by Dermot Davis
He imagined how it might be. To outside observers and especially to those who once knew him he would appear to be thinking and acting like a madman. To himself, he wouldn’t see any difference. To himself, he wouldn’t even remember who he used to be or what he used to think like. To himself, he would still know himself as Andrew.
Lying in the shitty bed of the upper bunk somewhere in cell block B2D, Andrew lay awake and disturbed. He had never experienced before such dark and dreadful thoughts as the ones that now invaded his vulnerable mind. He had never before felt such powerful and scary emotions as the ones that now ripped him up on the inside. It scared him that he didn't seem to have much protection against such terrifying feelings and thoughts.
Did the old Andrew die? Somewhere between the car accident and the court case and jail, did that soft and tender Andrew become replaced with a different Andrew? A dark and more sinister version of the one that went before? For the old Andrew, life used to be full of hope and promise. For this new Andrew, whoever it was that now inhabited his mind and body, life was nothing more than a giant shithole.
Lying awake, and noticing every little sound that echoed throughout the corridors, Andrew waited for Henry to get up first and do his morning ritual. The guy was so rigid and institutionalized that Andrew could sense that anything that upset Henry’s daily routine practically disturbed him to the core. Once Henry dressed and took care of his bathroom functions, Andrew pulled himself down from and out of the bunk.
Even though the breakfast was barely edible, the food did help him to feel better. His spirits were lifted further when he took advantage of his exercise privileges in the yard. Breathing the morning air deeply and tilting his face up towards the sun, he felt stronger, refreshed and more himself.
Remembering his talk with Henry about paying attention, he watched everyone around him with disguised interest. What had seemed like the random behavior of the inmates on his earlier visits to the yard, he now could see was actually much more structured. Their behavior only seemed random because everyone acted so casually, he now noticed.
A certain pattern of behavior began to make itself known to him as he watched a similar scenario play out. With almost absolute regularity he watched as each gang congregated in the same places each day. The higher-up gang members would sit and the lesser members would stand. What he termed "the runners" would be sent to different groups or individuals, directed by the seated members of the gang.
The runners were most likely newer members that would trade drugs or payment or information with other gang runners. They would then report back to their bosses; the expressions on the bosses’ faces either displaying satisfaction or displeasure. If it was displeasure, the runners would usually return to the other gang or individual to impart a follow up message.
Then there were what Andrew termed the tourists; those mid-level gang members that toured around the yard, visiting with other gangs to catch up on current events and find out what the other gangs were planning. Although they greeted the other respective gang members with respect and apparent friendliness, Andrew could tell that it was like a business respect. It was the kind of respect borne out of the understanding that it’s in all their best interests to cooperate to some degree in order to run a successful enterprise within the confines of their shared living conditions.
“What’s going on, shithead?” a voice said from behind him. Andrew knew exactly what he was going to see before he even turned around. Duke and his posse of loser White Supremacist morons stood together looking like they were kingpins of the yard, which they were not, nor even close.
“Not much,” Andrew answered. “You?” he asked.
“Not much,” Duke said; a smug smile on his face that made him look more obnoxious. “You want to walk with us?” he asked.
Andrew stopped himself from telling them to go take a hike and wasn’t sure exactly how best to answer. He figured that they wanted to get him to do something for them; something that would get him into trouble and allow them to get away scot-free. At the same time, declining their invite would also set him up to suffer in some way from their wrath. It was a lose-lose deal for him, no doubt about it.
“Sorry, guys, I’m supposed to meet someone,” Andrew said, looking at his wrist and feeling instantly stupid because he didn’t wear a watch.
“You’ve got a meeting, dipshit? Are you shittin’ me?” Duke asked, an exaggerated expression of incredulity on his face. “Hey, don’t walk away, I’m talking to you, shithead!”
“Gotta go, sorry guys,” Andrew said, scurrying off and kicking himself for not coming up with a better excuse.
“You’re going to regret this, An-drew,” Duke shouted after him as Andrew left the yard.
Andrew returned to his cell and feeling bored out of his skull, jumped back onto his bunk. Henry sat at the desk, still studying and drawing from the same book. “What are you doing in here, Henry?” Andrew asked straight out. “You’re smart, you’re educated and apart from me, you’re the only guy without any tats in here; you’re totally not like the rest of the losers in this kip, so what’s your story, dude?”
“You know what an alternative healer is?” Henry asked.
“No,” answered Andrew.
“You know what a homeopath is? A herbalist? An acupuncturist?” Henry asked.
“Yeah,” answered Andrew. “You’re an acupuncturist?”
“I combine all these therapies together, along with others that you never heard of, energy healing and stuff,” Henry said.
“So, you’re in jail because you heal people?” Andrew asked, looking confused.
“Pretty much,” Henry answered. “They put me away, along with tens of thousands of others, because we threaten the status quo. You think this is a free country? Think again,” Henry said.
“Okay,” Andrew said, lost for a follow up question.
“Medicine is big business, right?” Henry asked.
“Yeah,” Andrew answered.
