Francis read to Keith for hours on end. He started losing his voice and had to stop. Francis never gave up, when his voice returned he started reading to Keith again. He brought books from Keith’s apartment, but he also read to him from his Companion Bible.
Raj had given Francis the address of Keith’s apartment and a key so that he would have a private convenient place to shower and change clothes. Also, it was agreed that he would stay with Keith when Keith was well enough to go home. Francis settled his belongings into Keith’s second bedroom. Raj assured Francis that Keith was the sort of young man that would be happy to have his Grandfather in his life.
One night as Francis watched one of his favorite movies, Greer Garson and Ronald Coleman in “Random Harvest” (a 1942 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer film directed by Mervyn LeRoy and produced by Sidney Franklin), Keith came out of his coma just as Greer Garson said “Smithy,” and Ronald Coleman cried out, “Paula.”
Keith’s eyes focused on the old man sitting beside his bed, and he knew he liked the old one. The man had a kind face and smile. This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between Keith and Francis.
Each morning, déjà vu, Keith Edwards wakes up not knowing his history or who he is. Keith has been told about the attempt on his life, the coma, his split personality, and his acute amnesia. Although Keith has been told what happened to him, each morning, as in “Groundhog Day” (the 1993 Harold Ramis American comedy film starring Bill Murray in which Murray wakes up each morning and relives the same day over and over), he revisits his condition blindly. Even the old man and the dog are new to Keith every morning.
There seems to be no good end in sight. All appears hopeless, but the old one has great faith in God and continues to pray for Keith’s recovery. Francis thinks, “I am confident that my Grandson will make a full recovery.”
Chapter 3
Awareness
As I stand in my window looking across Elm Street into Forest City Park and at the old one and the red dog, I endeavor once again to re-visit my ordeal and try to remember some of my past. I have recently recalled coming home early from work, changing into my jogging clothes and having a light snack which included a glass of milk. I immediately became groggy, sensed danger and immense fear and then nothing but oblivion or mental darkness.
A mental awareness of visual light and warmth came upon me. I can only describe this occurrence as a spiritual sense of serenity. Comfort and security enveloped me, and I realized I possessed an acute sense of fearlessness. This was yesterday, or perhaps many yesterdays in the past.
Upon deeper reflection, I can recall the old gentleman being by my bedside when I awakened. I could see the darkness outside my window; coal black darkness broken by sprinkles of glittering light from an unknown light source. A television was on, and I heard a beautiful female voice say Smithy followed by an equally beautiful male voice saying Paula.
Suddenly a friendly face appeared a few feet from mine. I was looking into the gentle hazel blue eyes of an older man, and he said, “Welcome back Keith.”
I did not respond at first, but then I asked the old one, “Who is Keith, and who are you?”
Here I am once more standing in this sunny window asking myself questions, “Who am I, who are you old one, and who is the handsome red dog?” I become faint and gather my strength and senses as I shake my woozy head and settle deeper into a Tai Chi stance.
My head begins to clear and I have some memory of this morning’s first comprehension of my life. I have occasional glimpses of activity that flash through my mind like a video in fast forward. I briefly remember then I quickly forget.
This back and forth, now I know me, now I don’t know me is ridiculous, and I am very weary from the struggle. My head aches a moment and suddenly the pain stops and some memory returns, but does not linger.
I know, for this moment at least, that Keith Edwards Sevan Sorrell is my name. This morning I looked in a mirror and recognized myself as the singular name Sevan. I am experiencing new revelations (awakenings) about myself each day.
I awakened this morning and smelled delicious aromas of breakfast coming from my kitchen. I looked at my Ronald Reagan calendar (I know who he is, because I read his name on the calendar) hanging on the wall, but I did not know the day of the week or date. The calendar showed the month of April and the year as 2009, but as I studied the calendar page I did not have any idea what day of the week or month it was.
I was lying in bed partially awake until the old one called out, “Rise and shine breakfast is ready.”
I enter my bathroom and notice a paper taped to the mirror above the sink; the elderly man has instructed me to read this list each morning. The list contains instructions for me to follow, routine rituals that I may not always remember. I pick up the little spiral bound notebook that I will make notes in during the day. I am told that routine, structure and writing down thoughts will help me in my physical and mental recovery.
I have started my day by mentally and physically gathering myself together as Sevan Sorrell. I continue smelling the breakfast scents lingering in my apartment, and I realize that I am famished. I decide to go eat and then I will finish dressing.
I, Sevan, walk into my kitchen and immediately notice the day calendar next to the thermal dish on the kitchen counter. The day is Tuesday, April 14, 2009. That must mean that yesterday was Monday, April 13, 2009 and that tomorrow will be Wednesday, April 15, 2009. Of course, when I wake up in the morning I will not remember the date until I look at this day calendar. I am anxiously waiting for the day that I wake up and remember the day and date without having to be prompted by a day calendar or note.
