An announcement: ‘Lockdown! Everybody lockdown!’
Max returns to his cell. I shut the door and watch the yard empty. Medical staff emerge from downstairs with Midnight on a stretcher. When Midnight doesn’t return, rumours of his death circulate, but he shows up days later.
I check on him. ‘What the hell happened?’
‘I’d just finished taking a piss and my left leg went completely dead,’ Midnight says, sitting on his bunk, smoking. ‘I fell against the counter and cut my eye. They did an MRI and said my sciatic nerve’s being pinched. Then they sent me to House 9; I demanded to leave there. They brought me back here, but a captain said, “We were told your life’s in danger on Yard 1. How much money do you owe for drugs?” I said, “I don’t owe nothing for drugs. I just owe two honey buns.” He wanted to send me to lockdown, but I told him I wasn’t in any danger, so he had me sign a waiver saying DOC isn’t responsible if I get killed.’
‘Did you check your stool for blood?’
‘It’s full of blood every day. I’m seeing clots on the toilet paper now.’
‘Did you tell Medical?’
‘Yeah. They told me to submit a request. I ain’t doing that so they can charge me $3. Fuck them.’
‘But it’s your life on the line.’
‘I don’t care. I’m 42 years old. I’ve lived a good life. I’ll be out of here if I die and I’ll never have to worry about coming back. I believe there’s another life as well as this one. As long as I don’t wake up in hell, I’ll be OK.’
‘When are you getting out?’
‘My TR is 19 January 2008,’ he says, referring to a 90-day-early temporary release. ‘My ERC is 5 April,’ he says, referring to an early release credit date, usually 85 per cent of a sentence. ‘But to get my TR, I’ve got to have a residence approved and I don’t have one. I have no family or friends on the streets.’
‘Can you go to a shelter for the homeless?’
‘Not on a TR. I’d have to wait till April for my ERC.’
‘Hopefully this time the cops won’t steal your $50 gate money.’
‘What’s fifty bucks gonna get me? You can’t make it on $50. I have to buy socks and underwear as soon as I get out. Then I’ll have to go to McDonald’s or Burger King. And then I’ll be broke.’
‘And then what?’
‘I dunno. My social security disability will start, but it’ll be a month or two before I can receive a cheque, and I can’t get a cheque unless I have an address, and I can’t afford to pay rent until I get a cheque. I can get a PO Box with my cheque, but that’ll cost almost half of my $50 gate fee.’
‘What if someone had a place for you to stay on the basis you would pay them rent when your cheques come in?’
‘That would work for my TR, but I won’t get a cheque till March.’
‘Where would the residence need to be?’
‘I’d like to try and stay here in Tucson, if possible. I’d like to give it a fresh start. But I can go anywhere that’ll have me within the state of Arizona, as long as the person whose house it is isn’t a felon. They would have to agree that there would be no alcohol, drugs or firearms in the residence.’
‘So, if I put something on the internet in the hope of finding you a place in Arizona—’
‘I’d get out in January instead of April,’ he says, smiling. ‘The person would have to send a letter saying I could stay there, and I’d give it to my counsellor, and he’d give it to the parole people, and they’d verify it with the person. Then they’d go to the residence, make sure there’s a room I can sleep in and that they agree to the conditions of parole.’
‘So any person in Arizona could do this?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much rent could you afford?’
‘I’ll pay $500 or $600 monthly out of my disability cheque. I’ll be getting $917 a month. But I’ll need some for clothes, food and eventually a car ’cause I wanna be able to return to work. That’s my goal. If I have a phone number to be contacted at, I’ll be able to find a job. If I leave in April, I’ll be homeless. The parole officer will give me a listing of shelters, but it won’t be easy getting my life together from a homeless shelter.’
Hoping to help Midnight, I put his story on the internet with a request for someone to house him. My parents google other options in Tucson and mail printouts of places that take prisoners. Barry, Claudia’s father, offers to house Midnight, but, wanting to stay closer to Tucson, Midnight contacts and is accepted by a place my parents google. The success inspires me to keep blogging pleas for help for Slingblade – getting him released would make me happier than all of the money I ever made in the stock market.
