The Ninth Step by Grant Jerkins Page B

healthy.”
    “True. It’s probably not. But it’s really none of your business. And why do you
need
to help someone?”
    “It’s not that I need to. It’s, well, I’m in recovery. In a program.And anything that you feel bad about, that worries you, nags at you, you have to address it, take care of it.”
    “I told you, there was nothing you could have done. And you said the ambulance was right behind you anyway. I forgive you. Now please leave.”
    “Let me help you.”
    “I asked you to leave.”
    The woman crossed her arms and just stood there. Edgar picked up the telephone. He made an elaborate show of dialing 9 and 1—leaving his thumb poised over the final 1.
    “You have three seconds to vacate.”
    The woman’s hands rose in a warding-off gesture, and she slowly backed out the door.

32
FULL OF POTENTIAL
    Edgar held his crisply folded sack lunch in one hand and a thick book in the other. There was something about walking down a school hallway when it was empty between classes. It seemed so full of potential.
    The illusion of solitude was spoiled. Up ahead, he saw four boys scuffling around an open locker. As he drew closer, Edgar saw Jack Mendelson and two of his cronies. They all wore denim clothes and leather work boots. Standard issue. As usual, Martin Kosinski was at the center of it all. They saw Edgar coming and pushed Martin into the nearby boys’ bathroom.
    Edgar paused at the bathroom door. He could hear muffled taunts. Edgar looked at the book in his right hand.
Crime and Chaos Theory.
There was a time that he believed his interventions could save Martin. But not now. Not now.

33
RIGID ANGLES AND
BRIGHT PRIMARY COLORS
    Surrounded by his charts, graphs, equations, and bifurcation maps, Edgar sat in his living room on Saturday afternoon, reading. There was no sound other than the faint humming of the refrigerator compressor—punctuated with the occasional dropping of ice cubes from the ice maker.
    He was using five highlighters of differing colors to carefully mark passages he found of particular importance. Chaos and crime was an emerging science, and comparatively very little had been written about it. It consumed his waking hours. Even Edgar was aware that it had become an obsession. Not healthy, he’d been recently told.
    He uncapped the red pen and highlighted a passage:
It takes but a small change in everyday factors to bring about victimization.The victim may desire to not be a victim. Remember, chaos cannot be predicted, but it can be controlled to an extent.
    Edgar heard a vehicle outside. He had ordered a new textbook from a publisher in the United Kingdom and was eager to receive it. It had been quite expensive, and Edgar was afraid that he would have to sell one of his better puzzle boxes on eBay to cover his bills. He peeked through the curtain, hoping to see the familiar brown color of UPS, but instead saw a black Honda Insight. It was that woman.
    Edgar watched her emerge from her car carrying a casserole dish and head for the front steps. He crossed over to the front door and opened it before she could ring the bell. Edgar looked the woman in the eye, calmly shook his head no, and closed the door in her face.
    At suppertime, Edgar decided to go pick up something from a fast-food drive-through. He opened his front door and found the casserole dish sitting on the top step. He stepped over it and continued on his way.
    The next day, upon arriving home from the grocery store, Edgar found that the casserole and dish had been replaced with a fresh one. He stepped over it and continued on into his house.
    After school on Monday, he found yet another casserole dish awaiting him. He picked it up and considered it a moment. He then hurtled it out into the street, where it smashed.
    To the empty street he yelled, “Leave me alone!”
    He would have to clean up the mess himself, but for now, for the moment, the violent gesture brought him comfort. Afterthat, Edgar took to picking up the