Death Watch

          An ice cold chill slithered through the vents in the ceiling. Rearing its ugly head, it released a foul odor which took over the room. Death was in the air tonight. I could smell it. My attention was drawn away from a book that I currently had my nose in. I was reading my personal copy of “Vegetable Gardening: The Colonial Williamsburg Way.”  I suddenly found myself lost in a warehouse full of thoughts. It was a gift from my wife, Rebecca five years ago. Five years ago…I scoffed at the very thought of it. A lot had changed since then. Five years ago, Rebecca and I had gone to Colonial Williamsburg for the Garden Symposium that they hold every year. I was keynote speaker for a lecture about landscape architecture of historic gardens. Rebecca ended up grabbing me a copy of the vegetable gardening book from a garden shop on Duke of Gloucester Street nearby.

         There came an abrupt tapping at my cell door. I jumped out of my thoughts and back into reality. The sound I was hearing was all too familiar. I glanced over toward the door to find Officer Jenkins standing there. He had his keys in hand and he was unlocking my cell.

“Wincott, you have a visitor,” he said.

“A visitor? Well, send him in,” I replied.

            The door to the cell swung open and in walked a Catholic priest. It wasn’t any priest though. It was Father Driscoll from St. Therese Church, the very church I had attended most of my adult life. Driscoll entered slowly and in his arms he carried a last rites kit. I closed my book, setting it on my pillow.

“Hey Father, long time no see. Come on in. Take a load off,” I said running my hands through my wavy black hair.

            I got comfortable on my bed and watched as Father Driscoll came in and sat his things down. My room was quite small but it was big enough for two. I had a bed, a small table with a chair, a TV which was on the wall and a radio. It sure as hell wasn’t home but after spending 24 hours in here; I got over myself. Officers Jenkins and Martin brought me here last night and dropped me off. I was granted unlimited phone access, given whatever food/drinks I wanted and was told I could request TV shows if it came to that. Considering what was coming next for me, I really couldn’t ask for anything more. Father Driscoll had set his things down on my table. With a wave of my hand I invited him to partake in a snack or a drink if he wished. He put his right hand up and shook his head “no.”

“I am good my son. How are you?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m as good as can be expected. Thank you for coming,” I said.

Father Driscoll replied, “Well, I must say when I got your request from Officer Martin I was quite shocked really. I am more than happy to be able to do this for you. Shall we begin?

            I laughed and got up off my bed walking over to my cell door. I put my back to the Father for a brief moment then turned back around.

“Can we not talk for a little while? I know I asked you to be the one to deliver last rites to me. I’d like to have an actual conversation with another human being though before that time comes. The two officers posted outside aren’t permitted to really talk to me,” I said.

            Father Driscoll looked on at me with a look of pure concern. I could tell he cared.

“Would you like to give confession Raymond?” he asked.

“I would Father, thank you.” I said gratefully.

            I walked back over to my bed and sat down. Father Driscoll turned and focused his attention on me. I crossed myself and began to speak…

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been quite some time since my last confession.”

“What are your sins my son?” Father Driscoll asked.

“I’ve got less than an hour to live and I find myself full of regret. Regret for the crimes I committed. Regret for not dealing with that whole situation better than I did. You remember that day, don’t you? I came to church; my hands and clothing drenched in blood. I was physically exhausted and out of my mind. I demanded confession from you.”

“I recall, yes, it was quite disturbing the whole thing was,” Father Driscoll said.

I continued, “You pulled me into a confessional without hesitation. I unloaded and told you everything. I mean EVERYTHING. I broke it all down for you. I gave you a play by play with details. I told you how I had come home from attending a seminar at Virginia Tech about Boxwood Blight. I drove four hours to come home and find my wife in bed with another man.”

            I started to tear up. Talking about it was starting to get to me. Father Driscoll could tell this was upsetting me. He leaned in and put a hand on my shoulder.

“You regret doing what you did to them? Don’t you?” he asked.

“I do,” I replied. “I regret it very much. You know why I regret it? I regret it because I didn’t get away with it.”

            Father Driscoll looked at me confused now. He looked a little scared even. You could tell by the overall look on his face that he had no clue to react.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said.

“Think about it,” I said. “I’m a landscape architect. Don’t let the snazzy orange jumpsuit distort your memory. I had no idea what I was doing. It was all done in the heat of the moment. I had never killed anyone before. When I jumped onto that bed and snapped my wife’s lover’s neck; it was all downhill from there. God almighty! I can still hear Rebecca screaming out in agony till this very day.

“I… don’t… like where this is going,” Father Driscoll said uncomfortably. “Are you ready for last rites?”

“I’m not done yet,” I said forcefully. “Care for a drink? I made some tea earlier.”

            An awkward pause filled the space in between us. You could tell the wheels were turning in his head. I could almost hear them every time they flipped over. He was hesitant for some reason.

“Actually tea sounds quite nice,” he finally replied. “I’ll take a cup.”

