Joe,
I have to tell you about Mr. Howard, the old man that I live with. When I first moved in with him, he pretty much left me alone. Now we appear to be at the glaring stage. He doesn’t talk much, but I definitely know when I’ve done something that he disapproves of. I looked up the word curmudgeon in the dictionary the other day. It was in a book that I was reading. As soon as I saw it I thought of Mr Howard. The first definition was “archaic.” He is definitely an old man, but archaic seems more descriptive, something totally out of touch with today’s reality. It was the second part that fit better” a crusty old man” that is totally Mr. Howard. Apparently this tier was part of a program to move the younger people entering into prison in with the old men doing life. I don’t know why Howard lives here ‘cause I can’t believe that he’d sign up for such a program. He keeps saying “the kids” are ruining his quiet time. I don’t think that I’ve seen the man smile yet, but I can recognize his glare from the next room. He seems ancient, but when we go out on the yard he can run forever. He’s all wrinkled skin and sinew. Apparently my name is now “Kid.” And he says that I’m lucky because I’m quiet and like to read. I think that was a threat, but I’m not sure.
Resident of Tier C, Cell 129, IMSC
Jeremy Cabot
Jeremy’s second time in her office was much easier for both of them. He fidgeted out of nervousness. He picked at unseen spots on his clothes and on himself. It was distracting, but it was also pretty common. His posture was not as locked, and he was much more communicative at least until she asked him about what had brought him to prison. Marcia saw Jeremy turn away and stare into the corner. She realized that she had pushed too far. She had tried to recover with talk about prison stuff but she knew her chance was over for the day, and sent him back to his housing unit.
Marcia was happy that, the powers that be, had put Jeremy on the program tier that had been her idea. She realized that the people who were in prison for a long time had ways of coping that administration couldn’t teach or even understand. Marcia knew Howard and she knew Jeremy would be astounded at how much the two had in common if they ever talked about it, but she doubted if that would happen. She also knew that in spite of his cantankerousness, Howard had been the first person to sign up for her program. He knew that the kids needed direction, and being a lifer he’d seen too many kids return time and time again.
Marcia once again pulled her pad over and wrote: STILL FOCUSING ON PRESENT AND AVOIDING THE PAST, OBSERVATIONS MORE THAN PARTICIPATIONS, RECOVERING
Joe,
Howard had this TV, and an officer came in to search our cell and so I took my book and sat in the dayroom. I saw the officer comeback out with Howard’s TV! I asked what was wrong because I knew it was his. The officer said that it wasn’t “adequately marked.” He told me that he left the confiscation paperwork on his bed. By the time Mr Howard got back from the gym later I was so afraid to tell him what had happened that I almost left before he came in. As soon as he walked in I blurted out, “A cop took your tv and left you the paperwork.” He glanced at the paperwork, chuckled and said “fish” and said that he’d had a good workout today, he’d worry about it tomorrow. Sure enough the next afternoon he had his TV back.
A week later I dusted his nightstand and I moved this picture that he had of an old house. I thought I put it back exactly, but when he came in he glanced at the nightstand and growling he asked if I’d been in his stuff. I said that I had just dusted and he said that he would dust his own stuff from now on. Man I don’t get it! It wasn’t like I took and ruined it or something. He’s a crab, but he’s a little scary too. I mean he’s not like the guys with a million tattoos or anything, but there is something about him. I think he is as real as you can get and nothing wants to make me crawl into a hole like the glare that he dishes out all too often.
The fish aka Newbie
Jeremy Cabot
Joe,
I haven’t told you about the old man’s rules yet. The first one is “Mr. Howard.” I was told to call him that, and I am not starting off with a problem because I can’t follow somebodies rules, I mean whatever, right? Some of his other rules? Well if I buy stuff, I keep it. I can’t trade or sell it. He says he’s had too many cellies bet, trade, and owe themselves into deep trouble. If there is something I need before I get my commissary he will get it for me. Yeah, I was afraid that this would make me seem like a bit of a patsy, but the whole tier is used to people that live with him doing this. Like I said, it’s like living with your parents but without the respect.
