by Anne Davies
“Well, I’m not the only one disappointed. Your father will be also. He has been in constant contact with me—as has your lawyer, Mr Bloom, who has been working on your behalf—and you do this.” Mr Khan is silent again, and when I still say nothing, he adds, “I was very impressed with your desire to help your friend, Aaron, but now I can see that you were only thinking of yourself. No doubt he is able to get drugs for you and that was behind your request to get him in with you.”
My throat is dry, but I manage to croak, “I don’t take drugs. Blood test me, Mr Khan. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
“If that’s true, the only reason you’re hiding them in your cell among your things is that you’re dealing.” He shoots a disgusted look at me. “So handy to have one of your customers in the bunk above you. No wonder you wouldn’t tell me who was supplying your friend with the drugs even though you clearly knew.”
I can’t meet his eyes. I must look like such a liar, staring at that gold leaf pattern on the desk with my jaw clamped and nothing to say.
Mr Khan stands and opens the door, where Owen is waiting. As I leave, he says, “Things were looking very promising for you, Luca. All destroyed by this stupidity.”
As we walk silently back to the cell, that pig of a guard who started all this comes over and speaks to Owen. As he walks off, he grins at me—an evil, self-satisfied grin—and I know that it wasn’t Aaron who went through my stuff at all. The guard must have figured out Aaron was getting it somehow and taken the gamble that it was stashed somewhere in the cell. Well, he was right, and he won.
I sit at my desk, too shattered to do anything about the mess, when Aaron bowls in. “Shit, what’s gone on in here?”
I tell him, my voice dull and lifeless. He’s apologizing to me—I can hear him—and I’m murmuring that it’s not his fault, but I don’t want to talk. Closing my eyes, I turn away and lay my head down on the top of my wrecked books.
A few minutes later, the siren goes for duties. I get slowly to my feet. Aaron’s already left, so I pad down to the library and start going through the books that lie waiting to be marked off and returned to the shelves. It’s mechanical, mindless work—all I feel capable of, even though I usually like it, flicking through the books and putting aside anything that looks good. For the first time, I really feel the urge to drug myself out, wiping out my thoughts—especially the look I can imagine on Dad’s face when he finds out about this. Looks like Ray Reid was right. I may as well be zonked out under a bridge.
It’s because I let myself hope. How stupid. Haven’t I learned anything?
Aaron isn’t at tea that night. I hear the others ask about him, and I tell them I don’t know anything, but I can guess he’s figured out there’ll be no more stuff from me now with our cell under constant surveillance, so he’s gone off looking for some other source—the well’s dried up as far as I’m concerned. Maybe he even wants the drugs so badly that he’ll go and talk to that guard. Winners are grinners. Whatever made me think I could do some good for someone? I’m just a dirty little killer; no point pretending anything else.
I’m in my cell later that night when Owen comes in. He doesn’t say anything, but the hard look’s off his face. “Just getting your mate’s clothes,” he says, and he opens the cupboard and drawers and bundles up Aaron’s few things. “He says you can have the posters.” Then he’s gone. Aaron must have asked for a new cell. Yep, he’s done a deal with that guard for sure. Everything I tried to do has come to nothing.
I start cleaning up my books. A torn page flutters to the floor from one of the Buddhist books Mr P gave me. There is a quote on it from some Buddhist saint, All the happiness there is in this world comes from thinking about others, and all the suffering comes from preoccupation with yourself. I can’t keep the sneer off my face as I screw the scrap of paper up and throw it in the bin. That worked out really well for me; I did all I could to help Aaron, and look where it got me.
Life isn’t worth living. What’s the point? The thought keeps echoing in my head as I sit there, and I know that there’s only going to be one way out of this for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I wake up in the middle of the night. How can I do this? I need to do it well and finally, not stuff it up like Aaron did. This is no ‘cry for help’; I want out, permanently. I feel so totally alone—even the tossing and turning from Aaron in the bunk below me is gone for good. I know that Dad won’t give up on me now, no matter what, but what’s the point? I’ll just bring him trouble. He has a new wife, a new life. I lie there trying to think clearly, and then I feel my ears tickling. You sad piece of shit, Luca. Your tears are running down the sides of your face and into your ears. I stop myself laughing. I can’t afford to let any emotion out; who knows what might happen? Some crazy outburst like with Mr P that day?