            I got up off the bed and walked over to the table. I grabbed a thermos that contained my tea that I had made earlier and I took out a cup; pouring some for the Father. I handed it to him once I was done and sat back down on the bed. Father Driscoll took the cup in his hands and sipped slowly. The tea was still hot. I stood there smiling as he nodded his head in approval.

“Please continue,” he said.

“Remember how you pleaded with me to call the police? I told you that I couldn’t but you insisted that I did. Remember how I told you that I buried them both in my vegetable garden? Do you remember?” I asked.

            I was starting to get anxious now. I was gauging Father Driscoll’s every facial expression. I was trying to look into his eyes and read his very thoughts. He was certainly unsure of this whole situation. I could tell he didn’t want to be here.

“Yes, I remember,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I only confessed my crime to one person before the police caught me. That person… was you Father. You swore you wouldn’t tell. You said that you had to uphold priest-penitent privilege. I know for a fact you didn’t,” I said.

           I reached under my bed and pulled out a manila envelope removing some documents from it. I threw them at Father Driscoll. He scooped them up and looked at them. A look of complete horror came across his face. It was a deer in headlights kind of look. He was caught. He began to fumble for his next set of coherent thoughts.

“Look…I’m not sure what this is. They challenged the priest-penitent privilege in open court. I had no choice. I knew what you had done. I had to speak the truth-I had too,” he said trying to defend himself.

            I slapped my legs with my hands hard. I was beyond furious and the steam was building up. I was seeing red and the Father was my valiant matador.

“So you admit that you threw me under the bus? You admit it?” I asked.

“I had no choice Raymond. It was for your own good. What would you have me do?”

“I would have you guide me. Have me do a thousand Hail Mary’s and five hundred Our Fathers or something. There’s no hope for redemption here; for neither of us.”

            I grabbed a bag of Cheetos off the table and opened them up. I started shoving my face full of them. Walking over to my cell door, I put my back to Father Driscoll who was now getting truly scared. He jumped up from his seat.

“Raymond, what do…” He tried to ask, finding himself at a loss for words.

            He lost his balance and staggered. His hands flew up to his throat. Something was very wrong.

“What is this?” Father Driscoll asked. “What’s going on?”

           Father Driscoll fell to his knees and gasping for air. I just continued standing where I was with my back to everything. I stared out my cell door looking down at two empty seats off to the side. I turned back around to face the Father as he began trying to plead for his life.

“Help! Someone help me please. Officers!” he said.

            I fell to my knees in front of Father Driscoll and laughed. I laughed for what seemed like a good ten minutes before I finally let up. I mocked the pleas for help, which had just polluted my ears…

“Help. Someone help me please,” I said. “Get over yourself. How are you feeling by the way?” I asked as I reached up putting the back of my palm on his forehead.

“What did you do to me? You…you…poisoned me.” Father Driscoll said barely.

            With that, he fell to the floor. He was unable to move now. He curled up in a fetus position; his breathing was now very heavy. The end was coming. It was coming for us both. Death was definitely in the air tonight.

“What you’re experiencing is oleander poisoning. Its fun stuff, am I right? It’s growing right here at the prison. I got myself a bunch of leaves and brewed a relaxing tea just for you.  From what I am seeing now, I can tell it really hit the spot too.” I said almost proud. I pulled a couple of leaves from behind my ear and threw them at him.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up and got the last rites kit off the table and brought it back over to where the Father was on the floor. I got back down on my knees and opened up the kit. I took everything out and prepared last rites for Father Driscoll. He looked on at me absolutely terrified. His eyes were glazing over. I put on the best impression of a priest that I could conjure up.

"Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin, save you and raise you up.” I said. “Would you like to give confession?”

Grimacing, Father Driscoll said, “Burn in hell.”

           I stopped the ritual and placed my one hand over Father Driscoll’s mouth. The other hand I used to pinch his nose and close it. The Father pawed at me, trying his best to get me off of him. He was weak though. He was dying. He had no energy at all whatsoever left to fight me. After a few seconds, I could see the life fading completely from his eyes.  I let go and lied down on the floor next to him. I whispered in his ear the last words he would ever hear before leaving this Earth.

“You know what’s funny about all this? I planned everything that just happened from the get go. From the moment my lawyer told me that it was you that landed me here; I plotted my revenge. I bribed the officers outside with enough cigarettes to go away for a bit and give us our privacy. We’re completely and utterly alone.”

            I watched as Father Driscoll drew his last breath and passed away. I only wonder what his final thoughts were in that last moment. I just laid there on the floor for a few seconds, staring at him. Closing my eyes, I crossed myself. It was done. I could now leave this world without any unfinished business. I had a one way ticket to Hell and I was going there in style. I walked over to my cell door and grabbed a hold of the bars.

            I yelled out to anyone who could possibly be within ear shot,” Jenkins! Martin! There’s a dead man still breathing here. Let’s get this over with.” I closed my eyes and whistled a few bars from a song that seemed all too appropriate now, “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash.