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Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison

Page 19

by T. J. Parsell


  "Nice shot."

  "Thanks." I smiled.

  He looked at me for a long moment.

  "I can talk to Slide Step, if you'd like," I said, trying to reconcile any ill feelings between us. He shrugged and returned his gaze out the window. "Are you sure you don't want to play?"

  He shook his head again. "Thanks, though."

  When Slide Step returned, we went immediately to his room and under the bed. Since I was leaving the next day, I knew he wanted me, but this time was different. Sex with him was still an obligation, but at least lately he had jerked me off while he fucked me, which helped ease the pain-or at least helped take my mind off getting fucked. But this time, he didn't touch my dick, and I was afraid to ask why.

  Each thrust seemed to have an edge of desperation to it. It was as if he held on, for as long as he could, to make each small movement last forever. He kissed my neck, and sniffed my hair. My sweat mixed with his and hung in the air. As always, he was gentle. His lips and scratchy stubble, felt warm on the side of my face.

  When he was done, I laid there looking deeply at him while he stared back at me. There was a wide range of expression in his eyes. They glittered, like the time he looked up at me from the baseball diamond and called me Squeeze for the first time. They were intense, like when he chased me to my room and slammed me against the locker and then stuck his tongue down my throat. I remembered how I first struggled uncomfortably as the object of his stare. I didn't understand what he was asking for, when he talked about his feelings for me. Though I still wasn't sure, I knew he kept me safe and that nothing bad ever happened to me under his watchful eye. At least not yet, anyway. Did he know about Scatter? I couldn't tell. His eyes were shining on me now, as we spent these last few moments together.

  "I know I'll be back," I said. "You'll see."

  In spite of everything I'd told to myself earlier about not wanting to cone back. In that moment-I really did. I felt cared about, and maybe I was feeling grateful to him.

  His expression looked sad again, and I wished I could do something to ease him.

  "You know I'm gonna miss you," he said.

  I didn't know what to say. His mood suddenly felt heavy.

  "Did you hear what I said?"

  I nodded, but I wanted to check out, because I still didn't know how to handle his feelings. Goodbyes were never easy for me, especially after my mom left us behind. I think Slide Step may have felt the same way since his mom essentially did the same thing to him-even though he never told me this directly. There was a tenderness we both felt, but some things could never be expressed in prison-no matter what was going on.

  I wasn't always a quick read of people, and I was still operating from the haze of my youth, but the danger of prison was teaching me to pay close attention to subtleties. I usually captured certain gestures in people and then recorded it in my head. I would study them, become aware of their moods and expressions-mostly to see if there was danger-but then I'd slip away again. I'd go off into my thoughts and fantasies, to my own world where things were different. But even then, on some level, part of me was still paying attention. I'd pick up on what was said, or not said, even though I wasn't thinking about it at the time. I'd record it, like on an eight-track tape, and then listen to the threads later on, when I thought it was safe. But something sad was registering in Slide Step's eyes, and maybe it was because I was leaving, and they were right-I wasn't coming back here. I wondered what Slide Step would do after I was gone, and that's when the idea came to me: What about Brett?

  "What about Brett?" Slide Step said.

  "Well, I was thinking that maybe you and he could get together. Who knows if Chet will ever get out of the hole, and Brett's going to need somebody to protect him."

  "I can't believe you're talking to me about hooking up with Brett," Slide Step said. "Isn't Brett your boy?"

  I smiled and looked down.

  "You seemed to have gotten over him pretty fast. What happened?"

  "Nothing."

  "C'mon. You were so gah-gah over him for the longest time. It became a joke. And now you're completely over him? That's not the Timmy I know."

  I grinned, not knowing what to say. "It's just that I saw him in the poolroom today and he looked pretty lost, that's all. What's he gonna do now that Chet's gone?"

  "Someone will pick him up. That's for sure."

  "Is Red coming back?"

  "You'd want to see him go to Red? You must really be over him!"

