Challenges from The Condo #10
Chapter 3. Social Interaction
The Condo: or...Life, a Sequel by Dalma Takács is available from
Amazon.com. (Pap. $17.99;
E.book / Kindle ed. $9.99)
Jasper makes up his mind to find some allies. He decides to meet his
neighbors.
He walked out into the
hallway and stopped in front of the unit next door. The number was 3141, the first
four digits of pi. What a strange way
to number apartments, he thought as he rang the doorbell. A nurse in white
uniform opened the door. Jasper was about to pitch into his introduction, but
the nurse cut him off. “Welcome Jasper, come on in,” she said. “Daren is busy
with the treatment right now, but he’ll be happy to see you in a few minutes.”
“I don’t want to intrude
. . .”
“No, it’s good for the
patient to have visitors,” she said. She motioned for him to sit in one of the
traditional wing chairs in the living room. “Make yourself at home while we
finish the session.”
Jasper sat down somewhat
diffidently as she walked into the next room, which he figured was the
bathroom. The walls seemed to be very thin and hardly soundproof. Jasper was
embarrassed to hear what was going on inside.
He heard a whining,
pleading male voice followed by the friendly but firm voice of the nurse.
“Do we have to do this
again? It’s painful, you know.”
“It’s painful only
because you won’t let go, Daren. You must let me soak off that damaged layer.”
“But it’s all part of me.
If you soak it off, there will be nothing left.”
“Nonsense, it’s just like
with third degree burns. We have to take off the bandages each day and soak off
the dead skin so that the good skin underneath can breathe and grow.”
There was silence, then a
pitiful whine. “Nurse, please don’t. I can’t stand it!”
The nurse was sympathetic.
“Wait a minute. I have an idea. We have a new therapy to relieve tension and
help you let go. Hang on. I’ll just need to make a call. Shoot! I left my phone
in the living room.” She came in, picked up her phone from the table and dialed.
“I need a music technician. Who’s available? . . . OK send him up.”
Within minutes Jasper
heard the doorbell chime, and the nurse admitted a man in a powdered wig and 18th
century costume that reminded him of pictures of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The
man was holding a violin under his arm and grinned at Jasper.
“He’s in the bath and I
need something to take his mind off the pain,” the nurse explained.
“A little night music
perhaps?” The musician smirked. He tilted his head and pushed his violin under
his chin. He tickled it with his bow and skipped into the bathroom, leaving a
scent of irresistible music behind him.
“Is that better now?”
Jasper heard the nurse inside.
Daren no longer whined.
He grunted “Yes,” and Jasper heard only the lilting tones that tickled and
stroked his ears until he forgot why he was there. He dozed off and was
awakened by the trio from the bathroom—the Mozart guy leading the way, skipping
like the Pied Piper, followed by the nurse, and finally the patient, Daren.
Jasper was looking for a
sick man swathed in bandages. But Daren was dressed in a terry bathrobe and
walked easily in his bedroom slippers. He turned to Jasper. “Hello, neighbor.
Sorry you had to wait.” He held out his hand. “Name is Daren. Daren Redmond.”
The name sounded
familiar, but Jasper could not place it. He wanted to express his sympathy but
did not like to let on that he had heard Daren’s pitiful moans. “I hope your
treatment will soon be complete,” he said.
“It will be a while yet,”
Daren said. “There is a lot to soak off. But Mozart here has been a big help.”
“Yes, I’ve read about
music therapy for burn victims,” Jasper said. “How did it happen? Was it an
accident?”
Daren looked at him,
puzzled. “An accident? No it was no accident.”
Jasper sounded concerned.
“Arson?”
“No, not arson.”
“Then how did you get
burned?”
Daren looked at the nurse
and the musician, and they all burst out laughing.
“He thinks Daren is a
burn victim,” Mozart said, and they all broke into guffaws and giggles again.