Jeremy Cabot (aged 12)
Marcia chuckled at Jeremy’s description of Howard. She had to admit he was sort of right though. Howard would have a hard time relating to Jeremy’s depression. Jeremy was one who was more likely to withdraw into himself while Howard dealt by acting out. Hence Howard’s bad behavior lead to more bad behavior while Jeremy’s depression would be more self-harming. Howard saw himself as Jeremy’s instructor. He would issue rules and laws but not really communicate personally. It would be a tough pairing but Marcia grew anxious to see where this was leading. She wrote RULES and hurried on with her reading.
Joe,
I was playing cards with Jimmy, Matthew, and Randy and all of a sudden Randy falls on the floor and starts shaking. I thought he was joking, and I sat there while Matthew went over and said something to an officer. Jimmy asked me for my sweatshirt and stuck it under Randy’s head. Then I heard the officer call medical and say someone was having a seizure. They made us cell up while they took Randy down to medical. Man, I hope he’s ok. He looked awful flopping around on the floor like he’d been hit by lightning or something. That floor’s cement too. I talked to Jimmy as soon as I could and he says it happens all the time, especially to those guys who have done alot of drugs. He thought Randy would be okay, he only fell off his chair. It would’ve been worse if he’d been standing up. Sure enough, Randy was back a few hours later. I ran over and asked if he was ok, and apologized for not knowing what to do. He said no big deal and asked me who won the game. These guys are tough.
Jeremy the Wuss
Joe,
I’ve been thinking a bit more about you. Nobody would understand me writing to you like this. I’m not even sure I understand it. It’s all so confusing. We lived next door to each other the whole time we were growing up. We played hoops in the driveway. You told me about your first date with Jennifer Michaels. I remember that you thought that you loved her and were going to be together forever, but I think that was four girlfriends ago. Even now that you aren’t here I feel like our lives are twisted together even more than before. I haven’t been able to tell anyone about that night. I’ve spent more time avoiding thinking about that night than you can imagine. No matter what I do I can’t avoid it. It’s become an increasing part of my life and I think I’m going to have to face it. I don’t know if I can make it through this dark hole but the hole is only getting larger.
Miss You
Jeremy
Marcia liked the story about Randy. Randy was mentioned without introduction and was possibly a sign that Jeremy was making more friends on the tier. The fact that he was getting new friends showed that he was developing concerns outside of himself. The focus away from himself was a definite shift for Jeremy. Marcia wrote EXPANDING HIS WORLD.
Marcia read the last letter twice she was looking for signs of anxiety. What she saw was more reminiscing and fondness between two old friends. While it might have sounded romantic in other contexts. This time it was just sad. It was possibly a farewell to a good friend as Jeremy was going to face the darkness alone. Marcia wrote SAD, ALONE, FACING DARKNESS.
Joe,
Howard’s walked in while I was writing a few times and he never asks what I’m doing. I guess that’s part of the phrase that I keep hearing around here, “everyone does their own time.” You aren’t supposed to get tangled up in other people’s stuff. I mean if you count mine this tier has fifty four stories. Some are sad like Jimmy’s, how he never had a chance until he came here. Some are scary. I don’t know Howard’s story but the fact that he’s down for life without a chance of parole says it’s pretty horrifying. He told me the other day he was about my age when he was arrested the first time. I hadn’t thought of Howard being my age. It is almost unimaginable.
Just a story
Joe,
I don’t think that Howard and I can be friends. We’re as different as night and day. I was reading in my bunk and Howard said “I’m glad you’re doing better.” I thought I was dreaming. I mean I know that I didn’t answer for at least two minutes because I had to convince myself of what I heard. Finally I said, “What.”
He said, “Damn, boy are you deaf? I said that I was glad that you are doing better.”
