by Riley Parks
“Wanted to show you what a big dick looks like,” Evan stated with as much of a shrug as he could muster while being restrained. “When your bitch was riding mine, she couldn’t get over how fucking huge it was.”
“Okay, enough,” the officer holding Evan said, attempting to silence him. “You going to take this one, Ben, or do you want me to?”
“This prick is worth the paperwork. It’s going to be my pleasure,” Officer Green stated, getting his cuffs out.
“Same shit Darlene said when she was devouring my dick,” Evan taunted, laughing as Green threw his chest against the car hard and put the cuffs around his wrists too tightly. “You fucked with mine and I fucked with yours. Turnabout’s fair game, motherfucker.”
“Is that right?” the officer questioned, clearly becoming perturbed by Evan’s continued assertion.
“That’s right,” Evan confirmed, groaning when Green pulled him back only to crash him into the car again.
“Ben, read him his rights,” Green’s friend prompted.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
“Nah, man. Would rather talk to Darlene while she’s riding my meat,” Evan laughed. “All the shit she likes, ‘That’s right, baby.’ ‘Get it, Dar.’ Enjoy the fuck out of that.”
“You’re going to enjoy the fuck out of prison,” Green said through clenched teeth.
Evan knew he wouldn’t enjoy it, but it would sure as hell be better than not seeing his boyfriend for two years.
He couldn’t wait to see Jackson’s face.
36
Wednesday
Jackson cringed as he received a scooped lump of some unidentifiable vegetables onto his tray, knowing that he was going to trash them along with the rest of the shit they gave him for lunch. He was intent on living off Ramen noodles for the entirety of his sentence. Twenty-six months. He was going to have to do twenty-six months. At least five times a day the reality of his circumstance hit him like a truck. Twenty-six months would feel like a fucking lifetime without Evan. If Jack were still with Tamara, he would’ve looked at the time as a vacation, but it certainly didn’t feel that way with the redhead on the outside. The last two days had been especially brutal. Evan wasn’t there when Jackson had called Amy. He tried to stop his mind from drifting to the dark place it felt so compelled to go to: thoughts of Evan moving on while Jack stood still. Forty-eight hours without hearing Evan’s voice had been dismal. It was awful to imagine how painful it would be if he never heard Evan say he loved him again, that he missed him.
Jackson shook his head, trying to knock away the trespassing worry. His melancholy, uninvited thoughts were interrupted by the loudest guard in MCC, Big John, calling to the pimple-faced inmate in charge of the kitchen, from what seemed to be two inches behind him.
“Yo, Grady. Got a live one for you here. He’s going to start tomorrow.”
“He don’t look alive,” Grady said with a disgusted look on his face. “You sure he’s healthy enough to work the line? Ain’t going to give all the guys Hep C or something?”
“Nah. He’s good. Dude was so high at intake that the guys said he was practically pissing cocaine,” Big John boomed with a raucous laugh. “Just coming off a bender, isn’t that right, Goodwyn?”
Jackson swung around so quickly that he almost snapped his neck. Wide-eyed, he watched as his boyfriend nodded. Evan was so out of it that it seemed to take his brain a moment to process that Jackson was standing right in front of him. When he did, his bloodshot eyes lit up and a small smile curled up the edges of his chapped lips. Evan looked paler with dark circles below his lash lines. In the worst shape Jackson had ever seen him
“Fuck,” Jackson muttered, turning around to stare at the mystery meat in a chafing dish rather than the redhead. He tried to gain control over his spinning head, pounding heart, and the overwhelming desire he had to hold his boyfriend, kiss him, punch him, and fuck him. “What the fuck?” he mumbled.
“Huh?” the inmate behind the line questioned, startling Jackson, who was already on edge and hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
“I said what the fuck is that?” Jackson replied brashly, gesturing toward the meat and raising his eyebrows. “Bet you don’t even fucking know.”
