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

saw my dad's sorrowhis own lost childhood; his longing and abandonment by his mother; his father's absence; and a stepmother who cared more about her own childrenand looked upon him and his brothers and sisters as nothing more than a nuisance. I could see the heartbreak of my mom's betrayal and now the slow,' steady downfall of each of his children. He checked out, because his life was too painful, and each time he tried to check back in again-he wasn't strong enough to bear it. I connected with his pain and longing for something better.

"Time's up," the deputy said.

Dad nodded and reached in his shirt pocket, where he kept his cigarettes and lighter. "I need a smoke," he said.

"OK, Pop. Thanks for coming."

"I'll try to get up to see you as soon as I can."

"OK, Pop. Thanks again, for coming."

"All right, then." He said. He backed away from the window, but kept looking at me. The sadness disappeared behind his smile. "I'll see you, then."

Later that night, not long after I'd fallen asleep; I awoke suddenly from a nightmare. I was sweating heavily, and it took a few minutes for my breathing to settle. It was another flashback of my rape at Riverside.

In the dream, I was on the bottom bunk in Chet's dorm, with the blankets draped on each side of the bed. But this time, when Chet finished raping me, it wasn't Red who pulled the blanket back to go next-it was my brother, Rick.

The dream rattled me for several hours, not knowing what it meant. Rick had never molested me, nor had we ever had sex, so why would I picture him in that dream?

I lay awake for a long time, thinking about how I had always worshipped him. The wool blanket I rested my head on was damp with perspiration. I remembered how he looked at me, that last night before I'd gone to prison, as we made the trip downtown in his van to buy me a hooker. He knew what I was facing; yet lie didn't want to scare me.

I thought about the trouble he and Bobby had gotten into together and how Dad said he wouldn't get caught unless Bobby told on him, which we knew he Wouldn't do-so that meant Rick was probably safe. Everyone seemed to be going to jail but Rick. It was a trick he must've learned after going there so many times himself.

When Rick had come to visit a few weeks earlier, he lied to me twice. He said he didn't have any money, and then told inc about his new truck. Then he said his phone got disconnected, but lie didn't mention the new number that was turned on under his wife's name. And now lie was taking Bobby down.

It's not as if Rick was responsible for my going to prison. Between the hotel thing and the robbery of the Photo Mat, I blame myself. But there were other crimes we'd pulled that he could have left me out of. When someone had stolen something they wanted to sell, Rick was the guy who could fence it. But he often lied about how much lie got for these goods and would later brag about how he ripped people off. He could never just keep it to himself. He thought it was funny-and he had to brag about it. Like that time he went through the jewelry we'd stolen from a house, and he threw a diamond ring in the garbage-said it was worthless cubic zirconium. Only after I'd left, did he picked it out of the trash and hock it for nearly $1,500.

That was a lot of money, especially if I'd thought about it in terms of Zoo Zoos and Wham Whams and cigarettes and shampoo and whatever else I could get from the inmate commissary. I could have lived on that money for a couple of years. But now he couldn't even send me ten bucks or allow me to call him collect.

Truth be told, my fantasies had as much to do with my being incarcerated as anything else. Ever since I was a boy, sitting in visiting rooms of juvenile youth homes and later on in the prison waiting room, listening to his stories about what went on inside-I wondered what it was like. Would I live the same adventures that Rick seemed to lead? Could I make everyone laugh about it the same way? And later on, when he talked about the punks and the sissies, it was the first place where I knew they existed. Now that I was inside, it was nothing like I'd imagined. I was stuck here for another three years.

I grabbed the scratchy blanket I'd been using as a pillow and curled up with it, sideways, on my bed. A cockroach scampered across the floor-pausing at the base of the metal toilet. A silhouette of bars crisscrossed the walls. So who was it that had really fucked me-Chet, Red, or my brother Rick?

25

When All Else Fails ...

Mom had promised me that I was not getting a shot. She knew how much I hated them, because last time, it took several nurses to hold me down. So when the receptionist pointed us to He-ma-tology, I was hoping to meet Batman and Robin or maybe Superman, yet all I saw when we arrived there was a row of vampires.

In 1965, the nurses drew blood by way of a tube that was attached to a mouthpiece. The air pressure from their tongue provided the suction.

"Don't even look at them," Mom said, handing the paperwork to the nurse. But Igrew suspicious when they called my name.

"What for?" I said. "You're notgoing to give me a shot."

"You'll just feel a tiny pinch," she said. And with that, I bolted down the hall.

Mom screamed after me as I ran through a set of double doors and out into the parking lot where the rain coming down