Fall – 1997
Debbie smiled as the sound of her son’s laugh echoed through the kitchen window. Fresh pine scent filled the air, warning of cooler weather ahead. Debbie stifled a giggle while taking in the sight of her husband gently tackling their boy after lobbing the brown ball at him. Before she called them in for lunch, she stirred the pot of leftover turkey and gravy before attempting to pull the warm rolls out of the oven. With her second child due in about a month, bending over was becoming more difficult by the day.
“Jack! Jack, Time for dinner, hun! Bring in the little one, will you?” Debbie could not help but whistle a tune as the guys came stomping in. “Don’t forget to take off the muddy shoes, boys. And wash your hands, they are filthy!”
“As you wish, Ma’am!” Jack said, as he bowed with a crooked grin on his face, only to leap up and toss his son over his shoulder to obey the demands of the lady of the house.
“I’m only twenty years old!” She hollered back. The walls shook as the two made the way to the restroom to wash mud and tree sap off hands and elbows. “Lord help me, I married a child,” she muttered, shaking her head in amusement.
“Mom! Daddy says I can get a quarter back if I throw the ball far. Do you think he’ll really give me money?” Debbie could not suppress her laugh as the three year olds serious face begged for an answer. One eyebrow was lower than the other one, and they pinched together as his head cocked to the side, waiting for an answer.
“We’ll see. Are you hungry for some cookies? Now those, I can promise, will be ready soon.” She seemed to know that you should not offer sweets to a child before they eat their meal, but the overjoyed look on his young face could have melted anyone into giving in. “Tell you what. If you hop up in your chair and finish dinner, I’ll give you a quarter and two cookies!” He wasted no time climbing into his booster seat, and then he scooped up his fork, waiting for his meal.
“Babe, you’re really going to bribe our children? How are they ever going to live in the real world?” Jack asked as he walked to the table.
“I’m not the one offering him money just to throw a ball around, thank you!” She quipped. Jack mimicked his son’s earlier actions and lowered his eyebrow, wondering what Debbie could have meant. Glancing around the table, he smiled at his growing family.
“Jack, the alarm…. Please.” Debbie’s voice rang through the early morning, waking her husband from his slumber. He grumbled as he lifted himself from the bed, all the while the clock reminding him that three thirty was entirely too early to rise. Without the sun to guide his way, he felt his way to his closet to grab his things before returning to the bed for a moment. “Thanks for waking me up, babe. I love you so much.” Leaving her with a kiss that was never felt, Jack began his day.
Stepping into the shower made him jump from the chill of the cold water, and this only reminded him that there was a better life out there, if he could only work hard enough. With the water heater on the fritz, the broken mirror above the sink did not even fog over after the five-minute shower. Jack didn’t waste any time after checking his phone. He dressed himself on the way to the door one leg at a time, and cursed the entire way to the car.
“Learn how to drive, moron!” Jack barked at the other drivers on the single lane road even though the pace was steady. Sweat broke out on his face as he nervously glanced at the neon green digits on the radio’s display. Pressing the gas and nearing the rear bumper of the car in front of him seemed to be a wasted effort, yet he tried to push the car ahead of him to no avail.
“Oh, thank God! I’m still on time.” A smile actually crept across his face as he veered into the turning lane. Entering the complex was always time consuming, but at least he was on camera at the top of the hour. As he neared the front gate, the view of the ugly ancient buildings within the compound came into view.
“Welcome back to the Pit, Jack!” the guard said as he waved Jack through the front gates.
Jack took in his surroundings as he parked his car before his twelve-hour shift. The main building stood six stories tall and resembled a castle. The ominous sight never ceased to unnerve Jack as he approached the structure, knowing just how much blood had been spilled on the floors. Shaking it off, he made his way through the metal detectors and waited for the solid steel door to open, granting him access to Menard State Penitentiary.
“West and North house are under lockdown gentlemen. The Latinos decided to cut up one of the Arians on the yard. Needless to say, this is a dangerous situation, and we have to be ready if word got to the East and South houses,” the shift commander said. “Keep your eyes open for the skinheads. If you see as much as shifty eyes, call it in!”