  "No! I'd hate to see Red get him. Are you kidding?"

  "So you do still care about him? Uh, huh. There's my Timmy!"

  He started tickling me.

  "Stop it," I laughed, struggling to catch my breath. "I do not. It's just that I'm thinking about you too and what would happen if I don't come back here."

  Slide Step leaned back on his side and gently took hold of a lock of my hair. "I'm going to miss you. That's what would happen to me."

  "Won't you need another boy?"

  "I'm gonna miss you," he repeated, tugging on my hair.

  "Me too," I said, but I was focusing on another thought.

  "No you're not. You're gonna be with you."

  "Ha ha," I mocked. "I'll miss you too, but that's not my point. I'm gonna be back here, anyway, so it doesn't matter. I'm thinking about you, so why not take Brett, so you'll have someone to keep you company until I'm back? Manley said I'd have to go through Quarantine again, so it could take a couple of months."

  My feelings about Brett keeping Slide Step company had as much to do with my feelings for Brett as well as Slide Step. Slide Step had been good to me so I knew he would be gentle with Brett too. It also made me happy to know that the two of them were together. Slide Step wouldn't be alone, and Brett would be safe.

  Slide Step stared at me, shaking his head. "I don't believe you, sometimes."

  "What? I don't want you be alone, that's all."

  He shook his head and smiled, and the sadness returned to his eyes.

  I was washing my hands at the sink, when someone came up from behind and playfully covered my eyes. Startled at first, I realized quickly they were friendly hands.

  "Hey, Pepper."

  "So how do you suppose Mr. Efferdent is doing right now?"

  "Mr. Tidy Bowl, is more like it," I said. "How are you?"

  "A lot better than Chet. That's for sure. He's probably tryin' to get his gums around that sorry ass pork chop they served for lunch right now."

  "In the hole," I grinned.

  "A pig in the poke," Pepper smiled back.

  I dried my hands and was about to leave when Pepper stopped me.

  "So what's this scandal I hear about you and Scatter?"

  "Huh?"

  "Oh, c'mon, Mr. Innocent Blue Eyes. Momma wasn't born yesterday."

  "How'd you know?"

  "I didn't," she said, "until just now."

  She smiled. "I heard Chet ask you about it the other night."

  I felt my eyes widen.

  "Relax, I ain't gonna say nothing."

  She looked down at my crotch, and then back up again.

  "Do you think Slide Step knows?" I asked.

  "I dunno." She looked down, again.

  "I can't, Pepper," I said. "I'm in enough trouble, already."

  "Relax, honey. That man ain't gonna do nothin' to you. Don't you know how crazy he is about you?"

  "Thanks," I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. "I hope you're right."

  As I turned to walk out, I noticed Black sitting on the bench by the shower. He must have heard the whole thing.

  After the last count, I grabbed my plastic mug from the back of my locker when a con banged on my door.

  "Slide Step wants you to come take a shower," he said.

  "I already took one."

  "He wants you to take another."

  "Why?"

  "He says grab your robe and come now."

  He walked off, but I could see Slide Step talking to someone at the end
of the corridor. The guard, behind him, stepped out and locked the office door. "I already took a shower," I yelled after the con.

  "He said come anyway."

  Slide Step waved at me then disappeared before I could protest further.

  I grabbed my towel and toiletry kit and headed down the hall. It didn't make sense. He knew I'd already showered, after we'd had sex earlier. When I got to the end of the hall, he was gone and the guard's station was empty. They must have off making their rounds. To my left, I noticed Pepper and another inmate sitting together just inside the dayroom. They both stopped talking and looked up at me.

  I went down the other hall and slowly opened the shower room door.

  Slide Step was sitting on the bench, on the far side of the room. Was this my punishment for what I'd done? I stepped into the room and someone closed the door behind me. Slide Step told him to keep an eye out. It was Scatter! I froze in place and looked at Slide Step.

  "I have a surprise for you," he said.

