Tao Lin - Shoplifting From American Apparel

“What are you in for?” someone said.

“Shoplifting,” said Sam grinning.

“I knew it the moment you walked in,” someone said.

“I don’t hold in farts,” said a bony Hispanic lying on his stomach. A public attorney walked by and two people in the cell asked if they would see the judge tonight. “It’s ten now, they go until midnight on Saturday,” said the public attorney. “You won’t get called tonight, they’ll start again at eight in the morning.”

Around midnight a young Asian wearing many layers of clothing was put in the cell. He walked to the trashcan, leaned over it, took out four or five cheese sandwiches, and sat eating very quickly with unfocused eyes. Someone said “damn.” Someone gave the young Asian their sandwich. A window-washer who punched someone in the subway said Central Booking in the Bronx had three floors you had to get through before you got to see a judge. “Be glad we aren’t there,” he said. “I’ve been there. When I was sixteen. People be in there three, four days before they see a judge.” Around 2 a.m. breakfast was given. Sam ate his banana and small box of Frosted Flakes and gave someone his milk. He had a headache. He thought about calling Hester on the payphone. Hester didn’t approve of shoplifting. People started lying on the floor. Sam lay on the floor using his hoodie as a pillow.

“Damn, man, you stink,” said the bony Hispanic to the young Asian. “Get your stink-ass in the corner.”

The bony Hispanic kicked the young Asian’s back.

The young Asian moved in place with two jackets over his face.

“Don’t move,” said the bony Hispanic. “You’re fanning your stink.”

More people were put in the cell. There was no more room on the floor. Someone spilled their milk and three people stood. “Officer, I spilled my milk, can I get another,” said the person loudly about five times.

Around 3 a.m. two inmates came into the cell to mop the floor.

“You missed a spot,” said the bony Hispanic. “Come back, you missed a spot.” The inmate with the mop stared at the bony Hispanic with a very angry facial expression. “You weak-ass inmate janitor,” said the bony Hispanic. “You do a six-month stint at Riker’s and you think you’re hard. What did you do? Nine months? Six months for good behavior?” They screamed obscenities at each other. The inmate without a mop held back the inmate with the mop. The inmate with the mop had a facial expression like he was about to do something very out-of-control. Sam looked at a small Caucasian who had talked about stealing designer tuxedos and living under a bridge. The small Caucasian had a bored facial expression. The bony Hispanic was shouting obscenities at the inmate janitors who were now out of view. People were fanning the wet floor with their jackets. Sam lay in a near-fetal position with his hood around most of his face and thought about “Raweos.” He woke around 6:30 a.m. to his name being called. He left the cell and walked past about six other cells. People in the other cells were sitting close together in small groups in front of giant fans. They stared at Sam with round eyes as Sam walked past. “They looked like lemurs,” thought Sam standing with about fifty people in a wide hallway. Sam’s name was called. He walked forward and stood in a line and the line moved upstairs into a large cell with about forty people inside. Around 10 a.m. Sam was called into a very small room where he sat opposite a public attorney. “You have no prior arrests, you’ll get one day community service with a fine,” said the public attorney through bars.

“I have a prior arrest,” said Sam.

The public attorney stared at Sam.

“Don’t say that,” she said. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “Okay. Thank you.”

Sam went back to the large cell and sat staring at the window-washer who had punched someone in the subway. The window-washer was talking about different movies he had seen. “How long has he been talking,” thought Sam. “Seems weird.” Someone was talking about punching someone on an airplane to protect his children. About ten people were talking about drug deals. Someone was talking about how many years he would get and then threw his puffy jacket on the floor and smiled and said he was going to take a nap and lay stomach-down on the jacket. Around 12 p.m. Sam’s named was called. He sat on a bench in a courtroom. He received one day of community service.

Outside the courthouse he called the organic vegan restaurant where he worked and said he would be an hour and a half late. He went to his apartment. He showered and emailed Robert. He drank two glasses of water. At work while putting on gloves he thought that he should have somehow asked for two days’ community service so that his record could be erased again after six months.

“I thought you were calling because you wanted to go to Mara’s party,” said Robert the next night by Union Square. “I was sad.”

“That’s funny,” said Sam. “You really wanted to go to her party.”

“I was really looking forward to it,” said Robert grinning.

Sam said he was having dinner with Hester later and that he felt like it would be the last time he would see her because he felt like one of them would start uncontrollably talking a lot of shit about the other person. “I feel like that every time we see each other though,” said Sam. “Then it’s always okay for some reason.”

“Do you like her,” said Robert.

“Yeah,” said Sam slowly. “I think I changed or something … like, I like being around someone who isn’t like me a lot, in some ways, or something. I’m pretty sure I feel happy around her. I think I always feel good after I see her.”

“What’s wrong?” said Hester a few weeks later sitting on her bed facing Sam. “You’re being quiet.”

Sam lay holding a pillow, not looking at Hester.

“Nothing,” he said in a quiet monotone.

“I can tell something’s wrong. You just won’t tell me. I can see it in your brains.”

“Nothing,” said Sam. “I’m just … have nothing to say.”

“You’re acting different,” said Hester. “You’re being like … pausing.”

It was April and Hester’s windows were open. They were on the fifth floor. Cars and voices could be heard from Twenty-Third Street. “I’m just sad or something,” said Sam. “I feel normal. I’m just quiet.”

“I feel kind of sad,” said Hester. “I wish you would tell me your feelings sometimes.”

“I don’t have … anything to complain about,” said Sam. “I’m just, I don’t know, I don’t want to talk anymore, I’ll just start saying bad things.” Sam covered his face with a blanket and rolled over on the bed. He stared at the blanket against his face. He lay without moving.

“You should say them,” said Hester.

“I don’t have anything to say. I’m not complaining.”

“I’m not complaining either,” said Hester. “I just wish we could be closer. I thought we could but I guess I was wrong.” After a few minutes they began to say bad things about each other. Sam questioned Hester existentially while lying nearly facedown covered completely by the blanket. It was quiet and then Hester got off the bed.

“I’m going to sleep,” she said. “So I can wake up tomorrow and live my ‘goalless’ life.” Sam left the bedroom and saw Hester standing at her window looking outside. Sam left the apartment. In the staircase he text messaged Hester that he liked her, didn’t have anything bad to say about her or her life, and didn’t agree at all with anything he had said.

About a month later Robert and Sam were walking on St. Mark’s Place around 10 p.m. Sam saw someone moving sideways like a crab on the street. Sam stopped walking and stared at the person. “Robert, wait,” he said. “That person was in jail with me. He ate a lot of sandwiches really fast and someone kicked him. He didn’t seem insane before.”