Jack had heard this lecture every day since he started, and he learned to tune it out. Ignoring the rest of the briefing, Jack instead studied the placards of the fallen correctional officers on the wall behind the commanding officer. It would not take much to have my own photo on that wall. The last thing I need on my mind is a gang fight when I have a kid on the way.
Jack shook his head out of his own thoughts when he heard his fellow officers stand up and make their way out of the briefing room. Following suit, he walked out of the Administration wing deeper into the prison to the armory to pick up his taser and housing assignment. A quick glance at the clipboard told him that he was in the middle of something bad. A slap on the shoulder made Jack jump as his imagination ran wild.
“Hey Jack, we have the East side. Double up on your tasers, and keep your keys in your pocket. We can’t keep them on the belt when these idiots are trying to riot on us.” Jack recognized the Sargent Training Officer’s voice instantly, but it didn’t cool his nerves. “Why they didn’t decide to lock the whole joint down, I don’t know.”
“Do you think the East house will really pop off today?” Jack asked, attempting not to seem as timid as he really was. “What do we do if they start fighting?”
“We get the hell out of the way, bro. You don’t want to be in the middle of all that. Let them solve their own shit while we stand on the other side of the bars,” Sgt. Maxwell said as he walked off. “Don’t be a hero for these rejects. They are in a league all of their own.” Visibly shaken, Jack collected his items and headed for the nearest door. God, please let this day go by easy.
Squirrels and birds scattered as Jack opened the door outside and made his way to his assigned housing unit. Why would any animal stay in this place willingly? Everything looked like an old cowboy ghost town without having people walking around. The door to the commissary sat open without a soul inside. Feeling a bit caged himself, Jack was glad that half the complex was on lockdown, making his long walk a little less stressful.
The roar of the East House inmates taunted Jack as he neared his post. There wasn’t a single housing unit that still had windows, making the ruckus spill onto the makeshift streets. With inmates this riled up, Jack knew he had to put on a brave face. Gripping the door handle with a shaky hand, he walked into the housing unit, completely unprepared for what he saw.
“Te voy a arrancar maldito la cabeza!” Jack froze at the entrance of the building. ‘I’ll fucking rip your head off?’… What am I walking into? Is that what I just heard? Storming in, he was met with a shirtless man tattooed with a swastika on his chest. Blood was dripping between the fingers that were clasping his jugular, and his begging short whispers were impossible to hear. The man fell down the last four steps into Jack’s arms, staining his sleeves scarlet. His plea was only muffled by the sounds of his attacker chasing him towards the metal stairs, screaming expletives in Spanish.
“Down on your knees, asshole!” Jack’s yelling halted the Latino at the top of the stairwell. His hands were shaking as he forced himself to point the taser at the assailant, praying he didn’t have to use it. The smile on Jose`s face made it evident that he wasn’t going down without a fight, however. The attacker still had the shank in hand as Jack charged the steps towards him. The blade sliced his chest as Jose` attempted to jump back through the open door. Jack fell immediately, grabbing his ribs, begging for help. In an attempt to find a safe exit, he slid down the metal stairwell, leaving behind a trail of red. Trying the radio on his shoulder, Jack finally sounded his S.O.S. before slipping into an unconscious bliss.
“The doctors said you were lucky, Jack,” Debbie said as she fluffed her husband’s pillow. “Your chart here says they are giving you morphine. Is it working?”
“I’m fine, it’s just a cut. Can’t you go home? You’ve been here for days nagging me. I’m a big boy. Why don’t you go do something useful like take care of our son that you seemed to have forgotten about?” Answered Jack, wincing through the pain. Debbie’s hurt was evident on her face, but she still kissed Jack’s forehead before walking out of the room. She felt he was right, in a way, considering that she left Tony with her mother for the past week without even calling.
Jack wasn’t alone for long. A few moments after Debbie left, his coworkers filled his room. Sappy balloons and plants were sent from the groups wives, filling up the available windowsills and dressers as the men joked around. It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn serious.
