The World of Edward Givens: Volume IV: Faith

By Dezarae DUNSMUIR

Edward Givens receives disturbing news at the settlement of his accident lawsuit and renews his racism.  Edward is still grieving for the loss of the love of his life and his family continues to support him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dragon's Press
• Release date: Jul 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949276220

Dezarae DUNSMUIR

Dezarae Dunsmuir is a celebrated author and poet. Born in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, she was prolific even as a child. At age 8, as a ballerina, she danced on stage with Mikhail Baryshnikov. At age 9, she hosted a television series about science. She went on to be syndicated coast to coast on radio, interviewing celebrities and offering valuable insights on issues important in Canada.

Book preview

Where Volume III Ended

Thomas Parker hung up the phone. He’d just been speaking with George Ralston. He wasn’t happy that Ralston had settled for the 15 million dollar maximum amount he’d told him he could agree to.

On the other hand, all the physical symptoms the stress had caused on his heart of late had him thinking about his mortality more and more. The relief of not being stressed any longer, was worth the money he had agreed to pay to get it. Parker didn’t know how many days he had left in his life but he did know he didn’t want to spend them upset about some lawsuit hanging over his head like an axe waiting to fall.

Money comes, money goes, he said aloud to himself.

I’ve still got plenty and I can always make more. I could even retire, if I wanted to but what would I do then?

In all his musings about the case, not once, not for even a glimmer of a moment, did any regret for the loss of Tina’s life and the injuries to Edward ever cross his mind.

Thomas Parker felt no remorse – or concern - for his victims.

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All three surviving members of the Edwards family and the three adults of the Givens family, were present in George Ralston’s office, along with Barney, Sheila and Randy. It was a trifle crowded. Since quite a few signatures were required on the paperwork, Ralston had everyone involved come into the office three at a time. The first three were Steve, Marjorie and Cindy. The second trio consisted of Bob, Julia and Edward.

Frederick wasn’t present because he didn’t believe he should be part of the case from the get go, since he didn’t really know Tina all that well. Freddie was at home on the farm, taking care of the girls.

As it was, there was so much paperwork to sign, by so many people, it took well over an hour to accomplish.

When all was said and done, George Ralston opened a file. He took two checks out of it. He handed one to Edward and one to Steve.

I wish we could have met under different circumstances, he said to both men.

It’s sad that it had to be this way, said Steve, blinking hard.

He could feel the tears pricking behind his eyelids. There was no way he was going to cry in front of this man. He represented a real son of a bitch, after all.

Edward looked at Ralston, expression askance. You tell that fucker client of yours he got off lucky: this was cheap. I’m sure money is all he cares about. He obviously doesn’t value human life, judging by the way he runs his company.

There was a pile of files on George’s desk. They were all quite thick and they seemed perilously stacked. All of a sudden, while Edward was speaking, he hit Ralston’s desk with a footrest of his wheelchair while he was turning, trying to leave his office.

The top few files on the stack fell over, onto Edward’s lap. The uppermost file fell open. Edward couldn’t help but notice that the file contained a photo of a black man.

Ralston rushed over to him, picking the files up out of his lap and off the floor.

I’m so sorry, he said.

I asked my secretary to file these hours ago, and she didn’t do it. I apologize again, he reiterated.

Edward sat in silence. He was getting the vague sense of a memory and he was struggling to get it clear in his mind. After a few moments, he suddenly turned his wheelchair around and addressed Ralston in a loud voice.

That’s the truck driver who hit us, right? That’s a photo of him, isn’t it?

Edward was yelling now.

That’s the bastard that killed my Tina. I saw him for a split second before he hit my car. That’s him! That’s him!

He tried to lunge at George from his wheelchair but was unable to. George dodged him easily, files in his hands. Bob, Randy and Barney were all trying to restrain Edward and calm him down at the same time. Edward, after getting a good look at the man’s face in the photo, was so infuriated he was actually seeing red.

He turned to Barnes and said in a vicious tone of voice, What’s his name, Barney? I know you know it! What is it?

