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Friday, February 22, 2019

At Light's Edge - Chapter 18: The Arrival


Eighteen
____________
The Arrival


Cynthia Lafferty opened the large entry door to her place of employment and entered with a young teen woman.
“Welcome to For His Glory Youth Home, or simply FHG,” greeted Terry Theodore Grant, the tall, thin supervising manager of the home for emotionally troubled criminal teenagers. “This abode was once the famed Chandler mansion, built back in 1886 by famous architect Jack James, but I suppose that means little to all of us now, or to our establishment’s purpose, mission and goal.”
Looking around at the ornate wood trim, mahogany entry walls and the vaulted ceiling’s crystal chandelier, Jennifer replied, “Yeah, whatever.”
Jenny was a beautiful young teenage woman with piercing eyes, the kind of eyes males rarely forgot. Her attitude, however, was one that few wished to remember.
One of the counselors approached and introduced himself as Mangas Cochise Coloradas, “I’m named after a couple of my historic ancestors. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Philips.” When he reached out his hand to welcome her Jennifer simply glanced at his hand momentarily, then turned her head away to stare off into a large room to the entry’s left.
“Well,” interjected Mr. Grant, “I’ll show you to your room.”
“Ok,” Jennifer replied, “and you all can call me Jenny… that’s what I want.”
“Jenny it is,” affirmed Mr. Grant.
Miss Lafferty and Mr. Coloradas stayed behind to talk about their newest life-challenged teen.
“So, Cynthia, how did everything go this morning, ok?”
“Mangas,” she replied, “that poor girl is just so empty and cold, but I did see a flicker of light somewhere buried deep inside her tormented soul. We have to help her.”
Glancing back from the top of the huge staircase, Jenny commented, “People are always talkin’ about me.”
“People talk about all of us at one time or another,” commented Mr. Grant.
After Jenny placed what few possessions she had into her room, she was taken to a large meeting area in a room at the end of the second floor hallway thirty meters from her room. She was informed that the center maintained a no smoking and no alcoholic beverage drinking policy in addition to the banning of all illicit drugs.
“Anyone caught on the premises or offsite with illegal drugs or drug paraphernalia will be turned over to the proper authorities.” Mr. Grant continued with an overview of the television and movie room regulations, “TV hours are from six to nine on weekday evenings and Sunday evenings. On weekends hours are from eleven in the morning until one AM on Saturday and all day Sunday until ten at night. Movies are allowed on weekends only with the exception of educational films during weekday evenings.”
“Ya think I can get a schedule or somethin’?” Jenny sarcastically questioned.
“One is posted in both the TV and movie rooms on the first floor.”
“I Got it.”
“We currently host four teenage residents, including you, Jenny. The center previously hosted up to six individuals, but we discovered that having a smaller number of residents helped us maintain better personal relationships… to everyone’s advantage.”
Jenny thought, Yeah, and tighter control over us teens, I’m sure.
Mr. Grant continued, “The three other center residents are boys. Amir Rostami, Barry King and Paco Gonzales, they are housed on the first floor. Commingling in rooms of the opposite sex is not allowed. Staff members are present 24/7, so sneaking around during the night will only lead to getting oneself into trouble.”
Three boys here, she pondered, I wonder what kind of fun trouble they can stir up. Curiosity got the best of Jenny so she inquired of Mr. Grant, “How did you guys get this house anyway?”
“A conversation at last Miss Philips, well… it was donated by the family who owned it back in the 1980s on condition that it be continually used as a youth facility of one sort or another. The family had lost their teenage daughter to a narcotics overdose a few years prior.”
“Killer house,” she said.
Mr. Grant was not sure if she was being sarcastic or not, so he let the comment slide.
You can relax in your room for now, or find some other activity to keep yourself busy until dinner. Dinner is served promptly at six. No sweats, lounge attire or risqué clothing is allowed during meals or in common areas of the house. Of course, in the privacy of your room you are free to wear whatever you like. And we do not expect you to change attire for a nighttime trip to the restroom.”
“That’s mighty humane of you,” she said, before realizing what had rolled off of her lips.
“We’ll talk more about appropriate comments and responses later, Miss Philips. Take care.”
Once Mr. Grant had reached the bottom of the staircase Jenny went to her room. It was rather nice and much larger than a prison cell by far. Maybe eight or nine cells, Jenny surmised.
The room had a view overlooking a large back yard that resembled a well planted botanical garden. Flowers grew everywhere and there was a pond with a fountain in the garden’s center. On one side of the garden stood a life-size statue of the biblical Samson pushing against two pillars. A plaque was posted at the statue’s side, but Jenny could not make out what was written on it from her room. I’ll have to check that out later, she thought.
Jenny sat on her bed feeling relieved. The weight of teenage prison life was now lifted from her shoulders. I ain’t no good and I ain’t worthy, she sort of prayed to herself, but I just want to thank you God for getting’ me outta that horrible place behind the razor wire. Oh, yeah… Amen!
Jenny removed her diary from her suitcase and entered the date, then wrote, ‘I’m here. New place, new prison.’ She closed the book and stashed it back in the corner of her new bedroom’s closet. I guess I’d better be checkin’ out that stairway, Jenny mumbled to herself as she stood to exit her bedroom.
Jenny sat about one third of the way down the staircase on its carpeted center. The centrally located staircase climbed to the second floor and split into two halls. She admired the ornate mahogany handrails that sat atop detailed white wrought iron balusters. The crown molding of the tall walls measured at least eight inches wide and included carvings of various mythical creatures. Crystals hung like ice cycles from the large entry chandelier. So much detail in the old days, Jenny philosophized. She contemplated how people’s lives in olden times also bore such detail and how modern construction, so plain and simple, reflected the lives of people today, If only folks took more time to care about the details of their own lives.
“Time to take a quick nap,” Jenny mumbled softly, before returning to the privacy of her room. Jenny had never informed her prison psychologist about her dreams; those dreams that plagued her in the night; dreams of desires she was supposedly free from. She heard from other addicts in the prison rehab program, ‘those dreams ain’t nothin’, they’ll fade away in time, sweetie!’ But sometimes Jenny wondered.

Next Chapter: Life's Reality

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