“I just serve it, man,” the inmate behind the counter said with a shrug, his tone vaguely apologetic.
“This is what you’re going to have to deal with, Goodwyn,” Grady informed Evan, who Jackson still refused to look at. “Pissy inmates who give us crap even though we don’t got any more control over shit than they do.”
“Can’t wait.”
Jackson could hear the playfulness in Evan’s tone buried deep under exhaustion and irritability. Jackson did his best to walk on wobbly legs over to the table where the rest of the DDz were sitting.
From a safe distance, he allowed himself to glance at Evan, who was now sitting at the end of a table with his face in his hands. Though Jack could still see the outline of Evan’s arm muscles through the thin orange fabric of the prison-issued jumpsuit, his body looked weak, as if his mental state had caused the physical to wane. Jack sighed at the sight of his lover.
Withdrawing from the amount of coke Evan had grown accustomed to would no doubt be brutal. Jackson wished he could help him through it: calm him during Evan’s bouts of paranoia, hold him through the depression, soothe his anxiety, and make him food to abate the insatiable hunger. Instead Jackson had to watch Evan suffer, unable to do anything to make it more bearable. Being away from him was awful, but having him suffer right in front of Jackson felt like torture.
“You going to eat your meatloaf, Jack? Don’t look like you’re going to,” Cecil commented, his fork already making its way over to Jackson’s plate.
“That what this shit’s supposed to be?” Jackson groused, tearing his attention away from Evan and pushing his whole tray in front of Cecil. “Ain’t hungry.”
“Awesome. Thanks, man.”
Jackson nodded and feigned interest in the conversation the DDz were having while periodically looking at Evan, who had his arms crossed on the table and his forehead resting on them. Jack wondered what the fuck Evan had done, and more importantly why he’d done it. For a moment, Jackson permitted himself to question if his boyfriend had gotten himself purposely incarcerated, but there was no way anybody would choose to go to prison unless they were a lunatic or an idiot, and he was pretty sure Evan was neither.
As he and his boys were standing up to leave the cafeteria, he saw two prison queens approaching Evan. He couldn’t hear what they said, but he knew the gist of it. He watched as Evan shook his head. One of the guys placed his hand on the crook of Evan’s elbow, causing the redhead to rise to his feet defensively.
“Touch me again and I’ll knock the fucking faggot out of you,” Evan growled, prompting the guys to throw their hands up in surrender and retreat.
Jackson shook his head as he tried to hold back his grin. It was easy to forget that Evan was a hard-ass when he was so sweet and loving toward Jackson. He cleared his throat and followed the other guys out of the room while adjusting the hard bulge in his boxers.
Even though the food was horrible, he was suddenly looking forward to breakfast the next day.
X
Thursday
“What’s with the fucking carrot top?” Jackson asked Cecil as they stood in the breakfast line. “Looks like he’s got AIDS or some shit. Don’t need that motherfucker infecting my oatmeal.” He sniffed uncomfortably, trying to seem uninterested as he pressed his friend for information. “You hear anything about him over in D?”
“Yeah. We got him in D block. He rolls with the KKz. Guess he ain’t in that deep with them. Supposedly none of the guys in here know who he is and
they aren’t crazy about having his back ‘cause he’s a coke fiend with a shitty attitude and a bad temper,” Cecil explained.
“Ah, fucking KKz rat. Should’ve known,” Jackson replied, watching as his boyfriend handed apples to the guys a few spots ahead of them. “They say…uh…what he’s in for? Probably a drug charge or some shit if he’s a junkie.”
“Nah. Guess he got mad lit and tagged up an officer’s car right in front of the station. Wrote some crazy shit like he fucked his wife or something. Like I said, dude’s got a temper.”