“Let’s say you get cancer. You go to your doctor, he sends you to specialists, they do tests, you go to hospital, they do more tests, give you chemo, the whole nine yards. How much does that all cost?”
“With health insurance and—“
“Forget about health insurance,” Henry interrupted. “With or without health insurance, how much is that all gonna cost?”
“I don’t know, a lot?” Andrew said.
“You could be lucky and get away with paying tens of thousands or you could be unlucky and pay hundreds of thousands, right? That’s maybe if they can even cure you, okay?” Henry asked.
“Sure.”
“Suppose I told you I could completely cure you for less than a thousand bucks, who would you go with?”
“Well, considering I don’t have health insurance and I sure as heck don’t have tens of thousands—“
“Exactly,” Henry interrupted. “Now suppose you’re big business and you see all these alternative therapy folks not just taking away your business but making you look like a greedy, foolish fat-cat that doesn’t even know what you’re doing, what would you do?”
“I don’t know. Take a look at what you’re doing and, if something works, I’d use it in my therapy as well, maybe?” Andrew answered.
“Seriously, dude?” Henry asked. “That’s how you think big business operates? Instead of making a huge profit on drugs that don’t work, I’m going to give you a few herbs for you to take that will cure you and I’ll make maybe two bucks profit?”
“If the herbs work, right?” Andrew said.
With a bewildered expression, Henry looked down at the floor and gave an exasperated sigh. “They were curing people of major diseases in China thousands of years ago,” Henry said, holding up his yellow book. “For nothing,” he said, “maybe they’d give the healer a chicken or a few eggs or something. They knew more about health and disease back then; how the energy system in the body works, for instance…” Henry said, shaking his head with disgust.
“So, you can cure cancer?” Andrew asked uncertainly.
“I was curing all kinds of so-called incurable diseases. People came to me when they’d tried everything else; when all the doctors and all the specialists in the world couldn’t cure them, they came to me. When they had no money left and they’d spent their life savings on a system that doesn’t work, on a system that’s corrupt…” he said, almost tearful.
“That’s pretty cool,” Andrew said, feeling awkward.
“You know why I could cure them and Big Business couldn’t? Because it’s not about the disease; it’s about health. Make the body strong and it can fight any kind of disease: cancer, aids, lupus, MS, Parkinson’s, Lou Gehrig’s, Cystic Fibrosis, it doesn’t matter. You don’t fight the disease; you make the body healthier. The body is a series of interrelated systems; you don’t just treat a part of the body, you treat the whole system. They know this, like I say, this is nothing new; I didn’t invent this, this is researched and documented… All they have to do is change the emphasis from disease to health. It sounds too simple, right?” Henry asked.
“Yeah,” Andrew answered.
“You don’t make money from simple; simple is free or maybe it costs a few measly bucks,” Henry said, sounding sad and defeated.
“So, they put you in jail for giving people herbs? I don’t understand. No one died or anything?” Andrew asked.
“No, no one died,” Henry said, sounding like he was offended. “People lived. People that were given death sentences by the corporations got so friggin’ healthy that they couldn’t shut up about it. They told their friends and their friends told their friends and they blogged and they Facebooked… Nothing gets bigger word of mouth than a supposed miracle, right? But this isn’t a miracle,” Henry said, holding up his book. “This used to be normal; this used to be average. Just shows you how messed up the system is now when what should be normal and average is considered miraculous.”
“So, they put you in jail because?” Andrew asked.
“You’re a pretty naïve kid, aren’t you?” Henry asked. “I don’t mean that in a bad way; it’s your whole generation. You probably think that a lone gunman killed JFK and that they invaded Iraq because they had weapons of mass destruction.”
“I haven’t really thought much about that stuff, to be honest,” Andrew said.
“That stuff?” Henry asked, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “It doesn’t bother you that the rich control your life and they can do what they want, when they want and ruin everything on the planet in order to make themselves richer? That doesn’t bother you, no?”
“I don’t really… care,” Andrew said honestly.
“Well, then,” Henry said, trying to hide his disgust. “If you don’t give a shit about humanity, there’s not a lot to talk about, is there, huh?” he said and turned back around to his studying.
Andrew lay back in his bunk and looked vaguely up at the ceiling. How am I going to make it here? he asked himself. If I don't get beaten up or murdered by gang members, I'm going to go insane through boredom or conversations with conspiracy nut jobs.
Even if the guy was a bit nuts, Andrew did admire Henry for his passion and concern. Aside from Fiona, Andrew didn’t really have anything that he felt passionate about.
“You really don’t care?” Henry turned around and asked. “I’m just curious. How can you not care?”
“It doesn’t concern me, I guess,” Andrew answered.
“This country is fucked, man. This once great, majestic country of ours is being raped and sacked and pillaged and you don’t give a shit, is that it?” Henry asked.
Pillaged is a funny word, Andrew thought to himself. “I don’t see what you see, I guess,” Andrew answered diplomatically.
