by S A Reid
“Re-hung the doors. Carved in some flourishes. Sanded it down and slapped on a coat of varnish.” Gabriel shrugged with perfectly false modesty.
“Well, you know my Bettie’s expecting,” Buckland said. “The cradle her mum gave us is wooden, older than Queen Victoria and twice as ugly. If I brought it round, could you fix it up? Not necessarily during common time. I might be able to shift your work detail.”
“Of course.”
Buckland grinned. “What’ll it cost?”
Gabriel held up his cigarette. “You know.”
“Doesn’t anyone sleep in this joint?” a man called from further down F-block, prompting Buckland to move along at last.
“You restored furniture for Cranston? Is that how you got me transferred to the gardens?” Joey asked.
“Didn’t have much choice. Cranston doesn’t gamble, doesn’t smoke and doesn’t fancy my pretty face.” Gabriel rose. “Best get back to our bunks.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Joey changed into his pajamas and climbed into the top bunk. Part of him was frustrated that Buckland had interrupted them; part of him was relieved. The moment had been taken from them before he could decide how to respond.
Julia’s letter was gone from his mind. Joey fell asleep thinking of Gabriel’s hands enclosing his, and all the ways he might have answered.
* * *
Next evening, Joey plowed through his supper, rambling about his ideas to improve the vegetable garden’s output. Gabriel only sat and smoked, tray of food untouched. Even his cigarette seemed to bring him little pleasure.
“What is it?” Joey asked.
“Nothing. My dinner went down bad, is all. Had a bellyache ever since.”
“There’s bicarbonate in the infirmary.”
Gabriel held up his left hand with its missing little finger. “I’d prefer to keep all the rest of my parts, thank you.”
Joey, who’d heard the story three times from Lonnie, understood Gabriel’s reluctance to put himself back at Dr. Royal’s mercy. But when Gabriel was no better the next morning, and still worse by the third evening, Joey said, “You can’t go on this way. Your fever must be pushing a hundred. You could die if you aren’t looked after.”
“No man ever died from a bad sandwich.”
“Sure they have. Botulism. Besides, it could be something else. Is all the pain on your right side?”
Gabriel nodded, flinching away when Joey tried to touch him there. He was pale, forehead damp with sweat.
Joey frowned. “Gabe, it could be your appendix.”
“Meaning what?”
Joey tried to think how to say it. “You might need an operation.”
Gabriel’s eyes went wide. “Fuck no. I won’t be put under. Won’t be cut open in my sleep. I’ll die first.”
Getting to his feet, Joey paced restlessly. His own supper weighed heavily on his stomach. The more he thought about Gabriel’s symptoms, the more he worried. A boy in Joey’s home village had died of a burst appendix. Timely intervention was essential; once the infection spread through the gut, death was almost assured.
“Hey! Buckland! Someone!” Joey called, pounding on the bars with a library book. “I need help! I’m sick!”
“Goddamn it,” Gabriel snarled, trying to sit up and failing. “You think it was bad in the showers? I’ll hurt you worse, I’ll fucking kill you, don’t you grass on me, Joey, don’t you tell them—”
Buckland turned up, crumbs from his supper decorating his tie. The moment he saw Gabriel, his expression changed from curiosity to genuine concern. “Cooper? Are you and MacKenna both sick this time?”
Joey nodded. “Think it’s ptomaine. I can’t stop retching. And Gabe can’t even get out of bed.”
“I’m grand, goddamn it,” Gabriel said through his teeth.
“Help me get him up,” Buckland said to Joey, entering the cell with a wary eye on Gabriel.
They advanced on Gabriel together. Dodging Gabriel’s clumsy punch, Joey caught the other man’s arm and twisted it behind his back. Gabriel gasped, eyes bright with tears. Joey knew it wasn’t just the wrestling hold. Gabriel was in so much pain, even he couldn’t hide it.
“Do as I say or I’ll break your arm and drag you to the infirmary,” Joey whispered in Gabriel’s ear. “For once in your life, do the smart thing, not the brave thing.”
