Chapter 40 - "it will change.

A Chapter by LT Kodzo

The door to Dr. Maggie’s office stands open and African drums beat out a rhythmic tune. When I peek around the corner, I half expect to see the counselor dancing. Instead, she sits at her desk. A standard number two pencil busily scribbles on a page.

“Hello.” I step in and smile at her for real. Sad that this is the first time. I promise myself that it won’t be the last. Not to her or anyone else.

“Hi, Courtney.” She leans back in her office chair. Soft ringlets escape the band that pulls her hair back into a ponytail. The music from her handheld compliments the room. She turns it off as I sit.

“Sorry to bother you. I know we are on break, but I really wanted to talk.”

“You look happy.” She smiles at me.

I am happy.

As my psychologist, I’m sure she’s going to be pleased that I’ve made some real progress. The Center has successfully cracked the hard ice of my heart. Melted it with an act of friendship. “I’ve got good news.”

She slips my folder from off the stack on her desk. Her eyes shine with interest. Of course, up until now, she had to force information from me. Now I ooze with a desire to talk.

“Remember how you said I needed to love myself more?” I lean forward in the overstuffed chair.

“Yes.” The orange pencil twirls around her fingers. “You can’t possibly love others if you don’t love yourself. It’s like the blind trying to help others see. It just doesn’t happen.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” I start.

Then I stop.

A small bit of my excitement fades.

I rub my stomach. I’m not sure this woman is going to like what I’m about to say. I study my hands and realize how stupid it was for me to laugh at her song. It will make it hard to share with her what I’ve learned.

She taps her pencil waiting for me to go on.

I swallow for no apparent reason and then say in the nicest tone I know, “I think you’re wrong.”

“About?” Her back stiffens. She leans back surprised. Her pencil rests between two fingers unmoving.

“I didn’t come to argue.”

“Who’s arguing?”

“Right.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Well, the way I see it. I’ve spent my entire life loving myself.”

“Are you sure about that?” Her stare is hard. And the pencil now twirls rapidly.

“Very.” I want her to understand. I need her to understand. The risk I took for Mario was amazing. Roller Coaster amazing. I could have been zapped approaching Rowena that night. Yet I did it.

I swallow, look her in the eye and say, “I’m not a good person.”

“Now, Courtney.”

“I’m serious. Do you realize that I got someone addicted to drugs in order to get what I wanted? I’ve repeatedly gone after my sister when she’s done nothing to provoke me. I even bullied someone to death in San Diego.”

“Because you were seeking love.”

“No. Because I wanted my own way. I don’t think that’s the same thing. I don’t want to spend another second of my life trying to find love for myself.”

Her eyebrows come together and I notice a slight shake of her head.

“I need to find a way to love other people. That’s what I want you to help me with.”

“But you can’t love someone else unless you love yourself first.” She taps the pencil on the desk. Her words refuse to stick. They slip from my mind like clear tape on a hot surface. They soften and curl but won’t adhere. My mess is not about self-esteem.

“Do you know I’ve never helped a homeless person, or visited the elderly or donated to the poor? I can tell from these pictures of Africa, you’re a good person who probably does all kinds of good things for other people.”

She studies me.

“When I examine my life, do you know what I see? Too much self-love. Selfishness landed me here. I bumped a girl into an escalator. Cracked her skull.”

“On accident.”

“On purpose.” The shocked look on her face stings a little. She only thought she knew me. I fight back the warm rush of blood in my cheeks and press on. “I didn’t see the escalator, but I intended to hurt her.”

“Why would you do that?” She writes something in my file.

“Because she had what I wanted.”

“Love.”

“Yes, love. But, on my life, the only person I really ever wanted love from was my father. This was greed. Pure and simple.”

“What do you mean?” She exhales. I regret derailing her day off. Even that proves my point. My restless need to do things my way on my time.

“I want love, but my way, on my terms. I always expect to get my own way. More than love or support or anything. I want and demand and fully expect the entire world to bow to my needs. I don’t care who I hurt in the process. My father lost his position in San Diego and moved his company to Virginia because nothing he gave was ever enough. When you say that my actions are a sign of a low self-esteem, I say that’s garbage.”

Her chair creaks as she crosses her legs. She looks like a volcano ready to erupt. Rage stirs behind her eyes as she tightens her face. There aren’t any cameras in the room. I hug my belly. If something happens it would be her word against mine. But the thought is too outrageous. Dr. Maggie’s professionalism will prevail.

“Look. I’m not sure what works for other inmates.” I smile hoping to release the tension in the room. “If there’s one thing I’m good at it’s loving myself.”

“You have all the answers.” Her voice sounds strained. The soft curls that circle her face now looked tussled.

“No. But love must have something to do with helping others. I’m tired of being the center of my universe. I want to revolve around something else.”