“He killed himself, Jack.” Maxwell informed him with a smirk. “He was in solitary but somehow he got ahold of some pills and overdosed. I don’t think many people will be crying at his funeral.” The six other guards that crowded Jack’s room nodded in agreement. Their shifty eyes and quiet communications didn’t elude Jack as he watched on.
“Please tell me he wasn’t, um, evicted because of me,” he said, noticing the uncomfortable silence in the room. Not a single man looked Jack in the eyes, failing to reassure him. Jack’s doubt doubled. “What did you guys do? Tell me I’m wrong!” The order hung in the air until the men silently made their way out the door, leaving Sgt. Maxwell to explain.
“We did what we had to do, Jack. We can’t have people running around stabbing our staff. It really was self-defense, mind you. Just remember, we are your family, and we will always have your back.” Maxwell didn’t wait for a response before he turned heel and joined the rest of the guests in the hall. Nervous conversations echoed into the room, though indecipherable, before the men walked down the hall out of ear range.
Jack limped into his closet. “Babe, I don’t want to wear a sweater. Just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean I have to wear red.”
Debbie stifled a laugh at her husband as he pulled the too-small sweater over his head. “Jack, I think you put on a few pounds, and don’t you dare think about blaming my cooking! I bet it was all the ‘bed rest’ you had.” Jack simply scoffed and returned to the closet, knowing that Debbie was somehow shrinking his clothes.
“Dad, can you tie my tie? Dad?” Tony walked in to find his father sitting on his bed shirtless, with his head in his hands.
“Give it here, kid,” Jack said motioning for the tie. Tony passed it over at his father’s insistence, frowning as his father described every knot. Reluctantly Tony watched as his father looped and twisted the faux silk. Knowing his mind would not absorb the information being handed to him, Tony instead watched the television screen showing the annual ‘Santa’s Day Parade.’ With a jerk, Jack finished his chore and began trying to fit back into his suit.
“Come on boys. You know my mother will carve the ham without us!” Debbie exclaimed. She was gathering the gifts into a large bag as Tony and Jack ambled down the stairs. Reluctantly, Jack took over gift duty to give his pregnant wife a break while Tony stowed the food and his father’s libations in their cooler. Packed and ready to go, the clan of three set off.
“Debbie, let your mother take a look at you! It’s been ages!” The elderly woman embraced her daughter before she could even walk through the front door. “You look as if you are ready to pop! Do you have a name picked out for her?”
“Him, Mother! We already had an ultrasound done, and HE is definitely a him.” Debbie stuck her belly out with a hand on her hip for emphasis. “We are even picking out names. I want ‘Tyler’, ‘Braden’, or ‘Logan’ but Jack is stuck on ‘Jack Jr,’ though I didn’t care for that much, momma. Let’s go inside, we’ll catch the devil out here in this cold.”
Inside the house, thirty people milled around, munching on deviled eggs and baby pickles as Christmas carols played on the stereo in the background. In the basement, the children convened to play board games and hog the ancient Super Nintendo that was conveniently plugged into the television downstairs. The atmosphere remained festive as more family arrived, filling the smaller dwelling to capacity.
“We should play some poker! Nickel ante and a drink from the eggnog for a loss.” Debbie’s brother Steven riled up enough people to get a small crowd gathered for the game. Debbie herself found a spot at the table herself. Glad that Jack had excused himself to make his way to the kitchen’s buffet, it took Debbie no time to reconnect with her brothers. When offered a glass of an eggnog drink, she didn’t even think twice before taking a sip.
Tony sat on his uncle David’s lap as the straight flush played out. He was happy to rake in the silver coins from the pile in the middle.
“… And Lord, we thank thee as we accept this meal, Amen.” The spiral ham in the middle of the table lasted about fifteen minutes, before all that remained was a picked clean bone. Conversations of football and politics circulated around the men as the women spoke of family issues and recent events. None of the children sat still at the ‘kid’s table’, instead deciding to play a game of tag inside the tiny dwelling. With their minds on more important topics, the adults paid them no more attention than they did of the rerun of the parade on the television.
With the meal ending, the men reconvened in the living room as the women attempted to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Debbie did not hesitate when her mother errantly poured the rum-laced eggnog into her glass as the ladies gossiped. The taste of the sweet liquor pleased the pallet as she drank the forbidden drink. With every sip, she could feel her judgment slip, even as she heard Jack’s voice booming in the next room.