56
Walking to Visitation, I brace to hear Jade describe her wedding. Even though it’s going to hurt, I shall muster enthusiasm. She’s done so much for me, I must be the best friend possible. Entering the room, I spot her at a table, staring anxiously, a peculiar sadness in her eyes.
I hug her. ‘What’s the big news?’ I ask, sitting down.
‘I don’t know where to begin,’ she says.
‘What’s the matter?’
She scans the surrounding tables to see if anyone’s listening and says in a low, mournful tone, ‘I called the wedding off at the last minute.’
‘Holy shit! Why?’ I ask, shocked, surprised, wondering about the implications.
Sniffing, she rubs below an eye. ‘I guess I was more in love with the idea of getting married than actually getting married to Theo. Not that I didn’t love him. I did with all my heart. It’s sad because I never thought that he truly loved me. Maybe he did in his own way, but he was such a …’ She breaks down sobbing. I fight the urge to reach out and hold her, as I don’t want the visit to be ended by the guards. ‘He wanted the best of both worlds. It felt like he wanted his whore in the bedroom and his house-cleaning-cooking Stepford wife. We got our marriage licences. We did our Catholic Church requirements. I thought it brought us close together. In the back of his head, he obviously wasn’t thinking that. We got into a really big argument before we met the priest. It had to do with the selection of prayers. Out of all of the really nice prayers—’ her voice cracks ‘—he wanted me to include: “So Sarah called Abraham her master and it was a reflection upon him how she conducted herself and dressed herself. She dressed humbly in front of her master and the Lord.” It went on for two paragraphs, Shaun, about how I was to be subservient to him. I have to wonder what was truly going on in the back of his head because a month before the wedding it was only me and my family who had tickets. That’s why I kept the wedding ring. I told him my family and I had incurred all this cost, which equated to the cost of the ring.’
Stunned, I try to imagine her disappointment. ‘You poor thing. I can’t believe the bastard put you through that. How did it actually end?’ I ask, gripped by the saga.
‘He called me at two o’clock in the morning and said we had to chat. He said it wasn’t right for me to stipulate that we were going to move to the US, then he changed the length of time we needed to stay in the UK – from three years to five years to seven years. I said OK, if he felt he needed that much time, but that I did want to move back eventually. I felt he was trying to back out of the one promise he’d made. After that I told him I needed some space. I was gutted. I had to return wedding presents on the verge of tears and had to explain to 200 people what had happened … I’m so sorry that I haven’t written or visited you more.’
‘Don’t worry about that. You’ve had a lot to deal with. I’m just glad you’re here.’
Jade sniffs on a napkin and stops crying. I console her more. She says she’s going to keep visiting. I return to my cell with my suppressed feelings for her reigniting. Later on, I write:
I just awoke from a nap. After seeing you, I got back to my cell and tried to read, but the words weren’t registering because my mind kept reverting to your visit. I became overwhelmed by an urge to sleep, so I locked the door, buried myself unde
r a blanket, hugged a pillow (the closest substitute to you) and fell into a spacey pre-sleep with the kind of relaxed feeling Xanax gives you before you nod off. The tension of prison went away. I slipped into the happiest of naps. The last thing I was thinking about was the magic you brought me today. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you are. Those big eyes. Those full lips. The heart-shaped face dappled with freckles. And your wit and good nature and whatever it is that is so relaxing about you. When we hugged and I filled my lungs with the scent of your neck, I felt so at home. I’m still half asleep writing this, but I wanted to get it down to capture my emotions. Thanks for another lovely visit. You looked as striking as ever. I shall be thinking about you often. I hope the sadness you’re experiencing due to recent events quickly lifts.
57
In a blue-and-white-striped polo shirt and tan trousers, Dr Owen looks more like a stockbroker about to play golf than a therapist. He has two new books: The Human Mind Explained and The Executive Brain. He examines my homework:
What I was thinking when I was high on drugs at raves and how I presently think about these actions.