When the nurse saw
Jasper’s irritation, she made them stop laughing. “I’m sorry, Jasper. I guess
we forgot that you are new here. Daren is not burnt. Though mind you, many
people who come here at first think of this as a very hot place.” More sniggers
from Daren and Mozart. “No, he’s simply trying to get rid of the debris in his
mind. Not that the process is painless.”
“I know, I know. It’s
painful only because I can’t let it go,” Daren intoned in mock solemnity.
Jasper wished nothing
more than to find a good excuse for a polite exit. He had no desire to hear
Daren’s confidence. Daren was too crazy to be a useful ally. Still, he was
curious to know what Daren’s real problem was. He decided to leave with the
nurse and the musician.
As they closed the door
behind them, he said, “What exactly is the ‘debris’ in Daren’s mind?”
“He was chief elder of
the First Presbyterian Church of Boise Idaho, a scout leader and a volunteer
fireman,” the nurse said as she and Mozart were walking down the hallway past
Jasper’s apartment. Jasper had to follow them.
“So?”
“He also pleaded guilty
to ten counts of first degree murder. His problem is that he is still enjoying
his past actions. Still, he is making progress. You should have seen him when
he first arrived. He was forever writing letters to the police department giving
them clues to the murders. You could hear him all the way down the hall
sniggering, chuckling, smirking and sometimes roaring with laughter.”
Jasper was horrified.
“He’s a murderer? So, what’s he doing here? Why is he not on death row?”
“He was. But remember,
death row is for the living.”
The nurse is just as
disturbed as her patient, Jasper thought. These people are all crazy, or else
members of some kind of cult. Still, he had to find out what made them tick.
“So, what are you doing? Trying to rehabilitate him?”
“In a manner of speaking,”
the nurse said. “Mozart here has helped a lot.”
Jasper turned to the
musician. “Mozart? Is that your real name?”
“Well, I don’t know about
real. It’s the name my father gave me: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
I’m landed in a commune
peopled by criminals and mental patients, Jasper was thinking.
“We are not all
criminals,” the nurse said.
And mind readers.
“Some of us are
philosophers, poets, and even saints.”
Comes to the same thing,
Jasper thought.
“I suppose you think it
comes to the same thing,” the nurse said.
You are all crazy, Jasper
said to himself.
“But we are not crazy.
What we have in common is that we are all human.”
This is getting me
nowhere, Jasper thought. He had been following the nurse out of the building,
and now they were in a part of the park that he had not seen before. They were
walking on a forest path springy with pine needles. He could smell the
fragrance of the trees—redwoods that arched over them in a protective embrace.
It reminded him of a camping trip he once took with his students when he was a
teacher in Los Angeles. Redwoods in Florida? He wondered. These people spare no
expense for landscaping. He tried a new approach. “By the way, I don’t know
your name.”
“I’m Selena.”
Goddess of the Moon,
taking care of the lunatics. Jasper was waiting for her to echo his thoughts,
but Selena only smiled. She changed the subject. “Tell me, Jasper, have you
listened to your wife yet?”
“That’s exactly what I
did. I heard her, but she didn’t hear me. I need a phone that lets us talk.”
“You heard her, but you
didn’t listen. Try calling her again.”
“What’s the point? These
phones are not set up the right way.”
Selena smiled at what
Jasper thought must be an inside joke. “Jasper, your trouble is that you know
everything. Your treatment will be almost as hard as Daren’s.”
Jasper was stung. “I beg
your pardon! I don’t happen to be a serial killer. You think I’m like a
murderer?”
“No. We are all unique.
But we have certain traits in common. That’s why we need each other. You are
proud of your accomplishments, you’re always certain that you are right. You
can’t let go of the idea that you are a great architect. Daren too is proud of
his accomplishment: he considers himself to be the cleverest criminal in the last
three decades of his life. He can’t let go of the satisfaction he feels when he
thinks of his grisly murders.”
What do you think is happening here????????????