It won’t do you any good to know, replied Barney.

It’s all over, everything is signed, sealed and delivered. It’s over.

Just tell me his name! All I want is the name of the man I will curse until the day I die! At least you can give me that comfort! shouted Edward.

George Ralston wanted this sordid scene to end. He just wanted to go home and be grateful this particular day was over. He wanted everyone out of his office.

Go ahead and tell him, he said to Barney in a weary voice.

He’s dead. What difference can it possibly make now? he added.

He sighed deeply as he finished speaking.

Barnes looked from Ralston to Edward, Okay, he responded.

The guy’s name was Douglas Milton. There. Are you happy? Can we go now?

Barney was a little upset and exasperated himself.

Edward quieted down as soon as he received the information he’d asked for. Then, without warning, his face crumpled like a discarded sheet of paper and he started weeping loudly. Neither Bob nor Julia could console him. They hurriedly wheeled him out of George’s office, followed by Barney, Sheila and Randy.

Edward continued his loud weeping in the hallway, so Bob and Julia quickly shook the hands of the members of the Barnes team and said their goodbyes while waiting for the elevator.

Thank you again, they said as the elevator doors closed in front of them.

Barnes and his team could hear Edward’s wailing for some time as the elevator descended in its shaft.

Now I really need a drink, said Barney, as he punched the button for the elevator.

Me, too, agreed Randy.

Seeing how upset Edward was, I don’t feel much like celebrating anymore, said Sheila.

Neither do I, responded Barnes.

Now I feel like I’m going to a wake.

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Edward’s World

Edward couldn’t help himself: the grief was surging back again, full force. He was in the truck, driving back to the farm with his parents. Bob and Julia were extremely concerned about their son’s state of mind.

Son, I think you should call Dr. Singleton? asked Bob in a quiet voice, squeezing words in between Edward’s sobs.

I think that’s a good idea, agreed Julia.

He said he was always available to you, any time, day or night, she added.

What can he do? wailed Edward.

He can’t bring Tina back, she’s gone, gone forever! exclaimed Edward.

That’s true but you could use some help right now. I’m not a psychiatrist I’m only your mother. I’m speaking to you as your mother right now. Please call Dr. Singleton immediately.

Julia’s voice and facial expression all had the undertone of steel.

Your mother’s right, son, affirmed his father.

Edward knew his mother well. He’d seen – and heard – that look in her eyes and her tone of voice several times over the course of his life. He knew there’d be no winning in trying to oppose her when she was like this.

Okay, mum, you win, Edward sighed loudly as he pulled his smart phone out of his pocket.

I’ll get myself together a bit before I call him, he said to no-one in particular.

Julia just kept staring at her son. Her eyes looked like laser beams boring into a large plate of steel. After a few minutes, Edward – surprisingly - was quite calm. He felt somewhat embarrassed by his outburst.

I’m sorry about pitching a fit, he said, rather sheepishly.

Especially in that other lawyer’s office. That was bad, he added.

Apology accepted, responded Bob.

Apology accepted, none needed, answered Julia.

Edward proceeded to look up Dr. Singleton’s afterhours number on the contact list in his phone. He pushed on the telephone icon next to Singleton’s name. His psychiatrist picked up on the third ring. He had caller ID, so he knew it was his favorite patient on the line.

Yes, Edward, are you okay? queried Singleton.

He hadn’t bothered wasting time with a greeting.

Yes and no, answered Edward hesitantly.

What’s going on? asked Dr. Singleton, voice overflowing with immediate concern.

Talk to me, he added in a calm but firm manner.

We were at the Defendant’s lawyer’s office a while ago, signing papers. The case has been settled. We were supposed to go to court tomorrow but Parker settled instead, answered Edward.

And? interjected Singleton.

And some files accidentally fell on me and I saw a photo of the black bastard who killed my Tina. Once I saw the photo, I had a meltdown. I was screaming, demanding to know the name of the person who so recklessly ruined my life.

