What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  I felt strange, knowing that hidden somewhere inside those dark rising walls and razor wire topped fences were the people I had known my entire life. They were at work, or sleeping in cells, or standing alone in the yard watching the grass bend and sway. My eyes suddenly stung, unexpected tears trying hard to find their way out.

  I pulled my eyes away from the prison, turning in my seat to face forward again.

  Oscar glanced over to me, both of his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. “Buckle up,” he said, his accent so strong I could barely understand his words.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “Buckle up. Uh, there.” He pointed to a strap hanging at my right, then to a small metal buckle down by my left hip. I reached and grabbed the strap, pulling it across my body and toward the buckle. Glancing up at him, I raised my eyebrows in question. Oscar nodded.

  I pushed the buckles together until they let out a light click. The strap tightened against me, pulling me firmly against the seat. I stared at the buckle a moment. I didn’t like the feel of the strap confining me, pulling me tight into the worn seat. My lap was full with my box, bag, and envelope carefully balanced on top and I struggled to keep it all together as the truck bounced down the road. Glancing over to Oscar, I shoved the envelope of money into the bag, cinched it tightly shut then wrapped one arm securely around the small pile.

  The car rumbled loudly down the road. Small buildings started to appear. Paint chipped off of their wooden walls, the windows boarded tightly shut against the empty air. Soon they grew closer together, their worn paint becoming nicer looking and their windows gradually opening. Glass panes shone in the sunlight, curtains on the inside masking whatever lay beyond. I saw people walking down the street along a thin concrete walk, casually talking or glancing into shops.

  My eyes burned as I refused to blink. I felt the fear of the rumbling truck disappear with amazement at the life that now appeared before my eyes. Small children gripped parent’s hands, tugging and laughing. A store passed, toys propped carefully in its clean window. An old man sitting on a wooden chair outside a shop raised his hand and waved.

  Oscar nodded to him, passing without a pause. We soon were out of the small strip of buildings, turning onto a dirt road. The truck bounced haphazardly as it hit the deep potholes that were scattered everywhere. I felt my stomach churning with nausea. Focusing my eyes out of the dusty windshield, I worked hard to bite it back as I dug my nails harder into the plastic handle.

  Ahead of us rose a tall building. In the distance, just beyond the building, were perfectly matching smaller buildings, neatly lined and carefully painted. Oscar pulled up in front of the large building and turned the truck off. Its engine sputtered once, then went silent. He glanced at me a moment, then pushed open his door and climbed out.

  I figured he wanted me to do the same. My legs shook as I climbed out. I threw the pack over my shoulder, then wrapped my arms tightly around the small box and hurried to catch up to Oscar, who was already making his way down a cobble lined path.

  We passed the large building. I gazed up at it, taking in its tall white walls and neatly cleaned windows lined with white lace curtains. The front door was a bright red, an apple neatly carved into its wooden surface.

  Oscar made his way to the smaller buildings around back. People ambled by, their clothing dusty but neat. A few sat in the entrances to the buildings, casually talking as they ate food or whittled at pieces of wood. Oscar nodded to people as they passed, occasionally mumbling something I couldn’t understand.

  We finally reached one of the small buildings. Oscar stopped, pulled out a paper from his shirt pocket and glanced at it. Nodding to himself, he looked back at me and motioned me forward.

  I stepped up to the small building. “This is your… uh… living space,” Oscar said, obviously searching for words in his thick accent.

  A woman walked out. Her skin was the same golden tone as Oscar’s, her dark hair pulled into a single loose braid that hung down her back. She seemed to be only a few years older than me, her face still young and vibrant. Seeing Oscar, she let a bright white smile spread on her suntanned face.

  “Hola Oscar,” she said, leaning against the open doorway.

  “Hola Maria,” he answered quickly. “Este es Millie. La chicanueva.” Maria looked over at me, then nodded and smiled at Oscar again.

  “Hola Millie,” she said, still smiling. Her teeth seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.