  I turned around, and Scatter smiled.

  I was terrified and confused.

  "Go on," Scatter said. He nodded toward Slide Step.

  "C'mere," Slide Step said.

  I hesitated.

  "C'mere!"

  I saw a shadow from around the corner of the wall, and I heard voices, but the echoes inside the shower room prevented me from knowing whether the voices came from inside or out.

  My mind raced as I walked toward Slide Step-thoughts of Black, Scatter, and Pepper. How Slide Step hadn't touch me earlier. He had a smirk on his face as I got closer and cleared the opening to where the showers were. Out of the corner of my eye, I felt a figure standing in front of me, but I was afraid to look.

  "Go take a shower," Slide Step ordered.

  I turned, quickly, to see who was there. The shower blasted hot water and filled the area with steam. Out from the shadows walked Brett smiling.

  I looked back at Slide Step.

  "Go for it, Squeeze!" lie said.

  20

  Compromising Choices

  It was a normal weekend in early November, and Dad showed up just like he'd said.

  "I don't care," Mom said. "You can't have them."

  "You've done this before, God damn it, and you're not doing this to me again." He raised his hand, as if to slap her, backing her into the kitchen table. "Get in the car, kids!"

  Rick was already there. Connie stood at the back door.

  "Daaaaaad!" I screamed in protest.

  "I said, `Get in the car!"'

  "Don't you dare," Mom shouted.

  "God damn it! `Get-In-The-Car!"

  Connie obeyed. I dropped my GI Joe doll and ran toward my room, so I didn't see him slap her. Please Daddy, I thought, Don't make me choose.

  I walked into the County Jail with a "cat in my stride" -the slow rhythmic swagger that I learned from Scatter-it was supposed to communicate that I was street-wise or institutionalized to lessen the odds that I would become a target. Slide Step warned me that because the county jail was so transient, it could be more dangerous than prison.

  I had been in the bullpens all that day, shuffled from one to the next, as they sorted and shifted through hundreds of prisoners.

  A deputy walked past the bullpens calling my name, "Parsell!"

  "Yeah?" I stepped over several bodies to get to the front of the cell.

  He held my wrist to the bars to confirm my name on the plastic hospitalstyle bracelet they put on me when I arrived. "Open Four," he yelled. "You have a visitor."

  I stood there stunned for a moment, but then smiled as the gate lurched open under the noisy hum of the electric motors. It must be my brother, I thought.

  We walked past the showers and through the Intake area where my fingerprints had been taken, just a few months earlier. So much had happened to nee since then, that it seemed like a different life to me now. A flash went off in the adjoining room, and I remembered dropping the letter board when they first took my mug shot.

  Three inmates were standing at the rear of the elevator. The familiar WAYNE COUNTY JAIL was stenciled on the back of their dark gray clothes.

  "Step in and face the wall," the deputy said, as he slid the accordion gate closed on the elevator.

  We were taken up several floors and into a hall where small windows lined a wall. "Fifteen minutes," the deputy said.

  I saw my brother Rick waiting on the other side of the window.

  "Hey!" Because of the echoes off concrete and steel, I had to shout into the small intercom at the base of the window and then hold my ear to the speaker to listen.

  Rick's wife Belinda, who was straining to see behind him, cried as soon as she saw me. She was probably the only person in my family who cried about my situation. I imagined how much she'd sob if she knew the full details of my time at Riverside.

  "Hey little brother! How you doing?"

  It was good to see him, but I was angry he hadn't come earlier. "How are you?"

  "Better than you!" He grinned.

  "Fuck you," I shot back, and we both smiled.

  Belinda tried to squeeze in, but Rick wouldn't let her. "In a minute," he said impatiently. He gave me a tired look that told me they still weren't getting along.

  "How's the food?"

  "Couldn't be better. I'll send you a doggy bag."

  There was so much I wanted to tell him-about Slide Step and Brett, Riverside, and Chet and how I got revenge by flushing his teeth down the toilet, but then I realized I couldn't tell him any of it.