Doubled over, Gabriel allowed Joey and Buckland to steer him out of F-block and down two long halls to the infirmary. The small pharmacopeia and surgery was deserted. In the doctors’ private quarters, Dr. Royal was taking his dinner, complete with silver cutlery and sherry. Cursing at the interruption, Dr. Royal started to take Buckland to task for the interruption, then caught sight of Gabriel. Tossing aside his linen napkin, Dr. Royal stood up. The curl to his lips and sudden gleam in his eyes made Joey want to punch him. Instead he rushed to the doctor, clutching his belly.
“I’m bad off, doc! Me first!”
“All in good time,” Dr. Royal said, barely sparing Joey a glance. “MacKenna appears in more urgent need.”
As Dr. Royal pushed past him, Joey jabbed his fingers down his throat. Whirling, he caught Dr. Royal by the shoulder as his entire supper came up. The reeking, half-digested mess sprayed all over the doctor’s white coat, trousers and shoes.
“Oh, Christ! Ben! I need you in here!” Dr. Royal bellowed.
Dr. Harper appeared as Dr. Royal tore off his soiled white coat and threw it at Joey. He stalked off, muttering, to change his clothes as Dr. Harper approached the inmates. Gabriel, now unable to stand even with Buckland’s help, sunk to the floor. Dr. Harper hurried to his side.
“How long has he been like this?” Dr. Harper asked Joey.
“Three days. It’s appendicitis.” Joey didn’t back down from the other physician’s sharp glance. “I’m sure of it.”
“I see. Taught you about appendicitis at Oxford, did they?” Dr. Harper performed a quick exam, ignoring Gabriel’s moans of protest. “Fine diagnosis, Dr. Cooper. But we don’t have the facilities to deal with appendicitis. He’ll need to go to hospital. Buckland! Phone Gerber. Have him pull the car around. It’ll be quicker to take MacKenna direct than to wait on an ambulance.”
“No,” Gabriel whispered, staring up at Joey, eyes pleading.
“Can I go with him?” Joey asked Dr. Harper.
The other doctor blinked in astonishment. “Of course not.”
Joey eased down beside Gabriel. As Dr. Harper went to the window, waiting for the car’s headlights to appear, Joey slid an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders. The other man was trembling.
“It’s all right,” Joey said. “You’ll be in a real hospital far from Dr. Royal. No one will hurt you there.”
“I told you. I hate doctors. My brother Robbie’s crippled because—” Gabriel broke off as another spasm of pain shook him. “I’m afraid, Joey.”
“I know. But I’ve gone with you as far as I can. And I’ll be waiting for you, I promise.”
“Here’s Gerber with the car,” Dr. Harper announced, turning back to Joey and Gabriel, only to glance quickly away again. Surely Dr. Harper was accustomed to such moments – prisoners embracing like brothers or lovers – but he looked embarrassed nonetheless.
“Remember,” Joey said, kissing Gabriel gently on the lips, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
* * *
Gabriel returned to Wentworth four days later. He was walked back to his cell by McCrory and greeted with cheers, lighthearted insults and even a few unlit cigarettes that McCrory dutifully scooped up and delivered. Joey wasn’t there – it was midafternoon, he was still on work detail – so Gabriel eased into the bottom bunk to wait. He could have opted for transfer directly to Wentworth’s infirmary, where he would have been allowed narcotics for his postoperative pain, but vehemently refused. Funny – Gabriel had been outside Wentworth for the first time in nearly six years and all he’d wanted was to get inside again. For better or worse, F-block was his home now.
The sisters at St
. George’s Hospital had been kind. During the worst of his pain, just before surgery and the day following, the ward sister had insisted Gabriel’s leg and wrist shackles be removed. And he’d called out for Joey so often, the sister had done a bit of digging, discovered the whereabouts of Gabriel’s younger brother Joseph, and prevailed upon him to come and visit.
The meeting had begun badly and turned worse. Fr. Joseph MacKenna hadn’t seen or spoken to Gabriel since giving evidence against him at the trial. He’d testified to finding Gabriel sitting blank-faced at the kitchen table, their father dead on the floor, their mother lying unresponsive atop her husband. When asked if his elder brother was often vicious or cruel, Joseph had replied that all men outside the Lord’s influence were sinful. His characterization of Gabriel as a lustful, worldly man had seriously harmed Gabriel’s defense. But Gabriel hadn’t borne Joseph any ill will. Of all Gabriel’s little brothers and sisters, Joseph alone had seen Da dead with a purple face and Mum with a dent in her skull. It wasn’t something any son was likely to forgive.