Edward’s voice was flat, like he was reading a boring report aloud.

And? asked the psychiatrist.

And nothing. Just seeing the face of the guy who did this to me brought back all the grief. I started wailing and sobbing and – no matter how hard I tried – I couldn’t stop. Nobody could calm me down. The only reason I’m not sobbing right now is because I have to talk to you.

Edward gulped several times, squashing the wail that was trying to escape his throat.

And that’s not easy, believe me, he said, voice quavering.

This is called a ‘trigger episode,’ Edward, Dr. Singleton’s voice was as smooth as a sheet of glass.

You will have them from time to time. Signing the papers along with seeing the photo of the culprit was very stressful for you, so you reacted to your emotions, stated the doctor.

But I couldn’t stop myself, even though at first I was so angry I didn’t want to. Now I feel embarrassed about the whole thing. I’ve already apologized to my parents, replied Edward.

That’s good news on many fronts. I want you to look at the positive things in this situation and learn from them.

What could possibly be positive out of me making a complete ass of myself in front of my lawyer and his team, as well as the opposition’s lawyer?

Edward was perplexed.

"There are a few things that are good here, Edward, believe it or not. First, you wanted to stop yourself, even though your emotions were out of control: that’s a good sign. It means you’re cognizant of what you’re thinking and feeling, hoping to control yourself.

Next, you feel embarrassed, which is also good. I’d be worried if you didn’t think you’d done anything out of line.

Finally, you apologized to the people most affected by your behavior in the lawyer’s office and up until you called me. That shows me that – at heart – you are a responsible, caring individual. You’ve just hit a bump in the road, that’s all."

Edward still sounded puzzled when he replied, I’m going to call Tina’s family after I hang up with you. I have to apologize to them, too. Then I have to call my lawyer and do the same thing. I feel like a complete idiot, said Edward.

Believe it or not, that’s a good sign, Edward. I’d be worried about you if you were scooting around, thinking you’d done nothing untoward, answered Singleton.

So, what do I do about how lousy I’m feeling? asked Edward.

"I’m sure your grief has come back and hit you hard and for that I’m sorry for you. It’s a good thing you called me: even our talking on the phone is a form of therapy.

I suggest you try to ride out your emotions. Tell people how you feel. Talk to your family, Edward. For heaven’s sake, stop protecting them! They love you and care about you; they deserve the truth. It’s time to be open and real, Edward. Talking to your parents will help tremendously.

The worst thing you can do is keep your emotions bottled up inside you. When that happens, people tend to explode; often when they do, they kill or hurt others. I honestly don’t think you’re one of those, but I don’t want to take the risk that you might turn into one of them. Talk to your family. They want to support you, why don’t you let them?

Finally, when you get home, take an extra pill, okay? Any time this happens, you must take an extra pill that day. Please remember that."

Dr. Singleton ended on a note of finality.

What if I get really bad? I mean, whacko? he queried.

Have your parents call me, then have them take you to the hospital, to the psych ward. We’ll do a three-day observation on you and deal with the crisis. I don’t believe that’s ever going to happen, Edward.

So, I’m supposed to express myself, let my family know what’s really going on with me, let them support me, call you if necessary and take an extra pill on the day I pitch a fit or whatever, right?

Edward breathed deeply at the end of the points he’d just rattled off.

You got it, responded Dr. Singleton.

Edward sighed: all this intense emotion had tired him out.

He sounded resigned when he responded to the doctor, Okay, you win.

On his end of the line, the psychiatrist smiled.

Excellent. Stay in touch. I’m here if you need me, any time, day or night. I’ll see you at 3:15 this Wednesday.

I’m just drained right now. But I’ll tell you one thing: I was so angry at the lawyer’s office I was actually seeing red, stated Edward.

That’s never happened to me before, he added.

"That’s really angry," replied the doctor.

The son of a bitch who did this is already dead – but if he was alive - I’d track him down and I’d kill that motherfucker. You can take that to the bank.

Edward’s voice was a weary – but vicious – hiss.