  "Have you turned queer yet?" He asked, jokingly

  "Fuck You." I said and stuck out my chest.

  "Good Boy!"

  I was better than ever at masking my true feelings. "And I've got your boy," I said, grabbing my crotch and shaking it, "hanging right here."

  "Now don't start turning nigger on me."

  I winced and looked around quickly.

  The jail was in the middle of Detroit, and I was relieved that nobody heard him. He shrugged it off. It was easy for him, on that side of the wall, where there were mostly mothers and girlfriends. There was nothing but men on my side.

  One thing was clear, I could never tell Rick about Slide Step.

  He looked different to me, but I wasn't sure why. It was the first time I noticed we were splitting apart. But there was also something else there, but I wasn't sure what. His hazel eyes reminded ine of Grasshopper's, and his hair red was like Chet's-though he didn't look like either of them. In a couple of months I would turn eighteen; and in October he would be twenty-three, yet he didn't seem that much older than me now, or as smart and tough or as good looking as he'd always appeared to me. He probably acted like Chet, when he was in here.

  When he stepped back from the window, his wife Belinda came into view. She had stopped crying, and her mascara lined her cheeks. She started to say something, but then stopped abruptly. "Your face has cleared up!"

  She stared at me with a baffled look, as if struggling to make sense of how my complexion would be clearer now that I was in prison. My heart sank when I remembered guys in high school say that all you needed for your pimples to go away-was to get laid.

  Rick moved back into view. "Dad says he'll try to be at court tomorrow. He's not sure he can get off work."

  I said it didn't matter. "How's Dad doing?" I asked.

  "OK. He quit drinking."

  "Uh-huh. How long this time?"

  "You're probably too young to remember, but he wasn't always like that."

  "I know," I cut him off, "before Mom ran off and left us."

  Rick was one to talk. Belinda was nothing but white trash, though she did seem genuinely upset about my being in here. Everyone in the family hated her. Dad said she was OK-to use as a landing pad for when Rick first got out of prison, but that he was stupid for marrying her. She already had two kids at the time, and Rick thought the new one on they way might have been his. Nobody else did.

  It was typical of him to take Dad's side
. Up until then, Mom was the only issue that separated us. I loved Dad, too, but I also remained loyal to Mom. Even when they all ganged up on her, and said she was no good for leaving us, I would drown out their words in my head. They didn't understand. She had to leave to save herself, she once told me. I just wished she had kept her promise and had cone back for me.

  Kick and I stared at each other, neither of us knowing what to say.

  "Are you sure you're all right?"

  I nodded. "Why haven't you visited?"

  "I couldn't get off work." He looked at me sheepishly. "I've been flat broke."

  I wanted to ask why he hadn't written or sent me his new phone number, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. So I put that out of my mind too. He was here, now, and that's all that mattered.

  "Hey! I almost forgot. I bought a new truck."

  "That's great," I said, sounding a hit distracted. It wasn't lost on me that he had just told me that he was flat broke. I let it pass. I had to shut down to survive in there. So I tucked all my feelings away. I couldn't think about it, because that might lead to true feelings something, and you couldn't afford feelings inside. If you do that long enough you start to get good at it after a while. Then you get so used to disappointment that you become grateful for even the tiniest crumb. Still I was glad he came. I missed him.

  "Time's up!" the deputy said.

  He'd only just got there. It hardly seemed like fifteen minutes.

  I sat in the bullpen waiting for Classification. I thought about Brett and how Slide Step had set me up with him before I left. It was pretty brave of Slide Step to do that-given all the checks and challenges that go on with "manhood" in prison. Inmates viewed kindness as a weakness-so for Slide Step to be that generous with me could have brought unnecessary heat on him. Yet even still, he wielded a lot of power and since most inmates viewed two "boys" getting together as lesbian sex-it wasn't a threat to Slide Step's manhood.

 

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