On drugs at a rave: I’m having the time of my life. Everyone is having fun. My friends are behaving as bizarre as can be. There are thousands dancing to electronic beats, European style. I’m getting hugged and thanked for organising the party and supplying Ecstasy. I’m excited about the after-party I’m throwing, and the extremes of human behaviour and drug-taking that will happen. My wife is kissing a girlfriend, turning me on. I’m high on GHB, Special K and Xanax. I’m starting to feel the hit of Ecstasy. I’m rushing. My skin feels warm and fuzzy. I can’t stop smiling. Life is divine. The music and my heartbeat are moving in sync. Gooseflesh is rippling across my skin. Just breathing, tasting air, I feel so alive. I never want it to end.
How I think now: At the rate I partied, I’m lucky to be alive. That lifestyle starts out as fun but leads to trouble and incarceration. I was emotionally immature. I’ve developed other interests I enjoy, such as writing. I hope to use my knowledge in positive ways and to help prisoners. No more drugs and wild partying. Incarceration was meant to happen to force me to grow up, educate me and to show me the error of my ways. To accomplish positive things, I can’t screw up my decision-making processes, otherwise I won’t succeed in life or as a writer.
‘It seems,’ Dr Owen says, staring up from the paper, ‘you’ve compared and contrasted your present thoughts with your past actions. You’ve realised if you go back to partying it’s not going to do you any good. You’ll also have to look more closely at the decisions that led you to the substance-abuse lifestyle.’
‘Earlier in my life when I felt shy, drugs enabled me to socialise. I figured I’d do them for fun, mostly on the weekends, and quit whenever I wanted.’
‘Do you consider yourself a drug addict?’
‘No,’ I say, insulted. ‘I’m not a heroin addict who wakes up and sticks a needle in his arm, who has to get high every day or else feels ill. I was a functional recreational drug user. I’d party all weekend and work on the weekdays.’
Dr Owen shakes his head. ‘Addiction is when doing drugs interferes with your ability to function. When doing drugs interferes with your life. Take a look around you. Where are you right now?’
‘Prison.’
‘What brought you here?’
‘Choosing to do drugs.’ For the first time ever my denial is lifted. I realise I am a drug addict – and have been for over a decade. I blush with embarrassment, yet feel empowered: identifying my addiction will enable me to find a solution.
‘If you weren’t addicted to drugs, you wouldn’t be here. You have a narrow view. Acknowledging your addiction exists is difficult for you. You must look at it in terms of how you would introduce yourself at an AA meeting: “I’m Shaun. I’m a drug addict. I’ve been clean and sober for so many years.” Have you read any Patañjali?’
‘I’ve read Patañjali’s aphorisms. There was a commentary about them in the Siddha Yoga lesson I did. It mentioned stilling the thought waves or tendencies of the mind. I can learn that stuff for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts flooding my mind when I get emotional or anxious.’
‘Such as?’
‘An example would be a recent visit I had from a female. I was so happy I was thinking about her for hours. Is that manic-ness?’
‘Actually, it’s normal. When you’re deprived of female contact, you’re going to have a tremendous physiological response. It feels good. It’s a great thing. Yadda-yadda. In the emotional context, neurotransmitters are being released. It can feel quite intrusive. It’s not necessary to get rid of those thoughts. You just need to be aware, to be able to observe them run from fantasy to fantasy. What the prisoner deprived of female contact experiences is similar to how teenagers react. How you reacted in your earlier lifestyle led you to being in here. You’ve got to learn how to analyse data in every situation. If you don’t factor in your previous mistakes, you’ll repeat those mistakes. How did you analyse stocks?’
‘I’d analyse data: moving-averages of price, volume, that kind of stuff,’ I say excitedly. ‘I’d review thousands of charts, read annual reports, especially the notes, look at various financial ratios and come up with a shortlist of stocks I felt had a high probability of success.’