“They tell me you were calling for me,” Joseph had begun, pursing his lips and twisting his soft pale hands together. He’d grown plump since putting on the dog collar. Like Maureen, Joseph had entered the Body of Christ soon after the murders, but in Joseph’s case, the vows were already planned. And Joseph, unlike Maureen, had never sent Gabriel any letters offering personal forgiveness or prayers for his soul.
“I wasn’t surprised,” Joseph continued. “A brush with death makes even the proudest man crave forgiveness.”
“I wasn’t calling for you. I was calling for Joey. The sisters were confused.”
“I see,” Joseph said, though he clearly didn’t. Perhaps he believed his elevation to the priesthood required him to feign special intellectual powers. “And who is Joey?”
“My cellmate.”
Joseph looked uncomfortable. “Gabriel. I know it must be hell for you in there. But after what you did, you had it coming. I would hope you’ve used your incarceration to study. Meditate. Give your heart to Christ. Not get up to anything … unnatural.”
Gabriel studied Joseph, perceiving him suddenly as an adult stranger, not the little brother who’d loved baking and paper dolls and watching afternoon matinees with his sisters.
“Unnatural, is it?” Gabriel said at last. “I’ll wager you know as much about it as I do. Climbed on your share of boys in seminary, did you?”
Joseph’s pale face went even paler. “You – you monster.”
Gabriel had laughed so hard, his incision site throbbed for hours. “At least I can admit I’m fucking a man,” he’d called as his brother scurried away, black dress flapping. “Come back when you can!”
Gabriel was still chuckling over the memory when Joey arrived. The younger man strolled up to the lower bunk, hands in his pockets and smiling to shame the sun, as Gabriel’s grandmother used to say. The sight was as welcome as Gabriel’s first post-op Pall Mall.
“You’re thinner,” Joey said.
“They cut out part of me and threw it away. Takes a man’s appetite.”
“If I fetch a tray in here, will you eat?”
“Perhaps if you feed me.” Gabriel beckoned. Joey came closer, squatting beside the lower bunk with a hand on the ladder to steady himself.
“Joey. Before the ambulance took me – I’m not proud of how I acted. Came over as a bit of a coward, didn’t I?”
Joey traced the line of Gabriel’s face from temple to jaw, running fingers over the stiff beard growth. “I’ve missed you.”
Gabriel’s stomach dropped. Something about the surgery had heightened his emotions, difficult to manage even in the best of times. His anger frightened him because he was helpless against it. Now he was helpless against this feeling, too. “Come in here with me.”
Gently, Joey slid into the bunk, putting his back to the wall so their bodies touched only on Gabriel’s left side. “Still in pain?”
“God, yes. I don’t care.”
Joey moved close to Gabriel, trying not to lean against him too much. Still, the sutures at Gabriel’s incision site pulled taut. Fresh sweat beaded his forehead. But he slid his arm around Joey and held him tight.
“You saved my life.” Gabriel rested his forehead against Joey’s, keeping their flesh together ’til he was able to continue. “Protected me from my own fool self. Name your price. I’ll keep you safe. But if you want all the rest to end, just say so.”
Raising himself on one elbow, Joey contemplated Gabriel silently. Then his mouth closed over Gabriel’s. Gabriel let himself be kissed, savoring the warmth and wetness, better than any narcotic. Even as his wound stabbed and burned, Gabriel kept kissing Joey hungrily until the other man pulled away.
“I’m hurting you. You need to lie quietly. Rest for a while.”
“I’m fine,” Gabriel groaned.
“Oh, yes, I can see that.” Joey used his sleeve to mop away the perspiration standing out on Gabriel’s face. Pushing back a lock of damp hair, Joey kissed Gabriel’s forehead. “Don’t worry. The price is set. As soon as you’re strong enough, I’ll expect payment.”
* * *
Over the following days Gabriel healed rapidly. Joey attributed this to rest and regular meals; Gabriel attributed it to unrestricted cigarettes and Joey in his bunk each night. Of course, some care had to be taken. Not every guard was like Buckland, indifferent to catching two inmates beneath one blanket. If seen and put on report, both Gabriel and Joey would get the lash. But Gabriel was popular and Joey had also started to make friends among the guards. As long as they weren’t blatant about their activities after lights out, they could continue without fear of reprisal.
