May We Be Forgiven

says. “If a man makes it through two days, chances are he’ll do well. We’ve only had to pull one man out.”
    “Does George know about all of this?”
    “Yes,” the medical director says. “We’ve talked it through.”
    “I showed him the photos,” Walter Penny says.
    “We met privately and discussed the legal ramifications earlier this morning.”
    “What does he think?” I ask.
    “To be fair,” the medical director says, “there are some mixed emotions.”
    “Which would seem reasonable,” Manny adds.
    “Does he know that I’m here now?”
    “Yes,” the medical director says. “Would you like to see him, or are you afraid?”
    I say nothing and just stare at the man.
    “It’s a question, isn’t it?” he says.

    T he meeting ends with Walter Penny once again shaking hands, and, oddly, I congratulate him on his innovative project, his spirit, and his drive.
    “We get the job done,” he says.
    I couldn’t be more different from Walter Penny, but, inexplicably, I like him; he’s the kind of guy you want to have on your team when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, when your plane crashes into a snowy mountain. …
    George is in his room, alone. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”
    I sit at the edge of his bed.
    “I’m fucked,” he says again, loudly. “And I’m not medicated. Over the last month, they’ve been cutting me back, taking me down, so now it’s just me, au naturel. I’m fucked,” he repeats.
    “Maybe there’s another way to look at it?”
    He glares at me.
    “Kind of like a Get Out of Jail Free card?” I suggest.
    “You’re an idiot,” George says.
    “Well, it’s not jail and it’s not a nuthouse.”
    “They’re fucking feeding me to the wolves,” George says.
    “I’m not sure now’s the moment to say it, but I never trusted your lawyer. He’s in bed with the medical director of this place.”
    “They’re not in bed—they’re related, you idiot,” George says.
    “I’m just not sure they have your best interests in mind.”
    “So now, at the eleventh hour, I should get a new lawyer.”
    “It would buy you some time.”
    “I’m fucked,” he says, panicking. “They’re sending me out into the wilderness, into the cold night, to live among men worse than animals.”
    “It’s spring, George. Every day it’s going to be warmer and warmer, and every night it’ll be warmer too—it’s getting on to summer, George. Think of how you always wanted to go camping. Remember you loved Yogi Bear and all that—and hated that we didn’t have a real backyard.”
    “This isn’t fucking Jellystone Park we’re talking about. They shot a chip into the back of my neck and gave me a tetanus shot—my arm is hot like a baseball—tomorrow I get a rabies vaccine.”
    “Well, George, your options are limited. Try it—if you don’t like it, we’ll see what else there is.”
    “Were you always this stupid?” George says, looking me in the eye. “I remember you as dim-witted, but not so moronic.”
    “I don’t know what to say. Do you want to hear a bit about my life, about the kids, Tessie, and the kittens?”
    “Who the fuck is Tessie?”
    “Your dog.”
    “Oh,” he says—like now it makes sense.
    “She’s doing well.”
    George nods.
    “And the children seem to be finding their way.” Again he nods. “Look, George, I know this isn’t easy. It’s an odd situation, with this place closing and the idea of this nontraditional program, but, seriously, maybe you can make something of it. You have done things that none of these guys have ever done. Okay, so maybe they stole stuff, you’ve certainly done that; they’ve murdered, so have you. But how many of them held a job for years, how many of them ever ran a television network?”
    It’s like I’m giving him a pep talk, convincing him that he can get back in the ring, he can go another round—it’s not all over yet. “You’re as big and bad as any of the men out there—remember when you bit me?”
    “By accident,” he says.
    “It wasn’t an accident, you tore off flesh.”
    George shrugs.
    “My point is, you can do this. Remember when we used to wear Dad’s old army uniforms and play in the basement? You are Colonel Robert E. Hogan.”
    George quotes a line from Hogan’s Heroes.
    “That’s it.”
    George quotes another line.
    “That’s the spirit. You can do this. Don’t think long-term—think about it like an Outward Bound summer camp. And we’ll take it