Elpida

by C. Kennedy

  Tad stood against the wall as Peter put Michael through his exercises. It wasn’t that Michael minded his presence; he simply thought it unnecessary. Peter wasn’t a threat.

  “You bruised your good knee too?” Peter asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s okay,” Michael answered.

  Peter only shook his head as he made notes in the chart. “Elbow?”

  “Sore, but okay.”

  Peter set the chart and pen aside and rotated Michael’s arm at the shoulder, elbow, and wrist, and made more notes in the chart. “You kids,” he said through a long sigh.

  Michael snorted. “You did crazy sh—stuff as a kid.”

  Peter smirked. “Climbing an eighty-five-foot structure wasn’t one of them.”

  “Don’t be critical. It’s not nice.”

  Peter chuckled. “How are you doing without the knee brace?”

  “Good. It’s like I never got hurt.”

  “Pain?”

  “Every twice in a while if I don’t pay attention to what I’m doing.”

  “Describe.”

  “I don’t know. I jump out of bed too fast and a sharp pain shoots through my knee, but it’s gone in seconds.”

  Peter made more notes. “No jumping out of bed.”

  Michael snorted. “Whatever.”

  Peter turned to Christy. “How about you, Christy?”

  “The legs are good. Only the run to the cab is the problem, but it is not the legs. It is the foot.”

  Peter raised his brows in query.

  “He took a cab to the Ferris wheel,” Michael interjected.

  “Can you stand for me?”

  Michael tried to take Christy’s hand to help him, but Christy pushed him away.

  “I will do this.”

  Michael raised his hands in mock surrender. “Knock yourself out.”

  Christy slid off the bed slowly and placed his feet carefully on the floor.

  Peter bent down and then halted. “Is it okay if I check your legs out?” Christy nodded, and he palpated first one thigh and calf, then the other.

  If Michael hadn’t been experienced in Christy-face, he would have missed the discomfort in his eyes. “Hurt?”

  Christy shook his head.

  Peter stood and stepped back. “Walk to Tad.”

  Christy did as instructed.

  “Walk back to the bed,” Peter instructed.

  Though Christy seemed to have no trouble with his legs, his foot kept failing him.

  “What’s with your foot?” Peter asked.

  “It is nothing,” Christy answered.

  Peter made notes in a chart. “Let’s take a look at it.”

  “It is nothing,” Christy insisted.

  Peter gave him the look his comment deserved. “Let’s see it.”

  Christy held on to the side of the bed as he bent and pulled the little paper booty off his foot to reveal a wildly raspberry-and-blue bruised foot.

  Michael’s mouth gaped. “What happened?”

  “It is nothing,” Christy repeated.

  “Sit.” Peter gestured to the chair, and Christy took a seat. “Describe nothing.”

  “The foot does this some of the time. It is only the color.”

  Peter bent. “May I touch your foot?”

  Christy nodded.

  Christy didn’t like to be touched, and Peter was always awesome during physical therapy. He abided Christy’s no-touch rule, always seeking permission before he touched him, and Michael appreciated Peter more than he could put into words.

  Peter checked the foot, and Christy winced in pain. “I’m going to order X-rays.”

  “Okay,” Christy said as he climbed back into bed.

  “How is the thigh? Still giving you trouble?”

  “It has the ache some of the time, but it is good. The legs work.”

  Peter made more notes in the chart. “I know they work. But we want to make sure they work properly and without discomfort.”

  “This will not happen.”

  Peter looked up from the chart. “Why not?”

  “They hurt since the accident when I am five.”

  Michael made a nearly indiscernible motion with his hand hoping Peter wouldn’t press it further.

  Peter took note and changed the subject. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I wish to have the pictures of the foot now so I can leave the hospital.”

  Peter smiled. “Are you willing to share your Jell-O with the people in the radiology department?”

  Christy’s eyes went wide. “Why?”

  Peter chuckled. “I’m kidding.”