“Mom, how is Dad’s cancer doing?” The moment Debbie broke the unspoken rule, the room fell silent. The look from her sisters didn’t deter her from asking a second time, however. “I just want to know if he’ll be here again next year. I DO love him, you know. It’s not like anyone is actually informing me of anything! How is my father doing?”
“Debbie, he’s ill. He’s still here. Leave it be, please?” asked Debbie’s mother. The normally complacent Deborah quickly found her feet, knocking her chair back as her face flushed with anger.
“Dammit, you can all go to hell. Daddy is sick, and you all are just sitting here acting like it is a state secret or something!” The first victim of Debbie’s wrath was the gravy boat. It smashed on the wall only ten seconds before the rest of the china on the table followed suit. By the time Jack ran in, the kitchen resembled a disaster zone with glass and ceramic piled along all of the baseboards in the room.
Tony was the first to see the look on his dad’s face as Jack realized why his wife could not control her emotions. His exit was quick to follow, knowing that the look only spelled trouble. Taking refuge in the coat closet, Tony listened to the terrified screams of his mother as Jack berated her.
“Alcohol, really? You want our kid to grow up stupid? I could kill you!” The sound of glass shattering as it careened off of the closet door and slammed into the corner made Tony jump. Biting his lip, he tried his best to stay quiet. He knew that there would only be trouble again if he was caught.
That’s it, we are going home!” Jack made a motion to grab Debbie’s arm, but was cut short when her father stepped in between.
“I don’t think so, Jack. You can go ahead and head home, but I think my daughter is my responsibility right now.” The order was given and Jack didn’t disagree. With three brothers and an adamant father, he was well outnumbered. Halfheartedly Jack said his goodbyes, never once looking away from his wife. His mumbled curses went unheard as he made his way back to the car.
“No, you shouldn’t be drinking, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him put another hand on you or your kids,” the families patriarch, Edward, explained to his daughter. “Now you, Debbie, need to go find your son. I’m pretty sure I heard him piss his pants in the hall closet when that asshole destroyed my glassware.”
The now sober Debbie wasted no time seeking out her first-born. His whimpers were not hard to identify as she approached the wooden door. They made her regret the decision she made more than the demonstration Jack made earlier in the evening. Tony shielded himself as she opened the door, breaking her heart. Instead of coaxing him out of his hiding, she entered the small space and sat cross-legged across from him. A wave of her hand brought the hair out of his eyes, and he warmed to her touch.
“Mom, I thought he’d hurt you! Are you okay?” Tony instinctively held his hand on his mother’s belly, feeling for a kick as his mom reassured him.
“I’m okay, kiddo. We are going to stay here tonight. Visit with Gramps a bit? He’s not doing too good. Remember what we talked about when your dad was at work?” Tony feigned a smile as he stood to open the door to their mutual shelter. Knowing that his father was gone, a smile emerged on his face. Looking for a friendly face, Tony called out to the dining room. “Papa, feel like checkers?” he asked, seeking out his grandfather.
The morning light peeking through unfamiliar blinds woke Debbie from her slumber. Peeling her grip away from her son, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and tossed the covers off her. Tony didn’t budge as she stepped out of bed and lumbered to the bathroom. Her unborn child refused to settle down as his mother sat on the plastic toilet seat. As she wished the rain outside would settle her morning illness, Debbie petted her stomach as she listened to the sound of thunder, realizing it was the rumbling in her own stomach. Wasting no time, she descended the stairs.
Once in the kitchen, Debbie opened the refrigerator in search of bacon and pickles. A craving surfaced, and it would not settle until it was cured. It was not long before her father joined her to begin the day. They spoke of life in the country and Debbie’s child-to-be as they dug into their eggs, never once mentioning Jack from the day before. It wasn’t until the older man noticed the dark blue forming on her pants that he exclaimed “If you needed to go that bad, you could have used the guest bathroom!” With a glance down Debbie realized that her child was on the way.
May 4, 2014 at 11:14 am
Looks good Brainz!!