A Better Place to Be Page 11

  “You’ve secured housing?” Dodd asked him.

  “A room in a boarding house in Hicksville.”

  “I’m sure that once you’ve gotten everything settled, you’ll find a nice apartment,” the attorney said.

  Before he could respond, the door at the far edge of the courtroom opened, and as the judge stepped in, black robes flowing, everyone stood. The clerk called out the judge’s name, and called the court into session.

  “Case number (Docket) 20A-1872396, Nassau County v. John R. Edges.” The clerk turned to the Judge.

  The judge looked at John. “Will the defendant please stand.”

  Dodd rose with John and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Present, Your Honor.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Dodd, Mr. Edghes. I have re-familiarized myself with the case, and have read all of Dr. Lowenstein’s reports and those from the outpatient halfway house. Shall we get started?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. We call Dr. Lowenstein.”

  “There is no need,” the judge interrupted. “In the interest of both speed and justice, I read through all the reports Dr. Lowenstein submitted and have no issues with her recommendations. However, I have a few questions for Mr. Edghes.”

  Dodd nodded. “Your Honor.”

  The judge turned, his eyes locking on John’s. “Mr. Edghes, consider yourself sworn in. Now, if you are released today, what is the first thing you’re going to do?”

  John held the judge’s stare for a moment, and then looked at the watch on his left wrist. “Depending on the time, I’ll move into my residence in Hicksville, so I can be ready for work tomorrow morning.”

  “That would be at...” He paused to look at some papers on his desk. “AIS, in Woodbury?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why that type of work? Mr. Edghes, you were an accountant, a highly educated man who held huge responsibilities. Why become a...janitor?”

  “Maintenance technician, actually,” John corrected. “Because it fits my life as it is now.”

  The judge continued to gaze at him for a moment more, then turned to the prosecutor. “Do you have any objection to Mr. Edghes’ release, or do you plan to go ahead with the original charges?”

  “Your Honor, after reading over Dr. Lowenstein’s lengthy report, I see no reason for continuing with this matter.”

  “Very well.” The judge swept his gaze across John, Dodd, and Lowenstein. “The Defendant has met all aspects of his agreement with the court, and as of today, is released. Mr. Edghes. This was the first time you have been charged with a crime. After reviewing both your past history, and your current status, I sense that you will again become a useful part of our community and society in general. One day you may even want to reenter the practice of accounting and, with that in mind, if during the next five years, there are no further recurrences, your record will be expunged.”

  John stared at the judge, surprised by his words. While he knew, deep inside, he would never again be an accountant, he said, “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  The judge nodded to John, then turned first to Lowenstein and then to Dodd. “Thank you both.”

  As they started away, the judge called out, “A moment, Mr. Edghes.”

  John turned back. “Yes, sir?”

  “This is entirely up to you, and not mandatory, but it would be a nice gesture to apologize to the police officer and nurse you hit.”

  John stared at the judge, held his eyes for several seconds. “Once I have their names, I will do so.”

  <><><>

  Lowenstein took him to lunch, without the lawyer. A small but upscale neighborhood cafe two blocks from the halfway house. She led him to a booth and, after they were seated, and the waiter handed them menus, he asked, “Would you like drinks?”

  “I’ll have a white wine, sauvignon or chardonnay. John?” she asked, turning to him.

  He stared at her, wondering if she was playing with him. “Ice tea, unsweetened.”

  The waiter left and John said, “What if I ordered a gin and tonic?”

  “John, you’re a free man. You can order whatever you want. If you want a gin, then you will order one, whether it’s today, tomorrow, next week or next year.”

  “I thought I was an alcoholic?”

  “You tell me.”

  “No more games, please, I beg you,” he said in a low voice.

  “No games, John; this is up to you. Remember what I said right after the first court date, when you started therapy?”

  “That today was the first day of the rest my life?”

  Lowenstein, her hazel eyes dancing, smiled. “Yes, the old cliché. And every morning, when you wake up, when you find Claire’s side of the bed empty, you need to remember that. Answer me this: How badly do you crave a drink?”

  Looking into her eyes, John tried to push through them and into her mind. “Right now?”

  Lowenstein nodded.

  “I don’t. But, I also think I’m afraid to take a chance on having one.”

  “Thank you for that. A little fear is okay, but not too much. Look, there are a lot of ways to define an alcoholic: An addict, a wino, a buzz hound, but they all have one thing in common, that they have a disease. It’s insidious, and it’s deadly, but it is a disease that creates the need for alcohol. As far as I believe, your drinking was a means to an end, but it wasn’t the end to which you sought. If you never touch a drink again, it wouldn’t be a terrible thing; however, if you have an occasional drink, just make certain that you know what you are doing—remember, one drink has the ability to set off a true alcoholic. I have serious doubts about your being a down and dirty alcoholic...”