  Christy looked confused, and Michael explained. “He means he wants to bribe them to squeeze you into their schedule now.”

  Christy’s one brow dipped. “If this can be done with Jell-O, it is the very good deal.”

  “Let me see what I can do,” Peter said through a laugh.

  “I’ll be right back, babe.” Michael bent and kissed Christy’s lips chastely before he walked Peter from the room.

  “You gotta get his whole history from Dad,” Michael said as they stopped at the nurses’ station.

  Peter gave him a sidelong glance.

  “Both his legs and a lot of other bones were broken in the car accident that killed his mom when he was five. After that…. Well, you know the story about the burns on the soles of his feet.” Michael didn’t really know what to say without saying too much. Christy’s privacy was important.

  Peter sensed his hesitation and offered a quick, “I’ll talk to your dad.”

  “Thanks, man.” Michael headed back to the room.

  “You sure your knee is okay?” Peter called after him.

  Michael turned back, and gave Peter a thumbs-up as he walked backward to the room, and right into Tad. “Excuse—”

  Tad caught his upper arm to steady him. “Mr. Santini called. The verdict will be read in fifteen minutes.”

  Michael’s nervous system did a flip-flop. “Did you tell Christy?”

  “Yes. Stay in the room until further notice. We’re bringing extra security onto the floor.”

  “Okay.” Michael all but sprinted back to the room. “Babe?”

  “It is coming, Michael!”

  “I know, I know. Tad told me.” He dived for the bed and grabbed the remote control to the television.

  “This will make Yosef in prison for the life?”

  He put an arm around Christy and looked into his eyes. “I hope so.”

  “It is a chance not?”

  Michael couldn’t lie to him. “There’s always a chance it doesn’t go our way, but I’d be shocked if it didn’t. We’re going to hope and cross our fingers.” He held a hand up with fingers crossed.

  Christy gestured to his hand. “This is good to do for the hope?”

  “It’s only a superstition, but I still do it.”

  Christy crossed fingers on both hands. “I will do it.”

  Michael smiled and pecked his lips. “I want you to remember something.”

  “What?”

  “Even if Yosef isn’t convicted of anything, you did a great job, and there’s still the trial in Greece. He won’t get out of jail.”

  “No?”

  Michael shook his head. “Nope. As soon as they’re done with him here, he’ll be shipped to Greece for that trial.”

  Christy breathed a deep calming breath and crossed his fingers tighter. “Okay. I will keep the hope for the win.”

  Michael smiled. “We’re all over the hope.” He turned the volume up, and they watched and listened as the newscaster announced that they’d be switching to the camera in the courtroom when the jury returned.

  “It is a trial that took three weeks to go to the jury and an exhausting journey for six men and six women who have the fate of thirty-year-old Yosef Sanna in their hands. During deliberations, jurors had one hundred and ninety-nine different exhibits and other evidence to consider, the testimony of nearly fifty witnesses, and the pass
ionate arguments by attorneys on both sides. During the trial, jurors showed emotion. Some turned away at first sight of the emergency room photographs. Two women teared up when the video played depicting the rape of Mr. Castle. Throughout the trial, Yosef Sanna sat quietly, and it wasn’t until Mr. Castle testified that he exploded in an angry flurry of Greek words, and the bailiff had to subdue him. And now, our correspondent, Cam Rhetor, is standing by, live outside the courtroom in Utica, New York. Cam, it has finally happened on what, this is now day fifteen of the trial?”

  “Counting the five days that it took to select and empanel the jury, yes, this would be day fifteen of the trial, and the jury has had three hours of deliberations,” Cam clarified.

  “Was there a lot of excitement when the announcement came?” the newscaster asked.

  Cam smiled for the camera. “As you can imagine, there was a lot of excitement, as you often see in a case like this.”

  The newscaster looked at her notes briefly. “Now, the process as we understand it is….”

