Prisons

by Rob Edwards

  “See?”

  “But girl, you gotta be grateful.” Delton said firmly.

  Danna balled her hands in her lap and looked at them.

  “When they give you something that you think is weird, you thank them with all your heart.”

  Danna still stared at her hands.

  “Look at me,” Delton said.

  Danna looked up.

  Delton leaned in and rested his elbows on his knees. “It wasn’t all that long ago you was going to sleep hungry every night. I had to lie there and listen to you cry, and it broke my heart every time. So if someone is telling you they want you to join them for dinner, and they will fill that belly of yours with good food—even if it has Swiss cheese on it…”

  Danna smiled.

  “I’m grateful. You feel me?”

  Danna nodded.

  “And you need to be grateful too. And you need to be sayin’ thank you to them, like a girl with proper manners would do. You got that?”

  Danna nodded and looked back down at her hands.

  Delton sat back and looked around the room. The guard at the door had been watching him, but looked away when Delton caught his eye.

  “Are you nervous?”

  Delton looked back at his sister, concern etched on her face. She was asking about his parole board hearing later. He wanted to ease her mind but not give her too much hope. No saying what could happen. He could tell them the God’s honest truth—that he was sorry every day of his life for what he did, that he was just desperate because his family was starving—but it might not be enough. He nodded. “I’m a little nervous. But I think I got a good shot at it. I ain’t had no real trouble since I been in here.”

  Danna looked at her hands once more. “Then you can come be with me?”

  “I can’t be with you, girl,” Delton said. “I’m too old for a foster family. They think you should be out on your own by the time you’re twenty-four. But I will definitely be able to spend more time with you.”

  “Can I come live with you?”

  Delton smiled. “You know there’s nobody gonna let that happen. Not for a long while. And by then you won’t be wanting to live with me anyway.”

  “Yes, I will,” Danna said to her hands.

  Delton studied her for a moment. “You ever hear from Mama?”

  Danna shook her head.

  “Okay, Hayes. That’s time.” A guard said, approaching.

  Delton nodded at him and stood. Danna jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around his chest. “Good luck today.”

  He hugged her back. “Thanks, Sis.”

  The guard led Danna out a far door, the one that led to fresh air and sunshine. Delton turned and walked to his door that led back into the block that smelled like sweat and piss twenty-four hours a day.

  Reaching the door the guard said, “Nice job, Hayes.”

  “Pardon me?” Delton said.

  “I listen in to conversations sometimes, and I picked yours just now. You’re a good brother, and I wanted you to know that.”

  Delton eyed the man suspiciously. “Thanks.”

  “Listen, we get asked all the time from members of the parole board, to give our input on certain inmates. I’m going to let them know I think you’re a stand-up guy.”

  Delton crossed his arms. “And what’s that gonna cost me?”

  The guard chuckled, and then nodded at him with a raised eyebrow. “Good question. But I don’t play those games, son. It’ll cost you never taking up a cage in here for the rest of your life. Do we have a deal?”

  Delton smiled. “We have a deal.” He walked out the door and two other inmates exited the visiting room right behind him.

  Delton heard a low whistle followed by, “Damn, Hayes, that was one fine piece you had in there today.”

  Delton stopped and turned around to see Rick Simpson, a red-necked, freckle-faced inmate looking back at him through his thin eyes and his big yellow-toothed grin. He always wore a navy-blue stocking cap to cover up his greasy, stringy, red hair. “Dude, that’s my little sister.”

  “Oops,” Simpson raised his hands in mock surrender. “My bad, dude. Well, she’s not mine. Can I have her phone number?”

  Delton lunged and slammed Simpson up against the hard cement wall with a low thump. The air whooshed from his lungs. “She’s fifteen, you piece of…”

  “Cut that shit out, Hayes!”

  Delton could see a guard running at him from his left.

  A hand reached across his chest. “Whoa, chief. Stop. He’s not worth it.” Hector Sanchez, easily Delton’s best friend in the joint, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off before the guards could use their clubs. “You have that little sister to think about, man. There’s no need to give anybody a reason to keep you in here now.”

  Simpson bent over, gasping for breath. “What the fuck, Hayes. I was just jokin’ around, asshole.”

  Delton glared at Simpson over Hector’s shoulder. “Learning respect would do you some good, shithead.”

  “Shut up, Hayes, and walk away,” The guard said, taking a position in front of Simpson, and clutching his club tightly.

  Delton shook off Hector’s hands.

  “C’mon, Delton. It ain’t worth it, man,” Hector said, both hands raised to calm his friend.

  Delton took an angry breath, turned, and stomped off back to the block.

  Chapter Three

  Judith climbed from her yellow Kia and slammed the door. Entering the building, she breezed past the “Welcome to Hanson Elementary!” sign and headed straight for the main office. In one of the many rooms down the hall she heard several very off-key voices singing “Little Bunny Foo Foo,” a song Judith always considered a bit violent for young grade schoolers. She remembered, a hundred years ago, feeling sorry for the field mice when she had to sing it.