‘When you were running the maths, how did you feel?’
‘I had tunnel vision. Nothing else existed. That worked well. I got rich, but I self-destructed.’
‘Did you read about Warren Buffet giving all that money to Bill Gates?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why do you think Buffet has done so well?’
‘He’s a natural. He had an excellent mentor, Benjamin Graham. He must be an expert in forensic accountancy, but, more importantly, he must be a master of his own psychology.’
‘Are you familiar with where he lives? Omaha, Nebraska?’
‘It’s folksy.’
‘There’s cornfields. It’s rural, agricultural, a small-town environment. Buffet eats at the same places and he’s approachable. He hasn’t succumbed to the trappings of power. He said it’s easy to make money but hard to give it away responsibly.’
‘For me, it was easy to make money, but then I’d go nuts.’
‘That’s why you have to look at the reasons, understand the road map, watch for the danger signals, blinking lights, cabarets, dancing girls, whatever.’
‘So, was my happiness over the visit a danger signal?’
‘Most guys think with their little head. Do you have a penchant for that?’
‘I did in the past. But the visit wasn’t about that. We’re intellectual equals. I was engrossed in conversation, electrified by her personality. It was reassuring to feel that good sober around her.’
‘Then in situations like that you just need to be aware of your chattering little monkey mind. In relationships in general you need to apply the analytical discipline you apply to stock selection. Here’s what I’m seeing: with yoga, you’re doing well with your spiritual side; with stocks, your pragmatic side seems fine. It’s the emotional side you’re having problems with.’
‘I do have a deficit there. My mum and sister want to put their seal of approval on future girlfriends. In the past, I’ve chosen the wrong partners; my depressions and increased drug-taking came about during break-ups. I never realised I should step back and analyse potential partners with the discipline I analyse stocks.’
‘When it comes to relationships, you’ve got your ratios all wrong. For homework, I’d like you to write down your awareness of who you were, who you are and who you’re going to be.’
In my cell, I struggle with being labelled an addict. Some of the books I’ve read compare addiction to a lifelong disease, with the addict at constant risk of relapse. When I’m 60 years old, will I be fighting the urge to take Ecstasy and go raving with glow sticks? That’s ridiculous. Am I really going to have to be on guard for the rest of my life? Will people cr
oss the road because they see me, the drug addict, walking towards them? The more I dwell on it, the more the word ‘addict’ puts a bad taste in my mouth. But I can’t dismiss it either. I’m surrounded by its reality. Over 90 per cent of my neighbours are injecting drugs. The cycle of addiction is too hard to break for most of them. Even with hepatitis C shrinking their livers and lifespans, addiction rules their lives. I constantly see prisoners getting released with high hopes only to relapse and return to prison – almost by design to keep the prison industries in business. If the end of the road for addicts is prison and death, it’s a road I’m not going down any further. Having dealt drugs, I’m ashamed for sending people down a road of misery and devastation. I can’t reverse my past, but I’ll never deal or do drugs again. Perhaps I can use my experience to steer others from that road.
How can I analyse my relationship with Jade through the cold lens of stock-market discipline? She’s a woman, not a set of numbers on a computer screen. Even though I agreed with Dr Owen, my emotional side tosses rationality out of the window when it comes to her. I hate to see her suffering, but the split with Theo is my lucky break. If I play it cool, I might lose her again. I can’t allow that to happen. Maintaining a relationship from prison is hard. I need to do everything possible to keep her close in this final year before my release.
58
Wielding a stick, Two Tonys – in sunglasses, an orange smock and a baseball cap – strides through Yard 1’s gate and heads for the basketball court, where inmates surround him. Excited, I join the crowd.
‘Two Tonys! What the fuck are you doing here?’ Max yells.
‘I’m down here to run this yard, motherfucker.’ Two Tonys canes his left palm. ‘Don’t start no shit and there won’t be no shit. My school teacher, Sister Teresa – God rest her soul – used to whack me in the head with a stick like this.’
Prison Time Page 24