  “Come on, already,” Michael whispered in frustration.

  Cam’s voice droned on. “As I am sure you know, it has to be a unanimous verdict, and one thing we know by the fact that there was an announcement is that it was unanimous. Whatever the decision, whether guilty or not guilty, everybody on the jury agreed to it.”

  “Oh, come on!” Michael glanced at Christy and one-arm hugged him. Christy sat frozen, his eyes fixed on the television. “It’s going to be okay, babe.”

  “And at this point, the announcement precludes the possibility of a hung jury. This is a verdict, either acquittal or conviction?” the newscaster asked.

  “That is correct. Our understanding is that they have reached a verdict, and a hung jury would not, by definition, be a verdict,” Cam answered.

  “What does this mean?” Christy asked with a quavering voice.

  “It means that everybody on the jury agreed to the same decision.”

  “It can be different?”

  Michael nodded. “Then I think there has to be another trial. But they all agreed.” Michael hugged him again. “This is great news.”

  Christy looked fearful. “What if it is not the guilty?”

  Michael stroked Christy’s curls back and put his forehead to Christy’s. “We’re hoping with all our might it will be, babe.”

  Michael crossed his fingers again and held them up. Christy did the same as they turned back to the television.

  The newscaster looked directly into the camera. “One thing we should point out is that in order for a life sentence to come into play, Mr. Sanna has to be found guilty of committing the crimes under aggravated circumstances. In other words the jury has to be convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that he committed these crimes while the kidnapping was in play.”

  Cam nodded to the camera. “That is correct. Aggravated circumstances are kidnapping and some of the other alleged felonies that go along with that. If he is convicted of all of those, then there is the option of a life sentence, and US Attorney Gordon decided a while ago that he would opt for that.” Cam put fingertips to his earpiece and listened intently. “Okay, everyone is present in the courtroom. I’ll see you up there.”

  “Now it is time?” Christy’s voice trembled on the asking.

  Michael took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yep.” He hugged Christy to him again. “It’s going to be okay, babe,” he said as he prayed like hell it would be.

  The camera panned the courtroom showing everyone present, including Michael’s parents, Jake’s parents, Jake, Sophia, and Rob. Sophia looked calm and elegant, all hysteria from the previous night absent from her expression.

  Judge Anthony’s robed form filled the screen. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Please be seated. Let the record reflect that all the members of our jury panel and our two alternates have rejoined us. Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”

  The jury members mumbled a “Good afternoon.”

  “All right. Madam Foreperson, do you find the verdict forms to be signed and in order?” Judge Anthony asked.

  “Yes, they are,” she answered.

  “Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’m going to ask you to carefully listen to the verdicts as the clerk reads them, as after the verdicts have been read, you will be asked individually if these are your verdicts. Madam Clerk, please proceed.”

  The clerk cleared her throat and began. “United States District Court for the Northern District of New York, in the matter of the People versus Yosef Sanna, we, the jury, in the above-entitled action, find the defendant, Yosef Sanna, guilty of the crime of kidnapping in the first degree, a felony upon Christophoros Tryphon Alexis Castlios also known as Christy Castle, a human being, as charged in count one of the information.”

  “Yes!” Michael shouted and hugged Christy. “You did it, babe!”

  “There is more!”

  The clerk continued, “United States District Court for the Northern District of New York, in the matter of the People versus Yosef Sanna, we, the jury, in the above-entitled action, find the defendant, Yosef Sanna, guilty of the crime of assault in the first degree, a felony, upon Christophoros Tryphon Alexis Castlios also known as Christy Castle, a human being, as charged in count two of the information.

  “United States District Court for the Northern District of New York, in the matter of the People versus Yosef Sanna, we, the jury, in the above-entitled action, find the defendant, Yosef Sanna, guilty of the crime of rape in the first degree, a felony, upon Christophoros Tryphon Alexis Castlios also known as Christy Castle, a human being, as charged in count three of the information.”

