It’s no secret that I’m a big EJD fan. So, I was all too excited to read this short story of his and I was not disappointed. Here’s the thing about reading short stories in general. They must hook readers from the start, weave a compelling story then leave readers with a bang or a surprise twist at the end. With that being said, let’s take a look at how EJD worked his magic in writing this short story which was previously published in the 2006 anthology Voice from the Other Side.
From the very beginning, when readers are introduced to Harlem, we see a killer who was “boxed up and shipped” to a mental facility after beating a murder charge due to insanity. He spent his time reading newspapers, Shakespeare, and Iceberg Slim. He was drawn to Daphane, a nurse whom he described as a “cute, caramel-flavored, thin sister, who always gave a sincere smile back” at him. She was also one of two women of color in the facility. The other woman, Phyllis, Harlem didn’t like much and described her as a “funny-shaped sister with the atrocious, rough skin that made her look like a nappy-headed Gila monster.”
Harlem was plagued by nightmares of beatings as a child and so he would lash out in a violent way. All this came out in therapy with Dr. Brewster whom Harlem described as a “fat-assed, cigarette-smelling, Grizzly Adams-bearded, Bozo-bald counselor.” Harlem hated Dr. Brewster and in the back of his mind, Brewster would become his next “one eighty-seven.”
Fast forward and we see Daphane sharing personal details about her life and wanting to get away from her husband. She then proposes to run away with Harlem and plans his getaway. And that’s where things turn interesting and ends with a twist that completely blindsided me.
EJD created a multi-layered character who was funny yet dangerous. Overall, this thrilling short story had me hooked and honestly, I wouldn’t mind reading a full story about Harlem. Two thumbs up!
Here are my favorite lines:
Doc Brewster was trying this hypno bullshit on me. I was supposed to regress, go way back into my past, and see what else has me so jacked up that I behaved the way I did now. He kept calling me Ronnie, and they knew how I felt about that name. If I didn’t have these thick leather strap on my arms, I’d choke the life out of him. But I couldn’t, because whatever shot they just gave me left me too weak. I was fading.
“Ronnie?”
“My name is Harlem. Can’t you remember? Harlem. H-A-R-L-E-M. Harlem.”
“Right, right. I apologize, Harlem. I’m sorry; I was reading off your charts.”
“That’s all right. I’m sorry for going off in front of you, Daphane.”
Daphane smiled. “That’s okay, Harlem. Don’t be too mean today, okay? I had a rough night last night. Just do what Doctor Brewster asks, and I’ll sit down with you and we’ll look at yesterday’s newspaper.”