“You don’t see the rich getting richer while there’s more and more hungry and homeless people showing up on the streets? You don’t see where everything we buy is made in China and nothing says ‘made in America’ anymore? You don’t see where there’s no jobs for kids leaving school except maybe to, what, stack the shelves at Walmart? You don’t see your folks working harder and harder and still they never seem to get ahead; they work their asses off and they never seem to have enough; they always have to borrow more and more just to keep what they have, just to keep on going? All of that shit escapes your notice? I’m just asking,” Henry asked.
“My mom does work a lot and she never seems to… yeah, it’s always like she has to borrow all the time,” Andrew said, remembering how his mom often complained that she could never seem to pay off her rising credit card bills.
“The dollar isn’t worth shit. They keep borrowing trillions just to keep the lights on and there’s not going to be anything in social security when all the baby boomers retire. The country’s heading for a cliff but you don’t see it coming, or you don’t care, is that it?” Henry asked. “We owe so much money to China, we might as well be their little bitch. How the heck did that happen? Fucking China, dude.”
“I don’t know,” Andrew answered, wondering to himself how he could put an end to the conversation. “It’s a global, international business community.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Henry snapped. “It’s morons like you that helps put us in this friggin’ mess. Your stupidity and apathy makes me want to go throw up.”
Andrew dozed off to sleep and wasn’t sure how long he was out when he was awoken by Henry. “Time to go eat,” he said. “Miss out on this and you go hungry for the rest of the day.”
“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Andrew said, genuinely grateful.
“Sorry for snapping at you earlier,” Henry said. “I didn’t mean the things I said about you; I don’t know you from Adam,” he said.
“Hey, not a problem,” Andrew said, rising himself up. “I wasn’t offended.”
“I can get too riled up sometimes,” Henry said. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you, no hard feelings, okay?”
“I probably needed it. I don’t get riled up about anything,” Andrew said and smiled.
As soon as they left the cell and walked down the corridor, Henry walked alone and acted as if he didn’t know Andrew. It was as if he adopted a different persona where the way he held his head and even how he walked changed.
Andrew thought it strange but tried not to take it personally. He understood that maybe this was how the guy protected himself in this tough environment. Henry had even told him so much, that it was every man for himself. Prison does things to a man, he considered; changes him in a way that may even go against a person’s better nature. It was probably like this in the beginning of the country. Out in the Wild West, before law and order got established, the same principle applied: you gotta look after yourself because nobody else gives a rat’s ass whether you live or die.
Andrew watched Henry find a place for himself along with the lifers and the old timers. They didn't talk to each other at that table but, then again, nobody from the other tables bothered with them, either. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Andrew as he looked around to see where Duke and his minions were sitting. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them already seated down the far end and eating.
Once he got his food, he turned to look for a place to sit. As he turned he bumped into the large frame of Malice who looked down at him and smiled. “Come sit with us,” he said, extending his arm to show the way where Duke and the others were smiling and waving him over.
“I told someone else that I—“ Andrew said and stepped aside.
“I’m asking you nicely,” Malice said, still smiling and moving to block his path. Again, Andrew looked over at the table where the others were smiling and waving warmly towards him. What would happen if he dissed them and sat someplace else? he wondered. Would they start a mini riot and make sure that he got hurt in the middle of it? If not now, would they bide their time for a better moment?
Andrew looked to see if there were any guards watching but because the goons were ac
ting so friendly, no one watched with concern. As if losing patience, Malice bumped his body into Andrew to get him to move in the desired direction. Feeling like he didn’t have much choice, Andrew let Malice lead him to the table with Duke and the others.
“Hey, Andrew,” Duke greeted him with a broad smile. “Come sit over here, beside me. We were just talking about you,” Duke said as Andrew sat down. “I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot, my friend,” he said, extending his hand to shake. “No hard feelings.”
Andrew thought twice before accepting the handshake. Whatever these guys were up to, he couldn’t figure out. “Go ahead, eat,” Duke suggested. “It’s good today; turkey meatloaf or some shit,” he said, his facial expression of disgust eliciting a snigger from the others. “Billy didn’t eat all of his, so you can have it if you want it,” he said.
“No, I’m good,” Andrew said, trying not to show any fear as he took his first mouthful.
“Yeah, Billy’s a vegan, aren’t you Billy?” Duke asked.
“No, I’m not,” Billy responded, as if insulted by the accusation.
“You would be if you knew what it is, you ignorant shit,” Duke said.
“I know what it is,” Billy argued.
“Yeah?” Duke said, suddenly looking serious. “What’s a vegan? Go ahead and tell us.”
Billy looked at the expectant faces of the others and smiled like they were just pulling his chain. “Everyone knows what a vegan is,” he said, clearly not knowing. Duke and the others watched him and waited.
“Here we go,” Billy said, suggesting that he was seeing something behind Duke. “Looks like it’s a go.”
As the rest of the group turned and watched behind, Andrew tried to eat. Is someone going to be murdered? he wondered as he looked to see who they were looking at.
“Okay, act normal, everyone,” Duke said, turning back around. A palpable state of prepared readiness descended on the group as Andrew surveyed what was in front and around him. Up on the balcony, two guards chatted to each other. A good distance away, standing by the doorway two guards looked generally around.