“Like what?” She leans forward. Her left eye twitches as she studies me.

I look out the window at the thin aspens that congregate along the mountainside. My answer can’t come fast. If I admit what I’m thinking, my brain might hold tight to the thought. I’m afraid to say God. He is only a notion. Besides, it’s probably too late in my life for that, but the idea hung there anyway. A couple of birds lift off from a distant branch and cross the sunlit western slope. God, maybe it’s God.

“No.” Her pencil snaps between her fingers.

Startled, I push back against the chair cushions and clamp my hands over my mouth. The intensity in her eyes makes me look away. The painted elephant and African women freeze in their frames. None of us dare to move.

“Who’s been feeding you this junk?” She throws the broken pencil into the trash. “I’m tired of reprogramming kids brainwashed by their parents. They’re stuck in a Christian society and forced to consume some archaic dogma.”

Her words are both strange and confusing. “My parents aren’t Christian,” I say almost stuttering.

“I read your file.”

The shock must show on my face because Dr. Maggie scrambles through the pages.

“I’ve never been to church in my life.”

She slams her fist on the desk. “That’s not true. You went to The Chapel just the other day.”

“To find Mario.”

She tosses the file against the wall and I jump to my feet. “That boy has caused more problems for me in a few months than any other inmate.” She’s practically screaming.

“Mario?”

“Yes, Mario.” She mocks me before she can realize her behavior has gone completely over the edge. After a deep breath she tries to regroup. “Sorry. I’m very concerned about what happens here.”

“No problem.” I step closer to the door. All excitement from my news has melted away. I find myself in a position to defend my friend again. Not from wadded toilet paper, but from staff.

“Who else has been talking to you about God?”

“No one.”

“You can tell me. That’s why I’m here. Did you know that? That’s why the government appointed all of us counselors. This place was the brainchild of some Christian minister.” She scrapes the adjective across her tongue like a toothbrush removes plaque. “They built that Chapel to convert kids. Where’s the mosque? Where’s the Buddhist temple? It wasn’t until the government joined in with this concept that they reached out to the other religious communities and asked for support.”

She turns to me as if we were in dialogue. “Now they say the others didn’t want to equally invest, but I say they made it too hard. Do you know who those guards are? The Gestapo. They’re just like Hitler’s band of controllers. Most of them come to work here because they consider this a mission field. Can you believe that? Like you guys are from some starving country in need of rescue. Well, a group of us banded together and made sure the government wouldn’t let them build their little cult up here in the middle of nowhere.”

I’m against the wall as she approaches. On any other day, I would have agreed with her, but Jackson and Rowena have never once said anything to me about religion. The only creepy Christian I encountered in The Center came from the outside. And come to think of it, Daniel had manipulated me all the way into this place. Maybe she had a point.

“We’re the equalizers, Courtney. The counselors are here to make sure that you don’t get sucked into religious fanaticism. Hitler wasn’t the only Christian killer. The plantation owners of the south used the Bible to promote slavery.” Dr. Maggie paces back to her chair.

I look away from her gaze, glad I didn’t tell her about my full history the other day. Right now, I just want to leave. I step toward the door, keeping the overstuffed chair between us. Maybe she’s been cooped up in these mountains too long. She doesn’t wear a Shackle or Bracelet, but the confined quarters must be wearing on her.

For the first time since I arrived in The Center, I miss the cameras. “Well, I better go.” I keep my eyes on her.

“Did you know they believe they’re the only ones worthy of heaven?”

“Really?” Two more steps and I’ll be at the door.

“Think about it. That means everyone else is going to hell. Not just the atheists, but the Hindus, Muslims, and Buddhists. That means you and me. Your precious little friend has decided in his heart that we are supposed to burn.”

“Not cool.” I shake my head hoping to appease her.

“Courtney, they just want to make you feel bad about yourself. That’s what religion is all about. Don’t let them make you feel guilty. You’re a wonderful person. You just need to learn how to channel your feelings into positive places. A religion can’t do that for you.”

“I’m not joining a religion.”

She walks around the desk and stands in front of me. “You mentioned God.”

“Only as a possibility.”

“What possibility?”

“An answer to what happened to me at graduation.”

“The toilet paper thing?”

“Yeah.” I inch as close to the door as I dare. “That was the first time I did something for someone else in my life.” I lean against the frame. One inch closer to freedom. “I risked getting zapped to stop the prank. It had nothing to do with me. Putting myself in danger for a friend felt better than anything I’ve ever known before.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her renew calm scares me more than her rage. I understand anger, but her unpredictable mood shifts bite. “Courtney, I need you to trust me. The Christian God can’t help you.”

“Okay.” I open the door and step into the waiting room where camera lights blink. Happy to be back in view. “I’ll see you next week.” And before she can stop me, I run from the cabin and back toward Mt. Hermon.

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