My painting frenzy had been an outlet for the anger and resentment coiled tight within me. I knew my sentence was coming to an end, but even the three remaining months seemed never-ending. Whenever allowed in here, I’d taken advantage. The solitude of painting was cathartic, especially when I had the room to myself. It calmed the demons clawing at my insides.
With the stack of paintings, I made it back to my cell just as they called my name for visitation. Following the two other guys with family visiting, I hauled my heavy load. The female inmates with visitors were already seated at tables. A girl with hard eyes, a recent addition to the facility, sat with an elderly woman who cried into an old school handkerchief.
I empathized with the old woman. Youth corrections sucked and it was especially unfair to the inmates’ loved ones.
In June, Gianna’s ballet academy would perform for several nights. It pissed me off I wouldn’t be there to see her dance because I was a locked up degenerate. She’d said it wasn’t a big deal and that she hadn’t gotten any of the leads, but I felt inadequate as a boyfriend because I couldn’t be there to support her.
I was sure Gage would be there. Douchebag Jared, too, since Cece actually would dance one of the leads.
My mom sat at a table at the back of the visitation room, her expression one of excitement, as if she were about to spring out of her chair. I set down the paintings on the table between us. “This is all of the finished paintings since the last time.”
She quickly raised the top one to get a better look then perused the rest of them. “These are great, Caleb. A few more and there’ll be enough for an exhibit.”
“Exhibit?” I asked warily, identifying the source of her excited energy.
Putting down the painting she held, she reached out with both hands to grab onto my forearm, shaking it lightly. “Yes! I didn’t want to say anything until things were more definite, but I showed the gallery director everything you’ve done up until now. He says with more pieces, he’d be willing to give you your own show!”
It took a moment to digest the absurdity of her words. “Why the hell would anyone want to buy my artwork?”
Giving me an exasperated look, she explained, “Because you’re very talented and the paintings are wonderful.”
Mimicking her expression, I told her, “You think so because you popped me out. All of my paintings are about my friends, Gianna or this fucked up place.”
“Exactly.” She smiled, her face animated as my crudeness was ignored in favor of her buoyant mood. “That’s what makes you so unique. Not many artists go through the experience of youth corrections. The critics will admire the grittiness and reality of your work and the buyers will love to say they own a piece created by a teenage delinquent.”
I spoke slowly to emphasize my next words, “So, what you’re saying is that I’ll be a novelty?”
She nodded her head. “Yes.”
“But I’ll be a well-paid novelty?”
“Yes.”
Slapping my hands together and rubbing them, my mood got much better. “Alright, bring on the green. If a bunch of art weirdoes want to hand over their cash to a delinquent, who am I to complain?”
Her elated smile disappeared. “You need to take this seriously, Caleb.”
“Mom, I can fake serious if I’m getting paid enough.”
She shifted in her seat and rubbed her forehead nervously. Her fidgeting worried me. “What?”
“Well,” she began hesitantly. From her grimace, I was sure I wouldn’t like what she was having trouble spitting out. “You see, the gallery director has one request.”
“Yeah?” I asked, wondering what could be causing her anxiety. A nude self-portrait?
“He wants you to paint the night of the attack.” Her words were so fast I had to pause to grasp them.
“Hell no!” I shouted, bumping against the table as I came up out of my seat.
Reaching up to grab my arm, she yanked me back down. “Shh, Caleb! You’re going to get in trouble!”
Grudgingly, I sat down, crossing my arms over my chest. “No way in hell.”
Her face softened in understanding. “I know, honey. I wouldn’t actually expect you to, but he wanted me to ask, so I did.”
“Do I still get the show?” The idea of making money off my art had never occurred to me. My mom sold one of her paintings every once in awhile, but she worked as an interior designer to pay the bills.
“Yes, you do. Although, if you decide to do the piece, the gallery director would be pleased. He wants to place the paintings in chronological order. Obviously, he feels a piece about the incident would be important in explaining later events.”
“Too bad.”
“I’m sure Jim will understand, but if you change your mind before the show, he’ll welcome the piece.” Handing me a grocery bag with all the goodies she regularly brought for me and Ian, she continued, “He’s not sure if the show will be you by yourself or if he’ll have a joint showing of you and an urban realist painter he’s considered exhibiting. It all depends on the interest he receives in your work.”
I shrugged, not caring either way. “Whatever. I’m okay with sharing the spotlight.”
Her eyes flew wide and she leaned forward. “Oh my god! I almost forgot! I spoke with your lawyer yesterday about petitioning the judge for early release!”
“And you’re just barely telling me this now?” I shouted. At her hurt look, I lowered my voice. “What did he say?” Only my mom would have considered an art show more exciting than a possible early release.
Her face smoothed before a smile spread. “He says you have a shot of getting out of here up to a eighty days early. At least, he’s asking for eighty days to be cut from your sentence. He thinks you may have a shot.”
“Damn, this is good news. When do I go before the judge?” I asked eagerly, hoping it would be soon. “What about Ian?”
Her smile disappeared. “Caleb, from what you’ve told me, Ian hasn’t exactly been a model prisoner.”