  He took in what she said, not sure of its real meaning. “But—”

  “I’m not finished. Just taking a breather. What you need to understand, just having that single drink could send you down the dark road again, and I emphasize ‘could’. So, before you take the first sip of...what was it you prefer, Botanical?” When John nodded, she went on, “Before you do, be certain of yourself. Is the alcohol calling to you? Can you taste it even before you drink it? The truth, John,” she said, her voice going very low, making him lean closer to her. “Is that you are the only one who can tell if you are ever ready to have a drink.”

  She paused, smiled at him, and said, “Now that we have that out of the way, do you want a gin?”

  He didn’t blink; he didn’t look away from her stare. “Iced tea is good.”

  <><><>

  Moving out of the halfway house was strange—it was a safe place, a place where he could live without worrying about anything else. When he and Lowenstein returned, she had gone into Abilene’s office while he went to his room to pack.

  He found a bag on his bed, filled with small items: a razor and package of blades, deodorant, shave cream, soap, and some laundry supplies among other things. He already had three pairs of pants, three shirts, one sports jacket, one tie, a pair of shoes, and three pairs of socks from the original clothing issued by the house. With the small amount of money that he’d earned over the last few weeks, he’d bought a robe. The job at AIS supplied uniforms, so that would be no problem.

  He had himself and his things together, and the room cleaned up by three p.m. Five minutes later, there was a low knock on the door. “Ready?” Dr. Abilene asked.

  “I am,” John replied softly.

  “Let’s go.”

  “You’re taking me? I thought Eduardo was?”

  “He had an emergency at home. I’m the only other person qualified for the van, so you’re stuck with me.”

  John held the psychologist’s eyes. “I can deal with that.”

  <><><>

  The boarding house was in Hicksville, a quarter mile from Jericho Turnpike and five miles from the Woodbury AIS offices. It was a pleasant looking house, a moderate sized Victorian boarding house run by a middle-aged couple, with four rooms available for boarders. Three rooms were already occupied. John took the last one.

  It was a nice en
ough room, large enough for the full-size bed, a desk and chair, a larger club chair, a microwave and small dinette style table with two chairs. The room shared its bathroom with another bedroom. The nicest part of the room was that it had a separate entrance into the room off the porch. There was a shared living room, where the boarders could sit and watch television, unless they preferred to have their own set in their room.

  He had also liked the fact that as part of their rent, a hot breakfast was included. Of course, working the night shifts meant he would be having breakfast as dinner every morning after work.

  With Dr. Abilene, he brought his suitcase in and they both looked around. The walls were a simple light tan color, the trim a darker stained wood. There were windows on both sides of the outside entry door to his room, and a second door leading to the inside hallway.

  The floor was covered with a tweed carpet, and the bed’s spread was a deep and rich brown. In all, John had found it pleasant when he’d first looked at it, and was not disappointed today.

  He turned to Dr. Abilene. “Thank you.”

  Abilene took John’s hand, shook it, and said, “Good luck, John. Do visit and please consider staying with the group on a weekly basis.”

  John nodded, half smiled, and released the psychologist’s hand. “I will,” he promised.

  When Abilene left, John went to the bed, sat, and looked around.

  “Okay,” he whispered, taking in everything one more time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Hicksville, January 2, 18 months after treatment

  At seven a.m., John parked the van in the AIS parking lot on Jericho Turnpike. He and the two other men left the vehicle, entered the building, punched their timecards, and went directly to the locker room. When John opened his locker, he found a note for him to report to the office.

  Shrugging, John changed out of his work clothes, and went to the office. There, he bobbed his head to Margaret, the secretary. “’Morning. There was a note to report here.”

  Margaret smiled. “Good morning, John. Yes, Mr. Occopenti wants to talk to you. Go ahead in.”

  He walked passed her, knocked once on the closed door, and then went inside. The owner and General Manager of AIS, Theodore Occopenti, sat behind his desk. He was a tall, broad man, with thick white hair and sharp blue eyes. Even sitting, he was an imposing figure.

  “You asked to see me?”

  Occopenti pointed to one of the two chairs across from him. “Please have a seat, John.”

  Once seated, John’s boss shuffled some papers on his desk, neatened them, and set them down. He looked at John and smiled. “In the eight months you’ve been here, you’ve been an exemplary employee. You haven’t missed a day, your work is always done properly, and the customers you’ve served have all complimented you.”

  Puzzled, John waited.

  “Because we hire from several rehab centers in the area, we keep a watchful eye on our employees. This was explained to you when you started, was it not?”

  “Yes.”

  “In any event, out of all the people we’ve hired in the past two years, you’ve caught my attention. Three days ago, your supervisor, Jamie Matlin, unexpectedly left our employ. I would like you to take his position.”

  John stiffened. He held Occopenti’s gaze for several seconds, but remained silent.

  “The position of supervisor entails going to each of our customer’s offices and buildings and checking on the work of our staff. A good supervisor makes sure everyone is doing their job, as well as checking with our customers as to their satisfaction with us. Your training for this position would take about a week.” He paused for a breath and smiled at John. “What do you think?”