Jackson nodded. He knew all about that temper. He also knew that no matter how fucked up Evan got, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to mess with a cop car unless he wanted to get caught. Jackson gritted his teeth at the realization that his boyfriend was in fact an idiotic lunatic who got his ass intentionally tossed into prison. Jackson’s jaw was clenched tight when he reached Evan. The redhead stared straight in Jack’s eyes as he handed him an apple. Jackson took it, unable to stop himself from shaking his head in irritation. “Dropping sheets off to every cot in C and D today starting at ten,” he stated in Cecil’s direction.
His friend gave him a confused look. “You do the same thing every Thursday, Jack.”
“Just reminding you that I ain’t going to be able to play ball today,” Jackson informed, making sure he locked into Evan’s gaze for a moment to ensure he got the message. From the small grin on his lips, yeah, he understood.
“Got it,” Cecil confirmed. “We’ll have to survive without your air balls.”
Evan chuckled at the comment, causing both Jackson and Cecil to shoot him dirty looks.
“The fuck is you laughing at?” Jackson snapped, glaring at his boyfriend.
The redhead shrugged, clearly unaffected by the brashness of his tone. “You’re kinda flat footed so it’s not that surprising that you suck ass at basketball.”
“You better watch your fucking mouth,” Cecil warned as Jackson gnawed on the inside of his cheek, doing everything in his power to not slug that gorgeous freckled face. “KKz trash,” Cecil snarled and gestured for Jackson to leave it and follow him to their table.
If Jackson hadn’t been looking for it, he would’ve missed the wink he got from Evan. The simplest action caused a butterfly reaction in Jack’s stomach. They fluttered and flitted inside him for hours as he did his job, going from cell to cell dropping off new linens for the inmates’ cots and collecting the old ones. He felt particularly excited as he made his way to D block, knowing that one of the rooms would be Evan’s. Though the redhead seemed out of it, Jackson hoped he’d comprehended that he should stay in his cell that morning.
The butterflies took flight as soon as he opened the door to D-48 and saw Evan lying on the bed. He looked tired and weak but that didn’t stop him from jumping up as soon as he laid eyes on Jackson. He dropped the clean sheets in Evan’s hands as Jack’s body was slammed against the wall. The kiss was desperate and full of love; bodies connected from lips to hips as hands grabbed, grasped, needed.
“I love you.” Evan exhaled the words into Jackson’s mouth while taking his lower lip between crooked teeth and tugging gently. “So much.”
Jack hummed in response, tangling his tongue with Evan’s while pulling him impossibly closer. They melted into each other until reality ripped them apart. “We can’t.” Jackson panted, pushing Evan away. “You did this shit on purpose, didn’t you? Got popped intentionally.”
The redhead licked his lips and nodded.
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Jackson exclaimed with a wry laugh.
“About you. I’m crazy about you!”
“This ain’t going to work here, Evan.” Jack rubbed his forehead and sighed.
“It already did. Knew if I got a class four they’d throw me in here. Saw you three times so far. Going to get to look at you at least another two thousand one hundred and ninety. Three meals a day for two years. From zero to two thousand one hundred and ninety…I already did.” He looked at Jack earnestly, Evan’s face open and free of regret.
Jackson raked his fingers through Evan’s hair and pulled him back down so he could slot their lips together. He may have been an idiotic lunatic, but he was Jackson’s idiotic lunatic and he was insanely in love with him.
“Another one hundred and four for this shit. I do it once a week,” Jackson said, staring into Evan’s dilated pupils, knowing that they were blown out by love rather than drugs. Jack smiled back at the redhead’s wide grin. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Evan stated sincerely. He stripped his bed and dumped the sheets into Jackson’s bin so he could hand Evan his new ones.
“Proved that shit,” Jack said with a smirk as he rolled his cart away and headed down the hallway. Two thousand two hundred ninety-four opportunities to see that beautiful man had Jack thinking he would’ve done the same fucking thing.
