Mama's Boy Behind Bars

by David Goudreault

  The genital chakra is a man’s centre. It’s also the place where he hinges. I folded immediately, grabbing her shoulders. I wound up with my face in her neck. In spite of the agonizing pain, I took a second to breathe in. Sweet women’s perfume. Luxury fragrance, probably some high-end brand like J-Lo or Paris Hilton. Before I’d had a chance to make a clever remark about Patrick Süskind’s work, she pushed me with both hands against the desk and screamed. I spread out on the files strewn all over the desk.

  I got up immediately. She had blood on her lips; probably mine. It must have been the taste of blood that surprised her. It wasn’t very sensitive of me to kiss her with all my injuries. Feeling confused, I was going to apologize for jumping the gun when Jocelyn burst angrily into the room.

  The door smashed into the wall, almost hitting my love. He must have noticed the blood on her face and not been smart enough to figure out that it was mine. The idiot thought I’d hit her, assaulted her, or something equally bad, so he jumped on me, flattening me like a pancake on the desk. I tried to explain, to make him understand that it wasn’t what he thought, but he pressed my face into the desk, spreading my blood over the strewn files.

  I don’t often get a chance to use the word strewn, so I suppose that’s a silver lining.

  Poor Edith was powerless and overtaken by events. She was still backed up against the wall, paralyzed, while Jocelyn yanked me upright, handcuffs on my wrists, arms behind my back. Then backup arrived. Paul started waving his pepper spray around, trying to season me. Jocelyn, that pathetic little cock, sent him away, assuring him that he had both me and the situation under control. He was going to put me in the hole.

  But I didn’t do anything!

  * * *

  As he dragged me out of the office, Jocelyn yelled at my fellow inmates to shut their mouths. They were all there, shouting and clapping. I’d given them a whole day of entertainment. No one was missing, except for Pedo the Clown, who was succumbing to anxiety in his cell. They were all cheering Jocelyn’s catch, except for Big Dick and Denis, who had faces like thunder on a stormy night. Denis even made a pretty unbrotherly gesture, moving his thumb across his neck, slowly, from one ear to the other.

  The whole time we were going along the corridor to the hole, I was trying to figure out the meaning of what I’d just seen. He couldn’t be threatening me with death, right? I was a brother in arms, a Mafia hit man, a crucial cog in the wing boss’s escape plan. But here I was heading toward the hole and probably wrecking everything. This time I could admit it.

  I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it nor put my foot in it. Maybe Denis was just telling me that I was in deep shit, right up to my neck. I know how to swim though, so maybe I could still get out of it. I was trying to convince myself, but my hopes were thinner than an anorexic cocaine addict.

  How long I am going to be in the hole?

  Shut up and keep walking! Jocelyn must not have had regular massages, he was getting stressed.

  It’f important, how long am I going to be there?

  Until you get transferred somewhere else. There’s no forgiveness if you assault a guard.

  My world was crumbling around me. Amid all the wreckage of my future, I was worried about my love.

  Edith must have been in despair. Look at the mess she’d got us into!

  16

  Concentration

  It’s hard to kill time when patience is your only weapon. For three whole days I did yoga. That’s a type of Indian stretching. The basic idea is to lengthen your limbs in any direction while maintaining an expression of deep focus. It’s healing. My body was a total pain show and it looked like a rainbow, if you’ll pardon the poetic licence. Mauve and yellow at the edges, black at the eye socket, and brown and orange at the groin.

  I checked out the graffiti in between two cold meals. Nothing new. After I’d read them twenty times, I knew them all by heart.

  When there’s nothing left to read

  It’s time to write, take heed.

  That was by Balzac, an author.

  With a broken fingernail, I scratched Edith’s initials under mine. I did them all as stylized letters, really putting my heart into it. It was incredible gothic calligraphy, as beautiful as a tattoo. Even in this grey paint, our love would stand the test of time. I was just finishing up the heart, framing the whole thing, when they came to take me out of the hole. My lawyer wanted to talk to me. His little legal-expert face was as ugly as the beauty of the news he was bringing me.

