by Anne Davies
He stops talking, but I hardly notice. Those dark parts sure are in me—I can feel it in my stomach and chest when I think about that night—but that light fills me, and even though I know it won’t last, that feeling is good. I wish I could just sit there forever.
“Well, boys, that’s it.” We open our eyes and blink at each other. “Stay where you are,” Mr P says, getting to his feet. “I’d like to remember you all this way.”
Jason says in a husky voice, “You wouldn’t have one dark place in you. You’re good all the way through.”
A tiny flinch contorts Mr P’s face for a second. “We all have our dark places, Jason. Knowing that helps us to have compassion for everyone else.” He waves gently to us and is gone.
We sit in silence for a while, and then I say goodbye to them all and thank them for having me, just as did the first time I came. They laugh, and I leave with a smile on my face.
I see Neil that afternoon in the gym.
“Can you get some speed or whatever it is that Aaron takes?” I ask.
Neil screws up his face. “You going to turn into a crack-head too?”
“No, no. I just need to have some for when Aaron needs it.”
“Sure. I’ll sort it. Go to the shop on Tuesday or Friday and tell Brett—the one who does the book, no one else—how much you need. He’ll transfer the money from your account. He’ll just give a total to the guy who supplies at the end of the day, and he’ll take stuff to that value. Neat, huh?”
“Will he give it to me straight away?”
“Hell no, but you’ll get it soon enough.” A couple of guards come into the gym, and we get back to our weights.
I follow Neil’s instructions, and the next day, when I’m on duty in the kitchen, Stephen—a skinny little kid I know only by sight—leans on the bench next to me. He talks like we’re great mates, and as he turns to go, he slaps me lightly on the chest. I finish wiping down the bench and then step back to check out what happened, scratching my chest near my pocket. Yep, two bumps at the bottom of it. I’m nervous, but I carry on as normal, working and chatting till my duty is over and I’m back in our cell. Aaron’s in the rec with Neil. We’ve agreed that he isn’t to be here on his own.
I glue a couple of pages of notes together around the edges, leaving the top open, and then I drop the pills in. I slide the pages into the middle of the rest of my notes and then paper clip them all together. Aaron comes in a few minutes later, and I feel his agitation. Neil must have said something. Bugger. He should have kept his mouth closed.
“Hi,” I say, turning back to my book.
“Luca,” he says. I look and see him fidgeting with the edge of his blanket.
“What’s up?”
“I know you got some stuff for me.”
“I said I would.” I hand him the pills, and he looks at them lying in his curled palm like fat white slugs. He licks the corner of his mouth, not taking his eyes off the pills as though they’ll disappear if he looks away for an instant. Finally, he raises his eyes to meet mine.
“Here,” he says, handing me one back. “Keep this for another time.” I take it wordlessly and go back to my books. I hear the creak of Aaron’s bunk, and once his breathing slows down, I slide the other pill back in its spot. I don’t know what this stuff is, and I don’t want to know, but I won’t judge him for taking it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After all the long build-up, the exams are over in a matter of days. I think I did okay, except I could have written so much more in the English exam. I’ve lived with Raskolnikov for months, and I think I’m able to understand and identify with him, but I don’t really write that fast.
Now I just have to wait. I’ve applied for the same degree course in Maths and Science at four different universities, although I don’t really know what I want to do and part of me doesn’t even want to think about it. I feel a bit lost now with no study. I miss the cottage; I miss Mr P; I miss Archie.
Mr Robinson peps up the sport a bit, and we play cricket every weekend. It’s not really for me, but just being outside is worth all the slowness of the game. Geez, I’d shovel horse manure all day if I could be outside in the sunshine. Mr Khan asks us all to organise a concert for Christmas. Some of the guys sneer at first, but some guitars and drum kits get dragged out from somewhere, and there are auditions. It starts to be fun. We have some singers, a band and a play that’s pretty stupid, but gradually, more boys start hanging around and the guards get involved too.
I read a lot now—the Buddhist books and the Bible. I can’t believe they are really saying the same thing: love one another; have compassion for one another. Same message. The Buddhists spell it out pretty clearly. They have these four basic ideas: the Four Noble Truths. Basically, they’re saying life is difficult. They got that right. The reason it’s like that is that we crave satisfaction. It’s true. We’re always wanting something other than what we’ve got.
I was once so desperate for a bike that I thought if only I had one, I’d be happy forever. Within a few months of getting it, however, it was getting rusty because I dropped it on the ground instead of putting it carefully away, and it started looking old. Then Gary got a brand new racing bike. Mine looked so crappy next to his, and all I could think about was getting one like his and comparing my bike to his. We lurch along all the time like that—always wanting something bigger, better, newer.
The third thing that leads on from this is that there’s a way out of this endless trap for everyone. Just stop all this craving for things, this constant greed. I’ll have to think about that one. Even if I’d somehow got Karol as my girlfriend, would I have gotten sick of her down the track? Found fault with her and wanted a prettier or smarter girl or whatever? People always seem so happy on their wedding day—as though they’ve got everything they want—but just look at how many get divorced.
