Джойс Оутс - Prison Noir

“Yeah,” I said, nodding, “twice as big.” For a moment I lost myself in that memory. It had been better; more space for guys to hang out. Now, on the other side of the baseball field, what was once a part of our yard area stood the school modules.

David sighed loudly. “I remember when we still had weights, even family visits.” He turned to look at me. “You ever make it out on a family visit?”

I shook my head. “Naaaw, after conviction my old lady dumped me; the boneyards were done for lifers when I made it back to the joint.”

David nodded, and his head kept going up and down while he looked forward. I’d decided to not ask him for anything. I opened my mouth to tell him goodbye, but he suddenly turned back and looked at me. “So, Jason, what do you want?”

“I, uh. .” The walls were coming in again. “I. . Why do I have to need something?”

“Because, Jason, you don’t say squat otherwise.”

“What, can’t a guy just come and say hi?”

I didn’t like the way he laughed at my question. “Yeah, you could, but you never do.”

“Oh, man, that ain’t right!”

His head moved like the music was still on. “Yep, that’s for sure; you took the words right out of my mouth.”

“I don’t do that!”

There was that fucking laugh again and a smirk. “So, Jason, what can I do for you?”

I wanted to slap that smug look off his face. “Can you talk to the lieutenant for me?” The perimeter track turned left here off the pavement, and now we walked on a gravel road, which was also the home run area for the baseball field to our left.

With every look, I was getting more pissed. He was sticking his chest out now, strutting around like a rooster. “What did you do?” he asked.

“What’s with all the fucking condemnation, David?”

He turned to stare at me with real anger in his face. “You know, Jason, I really love Hendrix.” He reached for the radio. It was a little smaller than a cigarette pack. “We can forget this conversation.” David fumbled with the front to get his finger on a switch.

“They busted me for pruno!” I said, a lot louder than I meant to. We’d made our way next to some tables on the right side of the road that a number of my partners hung around. My attention stayed on David, pretending that my “road dogs” hadn’t heard shit, but they were all eye-fucking me while checking out my company.

“You mean you finally got caught?” He said this loud enough to be heard by my fellas.

My voice lowered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

More of that laugh. “Dude,” he said, “you’re as dirty as they get.”

At least we’d passed the tables. “You saw me doing what?” He didn’t know shit; he never came around where I did my business.

His eyes rolled. “Come on,” he said. “You and your cellie were busted, what, six months ago for pruno?”

The gravel on the road ended, and we turned left onto a dirt path next to a chain-link fence. On the other side were the education trailers. Home runs here would land on top of the module classrooms.

“My cellie owned it! He told the lieutenant it was his!” I knew this was lame, but my mouth kept going. “The lieutenant found me not guilty.”

That laugh again. “But this time you didn’t have a cellmate to dump it on, did you?” One of his eyebrows rose up like fucking Spock in Star Trek .

“Yeah,” I replied, staring down. “He took the heat for me.” The kid had said he didn’t care and agreed to ride the charge in my place. The fact that he had to serve another month didn’t bother him too much.

Dave’s face was a fucking stone. We walked a couple of steps before he asked, “Remember what the cops used to do to guys making hooch?”

“Yeah, they poured the shit out in the fucking toilet.” Recalling that pissed me off even more.

David raised a finger. “The first time, they poured it out.” He let that settle for a moment. “The second time,” he held up two fingers, “they poured it on your bunk. It went all over: your blankets, sheets, and mattress. Your crap got soaked!” His hands went behind his back, and he spoke slowly. “What’d they do the third time?”

This asshole was giving me a headache. “They pissed in it.” My face felt flush, and I didn’t dare look at him.

Another fucked-up laugh. “Which one would you prefer, Jason?”

No point in speaking. I saw it a toss-up: drinking wine fortified with a guard’s piss, or going through this shit. I might as well be on my knees, with him behind doing me. My shoulders went up and down in a shrug.

“You know,” David said, “you really need to find yourself another crowd to hang out with. Most of those guys are half your age.”

“Why? What about ’em?”

David’s eyes rolled. “You’re kidding, right?” He rubbed his forehead. “In the past six months, your crew’s been busted for one thing after another.”

“I’m schooling them.” I’d told myself as much many times. “So they don’t get all screwed up.”

“Schooling?” he asked with a big grin. “Was Big Rick sticking that shank into Skunkweed graduation?”

I’d had enough. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“You really don’t know, Jason?”

“See, David,” my hand waved about, “that’s why I don’t bother talking with you. You come off with this holier-than-thou bullshit.”

“And you interrupted my walk why? ” Now he was angry too. “To see how I’m doing?”

We’d come around to the far side of the baseball field, heading left again down a dirt path in foul ball territory. We turned right onto the blacktop. “I can’t afford a write-up, David. Can you help me or not?” We walked straight toward the hospital.

“You can’t afford it?”

“Yeah,” I answered. Our direction took us past one end of the basketball courts where the San Quentin Warriors were playing an outside team. On the other side were the tennis players.

“You can’t afford a write-up?”

“What the fuck is your problem, David?”

“Right this moment,” he said, as we started up an incline that brought us into the hospital’s shadow, “my problem is you being a pretend friend.” He breathed deeply a moment before adding, “Selling me this piss-poor version of you being a good guy with really bad luck.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I was wasting my time with this fool.

“I’m a nobody.” We finally came back to the point where Rick and I had entered the yard one lap before. “But I’ve busted my ass for twenty years now.” We walked a couple more steps before stopping. “Where were you, Jason, when I got serious about my life?”

“Not in prison,” I answered.

“Right! While I’d been about changing my life for over ten years, you were still robbing, stealing, and killing.” I stared at the ground, wondering if one of my dogs had a big fucking mouth. David continued, “I got up next to lifers squared up about changing, and I listened.” He stuck out his thumb like a hitchhiker, aiming at my buddies. “Not like a bunch of kids still playing cops and robbers.”

“You ain’t a fucking saint,” I said. A couple of guys walking close glanced over but quickly returned to their own business. “I’ve seen how you treat guys — like they’re trash. You should hear what kinds of assholes they call you!”

“You should know,” he countered. “You’re the one doing most of the talking.” David stopped suddenly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His hand came up in a fist, and he pounded lightly on his forehead. “Yeah,” he said calmly. “I can be a perfect asshole. . I gotta own that.” He let his arm drop down, then turned and looked at me. His right eye had a twitch. “But when you walk into that boardroom, Jason, it’s nothing. . You’re nothing but a fake and a fraud.”