The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

"What has you so agitated, Jeremiah?" Dr. Roth asked seated behind his oak desk.

Jeremiah, with a full beard and a faded scar on the right side of his forehead, stood at the window inside Roth's office and stared down outside at the parking lot where fallen, red and orange leaves were scattering all over the ground in reckless abandon.

"Ever since you arrived here you've done nothing but mumble and wander like a nomad." Roth mentioned with a glint of worry and concern in his voice.

Adorned in a grey sweat suit and dirty sneakers, Jeremiah had to yank his lazy attention away from the window just so he could turn around and not only see the doctor, but also the office in which he had been inside for nearly an hour that uncannily reminded him of his own old workplace.

With a slight limp attached to his walk, Jeremiah began pacing the floor. "I...I don't know what you want me to say." He rolled his eyes.

"I just want you to come to terms with all that has you so wound up." Roth pleaded.

Sniggering while tossing up his hands, Jeremiah replied, "Wound up? Are you kidding me, Dr. Roth? I'm not wound up, I'm ground chuck in the middle of the damn road."

Taking his pen and writing on a piece of paper in front of him, Roth said, "Okay, that's a start."

Jeremiah stopped pacing and looked straight ahead at the older, rail thin, balding man whose glasses appeared as if they were two seconds away from sliding right off of his face and onto his desk. Just watching Roth scribble away on his pad caused Jeremiah to ball up his fists. He could actually feel his own face turn red with fury the longer the man wrote.

"What makes you feel that way?" Roth asked while still writing.

Jeremiah continued to stare daggers at the man while saying, "You never told me that this would be a professional evaluation."

Roth quit writing at that instant before placing his pen down and looking straight up at Jeremiah with a thoughtful presence engraved all over his face.

"Jeremiah, I have known you ever since you were born. Your parents and I have been friends for over forty years. I would and could never do anything to jeopardize not only our trust, but also our friendship. With that being said, however, I would be remiss if as a doctor I did not conduct a professional opinion of your situation."

Sighing, Jeremiah replied, "Wow, that makes me feel so optimistic. I feel like Dustin Hoffman right before the damn drill."

"Why such a sarcastic remark," Roth looked confused.

Shaking his head, Jeremiah replied, "I've been in here for about forty-nine minutes and nothing has been resolved. I can stand here and pull out every cliché in the book, every witty shred of denial and still wonder why I'm here to begin with."

For a few moments the office sat perfectly quiet and still. Roth then stood up behind his desk. "Young man, please, have a seat."

Jeremiah hesitated with all his might at first, but upon realizing that his right leg was in more pain than he would have admitted, he eventually walked over and took the chair that sat in front of Roth's desk.

Sitting himself back down in his seat, Roth said, "This is completely off the record. I've wanted to speak with you ever since this past summer. You've gone above and beyond in avoiding me, as well as others in your life. All this sarcasm and belligerence that you're carrying with you is not only harmful, but it is getting you nowhere as far as the truth is concerned."

Jeremiah sat inside his chair and sulked like a child. Every word that Roth was speaking felt genuine, but their potency was saliva dropping into an ocean. The young man's skin at that point was impenetrable as stone.

"When you were a child, you were the most ambitious young man I had ever seen." Roth explained. "Always wanting to do something; never content with just being content. You always excelled at almost everything you put your hands to. You graduated at the top of your class. Came into a prestigious institution where you were respected. Received a promotion to Boston of all places. Then...then it all came to a screeching halt. So now I ask you, young man, what has you so agitated?"

Jeremiah could have melted right there inside his chair. He wanted to be anywhere but in front of Dr. Roth. No matter what the man said, 'off the record' only meant that he wouldn't

I come to you, I was more than reluctant. But now that I'm actually in

"On the other end of the

possible. It wasn't what he was going to say, but right then,

mindset ever since the incident back in July. I can totally understand that it was a traumatic situation, but with the exception of the police,

Jeremiah looked all around, "a corral to

friend to another trying

the chair's handles as though he were about to

Gloria Cohen had left your office. What

don't know for sure. I just hopped into her vehicle and took off down the road with her. We talked and talked before we ended up at Cummins' old house.

"Then

"Yeah," Jeremiah covered his mouth

you suppose caused Gloria to

he going to allow Roth or anyone else for that matter to

to death. Next thing I know, I wake up in this

"But you were found nearly twenty miles away from

"Yeah, that's funny, isn't it?" Jeremiah

"Were you aware that while Gloria was interned at

then perked up.

on heavy doses

within himself to give Gloria much attention, let alone any sort of sentiment. The woman just would not register

deep feeling that something else occurred while you were out there, Jeremiah."

time I was ambitious. Full of hell-fire for

you are

it." He nonchalantly nodded. "Can you tell me how a guy that I barely even knew could have such a profound effect on a

"Well, I

any kind of babble about the effectiveness of humanity's being. I studied it all back in school. That guy had something attached to him. I noticed it the last day I saw him

and studied Jeremiah with the single most methodical stare imaginable. "Would

chest at that very instant.

Shaking a fidgety right index finger,

happened to Mercer was all due to his inability to conform to society upon his release

no anger or bitterness inside of him, just plain emptiness the likes even he himself hadn't experienced before in his still young life. He couldn't

happened to me

"By all means,

something bumping inside my bedroom closet. I get up and open the door only to find absolutely nothing inside. Then, after about five minutes, the bumping begins all over again. Once more, I look inside, nothing in there. I pull out all the clothes and shoes, and still find nothing. Then around say, one a.m., the same damn racket happens. By then, my cat runs out of the room scared to death. I get my flashlight, open the door,

shoulders, Roth asked, "Just where did the