The final step is a big one. It says there is a way out of all this: living a life of virtue, wisdom and meditation. Well, I haven’t got much of the first two with the way I’ve stuffed up my life, but I love meditation. Mr P says the word comes from the same base as the word ‘medicine’—they are both connected to healing, and some part of me feels like I’m healing.
Back to the Buddhists. Once again, they break it down for you—a real road map to follow. They call it the Eightfold Path. Basically, you don’t look outside yourself for someone to wave a magic wand and make life happy; instead, you look to yourself. Jesus says the same thing: the Kingdom of Heaven is within you and available to everyone.
Anyway, I’ll shut up now before I bore the crap out of you. Just read some of those books and learn how to meditate. Think before you act. Unless, of course, you’ve already got it all together. But I doubt it.
I don’t know how to tell you. I’ve sat down half a dozen times to write, but I just can’t believe it, and I end up staring at the wall in amazement while my mind goes over everything again. Here goes.
Mr Khan called me in a few days ago and said that Dad wanted to see me but first wanted to make sure that I was willing to see him! I sat there, stunned. I let happiness wash through me, but there was something niggling at me. Of course. It would be like when Katy came. She can’t forgive me for what I’ve done, and Dad will be the same. He loved Mum so much… but I have to see him. I’m prepared for everything he has to say; he won’t be saying anything I haven’t said to myself a thousand times.
I nod speechlessly to Mr Khan. He smiles and says, “Good. He’s waiting in the visitors’ room for you. You’ll have it to yourself.”
“Now?” I gasp. “He’s here now?”
“Yes. He’s been with me most of the morning.” Mr Khan stands up.
“Thank you,” I say stupidly and leave. I don’t remember how I get down the corridor; my heart is hammering so hard, and then I’m through the door, and it’s Dad—oh Jesus, Dad—and his arms are around me, and we’re both laughing and crying like a pair of fools.
He steps back at last,
and we look at one another. He hasn’t changed a bit, except that there are a few flecks of grey in his hair and he’s put on a bit of weight. I drink him in, every feature: his dark eyes, crinkled at the corners; those little white lines where he squinted into the sun and those bits haven’t tanned; his big, bony nose; everything. At last we sit down.
“You’ve grown so much, Luca! You’re nearly a man.”
“I work out a bit, Dad.” It feels strange but so good to be saying that word again. There’s so much to talk about, but we fall silent. That heavy sense of sadness weighs me down, and I sink into a chair. Dad grips my wrists.
“I didn’t think you’d see me, Luca.”
“I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” I whisper huskily.
“Never! Never! You’ve never been out of my thoughts.” His voice catches, and he stops for a moment. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“What for? You and Mum broke up. You left. It happens all the time.”
“What for? I abandoned you. I thought I was doing the right thing by getting out of the way. I was just thinking of myself! I saw that when…it happened. I just couldn’t stand seeing you every now and then, being a part-time father. I couldn’t separate you and your sister, and she couldn’t leave her mother. I drove back past the house one afternoon, and Katy was with him, holding his hand and skipping along beside him, and they were both laughing away. I just assumed you felt the same way.”
“No, Dad! I hated him!”
Silence.
“I know that now. I didn’t know then. I didn’t even think of it.” Dad shakes his head. “What a terrible thing I did to you, Luca. Look at what my stupidity caused.” He covers his eyes.
“No, Dad. It wasn’t you. I did it.”
Dad shakes his head sadly. “Katy told me what really happened. You were doing what I’d always taught you to do: trying to look after your family. Great one I was to say it. I didn’t look after you at all.” He lets out a long, shuddery sigh. “Can you ever forgive me, Luca?”
He’s been suffering just as much as me. He blames himself for all of it. I grip his arm, feeling the strong, sinewy muscles I know so well. “Of course, Dad; of course.”
His body sags for a moment, and then he sits up straight. “I’ve seen your lawyer and told him all that Katy told me. He took a statement from her before she left.”
“What do you mean? What does it matter what I said to Katy?”
His eyes light up. “Don’t you see, Luca? This changes everything.”
“Nothing’s changed. I killed them…both.”
He sighs. “But you never explained what happened that night. It seemed like a random, vicious, drug-fuelled attack, but it wasn’t. You were provoked. You thought Reid was abusing Katy, and you—a 15-year-old—ran at him in your anger, and he punched you. What you did next was self-defence.”
“But I was on drugs, Dad!”
“Certainly that was a factor. The thing is, Luca, almost anyone would have acted the same way.”
“But I was wrong, Dad,” I hung my head, “so horribly wrong and… Mum… That shouldn’t have happened.” The tears are running freely down my face now, but I don’t care.
Dad nods slowly. “No one acts rationally when they’re filled with wrath, with rage. Your mum was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
We sit there for a long time. I hear the noise in the dining room as the boys get ready for tea. I just want to keep sitting here.