  “Um. Hi.” I knew that they were speaking Spanish. There were gangs of inmates who only spoke Spanish in the prison. I had always avoided them. They would watch me with slitted eyes every time I had to pass, murmuring even more strange words in their language I could never understand. Standing here now, in front of Maria and Oscar, I found myself wishing they would speak English. Not knowing what they were saying as they stood watching me sent my stomach into knots.

  “¿Dónde este Reed?” Oscar asked Maria.

  Maria shrugged. Oscar sighed, glancing over at me again. I could tell he wanted to pass me on to someone else and be done with the job of my escort. His hands clenched into fists, one twitching as he fought it from rising to his lips.

  “¿Te da miedo la bonita chica nueva?” Maria asked, her lips curling into a smile at the corners.

  Oscar glanced at me, his fingers twitching again as they fought to rub against to his lips. “Uh, Maria… No sé…”

  Maria sighed and took a step forward.

  “Go on Oscar. I got her.” Oscar glanced to Maria, then back to me. Maria shooed at him with her hands. “Si, Oscar. Ándale.”

  Oscar nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. Turning to me, he nodded again, then took off to the large building. Maria motioned me forward. Wrapping my arms tighter around my small box, I stepped up the small building, following her inside. She carelessly swished her hips as she walked down the narrow hall, her tight shirt showing off her figure underneath.

  “Don’t mind Oscar,” she called behind her. Her voice was hinted with the same accent, though not nearly as thick as Oscar’s. “He is always nervous when new ones move in. We have had trouble, in the past you know. But you won’t be trouble, I can tell.” She stopped and smiled at me, tapping her head. “I can see you are a good girl.”

  I nodded. Something about Maria made me like her. I didn’t know if it was her smile, or the how she so comfortably spoke to me. There was something there though.

  “Okay, this is your room.”

  She pushed open a curtain. Inside rested a small bed, blankets folded neatly on its padded mattress. It barely stood off the ground, propped up on a few thick boards. A small table with a single drawer sat wedged in next to the bed, an old lamp sitting on its rough surface. At the other end of the bed stood a small set of drawers. Aside from that, the room was empty. Everything was crowded close together, the only remaining floor space barely big enough to spin on. Everything in the room seemed to be embraced in the deep brown of the wooden walls.

  “It isn’t much,” Maria said, watching me take in the room. “But hey, it is home, sí?”

  Maria couldn’t see the relief that was flowing through me. I scanned the room again, taking in the one thing that made a smile finally creep across my face. There was no bunk. No other bed. I had never slept in a room all to myself in my life. It seemed too good to be true.

  Walking in, I set my box and bag on the bed. “No, it’s perfect,” I said softly.

  “Okay. Well, unpack then come outside. Sí?”

  I nodded.

  Maria turned to leave. Before she could duck through the curtain, I stopped her. “What did you ask him? Oscar.” Maria turned and looked at me, a smile still on her full lips. “Out there… I was just curious.”

  “Don’t know much Español, huh?” Maria leaned against the doorway, her smile easy and welcoming. “I asked him if he was afraid of the pretty new girl.”

  “Oh.” I looked away, staring at her feet instead of her laughing smile. “Is he?”


  Maria laughed. “Millie, don’t worry. Oscar is afraid of everything. Even his own shadow.” I glanced back up at her. She winked playfully, pushing her body away from the door frame. “Just relax. Everyone is loco at first. We get used to it though. Most of the time. See you outside, chica.”

  Maria watched a moment longer, then turned and left. As soon as she disappeared through the curtain, I dumped out the contents of my small bag onto the bed and set to work sifting through them. Picking up the sock that held my sea glass, I paused a moment. I could feel the lump of the glass in the toe. I wanted to look at it again. To roll it between my fingers and try to hear the soft waves that had created it years before.

  Sighing, I grabbed the envelope of cash and pushed it into the sock on top of the glass. Rolling the top of the sock shut tightly, I gathered my used clothes and walked over to the small dresser. I carefully laid out my clothing in the first drawer, making sure it was folded neatly and organized.

