Glitter For Carlos

Written By Jeff

Feeling the weight of the woman's intense stare all over my body, it takes all of the strength that I can muster not to let my rage overtake me. I'm sure that my boys feel the same way as we each pick up bottle after bottle of glitter from the shelf. The woman nervously glances at the man in the blue button down as we amble towards the counter. The man's paleness defeats his attempts to feign calmness. One by one we approach the counter and pull out our dollar bills, coins, plastic cards whatever it takes from our wallets, to pay for each bottle and proceeds out the door of the Office Supply Store without a word.

The convoy of cars now snake into the parking lot one after the other and appearing from each were young black men on a simple mission this day. Each patiently awaits his turn to step into the day room. The involuntary smile on my face is no match for the excitement showing on the face of my longtime childhood friend. Carlos stands and grunts as we embrace each other as brothers would. The Nurse does her best to pull Carlos' powerful body back down into his seat in front of the giant easel that his latest painting rests upon. I hand over my bottles of glitter as he mumbles thank you over and over.

The nurse motions me now with a stern hand yet gentle smile to move on so that the next person could matriculate into the room. In the hallway I let out a sigh as I observe other patients being ushered from here to there. The Mental Ward a place now for which I have no reference, I drop my head to save the tears for later. Arriving back to the box Chevy & hopping in we collectively let out howls and barks celebrating the fact that we have accomplished a good deed for our friend Carlos who otherwise seems to have been forgotten. Yes this was my first visit but would not be my last.

Carlos, who just months earlier was All-State High School Quarterback on the State Championship Football Team. Not only that but the brother was being recruited by nearly every major College in the country. Life was promising for the young man until one night out partying and some evil wretch slipped their venom into his drink. And what was strange about this dastardly deed is that Carlos was the son of a Preacher. This dreadful night would be his first time out with the young people having celebratory fun and drinking liquor.

Today, the man spends his time in the day room at the Mental Rehab Center painting pictures all of which he topped with glitter. It is good to see the progression made towards his recovery as life goes on and on.

Later on I discuss what we had done with my grandmother and she confirms that we have indeed done good. She mumbles something barely audible and I pause... she knows that my inquisitiveness will lead to extended worry if she doesn't tell me her thoughts. "Child I was just thinking back to that boy's daddy and how he treated his own family before he became a Preacher. I tell you life has a funny way of turning it all around; but that's enough about that for now, go on in the house before your supper gets cold." My grandmother trails me into the house I hear her mumble out something that would puzzle me for many years to come. I think back to her words that day, "yes son, life demands that every boy will one day grow into men that will answer for their father's sins or face the wraths of their father's demons."