“The thing is, Luca, Mr Bloom is sure you can leave here and come home with me into my care. I’ve spoken to Mr Khan, and he only has good things to say about you. But it’s not just up to him. There’ll be a hearing…”
“Court again?” I break in.
“No, nothing like that. They’ll hold it here. Maybe they’ll keep you here till you’re 18—I don’t know—but then, Luca, then,” his eyes twinkle at me again, “you’ll come home.”
A thrill runs through me, but at the same time, I think, Where’s home? Katy had said that Dad was remarried now, but just the thought of leaving here takes my breath away for a moment. I haven’t allowed myself to think about it as something that would actually ever happen, but just for this little time, I do.
“You’d need to speak to a counsel or or a psychologist, Mr Khan said, but there’s a good chance, Luca; there’s hope. Who knows, you could be out by the time you turn 18.”
Two warring feelings are battling away inside me. I could be out in just a few months! But then that word I hate: hope. That’s just fantasising, imagining something’s going to be different from what you’ve got right now. I will myself to calm down, and I begin to breathe slowly for a few seconds till I hear the door open behind me.
“Time’s up,” the guard says, and Dad and I stand.
“Whatever happens, Dad, thanks for coming.”
Dad bows his head. “I’ll be back on Sunday. I won’t desert you a second time, son.” He reaches across and grips my hand, and we stand there for a moment, like two people just being introduced, and then I turn and go.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Later that night, I’m lying on my bed in that weird half-awake, half-asleep state when Aaron whispers, “You awake?”
I jerk fully awake. “Am now. What’s up?”
“Sorry. Do you think I could have the other one?”
“I’ll get it in a sec. Can I talk to you first, before you’re off the planet?”
There’s a silence for a few heart beats, and I’m just about to say, “Don’t worry about it; here’s your stuff,” when Aaron says, “Sure.”
Then out it comes. I tell him about what happened today and how good it was to see Dad. He interrupts me every now and then to ask me things like why Dad hasn’t been to see me before and who Katy is so that, before I know it, he gets the whole story.
When I finish, he’s quiet for a bit then says, “Do you think you’d have done it if you weren’t high?”
“I’ll never really know. I think maybe I’d still have tried to hurt him in some way, but the thing is I would have been aware of what I was doing; I would have seen Mum, or realised that it was her, and I would have also realised the damage I was causing. The way I was, I was just in some strange vacuum where I knew I was doing things, but I was disconnected from them. It was like they weren’t real. I might have heard what Katy was saying or maybe that first belt in the face might have stopped me, but I was in a bubble, and I think that was probably the drugs.” I stop. “That’s why I hate drugs so much. They take your brain away. They make you like some sort of animal, really—functioning and feeling but with no control. Mr P once said to me that there is a steering wheel to your mind and you’ve got to be the one with your hands on the wheel, not the drugs.”
“Being on drugs is like driving with no hands on the wheel,” Aaron says. We lie there for a while, and then I swing my legs out of bed and go over to my desk, picking up my notes where the pill is hidden.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?”
“Not really, but I have to try sometimes. Trouble is I have tried before so many times, but I can’t keep it up.” He laughs drily. “I’m a weak prick, Luca. I’d really like to get off it, but it seems to be the best thing in my life at the moment, and that’s pretty hard to give up. But, hey, that’s such good news about your Dad and everything.”
We don’t say anything more, and in a few minutes, I hear his breathing become even. How’s he going to make it on the outside? I roll over to go to sleep, frowning a little at the thought, but the day has been too good for me to stay worried about anything tonight, and I go to sleep with a smile on my face.
*
Aaron’s looking better. He’s started taking an interest in sport again, and though I’m still getting him drugs, he’s cut right back. I praise him for trying so hard but say nothing when he asks me to get him more. That’s why I feel so shocked when I go into our cell one afternoon and all my books and notes ar
e on the floor. Someone’s trashed all my stuff, and the pages where I hide the drugs are ripped open. Shit. It can only be Aaron. I’ve never actually hidden where I’m keeping them from him, but he always asks me to give them to him. It’s some sort of manners he has, I suppose, because I buy them for him. I sit there, feeling really pissed off. Even the spines of the books Mr P gave me have been cut open to make sure there’s nothing been stuffed down there.
I hear someone stop outside in the corridor. The door’s still open, and turning, I see Owen. I smile at him, but he averts his eyes.
“Mr Khan wants to see you.” He says and steps back, waiting for me to come out and stand in front of him, something he stopped doing ages ago. We usually walk together now, but today it’s back to how it was when I first came in here.
Mr Khan looks just as severe. What the hell? He motions for me to sit down.
“You’ve disappointed me, Luca. I’m not very often so wrong in judging the boys in my care, but you’ve certainly fooled me.” He sees the puzzled look on my face and continues. “Too late for the innocent look. Drugs have been found hidden in your cell.” He folds his arms and leans back in his chair, waiting for me to speak, but what can I say? The moment stretches on agonizingly, and finally, he breaks it. “I remember you sitting right there, Luca, and telling me you’ll never take drugs again.” Still I say nothing. To speak is to betray Aaron.