The thermal dish is sitting on the counter next to the stove. The old one always makes coffee, cooks a tasty breakfast and places my food in the thermal dish. I spread generous amounts of butter and blackberry jam on my biscuits. Somehow I know that blackberry jam is my favorite jam. I have eaten the old man’s biscuits previously and know that they will be crispy around the edges, fluffy and delicious on the inside. The homemade corned beef hash has two eggs, over easy, on top and the hash is delicious.
After completing breakfast and cleaning the kitchen, I go back to my morning rituals.
I follow my list and dress in martial arts attire. My new martial arts uniform is black and yellow silk with three quarter length sleeves, and on my feet I wear black cotton martial arts slippers.
Absolutions and dressing complete, I exit my bedroom and turn right into the hallway, pass the kitchen door on my right and enter my spacious living room. I move slowly, deliberately, and cautiously about the room. I look over at the mattress hanging from the ceiling next to the far wall. I know that the old gentleman had the mattress constructed to his specifications. The mattress has a symbol in the middle, but I do not remember what the mattress is for. Maybe I will remember later to enquire as to what the mattress is used for and what the symbol in the middle of the mattress is.
My list says to practice martial arts after breakfast. My clothing and soft shoes allow for easy movement while I perform my martial arts. I step forward and into the first of many Tai Chi stances and into Tai Chi ward-off dance steps. I enjoy this morning routine very much and do not have any trouble remembering the moves and steps.
The old one has, in recent weeks and months, trained me in martial arts. I do not know how long I have been practicing these art forms. Suddenly I recall that the old one’s name is Francis. Francis told me I have trained in martial arts since my teens. He told me that because my body and mind are accustomed to such arts I have learned the martial arts moves again very quickly. Francis said, “Sevan, you are a natural, an expert in Tai Chi.”
During my martial arts training sessions Francis told me about Tai Chi. He said, “Tai Chi is an ancient Chinese martial art. Tai Chi has evolved into a graceful form of exercise that is now used for stress reduction. Tai Chi also helps with many other health conditions. This martial art is often described as meditation in motion
and promotes serenity through gentle flowing movements.”
Sevan speaks out loud to himself saying, “Tai Chi has a calming effect on me.”
Tai Chi is an ancient tradition that, today, is practiced as a graceful form of exercise. It involves a series of movements performed in a slow, focused manner accompanied by deep breathing.
Tai Chi, also called Tai Chi chuan, is a noncompetitive, self-paced system of gentle physical exercise and stretching. Each posture flows into the next without pause, ensuring that your body is in constant motion. (Mayo Clinic web-site)
I continue performing Tai Chi while I move slowly and deliberately toward the large window at the front of my living room. Francis, the old one, raises the window blind each morning. He has raised it to let in maximum light. I stop my Tai Chi and stand about three feet and then closer at only two feet from the window looking out into the distance. I move back from the window and then closer again with Tai Chi moves.
As I look deeply into the sky, I see the usual territorial chicken hawk, but see nothing else out of the ordinary. I tilt my head upward more; I see only sky and feel the slight warmth of early morning sunlight on my face. As I stand letting the sun warm my face and body, I lower my head once more and notice the usual flock of pigeons flying about, some landing, all leaving their feathers and excrement everywhere. I say to myself “What a mess!”
In the near distance within Forest City Park (I read the sign every morning), I see the old one sitting on a park bench and a red dog is lying at his feet. Francis that is his name, I remember once more that this is the old ones name. I search my mind, but do not recall the name of the dog.
Squirrels are chasing each other in the trees and on the ground. Early visitors to the park are feeding the squirrels. The squirrels are so used to humans that they go up to them and beg for treats.
I hear birds chirping and singing. I watch cardinals, blue jays, sparrows, and finch (I remember some of the birds names, because Francis talks to me about them as we walk in the park) fluttering about and pecking at corn or some other kind of feed. The feed is being tossed by strolling people as they move slowly through the park taking their morning air and exercise.
I awaken further and vaguely remember that the elderly man on the bench is known in many quarters by other names, not just Francis. One of his names, I seem to recall is Storyteller Extraordinaire.
The old one is wearing eyeglasses which are darkened by the sun. On his head he wears a black French style beret expertly cocked to his right ear. His light tan and reddish colored wooden cane of a twisted design is in his lap. His head is tilted downward slightly and he appears to be checking his watch, or reading a black notebook, or possibly he is just holding the notebook and is in a state of meditative contemplation.
Somehow from somewhere in my mind, I remember and think the old one is probably analyzing all available information, reflecting on our past, thoughtfully examining the present, and planning our future. I try, but cannot at this time recall his complete name; I can only remember Francis for now.
I know that Francis, the old one, has layered brown graying hair which is brushed back Latin style into a pony tail, and he believes his singular most manly attribute to be a very gray mustache. The elderly gentleman is stocky and appears to be over six feet in height, has broad shoulders, and his body is roundish around the middle.
The old man’s companion is handsome. The dog has long reddish gold hair and a long bushy tail; his tail has light yellowish highlights extending throughout its length. Once more I think, “That is truly a handsome animal; he is lying so contentedly at the feet of his companion.” Observing the two, I can see the obvious affection that they have for each other. They seem to be looking at each other and communicating. These two are at peace with themselves and acutely observant and aware of their immediate surroundings. Once more, I search my mind, but do not know the complete name of the old man or his dog companion.