I’m dreaming. Katy and I are playing chasey in the back yard. She’s laughing and running away, and even though I know I’m faster, just when I put my hands out to grab her, she’s gone! I hear a noise, and she’s behind me, still laughing. I turn and try again. Each time, she disappears. Finally, I grab her shoulders, but an awful noise is coming from her. Stop, Katy! My eyes fly open, and it’s the siren blaring. I blink a few times, disoriented for a moment, and then everything comes back to me. I close my eyes again, and then the door opens.
“Up you get, Sunshine. Mr Khan wants you.” It’s Owen, but he looks quite chirpy. Just an act, obviously; it’s all an act. He waits outside while I wash and dress quickly, and then when I go to fall in behind him, he strolls along beside me.
Mr Khan is having a coffee and toast when I come in. “Thank you, Owen.”
What the hell is going on? I haven’t even had any breakfast, and my stomach growls.
Mr Khan laughs. “I won’t keep you long. Here, have a piece of toast.”
I’m so shocked I take it and look at him uncomprehendingly. He nods, and I wolf it down while he munches his toast and drinks his coffee deliberately and slowly. He says nothing while he eats. One thing at a time, I guess—no talking to people with a full mouth and all that.
Finally, he turns to me. “Interesting day yesterday, Luca. Very satisfying day.” I gulp. Yeah, great. Who for? He wipes his mouth and hands carefully, opening his top drawer and checking his face in a small mirror. He presses a buzzer, and a guard comes in and takes his tray.
“I had a visit from your young friend Aaron yesterday. He told me the whole story.”
I feel myself go cold. “How do you mean ‘everything’, sir?”
Mr Khan leans forward on his desk and looks into my eyes, a thin little smile playing on his lips. “I mean everything: where he got the drugs in the first place and how you have helped him get out of that situation. He said that apart from Archie, you’re the only true friend he’s ever had and he couldn’t stand by and see something bad happen to you when all you were trying to do was to help him.” He pauses, leaning back and folding his arms, and then continues. “He said knowing you has made him want to be a better person and not just a selfish druggie. He didn’t think he had much chance getting off drugs, but he said that knowing what happened in your life and your struggling with it but still caring about people and trying to do the best you could made him think he just might give it a shot. He knows you hated giving the drugs to him after what they did to your life. He wants to repay you for what you’ve done for him.”
I sit there, dazed. Tim’s words about not being a dog sound in my head. “But sir, his life will be hell in here now. He’ll be branded a dog.”
Mr Khan’s thick, dark eyebrows raise, and he tilts his head a little. “That’s why I wanted to speak to you so early, Luca. Aaron isn’t even here. I took a statement from him about the guard in question and organized immediate placement for him in a drug rehabilitation halfway house. His time in here was almost up, and he’s in the custody of the people who run the house. He’ll have to stay there beyond his original sentence, but he’s more than happy to do t
hat. He says it’s his only hope.”
“Where?” I ask stupidly. This is all going a bit fast for me.
“In the country. He’s gone into a program that will wean him off drugs and get him back on track. The rest is up to him. By the way, he left this for you.” Mr Khan opens the drawer, takes out an envelope and hands it to me across the desk. I raise my eyes questioningly, and he nods, so I take the folded bit of paper from inside and read Aaron’s hurried scrawl.
Thanks, bro. There’s so much more I want to say to you, but let’s leave it till I’ve been clean for a year, and then we’ll get together with Arch. Don’t worry about me. I feel hopeful for the first time in ages. Maybe I can actually do this! At least I’ve seen what a self-centred knob I’ve been, and I’ve figured out that I’ll never be happy just thinking of myself and what I want all the time. I want to look out for other people too, Luca—just like you’ve done for me. I’ve started with you, and I feel great. Aaron.