  John swallowed: this was the last thing he pictured happening when he’d woken this morning. “I’m not sure what I think.”

  Occopenti leaned back. “John, I know your background. I know what your life was before you—before you needed rehab. And I believe you will be well served to take this opportunity. But before you decide, take the day, and get some sleep as well. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”

  Occopenti stood before John could respond. He came around the desk and offered his hand. John took it, and felt the strength of the older man. “Yes, sir, I’ll take today to think it over, and thank you, Mr. Occopenti.”

  “You’re welcome, John.”

  <><><>

  Dr. Elyse Lowenstein’s Office, BPH

  “Thank you for seeing me,” John said after shaking Lowenstein’s hand and going to his old spot in her office. He sat back on the chair, as she sat in hers, and sighed.

  “How have you been?”

  “Good, no complaints.”

  “Nice to hear. It’s been what, six months since we’ve seen each other? What’s going on, John?”

  He knew what she meant. “I was offered a promotion today.”

  “I’m not surprised. Is there a problem with that?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been happy as I am.”

  Lowenstein’s head cocked to the side. “Happy?”

  He stared at her. “Everything is going well now. I’m at peace with what I’m doing. I like not having to interact with a lot of people. I like my quiet.”

  “Quiet, John, or is it hiding?”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s peaceful.”

  “The promotion means that you can afford a better place, an apartment instead of the boarding house.”

  He gave her a half-smile. “I like my room, and I like living there.”

  She gazed at him, holding his eyes with hers before saying, “What is it you want from me, today?”

  “I don’t want to offend him, I do not want to be the supervisor, and I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “Why do you think it would risk your job to turn it down?”

  “It would offend him.”

  “You know this for a fact, or you’re assuming it?”

  He shifted on the chair, uncomfortable with her question. “It’s been my experience that it happens that way.”

  “Your experience? When were you a maintenance man...a custodian before this?”

  “That’s not what I meant. When I was in...the other world, I saw what happens when someone turns down a promotion.”

  Lowenstein shook her head. “John, first of all, and by your own choice, you are not in that world any longer. The people in the world you inhabit now are not the same. However, you need to have faith in two things: Yourself, and in what you do.”

  John squinted at her as he puzzled through her words. “I don’t get it.”

  “You do. You just won’t see it. Look, first you have to have faith that you can handle whatever happens, then you must believe you were selected to become a supervisor because of the quality of your work. Why would someone fire a person whose work stood out well enough to get them noticed for a promotion?”

  “But you think I should take the promotion, don’t you?”

  Lowenstein sighed, low and loud. “John, the only thing I think, is that you should do what you believe is best for you. It’s been over two years since we began working together. You made a conscious decision back then, to work in a solitary area, to take a—and don’t misunderstand what I say next—a menial type of job for someone with your background and education. Right this minute, I truly believe you know exactly what you need to survive. Survive, John, not live as fully as I think you are capable of, but to survive. It’s up to you, what you do from this point on.”

  John’s grasp on the chair’s arms eased and his breath softened. His smile was not only warm, it was of the acceptance of whom he was now. “I have everything I need, and you helped me get there. Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Any time, John, remember that. Please let me know what you decide to do.”

  <><><>

  John arrived at AIS a half hour early to speak with the owner. It had been a restless day, but after speaking with the psychiatrist, he knew exactly what he needed to do and
was at peace with his decision.

  When he was seated across from Occopenti, he said, “Mr. Occopenti, I appreciate your offer for the promotion, but for right now, I believe I am best served where I am. I...I hope you’ll understand.”

  He fell silent and waited, holding the white-haired, blue-eyed man’s gaze. When Occopenti nodded, he exhaled the breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

  “John, I don’t know what it was that brought you to this point, and frankly it isn’t any of my business. But I will accept your decision without further...pushing. If you change your mind at any point, please come to me. If there is no position open, we’ll figure it out then. Agreed?” Occopenti’s eyebrows rose as he waited.

  “Agreed,” John said with a single nod. “And thank you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Brookville Psychiatric Hospital, Office of Dr. Elyse Lowenstein. Five years after release from Brookville.

  There were new streaks of grey flowing through Lowenstein’s hair. Her eyes had a few more lines radiating from them, but John thought they made her look more professional, and more beautiful as well. He’d always thought of her as a handsome woman.

  They were twenty minutes into the forty-five-minute session, a session John had asked for. It was the first time he’d seen Lowenstein in three years. She was now the Director of Brookville, and only saw the hospital’s patients; however, she’d agreed to see John.

  They’d spent the first twenty on John catching Lowenstein up. He was about to tell her about the present, when she’d interrupted with a question, “It’s been seven years since Claire’s death. Have you started to see any women?”

  John smiled softly. He shook his head. “I went out on a couple of dates, but...my heart wasn’t in it.”

  “Your heart or your head?”

  John gave a grunt of a laugh. “You do so remind me of Claire when you do that. She always cut to the meat of the matter, never left me any real wiggle room. But then, she did do so in a gentler way.”