  I walked back to my bed and ripped the top of the box open, then pulled out the new set of clothing. The shirt was a dark blue, the pants a light khaki covered in pockets. I stared at them a moment, my fingers trailing over the new fabric that almost seemed to crunch under my touch, then carefully folded them and laid them in their place in the open dresser drawer. I gathered up the extra socks and underwear and toiletries and tucked them all away too, then pushed the drawer shut.

  All that was left on the bed now was my notebook and the empty cardboard box. I fiddled with the box a moment, then finally found a way to collapse it. Not knowing what to do with it, I kicked it under my bed. The cardboard scraped across the wood floor, then fell silent as it found its place in the shadows and dust.

  I walked over to the head of the bed and finally let myself sit. The springs in the bed bounced back at me. I could feel them under my body, jabbing and poking, but it didn’t matter. The bed felt like complete luxury. I took in a deep breath, letting my eyes scan the tiny room once more.

  My room.

  Without pausing to flip through the ratty pages, I slipped my notebook into the drawer on the bedside table, then rose and walked out of the room. The hallway was narrow, barely big enough for two people to stand side by side. I could see Maria leaning in the doorway, and made my way to her.

  As I drew closer I could hear her talking to someone. Maria was laughing, her shoulders rising and falling happily. I reached her, unsure of whether I should wait or let her know I was there. I ended up standing awkwardly in the shadows, shifting my weight from foot to foot like a nervous child. I could hear the rumble of a man talking to her, his voice light and joking.

  Maria laughed again. “Señor Reed, really. You will be kicked out of here faster than you know if you keep that up.”

  “Keep what up?” he asked, his voice pure and innocent. Maria chuckled again. “Um, you have someone. There. Behind you,” Reed added, his voice still soft.

  Maria looked over her shoulder, smiling at me. “Come on out, Millie. Come on. Rapído.”

  Stepping down out of the doorway, she motioned with her hands for me to follow. I took a step out, blinking in the bright sunlight. It took me a moment to adjust. I wasn’t used to being out in the sun this much in one day.

  I finally stopped blinking. A young man stood in front of me, leaning against the wall of my living quarters. He was tall, his body lean and his skin tanned a rich brown. Dark brown hair hung slightly shaggy on his smooth forehead. He smiled at me, his deep brown eyes light and happy.

  “Hey there,” he said. Taking a step forward, he held out a hand and waited. I watched him a moment, then I held out my hand and let him take a hold of it, gently shaking. “I’m Reed. Looks like I get you.”

  “Get me?” I asked, alarmed.

  Reed furrowed his brows together a moment, then suddenly shot his eyes open in realization. “Oh, no.No, not like that.” He laughed softly to himself, shaking his head as he kept his eyes on me. They had lost a bit of their humor, now studying me closely instead. “No, I get to show you the ropes. You know, the job.”

  I lowered my eyes, my cheeks suddenly burning. “Oh,” I said simply.

  Reed said a few more words to Maria, but I didn’t bother to listen. I felt young and naïve. As if I shouldn’t be there at all. Everyone seemed so relaxed and comfortable as they joked and walked past in the warm sunlight. Meanwhile I stood there, waiting for a fight to break out at any moment and for the thump of heavy boots as guards ran in from the shadows to break up the chaos.

  “Hey?” I snapped out of my thoughts, seeing Reed watching me. His brows were still slightly furrowed, barely wrinkling his smooth forehead. “Ready?” He must have asked me already. The tone of his voice sounded repeated, almost exhausted.

  “I am. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, don’t be sorry. You’re new here. You’re allowed to get lost in the fog a bit.”

  I paused again, staring at him. I had never told anyone about the fog that clouded my mind and memories. My mouth hung open, my thoughts racing to think of what to say. It was probably coincidence, that Reed had mentioned fog. But the way he looked back into my eyes didn’t settle my suddenly racing heart.

  Reed smiled, then started to walk away down the dirt path. I hurried to follow. We passed the small buildings, most empty now as the other workers made their way to their jobs. I found myself curious about what I would be doing for the next month, if not longer, of my life.