The man has a multi-pocketed dark blue backpack next to him on the park bench. The backpack appears to be full, and I think or somehow recall it weighs about twenty-five pounds. With deft and subtlety the light tan reddish wooden walking cane has been moved from his lap and is now resting in easy reach by the outside of the man’s right knee and against the front of the park bench seat. Somehow from somewhere, I again remember that the cane is quite heavy and made of strong iron wood (handle end measures 2 inches in diameter and at the tip 1.5 inches, 37 inches long, a spiral walking cane of Minnesota Iron Wood). Francis said, “Keith this cane was made by Indians in the Cumberland Mountains of Tennessee. I bought it because I thought it was unusual and extremely sturdy.”
The red dog is alert. Occasionally, he raises and turns his head as he observes with great interest every subtle action of the old one. The dog also follows the movements of people and other dogs in the park. Park Security mandates that dogs be on a leash when in the park, and the old man has the red dog on a retractable leash. I also note that there is a dog harness with a handle attachment on the dog. I observe the old one as he checks to make certain that the harness is not loose, but is in fact very secure underneath the dog’s chest and around his shoulders.
Once more, I search my mind but cannot recall the red dog’s name. I sense that I must know him by name, but his name has slipped away from me for the moment. I will try to remember it again later, but not right now, because I am feeling a little woozy.
I experience a sudden faintness accompanied by a feeling of paranoia. I am over whelmed with the feeling that someone is watching me, the old man, and the dog. I am not jittery, but I am apprehensive. I somehow know and feel that we three are threatened by something or someone very sinister and evil. I sense the old one has prepared us for unexpected events, and I have confidence in his preparations. I feel safe in my apartment and at my present perch in this window overlooking Forest City Park. I recall I am supposed to stay in the apartment and not leave without the old one and dog accompanying me.
With each passing moment, I once again become more aware and confident that both the old man, and the red dog are familiar to me. I feel that I know them from the most recent past few days and weeks of my existence. I see and feel both of them look up at me communicating our relationship. I feel the security they represent in my life. At this moment, I also recall Ms. Brenda Seemore, my apartment building manager. I have been told that Ms. Seemore saved my life; I will forever be in her debt.
I remember a Police Detective Hernandez telling me, “If you have any trouble or remember anything that could help catch your attacker call me.” Yes, I do remember Police Detective Sergeant Javier Sanchez Hernandez. I remember him all the time. I don’t seem to ever forget Hernandez. I hardly ever leave my apartment, but when I do I carry the detective’s card with me.
Later today I may begin once more to remember more about the old man and the red dog, but tomorrow I may not remember them at all. I believe that the dog is my dog, but I am not certain, because he appears to be so attached to the old one; I recall once more that he is Francis. As I watch the duo they continue to be animated and communicating with each other.
Daily I watch the man and dog from my safe perch, I once more notice that they are acutely aware of their surroundings. They casually and constantly move their heads and observe everything and every person around them.
While I perform my Tai Chi dance steps, I continue to observe my two friends in the park. I admire their deliberate, slow, calm movements. Although the man and dog are alert, I sense that the old man and dog are at peace with themselves and their immediate surroundings. The two emit a confidence that they can handle whatever comes their ways. Though peaceful in appearance, I perceive that they are cautiously appraising their most immediate surroundings as though sensing possible danger.
The old one and the red dog do not engage others in the park, but others have on occasion tried to engage them. The old one looks down and or away when others approach him. I continue observing other indivi
duals in the park. From my second story window, I see a young woman approximately thirty feet to the left of my friends. She is sitting on a park bench on the same path. The woman is Hispanic in appearance; she has very dark hair and an olive complexion. The woman is quite striking and beautiful. She is playing a guitar and is dressed in dark gray cargo pants, light gray V neck tee shirt, black wind breaker, and gray athletic shoes.
The lady with the guitar stops strumming her guitar and checks her watch. I am not positive, but I think that I have observed her in the park on other days.
Although this woman gives the appearance of being casual and relaxed, I sense that she is ever vigilant, watching everything and everyone as she strums her guitar.
As I continue observing park visitors, I see another woman on the same path as my friends; she is approximately thirty feet to their right. The woman has a baby carriage and she is checking her watch.
The woman must have a morning ritual of taking her baby to the park, because I have observed her on previous mornings. The child is covered with blankets and the carriage top is in place shading her little one.
The caramel colored African American lady is wearing a black jacket, black pants, light green shirt and black athletic shoes. I do not have a clear view of her shoes, because her pants partially cover her shoes. She does not appear to have on any jewelry.
I note that it is not at all unusual for women to wear athletic shoes as they take their customary morning strolls or jogs for exercise. It is quite common to observe the women stopping to rest on the park benches. After a short rest the women will begin to stroll or jog the paths again staying in the open as much as possible. Women seldom walk deep into the park preferring to stay on the outskirts in full view from the street.
Signal to Murder Page 3