I fold it back up slowly and carefully, my mind a blank. Mr Khan is sitting back in his chair, his fingertips together, smiling at me.
“What about…the guard, sir?” I ask.
“We’ve had our eye on him for a while, Luca. Too late now for Aaron, but he’ll be taken care of.” The smile’s gone from his face now, and I see another Mr Khan. Those warm, brown eyes are cold and hard, but then he looks at me and smiles again.
“So, back to you. I have already called your father and brought him up to date. He’s a very happy man today, Luca. As for you, I can’t condone someone supplying drugs, but in light of all the circumstances, I think the panel will be understanding. If you are still unwilling to speak to a professional, however, that will, shall we say, throw a major spanner in the works.” He fixes me with those eyes again, his face serious.
“I’ll do anything I have to, sir.”
Mr Khan nods. “Good decision. Now go and have a proper breakfast. The situation with Aaron—what’s happened, where he is and so on—is strictly confidential. You know nothing.”
“Yes, sir; of course.”
“Good,” Mr Khan says, dismissively. “An excellent outcome. I’ll arrange your counselling sessions, and we’ll take it from there.”
Five minutes later, I’m enjoying every mouthful of my soggy Cornflakes. The boys say surprisingly little about Aaron. They just assume his sentence was done and he left. I guess it’s because he’s been a ghost at the table for such a long time that he’s easy for them to forget. Not for me.
I hurry back to my cell after breakfast and rush straight over to my bin. Thank God it’s still there. The little scrap of paper I had tossed away so contemptuously was the same message that had been in Aaron’s note. He’d never read it, but he’d learned it anyway. I knew he was smart—smarter than I was. I pull my pillow off my bed and sit, legs crossed and eyes closed, feeling that familiar peace settle on me. Life can be good.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Things move much faster than I could have imagined after that. First, my results arrive. Mr P has forwarded them on, and he puts in a note congratulating me. I’ve done okay. In fact, I get an offer from three of the four places I applied to. I talk it over with Dad, and he thinks it might be a good idea to defer till second semester. I might be out by then! We both agree I need a bit of time to get used to things outside. The thought of going straight into a university with a whole lot of people disturbs me a bit. I hate to admit it, but this place has been like a cocoon for me.
There’s plenty I can’t wait to get out for—the beach, going for a run, just being able to do what I want when I want—but crowds, I think, will worry me for a while. I also don’t think this whole process will move as fast as Dad thinks it will. I’ll believe it’s actually happening when I’m in the car, down the road and out of the gates.
I see the counsellor three times a week. She’s very easy to talk to—doesn’t appear to judge—and hell, it’s just so nice to spend time with a woman, even if she is about 50. She’s gentle and plump and smells good, but apart from that, she helps me find ways to handle my black thoughts. To tell you the truth, we end up talking about meditation a fair bit of the time. A lot of the things she says are pretty obvious, but she also talks a lot about handling my grief, something I almost didn’t think I had the right to do because I was the cause of it all.
Halfway through January, the Board will hear my case. Mr Bloom says he’s quite confident. That ‘quite’ makes my belly churn a bit, but as I said, I’m trying really hard not to believe this is all going to actually happen. Mr P is going to be there, and Mr Robinson and even Owen have made statements about me, but then the police who came to the house and saw what I had done will probably do the same.
On the day of the hearing, they call me in, and it seems pretty casual compared to being in court. There are people there I don’t know, and they ask me questions. I answer everything as simply as I can, but then one question comes at me that I have to think about for a minute before I answer. The person who asks it is tall and thin with sandy hair and thin lips. His freckles remind me of Reid, and I feel the old, familiar sadness.
“How do you know you won’t lose your temper in the future, Luca?” he asks, his pale eyes glancing quickly up at me from his notes. “Two people died. Regardless of the circumstances that have been made available to us, that fact remains. How can we be sure that isn’t the way you will always resolve situations you’re not happy about?”
I feel this is ‘make it or break it’ time, but that’s not the important thing. What’s the truthful answer to that question? I take a deep breath.