37
November
It had been three weeks since Evan had showed up at MCC and Jackson had to admit, time was moving more quickly. There was much to be said for having something to look forward to. He woke up every morning knowing that he would see his boyfriend in the cafeteria. Though they rarely spoke, they were still able to communicate via stares that lasted a few beats too long or stolen touches when Evan handed off food. Jackson never thought that the simple feeling of fingers brushing against one another would be able to make his whole body tingle with excitement. He always wanted more, but whenever he got aggravated by the distance between them, he reminded himself that every single one of their interactions was a moment that never would have occurred if Evan hadn’t changed their circumstances.
There were benefits to talking on the phone, namely being able to actually speak, but there was nothing that could compare to being able to see each other day in and day out, living their lives together instead of ending a call and existing separately until the phone rang again.
Prior to their incarceration, they’d shared a bed nightly and Jackson found that he still missed his boyfriend throughout the day. He wondered if any amount of time with Evan would ever be enough or if he would always crave more minutes, months, years. His life was divided into two different schools of thought: the way he saw things before Evan and the way he saw things after.
Before Evan, Jackson had never allowed himself to think much of the future. It didn’t make sense to plan for the days ahead when it took eight hundred sixty milliseconds for a bullet to leave the chamber and go through his head. After Evan, Jack was considering two years in the future and beyond—the span of his life and how he needed Evan in the full length of it.
Jackson placed his tray on the counter and moved it along the line, keeping his eyes trained on Evan. Every week he seemed to look healthier, with the color coming back to his cheeks and the strength returning to his body. There had been days when it was difficult for Jackson to look at Evan even though he was Jack’s favorite sight. He couldn’t handle the sick green hue of Evan’s skin or the way his hands shook when he served the food. Just as the drugs had ravaged his mind when he was on them, they wreaked havoc on his body when he was off. Jackson hoped the pain and discomfort during withdrawal had solidified Evan’s commitment to stay clean, but Jack knew that it was rarely the case for addicts. It would be a lifelong struggle for Evan, one that Jackson was prepared to support him through.
“Oatmeal?” Evan asked, holding out a bowl of lumpy oats to Jackson, who screwed up his face and grunted at the offering. “It’s extra thick,” the redhead stated, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Fuck off,” Jackson scoffed, holding back the smile that was threatening to pull up his lips. “Fucking weirdo.”
He walked over to his table and glanced back at Evan, who was laughing as he ladled out hot cereal for the rest of the line.
He looked happy.
X
February
Evan wasn’t sure why it had taken him so long to think of the most obvious way to communicate with his boyfr
iend. Maybe his brain had become so used to being flooded with drugs that he didn’t function as well when he was off them. Perhaps the mere seconds he spent looking into his boyfriend’s eyes hypnotized him and rendered him an imbecile when he looked away. Whatever it was, he’d wasted so many opportunities and didn’t plan to miss out on anymore.
He grinned when he saw Jackson and his annoying friend enter the cafeteria. Lonely nights in prison were significantly less depressing when Evan knew he’d see Jackson’s face in the morning.
Goddamn his man was perfect with his full lips and big blue eyes. Evan loved how dark and long Jack’s eyelashes were and the soft dusting of freckles that brushed across his nose. Sometimes Evan wondered if anybody else noticed them and subsequently thought about bashing in their heads if they had. He didn’t want other people that close to what was his.
Growing up, Evan had never been possessive of much, mostly because he never had that many possessions. What he did have was so ratty or unappealing that most people would overlook the items even if they were left lying out in front of them. There were certain things that he cared about, like his paint and art supplies, but the use of those materials caused them to naturally come and go. He never got too attached. With Jackson it was different. Though he wasn’t a possession, Evan found that his need to have Jackson for himself made Evan possessive.
“Eggs?” he asked, offering Jack a plate of soggy yellow mush.
As he typically did, Jackson shot him a dirty look and shook his head.
“They’re good today. You should try them,” Evan suggested, causing his boyfriend to grimace and Cecil to do a double take.
“You’re a creepy motherfucker,” Cecil informed Evan with a shake of his head. “Real weird. No doubt that’s why your own boys don’t want to fuck with you.”