  Reaching the office she opened the glass door and walked in. The older woman behind the counter took off her glasses and let them hang from the cord around her neck. On the counter, a wooden veneer sign with white letters spelled out “Mrs. VanAmburg.” Mrs. VanAmburg had on a sweater with multi-colored tulips in the pattern. “Hello, Miss Higgins.” She pointed to the door to her left. “You can go right in.”

  “Thank you,” Judith said.

  Mrs. VanAmburg smiled. “Um hmm.” She placed her glasses on her nose and looked back at the People magazine on her desk.

  Judith sighed and opened the door.

  “Miss Higgins, come in and have a seat.” Principal David Wilkins, usually an extremely charming man, looked all business. His dark hair was a bit messy, and his smiling face was now cold and stony.

  “What’s happened?” Judith asked, taking her seat. “Someone hurt Noah? Where is he now?”

  “Your son is in the safe room, and he’s calm now,” Principal Wilkins said, raising a hand to assure her. “But nobody hurt him, he beat up another student.”

  Judith shook her head. “That’s not possible. There’s no way Noah would attack anyone. Whatever kid said he did, has to be lying.”

  “Miss Higgins, I pulled your son off the boy myself. Noah had him on the ground and was punching him relentlessly. I sent the child to the nurse with blood covering his face.”

  “He had to have been goaded into it.” She said, shaking her head. “Autistic Kids don’t like to be touched. Everybody knows that. There’s no way he would just hit somebody for no reason at all. They pushed him too far. You know how kids are.”

  “Miss Higgins, I don’t disagree with you. I have a feeling things went down out there that the kids aren’t fessing up to. They all said Noah started it.”

  “We both know that’s not true. Just tell them all to leave him alone, and there won’t be any more trouble.”

  “I can’t tell every child who goes to this school not to speak to another child for fear he may become violent.”

  “But he isn’t violent,” Judith said.

  Principal Wilkins opened a file on his desk, lifted a piece o
f paper, and waved it. “Noah has a history of extreme meltdowns and generally only hits himself, but it is recorded that on a few occasions he has hit others, mostly teachers. In fact, just after returning from winter break, he hit Allison Engel, the student teacher, and gave her a black eye.”

  “What?” Judith gasped. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

  “I can’t answer that. I think Miss Engel was embarrassed, but that’s no excuse. What’s important is that the parents of the student that Noah beat up today are furious. They want your son expelled and they’re going to the school board to make their case.”

  “Then we’ll have to be there to defend him.”

  Principal Wilkins sighed. “The problem is that we have a documented pattern of misconduct, including violent outbursts. And with Noah clearly growing stronger, and developing a tendency of hitting others….”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying there is a chance that he won’t be allowed to remain at this school.” He paused to let that sink in. “I wanted you to know so that you might start thinking now about other arrangements for Noah’s education. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” Judith leaned forward in her chair. “You think ‘sorry’ covers it? What’s Noah supposed to do with your ‘sorry’? Where is he going to go to school?”

  “You can enroll him in another district, or you can send him to Keener School for Special Needs.”

  “He’s been to Keener before. They didn’t do him much good, and they were too expensive.” Judith recalled the year she had sent Noah to Keener, a private school for special needs children. She was determined to pay whatever it took to get Noah the best education. But he saw very little progress there, nor did he seem to like it. Plus, the end of the school year was close and the cost for summer care at Keener was exorbitant. She would barely be able to afford that and rent too, let alone have anything left over to eat. A simple parking ticket would put her way over budget.

  “I can speak to one of the schools over in Washtenaw county,” Principal Wilkins said. “I can think of two that could be a good fit.”

  Judith closed her eyes tight. She didn’t care to share her tears with this man. Taking a deep breath, she stood while letting it out. “Well, that’s it then.” She turned and walked toward the door.

  “Miss Higgins,” Principal Wilkins said.

  “Save it. I don’t need pity.”

  “It’s not pity. It’s just…well…I heard of another program that may be a benefit to Noah. And it’s free.”

  Gripping the doorknob tightly, she stopped and turned. She stared at the principal a moment, trying to judge his sincerity. “For real?”

  “For real.” Mr. Wilkins said with a nod. “But you’d better sit down. It’s a bit…unorthodox.”

  Chapter Four

  Delton Hayes sat quietly. If he shifted his weight the slightest amount, the old wooden chair creaked loudly in the oppressive silence of the barren room.

  Five strangers sat in folding chairs at an old portable pressed-board table, flipping through papers in file folders. Delton scanned the people who were going to judge him—who were going to decide the next five years of his life. Three men and two women. All of them white. Two of the men were dressed in gray suits and one in blue. The man in blue who sat in the center, wore reading glasses. He had dark hair rimming a shiny pale bald head. The woman on the end, a brunette in a yellow dress with a white sweater and a silver necklace didn’t look up much. She spent her time swiping the screen on her cell phone. The woman next to her was much older. Gray streamed through her dark hair. She also wore reading glasses and had on a blue woman’s business suit.

  Delton realized that he was about to be judged by people who had no idea what life could be like in a neighborhood like his. They looked like the kind of people who got a new cell phone every year, had country club memberships, and wallets full of credit cards. He doubted if any of them ever went to bed hungry even once in their lives.

