Effected Intent

by Alan Ross

  Chapter 9

  Bill Gets a Part Time Job

  Most people looked forward to the weekend, but not Bill, who was stuck in the general population and unable to enjoy the “freedom” of his work in the office. He spent as much time as possible in the library or in the yard working out. He kept himself in good shape as a matter of pride, not for self preservation.

  When Bill first got to the prison he was in good physical condition but was no match for the lifers and other hard core prisoners who spent as much time as possible on their prison bodies. He found himself in some very uncomfortable situations the first few months inside, including one very ugly incident where three large men tried to take advantage of him in the shower. Bill had found like a trapped animal and in the end had not given in to their desires but had suffered three broken ribs and needed seventy four stitches to repair the damage. He had put two of his attackers into the prison clinic, one for an extended period of time with a rupture. After that he had started to trade food, cigarettes and other prison currency for protection. His parents were so shocked by what had happened they made sure to provide enough that Bill wouldn’t be hurt like that again.

  Over time Bill grew a reputation as someone who could help inmates get information, work on their appeals and learn. His favorite place was the prison library and before moving to the prison office he spent most of the week in the library and earned a lot of favors for it. When new prisoners arrived, they were quickly warned that Bill was a good ally to have and not to be fucked with.

  He was stuffed when the dinner bell rang but went to the dining hall with the rest of the general population, knowing that he could give his food away tonight, especially after Kathy had filled him to the gills on steak and pie. There was not much talk at the prison dinner table, most inmates introspective or weary of casting their eyes in the wrong direction. After dinner he sat on his bed and read until lights out, thinking about the job and what he was going to do next week, excited that Margie was coming back. Bill dwelled on what it was like to hold the baby, thinking that it was the first time in his life that had happened. Most of his old friends were already parents and he was an uncle a couple times over from Ellie and her husband Brad, who still lived in Westfield, not far from the house where he grew up. Lights out came too soon, as always, the silence broken periodically by the sound of guards’ heels on the floor or the odd prisoner muttering in their sleep. Bill was up for some time, his mind swarming about babies, his own stunted life and what the weekend would bring. He thought about visitors and hoped that someone would come see him. It was getting rarer and rarer every year as people continued to move on with their lives. Bill understood but still took the time to write to his Mom and sister at least once a week and still sent mail to some of his other old friends, though most of them never wrote back. He usually wrote Dana a letter a few times a year and she came to see him about once a year. She had married a doctor when she was in medical school and had two small children. He pined for the future they had talked about together though he wasn’t naïve enough to think that she did the same. Bill was trapped in an emotional time warp, scarred and ripped in two for the things he had done and forever stuck in halted relationships that had no way to continue due to death or immediate physical separation that a life in prison brings.

  Saturday started off normally, Bill joined the general population for breakfast and forced himself to eat. The table was abnormally talkative, many of the guys expecting visitors. “You got anyone coming this weekend Miller?”

  “Angelina Jolie was going to stop by but Brad found out and now she’s not coming, guess I’m stuck again.”

  A couple of guys chuckled at that one and went on talking about seeing their wives, girlfriends, parents and kids. William Thomas, a giant of a man, came over and plopped down hard next to Bill. “Miller, I need to speak with you. Talked to the PD about my appeal and they said the work that we did was really good, might actually have a chance this time.” Thomas was serving multiple life sentences for a crime he claimed not to have committed. This was standard in prison but Bill had become good friends with him over the past ten years and didn’t think he had it in him, even in anger. The evidence was being looked at again and the Public Defender was pushing to use DNA and see if they could exonerate Thomas from the crime. Bill had worked many hours on some of the appeal language to get him a court appointed attorney. If William got released from prison Bill knew he’d have at least one visitor.

  “That’s great news about the appeal, how long for the DNA test?”

  “A few weeks, can do that time sitting on my head. We working out today? Heard it was raining outside so we either go to the gym or the weight room.”

  They made small talk while they worked out, mostly pushing each other. Bill had tried to get William into the prison office but hadn’t been successful, hopefully he’ll be saying goodbye to him. As they worked out, Bill thought about getting out, something that he knew he’d never really pursue but at the same time a dream that he needed to cling to in order to survive the years inside. There was talk that he could get parole based on his behavior and record in the prison but he thought that getting a life after he had taken two that mattered so much to him seemed unfair. Many people tried to change his opinion of the situation but he couldn’t get his head around it.

  He worked himself hard, enjoying the pain that his body felt. William worked out four or five days a week and could probably bench press a bus. They were almost through with the last set of curls when one of the guards called him over. “Miller, report to the warden’s office immediately.”