I’d kill his sorry black ass, he reiterated.

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While the phone call to Dr. Singleton seemed to calm Edward down, it startled and upset Bob and Julia. The pair sat in the front seat of the truck; they were both concerned about the same thing. They hadn’t heard Edward make any racist comments for quite a long time now. They both believed his racism was behind him and just a bad memory. They knew Edward was upset, so many of his actions and reactions could be forgiven to a degree.

They were both silently praying their son hadn’t become a racist again.

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When Edward got back to the farmhouse, he went directly to bed. He wasn’t in the mood for socializing with his family. In truth, he didn’t want to speak to anyone. He made sure he took the extra pill, just like Dr. Singleton had advised.

When Edward got into his bed, he felt little relief or comfort.

The photo of Douglas Milton kept rolling and coiling around in his head, over and over.

Edward was angry: he’d been denied justice.

He’d been denied the joy of killing that black bastard.

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That night, Bob and Julia were lying in bed; both of them were wide-awake. They were both extremely worried about Edward.

What if he becomes a racist again? whispered Julia.

What can we do about that? she added.

I honestly don’t know, Bob whispered back.

Look at how long he was out of commission the last time life dealt him a bad blow and black people were involved. He wasn’t just devastated, he became a full blown racist because of it.

This situation is even worse than that one, responded Julia.

We need to have some sort of plan. I don’t want to see him backsliding after all the progress he’s made.

Bob was getting tired of whispering but he continued to do so out of necessity.

I firmly believe Tina had a lot to do with that, he answered.

Now I don’t know what to think – or even do.

Thank goodness he’s made up with the Almighty, Julia was still whispering.

I’m hoping his relationship with the Lord will make him see the error of his ways.

We’re going to need God’s help on this one, agreed Bob.

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Clifford and Althea were making headway in their roommate style relationship. Althea was keeping a watchful eye on Clifford to see if the changes she detected were real, just a passing phase or – worst of all – an act so he could stay off the streets. So far, the changes appeared real and he seemed sincere, but she was still skeptical. Althea was going to continue watching and listening to her ex-husband to see what was the truth about his character and what wasn’t.

For his part, Clifford wasn’t enjoying the process of self-evaluation at all. It was damn painful; he knew he had to do it. He now realized he should’ve been doing it all along through his life. In truth, the thought had never occurred to him until recently. He’d always reacted from his gut and not from his head. He was an old dog trying hard to learn the new trick of thinking – and examining – himself, his life and even others in his life.

Clifford hated looking back over his life from a different perspective. It was difficult to face the fact he’d based his life on his own lack of self-worth. He hated all the personal – and professional – mistakes he’d made just because he thought he wasn’t worthy. This lack of self-esteem had cost him the relationship with his wife and children: that was the ultimate price he’d paid. He didn’t even want to consider the professional errors he’d made because of this root cause of his problems, this root that was the basis of his inevitably skewed reality.

It had become obvious to him that hating white people because of all the propaganda he’d absorbed and believed through the years was completely idiotic. White people were just like any other people. Everybody had desires, concerns and problems, regardless of their skin color. Every race had good people and bad people; nice people and nasty people.

In the professional realm, instead of gaining the reputation of being a first class asshole, Clifford realized he could have worked with people. Who knows? There could’ve even been white people at work that he could have been friends with. He’d missed out on all those opportunities because he was so myopic in his outlook.

His racism had certainly cost him professionally. He’d lost two excellent positions because he’d brought lawsuits down on his employers and himself. He was undoubtedly blackballed in the advertising world forever. His search for gainful employment would have to be in other areas, of that he was certain. The advertising world was a small community and everyone in it gossiped relentlessly. He knew word of him had spread quickly and these days, nobody would touch him with a barge pole. He was radioactive.

The racist attitude had ultimately cost him every penny he had: that’s why he wound up homeless and on the street. When Clifford thought about how stupid he had been and how flawed his decision making process was, he wanted to beat his head against a wall in frustration with himself. Who in their right mind would