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?"

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 be

"When my parents suggested that I come to you, I was more than reluctant. But now that I'm actually in this

"On the other end of the desk," Roth jumped right

the most surprised manner possible. It wasn't what he was going to say, but right then, the impenetrable force was

"Jeremiah, look, I'm not here to shame you and put any blame upon you. Your parents have been worried about your behavior and mindset ever since the incident back in July. I

is this," Jeremiah looked all around, "a corral to keep this raging

trying to help you. Now, let's discuss

as though he were about to take off on a roller

Cohen had left your office. What caused you

Jeremiah exhaled, "I don't know for sure. I just hopped into her vehicle and took off down

"Then Gloria was

"Yeah," Jeremiah covered his mouth in

to do what she

No way was he going to allow Roth or anyone else for that matter to grab him by the throat and bury

I remember was being beaten half to

were found nearly twenty miles away from Cummins' house;

funny, isn't

you aware that while Gloria was

right then perked up. "No...I didn't

hooked on heavy doses of valium for both depression and anxiety due

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

have a deep feeling that something else occurred while you were out there, Jeremiah." Roth scrupulously peered

Roth, let me explain something to you." Jeremiah sat up. "You're right, at one time I was ambitious. Full of hell-fire for success. I had it all, great

you are referring to is

nodded. "Can you tell me how a guy that I barely even knew

"Well, I

guy had something attached to him. I noticed it the last day I saw him alive, and all the days following. And now that same something has attached

the single most methodical stare imaginable. "Would that same something have anything to

slammed against his own chest at that very instant.

Shaking a fidgety right index finger,

aggravate you. But you know full well that I do not adhere to superstitions. What happened

stared endlessly at Roth. There was 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 even rebuttal with

know what happened to me two

all

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.,

Roth asked, "Just where did the crayons come