“Well, sir, that’s the thing you’ve got to be sure about before you let me leave here. I know that. All I can say is I’m not the same person I was over two years ago. I know the cost of what I’ve done. I’ve lost my mother forever—my fault—but my sister has also lost her mother, and Dad lost the mother of his children. Everyone who loved Mum lost her, and even though I had no love for Ray Reid, my sister and mother did, not to mention all his family and friends. All those people are paying for what I did. It won’t end for them any more than it will ever really end for me. I’ll carry what I did to my grave.” I stop and rub my hand quickly over my eyes. Shit, they’ll think I’m some loser doing my best to put on a performance. Breathe. Breathe. I count five breaths slowly, and then I’m in control again. “I know I’ll never hurt anyone again. I can’t do it. I just know that, but having said it, I trust Mr Khan and my counsellor, Mrs Petersen. If either of them thinks there’s a chance I could do something like that again, then don’t let me out. Ever. That’s all I can say.”
There’s not the slightest sound when I stop speaking. I can’t look at anyone, and then Mr Khan clears his throat. “Thank you, Luca. You can go back to your duties now.”
I look at Dad, but his head is bowed, so I just close the door behind me and head for the kitchen. Tim’s on duty with me. “Feeling okay, man?” he says, looking at me anxiously.
“Just got to wait now, Tim.”
He pats my shoulder and turns back to the dishes he is stacking back in the racks, and I start wiping down the benches.
Mr Bloom has told me that it may be a while before the Board makes a decision, but three days later, Owen comes to the gym and tells me Mr Khan wants to see me. My whole body seems to thud. I shower and dress quickly, and then I go down that corridor knowing my life is going to change one way or another in the next few minutes. I knock on Mr Khan’s door, and he calls me in.
Mr Khan’s on the phone, so he motions for me to sit down. This is torture, but I quiet myself down as much as I can and prepare for the worst. He hangs up at last and then looks up at me.
“Good news, Luca. The very best. The decision was unanimous, but there are a few strings, of course. You’ll need to report to a case manager every week at first, and then, at his discretion and depending on your progress, you will report less often. You’ll need to see Mrs Petersen for the first few months as well to help you readju
st into normal life, but apart from that, you will be released into the custody of your father.”
“When, sir?” I whisper.
“He’ll be here straight after breakfast in the morning.” Mr Khan stops. I sag onto the table as though all those imaginary cables I was keeping myself in tight with have snapped. I hear the sound of water being poured, and I sit up groggily. Mr Khan is holding out a glass of water, and I take it gratefully. My hand is shaking as I bring it up to my mouth, but I drain the glass. He takes it from me and smiles. “A good day, Luca.”
“The best, sir.”
I tell everyone at the table what’s happened, and they jump up—though it’s not strictly allowed while we’re eating—and thump me on the back and shoulders. Man, I start coughing with it all, and they think that’s hilarious. Even the guards come over and have a laugh. “I’ll miss you all,” I say when I get my breath back.
“Yeah, right,” they all chime in, but they know I mean it.
“You’ll all be out soon, anyway.”
Tim looks around and nods. “Yep.” He sits quietly, staring into space, while the others sit down and get back into the food.
“What’s wrong, Tim?”
He jerks and shakes his head, smiling a bit sadly. “Hope poor old Neil isn’t doing it too hard in prison.” It’s not a good thought.
“Hopefully he won’t be in there too long.”
Tim shrugs. “Funny how he was such a scumbag before, and then he turned into an okay guy. But, hey, this night is yours. Well done, mate.”
I look at him closely. Where’s the skinny little rat-faced kid gone? He’s filled out a bit, for sure, but it’s more than that. He’s changed. This place changes everyone—some for the better and some not—but he’s a pretty good bloke now.
*
I pack up my stuff. There’s not much of it apart from my books. I’ve fixed all the spines as best as I can. I wander down to the rec for the last time, but I don’t stay. Behind all the happy words, I see the pain in too many eyes. They want to be going out tomorrow morning too.