  I was soaring: I was going to be returned to my wing. All the prisons were over capacity and nobody wanted to accept another crazy. And since I was already in a protected wing, it was administratively impossible to move me internally.

  Fuckin lit!

  The lawyer wasn’t quite so enthusiastic. I was so eager to get back to my gang and my love that I got carried away. Fuckin lit even if you don’t give a shit. I wasn’t going to let a lawyer kill my joy.

  You must have the luck of a cuck, but the agent you assaulted isn’t going to press criminal charges.

  Well duh, dumb-ass, I didn’t assault her, she’s my wife. And why are you going on about cucks? She didn’t say I was a cuckold, did she?

  The lawyer sank back in his chair. His smile evaporated under the sun of my anger.

  Calm down, it’s just an expression. You’re not literally a cuckold, I swear, at least not to my knowledge…

  I hate it when people use these archaic regional expressions to make themselves look clever.

  Your expression’s stupid. Cuck yourself!

  Paul took me back to our wing. He stayed silent the whole way. He was sulking with me. Jealous of my idyll with Edith, no doubt. The guards must have gossiped about our kiss. And about Jocelyn, playing the cowboy and getting involved in things that didn’t concern him. How they must have gossiped about my case. I was no longer a crazy like the others now. I was half of a couple that included one of their colleagues, sitting at the table with the king of the wing, I was becoming someone important. But it was still a shame. I liked Paul, even if he did read a load of crap.

  * * *

  Tony welcomed me back with a complicit and threatening smile. A few guys sitting around the TV said hi, some calling me Don Juan and others calling me Sicko. I liked the nicknames. Soon I’d have to choose an official one for the media. What with the escape and the career I had lined up, I’d be all over the headlines. I hoped they’d use a photo that made me look good. Positive self-representation is a primordial desire. As Bill Cosby showed us, the important thing about reputations is having a good one.

  I thought I’d be taken back to my cell, where I could read quietly while waiting for Denis, Big Dick, or Godot, if it came to that! We had to organize a summit to sort everything out and relaunch Operation Escape. But instead Paul took me to the office. Was this another nice surprise? My heart was thumping away, I was going to see Edith again. What a naughty girl, she’d schemed so that we could meet up as soon as I was let out of the hole. I was very touched.

  Jocelyn was waiting for me, his hands flat on the desk, which was empty this time, with absolutely nothing strewn across it. I was expecting to find my wife, but instead I found myself with this puffed-up superhero wannabe. The human adventure is just one long string of failures and disappointments shot through with a few hopeful moments that give us the strength to continue our suffering… I was philosophizing as I pulled out a chair.

  You can probably guess I’m not very happy to see you back here.

  I jumped at his throat and ripped open his jugular with my teeth…in a parallel reality, some quantum universe.

  Well, I hope you realive I’m not too ecfited about feeing your fafe either!

  I mentally X’d that bastard out. Sooner or later I’d deal with his case. As soon as I get the chance, I’m going to get my revenge list tattooed on my arms, my thighs too if
I need more space. Jocelyn will be right at the top in big letters.

  I have no choice about you coming back to the wing, at least for now. But it won’t last. Meanwhile, let’s get one thing clear: we won’t tolerate a single wrong move from you. And above all, most importantly, while Edith is waiting to move to a different section, you will not approach her and you will not speak a word to her.

  Eureka! I understood. All of a sudden everything fell into place.

  It wasn’t Tony who was the threat, it was that bastard Jocelyn. He was the little fucker who was crushing on my Edith. I should have figured it out sooner, should have understood why he was so keen to protect her, why he gave her shifts at the same time as his, why he hurled himself at me that time Edith let me know that I’d moved too fast. And above all, it explained why he wanted to transfer me and transfer her as well, so he could well and truly stop me from seeing my beloved.