  “So, Mister Hayes,” The man in the center said. He put down his papers and took off his reading glasses. “Would you like to make a statement?”

  “Sir…ahhh…yes sir,” Delton said. He swallowed hard. Rubbed his moist palms on his knees. “I’ve had five years behind bars to think about what I’ve done. I know it was wrong. I now know I had other options, like the food bank and the shelter. I should have never taken matters into my own hands. I should have never been too proud to ask somebody else for help.”

  “Is that what you call robbing a convenience store with a gun? Pride?”

  “The gun was broke,” Delton said. “It didn’t even have a trigger.”

  “You know by now that doesn’t matter.”

  Delton cradled his hands in his lap and let his gaze drop to them. “Yes, sir. I know.”

  The man put his glasses back on, and picked up some of the papers again. “You have always claimed you just wanted to take care of your family. Do you still hold to that claim?”

  Looking up, Delton nodded. “Yes, sir. My little sister, Danna. She was ten at the time. Very thin. Very hungry. One night she was lyin’in bed cryin’, you know, ‘cause she was so hungry. Our mama was too busy doing drugs to get anything for her. I offered to go buy food, but mama wouldn’t give me no money, so…”

  All five sets of eyes stared at him. They listened intently to every word he said. Delton thought he noticed the slightest, almost imperceptible nod from the gray-haired woman, like he’d made a connection.

  The man broke his gaze and looked back to his papers flipping a page or two.

  The gray-haired lady never took her eyes off him. “Mister Hayes, what would your plans be were you to walk out of here today?”

  “I…” He hadn’t expected this question. All he expected them to want to hear was that he learned his lesson and he would never do it again. He realized he hadn’t given any real thought to life after prison, other than somehow getting a job, and being with his sister. He shrugged. “I guess I get a job, and find a place to live.”

  “So, you have no plans in place for your life after leaving Two Rivers?” the woman said.

  “Nothin’ written in stone.”

  “You need to know this is concerning to us.” The woman said as casually as a doctor discussing a throat culture. “Inmates such as yourself, who walk out of prison without their high school diploma, and no real prospects at gainful employment, often find their way back behind these walls within two years.” She let that comment sink in for a moment, and then added, “And usually for much more serious crimes the second time around.”

  His stomach lurched, like he’d swallowed a rock and it just landed hard. The connection he thought he’d made was nothing more than a frail thread, which this woman just clipped with her golden scissors.

  Delton didn’t want to listen anymore. He couldn’t take hearing them say he wasn’t fit for society, or safe to roam the streets. He stood up to leave. “Look, I understand you don’t think I’m ready to go…”

  “Mr. Hayes, sit down.” the woman said. Her eyes, which carried so much warmth a moment ago, were now stern and cold.

  He sat.

  “We have a very important decision to make here,” she said to him. “And we need your cooperation.”

  “Mr. Hayes,” the man began again. “It says here, that in five years behind bars you have never been reprimanded for anything. Could this be true?”

  “I guess so.” Delton said.

  “Considering the reasons behind the crime you committed, would you say that you see yourself as…oh, perhaps…a nurturing individual?”

  Delton glanced at the other members sitting at the table trying to understand what the man was getting at. “Come again?”

  “You have said your only thoughts that night were to get your sister food. Do you feel you have a calling to care for others?”

  Shifting his weight slightly in the chair, Delton pondered the question a moment before responding. “I’v
e never given it any thought. I just wanted to take care of my sister is all.”

  “I think you ought to know,” the man said. “there is a guard in this prison who thinks very highly of you.”

  Delton fought the urge to smile. “Thank you, sir. That’s nice to know.” He didn’t know why he was surprised the guard did what he said he would do.

  The man folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I’m going to be frank with you, Mr. Hayes. We have concerns about letting you out of here today. It’s clear you have been a model inmate, and you have a very good reputation with the guards. But we struggle at your lack of planning for your future. That being said, we’ve looked over your files very carefully, and we are considering you for a special program. Before we do that, we need to know that you are serious about your future.” The man looked at the two women to his right. They both nodded. He glanced over to the two men to his left who also nodded. He looked back at Delton. “So, Mr. Hayes. Are you up for a challenge?”

  Delton crossed his arms. Sighed. “What kinda challenge?”

  The following is an excerpt from the article “Special Needs + Special Rehab = Special Circumstances,” written by Dr. Warren Q. Fitzpatrick, of Marmont State College, and published in “American Psychology Magazine,” October 20xx.

  I put a great deal of thought and care into determining the pairings. In truth I felt the success or failure of this whole program rested on the choices I made at this point.

  My first consideration was the numbers. Too many would make the project unwieldy, and too few would not allow us the information we needed to make a determination on the success or failure of the program. I landed on ten pairs, believing that to be the perfect number to achieve our goals.

  I needed a good control group for the special needs children. I’d entertained the idea of having all children with the same type of disability, i.e., all ten children with cerebral palsy. But I came to the conclusion that would not give my experiment the proper litmus test it needed. If I were to go with all children with cerebral palsy, and it were a success, one could only conclude that a program like this was successful with cerebral palsy, leading to questions such as “but what about autism?”