  We finally left the gathering of small houses. Ahead of us stretched an orchard. Trees, full of bright green leaves, stretched up to the sky, casting shifting shadows on the grass below. As we got closer I saw that the branches of the trees were heavy with dark red apples.

  Apples. I sighed. Of course it was apples.

  Reed bent and picked up two baskets from a stack near the entrance to the orchard. Handing me one, he continued to walk, ducking under a few low hanging branches. I tucked the basket under my arm and hurried to keep up.

  A few workers nearby called greetings to Reed as we passed, then went back to their work. They stood tiptoe on step ladders, reaching into the branches to pluck the apples and drop them into their baskets. A few were high in the branches, the only sign of their existence being a random flash of arms and legs as the leaves moved in the breeze.

  Reed grabbed a step-ladder and leaned it up against a tree trunk. Slinging a strap from the basket around his shoulders, he jumped up into the tree, disappearing into the branches. I watched him climb up, my mouth slightly gaping in awe at how fearless he seemed as he scaled the tree.

  I carefully stepped up on the ladder, feeling it wobble beneath my feet. Placing my hand against the tree trunk, I waited for the shaking to calm. The bark was cool under my hand. I caressed my fingers along its rough divots, feeling the bumps and curves of the wood press back against my skin. My fingers inched along the bark. They carefully explored the dips and rough edges, a small smile spreading on my face as the sun-warmed bark snagged on my fingertips. I had never touched a tree before.

  “The tree feels loved.”

  I jumped. Looking up, I could barely see Reed’s face through the branches. He smiled at me. The thump of apples echoed down to me as he dropped them into his basket.

  My cheeks burned again in embarrassment.

  I stepped up to the top step. Reaching up, I plucked an apple from a low hanging branch and tossed it into my basket. It rolled around, finally coming to a stop as it settled. I picked another one, throwing it in to begin its circle of rolling.

  My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. I could feel my head swim as my mouth started to water. I plucked another apple, then leaned against the trunk to look at its red surface. It shone in the sun light. The apple seemed to taunt me, daring me to bite into its red flesh. I thought of the mealy apples the prison always served, the dry taste on my tongue as the browned meat crunched in my mouth. I hated apples.

  My stomach growled again.

  Gritting m
y teeth, I lifted the apple to my mouth.

  Before I could take a bite, a hand clamped down on my wrist. I looked up. Reed was hanging in front of me, his body wrapped around the branches to keep from falling. One hand gripped my wrist, his eyes bearing into me in alarm as his grasp tightened.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice strangely scared.

  “I’m… I’m hungry. I was just going to eat an apple.”

  Reed jumped down from his perch, landing with a thump on the grassy ground. He reached up and took the apple from my hand, letting it drop into my nearly empty basket. Leaning in close to me, he looked around once before bearing his eyes into mine.

  “You can’t do that, Millie,” he said, his voice soft and low. “These apples are property of whoever is buying them. They are owned. There are tons of contracts wrapped around these apples. None of which are signed by you.”

  “So?” I asked. “It’s an apple. There are hundreds in the tree.” I looked up as if to reassure myself. The tree seemed to answer me by shaking in the breeze, its branches hung heavy with the red apples.

  “Theft. Have you heard of that?” Reed leaned closer, his voice low. “Well, that’s what you will get slapped with if you decide to eat these apples. Along with whatever else they decide to add to the charge. This is serious, Millie. Take some notes, got it?”

  I looked down in the basket. “But…”

  Reed rubbed a hand across his face. “You grew up in the prison. How many people in there did you hear claim they were not guilty? That what they did wasn’t wrong?” He raised his eyebrows to me. I parted my lips to answer, but no words came out. Reed motioned to the basket of apples. “Those are owned. By someone. I don’t know who but I know it’s not you or me. All we are supposed to do is pick the apples and put them in these baskets. Eat one, and you will go right back to Spokane.”

  I couldn’t believe what I heard. Eating an apple wasn’t a crime. The trees were full with the apples, waiting to be plucked and sold and eaten by others with growling stomachs. The dead cool seriousness of Reed’s face let me know he was telling the truth.