  If I see you go near her, talk to her, or even think about her, I swear I’ll make you regret it.

  The mangy three-legged son of a bitch! He would pay for this, pay for the rest of his life.

  * * *

  I left the office fuming and went straight to take refuge in my cell and, without even paying any attention to whether Philippe was there or not, I slipped my hand under my mattress and pulled out my blade.

  Whoa, man, what are you doing with that?

  I immediately hid it inside my underwear, stood up, and took on the immigrant. You know very well what I’m going to do with it! We’re in the fame boat, aren’t we?

  Fear suited him. Yeah, man, sure, whatever you say.

  I calmed down a little. I’m going to do what I have to do with thif… Defend myfelf and my honour.

  Okay, man, do what you gotta do, I gotta go!

  He bolted, leaving me alone in our crib. Perfect. I wanted to think about the meaning of life and death of others.

  I didn’t have time to get into a deep trance. Denis appeared at the door.

  Hey, champ…

  Hi! I didn’t like his attitude. We were colleagues, he didn’t have to put on the condescending airs of a convenience-store manager.

  Follow me!

  Pleave.

  What?

  Follow me pleave, don’t give me orderv.

  Denis jumped on me, grabbed me by the throat, and pinned me to the ground, bashing my head into the cement floor. I shoved my hand in my underwear, grabbed my blade and then, through my clothes, I stabbed him right in the gut. Again and again and again! His blood was spurting out, his body was emptying. He was screaming blue murder, his eyes begging for mercy. Nooooo, I’m dying!

  This was all in my head, but it’s what I should really have done, if only I’d known.

  Denis was still pressing me into the ground and strangling me. You fucking imbecile, I can give you all the orders I like! You almost wrecked a plan that took months to put together. We thought we could rely on you but you’re just another crazy fucker!

  I tried to argue. Hhhhaaiirrrghh… but it was futile.

  So yes, you will follow me and yes, you will follow orders!

  Denis was cranky, a guy who liked to make storms in teacups. I wouldn’t go as far as labelling him violent, but he was definitely trigger-happy. After all, I’d have followed him without making a fuss if he’d just asked politely.

  Jocelyn showed up while Denis was still sitting on top of me.

  Am I disturbing a private moment here, gentlemen?

  I was busy catching my breath, so I let Denis handle the situation.

  No, my buddy fell over, I was just helping him get up.

  Jocelyn frowned. You should be more careful when you choose your friends, Denis.

  He wasn’t helping his case.

  Yes, I agree.

  I could have said a lot of things to both of them, but my silent scorn had to do.

  * * *

  While we were heading over to Big Dick’s cell, Melon blocked our path. Denis shoulder-checked him. It’s an old convict’s trick for passing stock, letters, or weapons. I turned back just in time to spot Melon’s nod to Colossus, who was at the far end of the common area. Something big was brewing, maybe even bigger than what I was brewing myself. Adrenaline flooded my spine via the raw-nerve highway.

  Big Dick was perched on the edge of his bed, as though we were shooting a second take of our first meeting. I knew the protocol and sat down opposite him while Denis kept guard at the door. The boss didn’t welcome or greet me but just sat there holding eye contact. But I was still proud and wasn’t going to lower my eyes first. Thwack! He swung his fist at my face.

  For fuck’s sake, seriously, are you going to stop? Thwack again. No, shut it, you little jerk, I’m gonna hit you until you shut up for good and then you’re gonna listen!

  So obviously I pulled out my shank and rammed it through his eye and right into his brain…in my dreams. In real life, it’s not exactly socially acceptable to kill a boss. Sure, it happens all the time, but it has to be a different boss, a former boss, or an aspiring boss who orders a sitting boss to be murdered. This wasn’t the case here. So I did nothing except bleed from the nose and listen.

  I am liffening! I accidentally sprayed a few drops of blood on him.

  You’re not listening, you can barely hear me! If you were listening, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

  He was right about it being messy.

