices said I dont like you.”
I reached between his feet, gave his chain a good yank and replied “I think we should be friends.”
“That sounds good,” he said.
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Comment by josie
2009-05-28 12:30:53
I have a scratchystick figure on my cell floor of a guy with hands over his face it reads, “minute to”
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 12:34:43
that was a cool comment….
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Comment by sheree
2009-05-28 13:45:06
Wow!
You seriously need to be paid top dollar for every word you write.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 14:11:21
ladies & gentlemen, the greatest
comment
ever in the history of TNB.
Hail Sheree
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Comment by Irene Zion in L.A.
2009-05-28 18:22:15
He needed James, and there you were.
nuff said.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-28 19:29:10
Yeah but geez - psychic psychopaths?
That’s when I’ve had about enough.
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Comment by Kimberly M. Wetherell
2009-05-29 07:06:15
James (if that is, indeed your real name),
Please, please tell me that one of these days you will find yourself up in this big bad city and will humble us with one of your stories in person?
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-29 11:05:18
Why sure ma’am.
I hear my stories are more comical in person.
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Comment by N.L. Belardes
2009-05-29 13:46:05
I was confused why you told the officer you weren’t James. Yet, this man saw you coming from through the ether. I saw images like flashes of lightning with this piece.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-29 19:01:53
I dont know Nick.
It was too much. Too much and I didnt want it.
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Comment by sheree
2009-05-29 20:04:26
Lifes spell is not always in our control. Becoming the sheath of another mans truth is never easy. Some people just seem to be natural born witnesses to some of lifes deepest truths.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-30 16:21:31
See I completely giggled at the thought of “becoming the sheath of another man’s truth”.
Trust me, I’m clueless. Apparently I’m not telling the stories right. I’m the last guy in the world that should be in this situation.
Comment by sheree
2009-05-30 21:38:38
Your giggle is completely understandable. Sheath is a queer word. The word doily cracks me the hell up.
Good luck with your situation and being the last guy who should be in it.
Reply here
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-05-30 14:05:36
My life is so blah in comparison…
Do you have a lot of water in your chart? I bet you have a lot of water in your chart.
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Comment by jmb
2009-05-30 16:23:51
Water in my chart?
Is that homeopath thing?
Never heard that one before.
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Comment by sheree
2009-06-08 18:09:15
what month are you born? and What week in month? First week second week? Just wondering.
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