Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison by T. Parsell (ready to read books TXT) 📕

dropping the letter board when they first took my mug shot.

Three inmates were standing at the rear of the elevator. The familiar WAYNE COUNTY JAIL was stenciled on the back of their dark gray clothes.

"Step in and face the wall," the deputy said, as he slid the accordion gate closed on the elevator.

We were taken up several floors and into a hall where small windows lined a wall. "Fifteen minutes," the deputy said.

I saw my brother Rick waiting on the other side of the window.

"Hey!" Because of the echoes off concrete and steel, I had to shout into the small intercom at the base of the window and then hold my ear to the speaker to listen.

Rick's wife Belinda, who was straining to see behind him, cried as soon as she saw me. She was probably the only person in my family who cried about my situation. I imagined how much she'd sob if she knew the full details of my time at Riverside.

"Hey little brother! How you doing?"

It was good to see him, but I was angry he hadn't come earlier. "How are you?"

"Better than you!" He grinned.

"Fuck you," I shot back, and we both smiled.

Belinda tried to squeeze in, but Rick wouldn't let her. "In a minute," he said impatiently. He gave me a tired look that told me they still weren't getting along.

"How's the food?"

"Couldn't be better. I'll send you a doggy bag."

There was so much I wanted to tell him-about Slide Step and Brett, Riverside, and Chet and how I got revenge by flushing his teeth down the toilet, but then I realized I couldn't tell him any of it.

"Have you turned queer yet?" He asked, jokingly

"Fuck You." I said and stuck out my chest.

"Good Boy!"

I was better than ever at masking my true feelings. "And I've got your boy," I said, grabbing my crotch and shaking it, "hanging right here."

"Now don't start turning nigger on me."

I winced and looked around quickly.

The jail was in the middle of Detroit, and I was relieved that nobody heard him. He shrugged it off. It was easy for him, on that side of the wall, where there were mostly mothers and girlfriends. There was nothing but men on my side.

One thing was clear, I could never tell Rick about Slide Step.

He looked different to me, but I wasn't sure why. It was the first time I noticed we were splitting apart. But there was also something else there, but I wasn't sure what. His hazel eyes reminded ine of Grasshopper's, and his hair red was like Chet's-though he didn't look like either of them. In a couple of months I would turn eighteen; and in October he would be twenty-three, yet he didn't seem that much older than me now, or as smart and tough or as good looking as he'd always appeared to me. He probably acted like Chet, when he was in here.

When he stepped back from the window, his wife Belinda came into view. She had stopped crying, and her mascara lined her cheeks. She started to say something, but then stopped abruptly. "Your face has cleared up!"

She stared at me with a baffled look, as if struggling to make sense of how my complexion would be clearer now that I was in prison. My heart sank when I remembered guys in high school say that all you needed for your pimples to go away-was to get laid.

Rick moved back into view. "Dad says he'll try to be at court tomorrow. He's not sure he can get off work."

I said it didn't matter. "How's Dad doing?" I asked.

"OK. He quit drinking."

"Uh-huh. How long this time?"

"You're probably too young to remember, but he wasn't always like that."

"I know," I cut him off, "before Mom ran off and left us."

Rick was one to talk. Belinda was nothing but white trash, though she did seem genuinely upset about my being in here. Everyone in the family hated her. Dad said she was OK-to use as a landing pad for when Rick first got out of prison, but that he was stupid for marrying her. She already had two kids at the time, and Rick thought the new one on they way might have been his. Nobody else did.

It was typical of him to take Dad's side. Up until then, Mom was the only issue that separated us. I loved Dad, too, but I also remained loyal to Mom. Even when they all ganged up on her, and said she was no good for leaving us, I would drown out their words in my head. They didn't understand. She had to leave to save herself, she once told me. I just wished she had kept her promise and had cone back for me.

Kick and I stared at each other, neither of us knowing what to say.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

I nodded. "Why haven't you visited?"

"I couldn't get off work." He looked at me sheepishly. "I've been flat broke."

I wanted to ask why he hadn't written or sent me his new phone number, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. So I put that out of my mind too. He was here, now, and that's all that mattered.

"Hey! I almost forgot. I bought a new truck."

"That's great," I said, sounding a hit distracted. It wasn't lost on me that he had just told me that he was flat broke. I let it pass. I had to shut down to survive in there. So I tucked all my feelings away. I couldn't think about it, because that might lead to true feelings something, and you couldn't afford feelings inside. If you do that long enough you start to get good at it after a while. Then you get so used to disappointment that you become grateful for even the tiniest crumb. Still I was glad he came. I missed him.

"Time's up!" the deputy said.

He'd only just got there. It hardly seemed like fifteen minutes.

I sat in the bullpen waiting