  I am liffening! I fwear!

  Everything’s going ahead tomorrow, just like we planned… With Edith, just like we planned. He was silent for a long time, waiting for a reaction from me. I put on my best impassive cold-fish face.

  There’s no problem with Edith?

  I dabbled in my role like Pacino on set. No problem, it’f nothing, it wav all juft a big mifunderftanding.

  He swallowed it. Okay, great, we’ll create a diversion in front of the box, Tony will stay to the side. We’ll take care of it. All you have to do is take Edith into the office, shut yourself up in there with her, and wait for the police to call you to negotiate. Look, everything you have to ask them is on this piece of paper. Say nothing more, nothing less, just read these sentences, got it?

  My reply would soothe him. That’f too eavy! I clicked my fingers to demonstrate.

  No, no, seriously, it’s not going to be easy, especially for you. But we have a plan B. Don’t blow your chance… Silence…

  I’m betting on my victory… Silence… Iv that all?… Starting to feel uncomfortable…

  Go away!

  Big Dick hadn’t patted me on the shoulder or clasped my hand, he was too nervous. I was getting nervous too, with his whole plan B thing. Didn’t he trust me anymore? Were there other crazies involved? And if his plan B affected my plan A, did I need to come up with a plan C? Everything seemed to point to yes.

  On my way back, I passed Colossus, who bashed into me rudely even though he didn’t have anything to give me.

  Hey, asshole! You’re going to be left without any protection soon, huh? Watch your ass!

  On the level of strategies for diverting guards, it was well played. Except there were no guards around.

  When I reached my cell, I came face to face with Mathieu. I raised my hands reflexively. My noble defensive instincts amused Philippe and his new buddy. He who laughs loudest dies last.

  They were checking out tattoo designs. I was about to warn him that Japanese warriors were not a house specialty when Mathieu spoke up. He’d become more confident and been promoted since our fight; beating up another guy is still the best rite of passage for becoming a man.

  Seems like they’re giving you another chance?

  I played it cool. I don’t need another ffhhanfe, I have talent. My arms crossed over my chest underlined my confidence.

  Haha, that’s right, don’t mess up your shot, you fag!

&nbs
p; And whoosh. I didn’t do anything to him then, but I gave him a VIP position on my revenge list, in the “multiple tortures” section. As Mao-Tseo said: sit down by the riverside and wait for the chance to drown your enemies.

  * * *

  I didn’t know what to do with myself in my own cell. I shrank into the corner of my bed to read. It was reassuring to know I could always take refuge in literature. Every social reject loves a good book. But now even this last defence was collapsing, since Jocelyn came in and confiscated all my printed material with a smile on his face. I kicked up a fuss, threatened to take it to the highest authority. I have the right to read bookf in my fell, my lawyer negofiated it! I’m going to complain to the manavement!

  Stop whining, you’ll get your books back later. For now, we have to get them all back to the library. We have to do an inventory since the guy killed himself.

  I froze in disbelief. What? Whiff guy killed himfelf?

  The guillotine of the answer fell on the neck of my question. That guy Sage. He hanged himself.

  He must have read too much Camus. Or Victor-Lévy Beaulieu, who’s just as depressing. Existential questions aren’t for everyone. My friend the Sage was no longer. It was a big loss for me, a giant loss for mankind. As the saying goes, a man of letters leaving us is a library burning with an old man inside.

  The Sage had omitted to mention that he was a tragedy fan. The fall was brutal. I hadn’t seen it coming, but then you can never see it coming. The truly suicidal never give any signs. It just happens like that, without warning, overnight. It’s destiny.

  I was disoriented before, but now I was completely rattled. I was taking my friend’s death harder than I wanted to admit. It felt as though he had dug his grave in my very guts. There was an enormous internal void inside me. I felt dirty and wounded, and I had man ache. If I hadn’t gone to take a shower, I’d have ended up crying.