Every night after reconfinement, after the overheads went dark and the guards’ first walk-throughs were done, Joey stuffed two pillows beneath his blanket to simulate a sleeping figure. Decoy in place, he climbed into Gabriel’s bunk, remaining there for a few hours each night. Curling against Gabriel’s left side, Joey would rest his head against the other man’s chest. They talked softly in the darkness, pausing now and then to kiss. For Gabriel that was the best part, better even than holding Joey close – kissing him over and over until their lips were slick and sore. One night Gabriel was so intent on the feel of Joey’s tongue against his, the warmth of the other man in his arms, he rolled on top of Joey and kept on kissing him until he realized his side barely ached at all. The tightness in his lower belly, the throbbing need in his cock, outweighed any soreness in his healing wound.
“Name your price,” Gabriel whispered, biting the softness of Joey’s throat and tugging the skin between his teeth.
“It’s something we’ve never tried.” Sliding his lips along Gabriel’s bare chest, Joey caught a nipple between his lips and twisted until Gabriel gave a stifled moan. “Sure you’re up to it?”
“Oh, I’m up.” Gabriel pressed Joey’s hand against his cock. “Is the torch in your bunk?”
“It is.” Extricating himself with a kiss, Joey climbed up the steel ladder, peeled up his mattress and felt beneath it. Before Gabriel could work out why the torch would be stashed there, Joey was back down again, already stripped to his shorts. He tossed the lighted torch onto Gabriel’s bunk and wriggled beneath Gabriel again, soon nude and hard as rock.
“If you mean for me to suck you,” Gabriel said, unable to look away from that lovely cock and almost trembling with readiness, “you’re the first man to ask since Carl Werth. But I promise not to use all my teeth.”
Joey shook his head, smiling the mischievous, self-possessed smile that made secret parts of Gabriel run wild. “Not yet.” Joey revealed what he held in his right hand, a steel tube Gabriel at first mistook for toothpaste or Brylcreem. “Lonnie stole this from the infirmary.”
“Stole it? What did you promise him in return?”
“A kiss.”
Gabriel frowned.
“From you.”
“Oh. Sure and I can manage that, I suppose.” Unscrewing t
he cap, Gabriel squeezed a bit of clear jelly onto his fingers and understood. Covering Joey’s body with his own, Gabriel kissed his lips. “But you said – something we haven’t tried …”
“We haven’t.” Reaching up, Joey cupped Gabriel’s cheek. “What happened before was one stranger attacking another. What happens now is between you and me.”
“Joey.” Gabriel kissed the other man’s earlobe, his jawline, the hollow of his throat. “I can’t hurt you again. I’ll kill myself first.”
“Then go slow. And stop if I tell you.” Joey rubbed the cool, light jelly up and down Gabriel’s cock. Then he spread it between his own legs, working so slowly and thoroughly, Gabriel was transfixed. Lifting himself, Joey took hold of Gabriel and pressed the head of his cock inside as much as he could bear.
“Does it hurt?”
“Oh. Give … give me a moment …” Joey’s eyes locked with Gabriel’s, bright with dawning pleasure as well as pain. “Right.” He took a deep breath, smiling again. “More, Gabe. More.”
Biting his lower lip, Gabriel pushed in. It was easier, much easier than he remembered, partly because of the lubricant, partly because Joey wasn’t fighting with all his strength to keep him out. Still Joey grunted as Gabriel slid inside. Heart pounding wildly, Gabriel stopped. Two needs tore at him – desperation to continue and an overriding desire to protect Joey from everything, even himself.
“More,” Joey whispered, lifting himself and wrapping his legs around Gabriel’s waist.
Closing his eyes, Gabriel pushed forward, groaning at the hot, tight grasp. Then he was inside completely, buried to his balls and rocking gently. Even if Joey couldn’t tolerate firmer strokes, this was perfect. Heaven. The most exquisite pleasure of Gabriel’s life …
Joey made a noise, high and agonized.
“Do you want me out?”
“No,” Joey gasped. “Faster. Much faster.”
Gabriel’s hips began to rock. At first he held Joey close, pressing against the whole of his body, skin to skin, a sheen of sweat between them. Then Gabriel shifted, straightening, and Joey’s moan was a revelation.