  Judge Anthony offered a nearly indiscernible nod to the clerk and then turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for your service. Sentencing will occur two weeks from tomorrow. The trial in the matter of the People versus Yosef Sanna is concluded.”

  Michael would never forget the sharp crack that sounded as gavel met anvil with fateful force. “Yes!”

  Michael’s shout on the air startled Christy and he jumped. “Does this mean I win?”

  Michael cupped Christy’s face with both hands. “He’s guilty of everything! You won!”

  Christy’s face went through several gyrations before he buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.

  Michael lifted his face with gentle fingertips. “You did it, babe.”

  Christy nodded. “I did this.”

  “You did!” Michael brought him to rest against his chest and stroked his hair. “You did great, babe. You did it. You put the son of a bitch away.”

  Christy wept. “I did this,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, you did. You got him.” Michael could only hold Christy as he cried and found his own eyes filling with tears. The few months he’d known Christy had been some of the best and worst times of his life. It had been nothing short of a roller coaster ride that had culminated in Christy’s kidnapping and rescue and a trial so ugly it was unspeakable. He was suddenly overwhelmed with relief and didn’t fight the tears as he hugged Christy tighter to him.

  After what seemed an hour, Michael reached for a tissue, wiped his nose, and broke the silence. “I’m proud of you, babe.” He reached for another tissue and handed it to Christy.

  Christy blew his nose. “It is the first thing I win.”

  “No. No, it isn’t.”

  Christy looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, confusion plain on his face.

  “First, you survived. Second, you made a new life for yourself. Third, you survived the kidnapping. Fourth, you graduated from high school and celebrated in spite of his bullshit. Fifth, you got through the trial and every evil word he said. And….” Michael began to tear up again, wiped his eyes, and sniffed. “Sixth.” His voice cracked on the single word. “You didn’t jump last night. You’re alive.” Michael wiped his eyes again. “Do you have any idea how much you’ve accomplished? How much you’ve changed in fifteen months? You get
stronger every day. And now you beat the son of a bitch once and for all.” He hugged Christy again. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Then it is seven,” Christy said against his chest.

  Michael brushed an errant curl behind Christy’s ear. “What’s number seven?”

  “You. I thought I am not worthy of love after….”

  Michael hugged him again and rested his cheek against Christy’s head. “Yeah. Seven things. You are so worthy, babe. I love you more than anything.”

  Christy suddenly hugged Michael in one of his almost-too-tight hugs, and there they remained.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A KNOCK sounded at the door, and Peter stuck his head into the room. “Ready for your X-rays?”

  Christy withdrew from Michael’s embrace, wiped his eyes with the back of an arm, and nodded. “I win the trial.”

  Peter smiled wide as he guided a wheelchair to the side of the bed. “Congratulations!”

  “Thank you. This is important to me.”

  “I know it is. Let’s do it.”

  Christy nodded and looked up at Michael, uncertainty in his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  Christy nodded. “I have the new feeling. I am… a little bit free.”

  Michael kissed his forehead and thought about the fear Christy had lived with since leaving Greece—always terrified that his abusers, with money and power, would show up one day to do exactly what Yosef did: try to reclaim Christy. He hated Yosef and could only imagine how Christy felt now; no longer property of the sick bastard who’d tortured him for so many years. Michael nodded, emotion threatening to overwhelm him again. “Go get your X-rays. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  “WHERE’S CHRISTY?” Tad asked in a huff as he came through the door.

  “Peter took him for X-rays. Why?”

  Tad shook his head in disgust. “The press has been a nightmare. Mr. Santini and your dad are on their way here. I don’t want you to leave this room.”

  “Specifics. I need specifics, man. What do you mean by nightmare?”

  “We caught one guy posing as an orderly. Another posing as a nurse. And another guy tried to bully his way off the elevator onto this floor.”

  Michael shook his head. “The floor is safe, though, right?”