  William looked at Bill to see if he knew anything but Bill just shrugged and walked toward the guard. He asked for time to shower but was denied. He wondered what it could be about and prayed that it wasn’t something about his family. The warden had a notebook in his hand and told Bill to take a seat.

  “We are expanding our recycling business and I want you to supervise the Saturday crew. I know that you work Monday through Friday so if you want to trade one of your work days for a free day I will talk to Don about it. I need someone I can trust to make sure the work goes smoothly on the weekend and we’re supposed to be supplementing the workforce with inmates where possible.”

  “I can pick up the Saturday on top of what I have already, will let you know if it becomes too much. What’s the job about?”

  “We receive paper, plastics and cardboard from local companies and make some money by sorting the raw material and getting it ready for pickup.”

  “Sounds pretty straightforward, warden.”

  “It is but sometimes there are metal objects that get put in the containers for plastic or paper. I need someone who will keep an eye on things so we don’t have someone crafting shivs out of soup cans while they’re supposed to be working. We have metal detectors at the door but a lot can happen in a work area. Your job is to make sure the work is moving along and notify the guards of any suspicious behavior.”

  “When do I start?”

  “Next Saturday, right after breakfast. You’ll have about an hour to get settled before the other workers come in for the day. That’s all.”

  “Thanks warden.” Bill went back to the gym and worked out some more, missing lunch but not caring. He ate very little during the weekend. His muscles ached and he was drenched in sweat but felt clean. After the longest shower in memory Bill went to the library to see if there were any new fiction novels. He had the Scudder book from Don but was only reading a chapter a night so wanted something else to fill the time. He liked John Sandford’s ‘Prey’ books, which talked about life in Minnesota. Bill enjoyed reading fiction that was set in different places around the U.S., especially since he’d seen so little of it in his life.

  Bill talked to the librarian, Doug Sales, an introvert who had worked at the prison for longer than Bill had been there. Doug was hard to get to know but an invaluable friend. He had befriended a number of inmates and had helped Bill acc
limate to prison life and provided him a safe place to be for a large percentage of his first few years. Doug was friends with Don Nelson and after seeing Bill’s talents and passion with computers had been the one who suggested Bill move to the office, knowing that while it was still in the prison it felt a step closer to freedom.

  Don had been skeptical of bringing a prisoner to the office and had set up Bill by coming to the library seeking computer assistance, telling Bill he’d heard about his reputation. Bill spent the better part of an hour working with Don, explaining in terms that made sense and even going beyond the request to suggest some software that would automate some of the trivial business items that the prison office faced. At the end of the discussion Don offered Bill the job. Bill was torn because of the relationship he had with Doug but was promised that if the office job didn’t work out he could come back to the library. That was almost fifteen years ago now and Bill had never regretted the move.

  “Hi Doug, any new fiction for me?”

  “That’s a fine ‘how do you do’, Arthur.” Doug had a habit of calling Bill Arthur after the famous writer Arthur Miller, who was one of Doug’s favorites.

  “Sorry Doug, have a lot on my mind. The warden just gave me a Saturday job working in the recycling area. Too bad I can’t earn any extra lights time with it instead of the few cents per hour they pay me.”

  “Not much I can do about that but I do have a few new books that I kept aside because I knew you’d be by eventually.” Doug smiled and handed Bill three new books, a Sandford, a Neal Stephenson and a Stephen King. They spent the next few minutes making small talk and then Doug said he needed to get back to work. Bill hung around until dinner time, making the most of the pass that the warden had provided when he asked to see him. Bill spent some time at the computer working on a spreadsheet to track the things he was working on and needed to research. He wanted to come into the recycling job prepared. The actual research would need to wait because the library computers weren’t connected to the outside world. Printout in hand he said goodbye to Doug and went on his way.

  Sunday was a boring day for Bill, with limited yard time and another round of going to the prison cafeteria three times. He gave away too much food in anticipation of a new work week and was starving as he tried to read before lights out. He wrote a long letter to his mom and another to his sister, both of them long and probably repeats of things he’d written in the past. It was a good elixir to put his life on paper, even if it was repetitious. Bill had considered writing some fiction but thought he was more suited to code development, found it hard to put a few sentences together into something that didn’t put the reader to sleep. His mind kept drifting to Cathy’s new nickname for him. He wondered if Jack was going to stick, like it had through college. His dreams were random and there were flashes of life in college, Dana, Mike and what might have been.