He’d had a few arguments with guards and had been involved in several fights over the past seven months. He really should have thought before he’d acted out. While I spent time in the art room, Ian had a lot of free time to misbehave. It probably didn’t help that his juvie record was longer than mine.
As guilty as I’d feel at leaving him behind, I needed to get the hell out of here. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
She latched onto my hand, squeezing lightly. “I can’t wait for you to come home.”
My mom tended toward optimism and I knew she was already counting on the early release. “First we have to convince a judge to let me out.”
She sat up straight. “We could show him your paintings!”
“Yeah,” I said cynically, “Because a judge is really going to give a crap about what some kid paints.”
“Caleb!” my mom reprimanded in a tone that hadn’t worked since I was in elementary school. “Art speaks to people in ways words do not.”
I didn’t want to get into the debate again about communicating through art. I might have the skills of an artist, even the drive to create, but my mom had the soul of one. I was a little too much of a realist for the fanciful bullshit artists liked to spout.
“I think we’ll stick to my lawyer’s arguments,” I told her.
“I’m sure Gianna will be thrilled to hear about this.”
“Mom, don’t tell anyone about this and tell Dad not to let anyone know either. If I don’t get out early, she won’t be disappointed.” My words were stern enough to get it through her head. In my mom’s mind, it might be as good as done, but in my mind it was a big maybe.
“Fine.” Her disappointment was apparent, but I wouldn’t waver in my decision to keep it quiet. “When you come home, we really need to start looking into art schools. You’ll want to apply to the best across the country.”
“I’ll be going to the same college as Gianna.” This separation would be the last. In my head, I w
as already planning on how to spend the money I received from my paintings, if the gallery showing happed. We would probably spend our first year of college in the dorms, but by sophomore year we’d get an apartment together.
“I’m sure you don’t have to go to the exact same school,” my mom said. “I mean, Gianna will most likely go to a state college. Although state universities have art programs, where you really need to be is an art school. You’re talented, Caleb, but your talent is still raw. You need to learn technique. Maybe even look into other forms of expression.”
“We’ll see,” I replied noncommittally. “So, the divorce is almost final?”
My mom pursed her lips. “Yes, that woman will finally be out of your father’s life.”
I hadn’t wanted to ask my dad about it because I knew he’d been nursing a broken heart since Julie filed for divorce last fall. But, seriously, everyone thought he was better off without her. I just felt sorry for Chance. Most of the woman’s attention was focused on him now.
Not that it would take a woman like Julie long to find husband number three. She was still kind of young and attractive enough to catch some poor sucker.
It would be a relief when Gianna and I were no longer stepbrother and stepsister. The relationship had always been awkward to explain and I’d enjoy just calling her my girlfriend.
After my mom left, taking the paintings with her, I entered the TV room looking for Ian. He sat watching a Harry Potter movie. The facility had decided to have a movie marathon of the series, even providing us with popcorn as a treat.
As he ignored my presence, I snapped my fingers in his face. “Hey!”
He turned to grant me an aggravated look. “What?”
“Whatcha doing?”
“Watching a movie, now get lost if you can’t keep your mouth shut.” He turned back to the screen.
Shaking my head, I ditched him in the TV room and asked for permission to hang out in the art room. A guard escorted me there and predictably I had the place to myself.
Staring at the blank canvas in front of me, I had the sudden urge to paint the night of the attack. Dammit, now that my mom had brought up the idea, the need to paint it grew.
In an attempt to avoid painting the worst night of my life, I instead painted a picture of Gage wearing a tuxedo, sprawled out on a dance floor as he bled to death.
My mom wouldn’t want to show the judge this one.
CHAPTER SIX
“The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
JUNE
eight months down, 12 hours to go…
CALEB
My last night here and I knew I wasn’t getting to sleep. Ian either. “Dude, I feel sorry about leaving you in here all by yourself.”
The springs of his mattress squeaked as he shifted up on the top bunk. “Really, my heart is bleeding. I won’t be able to go on without you,” he said sarcastically. “Two more months and I’ll be out of here, also. Besides, you’ve been holding me back this whole time.”
From what? Winning the inmate of the month award? Mr. Congeniality?
“So after you get out too...” I trailed off, feeling like a girl for even bringing it up.
“Caleb, are trying to ask me to be your bestie in the real world?”
“Not my best friend,” I joked. “Remember, I’ve got Dante for that. But I suppose you can be my second best friend.”
“You are such a loser,” he drawled condescendingly.
“I hope your next cellmate is deaf. I’m so happy to be getting away from you. At this point, capital punishment would be preferable to staying here in the same cell.”
“Quit being a whiner, Caleb. You’re the one who got early release. If I’d sat around the last eight months with a paintbrush up my ass, painting my feelings, I’d probably be getting out of here tomorrow.”
“More like, if you hadn’t gotten into so many altercations, you’d be getting out of here like me.”
“Whatever. What do they expect a bunch of delinquents to do when they cage them together? Act like boy scouts? We have to entertain ourselves somehow. Not all of us can be the next Salvador Dali.”