I asked what he meant and he said that I was laying off of the pills more and talking to people and occasionally “getting off of my ass” and going outside. He told me that he’d almost asked them to move me when I came onto the tier. He was afraid that I was so depressed that I would actually try to kill myself. I actually laughed when he said that it wasn’t going to happen in his cell. I said that I was glad that I was doing better too. I think that was our longest conversation since I moved in. It was at least our deepest one by far. Miracles will never cease.
Astonished in cell 129
Marcia thought that most people would read these two letters as a minor development, but Marcia knew it was more than that. Both Jeremy and Howard were finding common ground. It was also Jeremy realizing that maybe he wasn’t the monster that he had previously seen himself as.
Joe,
Howard and I actually had a conversation yesterday. He said that being sent to prison didn’t mean your life was over, and then laughing said, it wasn’t like I was doing life or anything. My sentence was relatively short and then he asked me what I was going to do after I got out. I told him that I really had no idea. That I had plans to go to college before …. But I didn’t know now. “So what’s stopping you now?” he growled. I told him that I lost my scholarship and I wouldn’t have enough money. He laughed at that and said that the government liked to help out former inmates, that it made them feel good, and that there were scholarships available if I really wanted to go to college. He asked what I wanted to study. I told him I wanted to write, and he nodded and said he’d seen me writing alot. I think I growled a little when I said that was different and he said that a story was a story. I started to think about our story. Yours and mine, I wondered if I could write it out. What would it look like? Would people want to read it? Could I face people if they knew our story? I guess I would have to face people who knew our story any way, would it be better if they heard it from me?
Jeremy Cabot, the Daring writer?
I remember it was snowing that evening. I had borrowed dad’s car to pick up Stephanie. That was the night that she dumped me. Not really a great loss, but I still went over to tell my best friend about it. You came up with the brilliant idea of getting high, and showed me your pot stash. The folks were home so we told them that we were going to go target shooting up the hill. I snagged a bottle of Jack out of the cupboard. I somehow figured that I could talk your sister into getting us one to replace it before dad noticed. We drank and smoked but we got tired of listening to each other babble and whine about girls yet again. So we decided to target shoot. At least then I wouldn’t be lying about that. After a while we made a game of setting up the target and then shooting. It kept getting darker and we kept shooting faster. We were both shooting pretty well in spite of the booze and pot. But then somehow you didn’t get out of the way and I shot. That’s all I remember! Some old guy found me along side of the road stumbling around and freezing. It wasn’t until they went to find the car that they knew the story. The judge knew it wasn’t intentional, but he said that he couldn’t let me walk. I’ll never forget my mother’s face on that day. I couldn’t even look at your family. I don’t see how I can face them ever again. Mom said that they moved away. She says it was just an accident, but the only truth I know is that you were my best friend and I took your life. I survived, I’m not sure how or why but I survived.
Jeremy Cabot
The survivor?
Marcia looked at that question mark for a long time. Would Jeremy survive? She restacked the letters and closed the file. She thought of Cabot as she put the file away and relocked the cabinet. She looked at her notes, and chuckled it was a barely legible list of words on the page. She knew sometimes first quick impulses were more important than deep analysis. As she looked at the list of words, Marcia thought that Jeremy Cabot #93527 may have just managed to do more rehabilitation than she could have managed. She also realized why Cabot might have reacted so strongly to Officer James’s handling of the notebook. Cabot had just put his story on the page it was the first time that it existed in a solid form. It was the thing that Jeremy had been hiding from the world. He wasn’t ready to be exposed, but maybe this was what was needed. In time, allowing others to hear his story would help Jeremy even more than it would help others.
Her eye was drawn to her desk and the picture of her ten year old son. She wondered for the thousandth time how different these people were from her own family. She walked back to the computer and wrote on her electronic calendar to schedule a “routine” visit with Jeremy Cabot on C tier. She wrote in her notes to watch for signs of depression and to suggest that the drug rehab class might ask him to write his story. As she finished her notes she heard the tones on her radio sound and as she heard her name called on the radio to segregation she wondered if it would be suicide attempt. She wondered if she could help this one.
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