“Dali was gay.”
‘Precisely.”
“And painted in a different style than me.”
“Irrelevant.”
“I dislike you intensely, Ian”
“I’ll miss you too, bro,” he choked out with fake sobs.
What an ass. From where I lay on the bottom bunk, I kicked at the underside of his mattress. To my disappointment, it didn’t cause him to roll off the top bunk.
“Hey, could you do that again, Caleb? But this time, a little more to the right?” Springs squeaked as Ian shifted up there.
“Only one more night that you have to refrain from killing him,” I muttered loudly enough for him to hear.
He ignored my remark. “When you come to visit every Saturday, will you sneak porn in for me?”
“I refuse to buy gay porn for you, Ian. Ask that Gage guy you’re paying.”
“Hmm, gay porn, something with girl on girl action.”
“Go. The Fuck. To Sleep,” I ground out between clenched teeth.
“Yeah, you’re right. Good night, buddy.” Minutes later the bastard was asleep.
Just hours from now, I was out of here. I was so freaking keyed up right now, no way could I sleep.
A few days ago, I’d had my hearing before the judge and the lawyer was worth every penny my parents had paid him. He’d made me sound like the altar boy I wasn’t, even brining up the bright future before me in the art world. The judge hadn’t been completely enthusiastic in his decision to release me two months early, but I took his warnings and threats happily.
The best part was Gianna didn’t know yet. It would be a total surprise. It had taken all my control not to blurt out about my hearing the last time she’d come to see me. Especially when she’d showed me pictures from prom night. Not that I cared about the actual prom itself. What I hated missing was experiencing it with my girl. There was always senior year, and I planned to make it awesome.
She hadn’t commented on my deep examination of the pictures with her and Gage together, looking for any signs I needed to beat him when I gained my freedom.
I might have missed prom, but at least I’d be home in time to make it to the last night of her ballet performance. Tomorrow morning, my parents were picking me up, when they had to fill out all the necessary paperwork for my release.
After that, I planned to buy something new to wear for our reunion tomorrow night. I’d use my mom’s apartment to shower and change before heading to the auditorium downtown where the performance was being held. Once I was ready, I’d have just enough time to pick up a giant bouquet of roses on my way there. I’d never been to see ballet, but in movies the ballerinas were always given roses after dancing.
I was absolutely thrilled about being a day away from seeing my girl as a free man.
In the fall, I’d be attending her new high school. It’d be a twenty minute drive each day from my mom’s apartment downtown, but totally worth it. My mom had taken care of all the paperwork already, so I was all set to start classes in August.
With all the drama behind us, being with Gianna would be better than before. Her mom no longer had much of a say in her life. Josh was locked up with other high risk juvenile boys in a facility near Boulder. With the divorce now final we were no longer stepbrother and stepsister, so nobody could act like there was anything weird about us being together.
Out of curiosity, I’d looked up the law a few months ago. In some states, it was illegal for stepsiblings to date if they were underage and lived in the same house. Something about protecting them from coercion. Not an issue anymore for me and Gianna. Though, I would miss living in the same house as my girlfriend. That had been convenient.
Surprisingly, I did fall asleep, waking up a few short hours later rea
dy to begin one of the best days of my life. After showering and going back to my cell to gather my things, the guards took me to see Dr. Adler. The short session with her ended up being one last pep talk, pat on the back and peace out.
Once finished with her, I was taken to the administration offices where my parents were filling out the paperwork for my release. My mom jumped out of her seat up to give me an emotional hug even though I’d just seen her three days ago. My dad looked at me like I’d just accomplished something amazing when really all I’d done was screw up my life and get lucky enough to receive do-over.
My parents so deserved a better son than me. A son like that kid Gianna briefly dated, Seth. Bet the guy was a real boy scout.
By the time we finally got out of there, it was early afternoon. Walking out of the building, I felt as if I was becoming a new person. Or shedding inmate Caleb and returning to my real self. Especially since they let me wear my own clothes home. It was so good to be in clothes that didn’t make me feel like I was wearing pajamas all day long.
This was the absolutely best day of my life. The sun shone brighter than ever and the world was beautiful.
I still felt kind of bad for Ian, but thank god he hadn’t made a scene when I was leaving, holding onto my leg or some embarrassing shit like that. I was sure he’d get all hysterical tonight when he was alone in our cell and it really hit him that I was gone. Maybe I’d be nice and send some girls to pick him up in two months.
It was a short drive to my mom’s apartment in Denver. On the way there, I had my parents drop me off at the 16th Street Mall, assuring my mom I didn’t need her help picking out clothes. I sensed a lot of mothering coming on from her. Knowing her, she’d need to baby me because I suffered through the big bad justice system.
Strutting down 16th Street, I passed by a Hot Topic I figured wouldn’t have anything suitable to go watch ballet in, so I crossed over to Gap. Wow, being in here, it was almost like my mom really was picking out my clothes. Not my usual style, but I wanted to look nice. I was already an embarrassment enough to Gianna, I didn’t want to look like one too.
Toxic Bad Boy Page 6
