Eddie steered to the left and twisted the shiny handle of a clear glass door. The door swung open smoothly. Eddie flashed me a cheesy smile, his chin held strangely high as he ushered Reed and me through the waiting doorway. I glanced at Reed. He was smiling, his head shaking slightly in humor at his friend.
Walking into the open entry, I was hit with the warm, amazing aromas of cooking food. The mixed smells of meat, baked bread, and fresh vegetables mixed to completely intoxicate the air. I had eaten more in the last two weeks than I could remember, and yet I still felt hungry. Eddie pushed ahead of me, hurrying to merge into a line that waited in front of a low counter.
We had just joined the line when a couple entered and moved to cut in front of us. They were young, most likely our age. Judging from the crispness of their clothing and sparkle of their jewelry, they did not work at the Orchard. Or anywhere remotely similar.
“Hey,” Eddie said, his voice low and menacing. “Get in line like the rest of us have to.”
The man turned to look at Eddie. He took his time to scan Eddie, his lips pursed, jagged lines radiating out in an angry sun. Instantly an image of Dr. Eriks flooded my mind, her perfect spray of lines oddly detailed and focused. I didn’t like thinking of her. I hadn’t since my release. Instantly I knew I didn’t like this man who looked down at Eddie from his much too perfect nose, even though Eddie towered over him.
The man chuckled. “Calm down, Ginger. You will get your grub.”
The man reached out and roughly patted Eddie on the arm. I could see Eddie’s shoulders suddenly bunch up, his fists tightening at his sides. Taking a step forward, Eddie seemed to grow even taller as he glowered down at the man.
“What are you going to do, apple picker?” the man asked. His voice sounded like it had been greased with oil, smooth and reeking of money. Eddie took another step forward, his hands rising at his sides into tight fists.
“Get. In. Line.” Eddie growled. His face turned a deep red.
The man chuckled, his voice sounding slightly worried as he let his eyes flick down to Eddie’s fists. “Hit me, Ginger, and I will see to it that this is the last hot meal you get. I hear the Prison needs more workers.” He laughed again, his confidence regaining as his arrogance took over. “I bet you are just the type they would kill for.”
Eddie growled, unable to make words as he pushed his body up against the man. The man’s date took a step back, tightening her grasp on her small purse as her wide, heavily made-up eyes stared at Eddie.
Reed glanced at me a moment, then stepped forward and rested a hand firmly on Eddie’s back. The woman laughed nervously. Reaching up, she rubbed her date’s shoulder seductively before turning her back to us. She glanced over her shoulder once more at Eddie before coolly smiling, her eyes still alive with fear. Her hips swayed just enough under her tight skirt to distract her date. The man looked back to Eddie then over to Reed, whose hand still rested firmly on Eddie’s back. Without another word, he smirked then turned away.
I could hear Reed speaking in a low voice, leaning in close to Eddie’s ear. “Cool it man,” he said, his other hand moving to hold Eddie’s flexed arm. “You don’t wanna get killed, do you? Or worse?”
Eddie took in a few heavy breaths, his hands still clenched in tight balls. Then he nodded, letting his shoulders relax, slightly. He remained on edge, constantly staring into the back of the man’s head. I waited for a hole to appear at any moment in the man’s finely smoothed hair.
The line moved forward, the couple finally being ushered off to find a table. I was happy to see them leave. I hated the way the woman stroked the man’s back. The way the man kept leaning in to whisper dripping words into her ear made my skin crawl. As they walked away, the man glanced behind him at Eddie, winking with a sly grin before disappearing around the corner.
“Stupid pricks,” Eddie muttered. His arms were folded across his chest, his chin tucked down angrily.
I felt strange on my feet. My mind kept trying to fog over and I fought it madly. I didn’t want to disappear right now. It licked at the corners of my mind. It begged to embrace me and carry me away into my escape from reality. The man’s sly smile as he passed out of sight sent the fog into a frenzy. I felt my body sway.
Reed moved closer. Carefully, so lightly I barely noticed, he laid his hand on the small of my back. I gratefully leaned against it. I could hear him breathing next to me, his eyes watching me as I let him support my weight. The fog backed away, barely visible now in the corner of my vision.
We moved forward. Reed kept his hand on my back, guiding me to a table sitting next to a large window. I sat down. I hadn’t realized how tired my legs were. Reed waited until he saw me settle, then took the seat next to me. Eddie plopped down across from me, still glowering.
A car rolled by outside on the road, its wheels crunching on the paved road. We all paused and looked out the window. I could feel as we collectively held out breaths, watching the dusty police car creep past. The driver, a star pinned to his armored vest, looked through the glass back at us and nodded a short greeting before rolling on. Eddie watched the car a moment longer before letting a smile take over his darkened face.
“Well, like the prick said, time to get our grub on,” Eddie said lightly. He opened a menu and started scanning the lists of food.
I had no money on me. I hadn’t planned on coming into town, most likely ever, and when we had randomly decided to make the trip I had completely forgotten to grab any cash. In Spokane, we never used money, at all. I hadn’t even thought to grab any before we headed into town. Resting my hand on top of the menu, I stared at the down, wanting desperately to order one of the delicious smelling foods that wafted through the air. But with no money, I knew I couldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Reed asked, glancing over to me. My hand still rested on the closed menu.
“I forgot my money,” I said, feeling stupid. My eyes tried to fog over, and I blinked it away angrily.
“Don’t worry. I got it.” Reed smiled at me. Reaching over, he picked up the menu, sliding it out from under my hand, and opened it. “You need to eat. I don’t like how you were swaying back there.”
“Reed…”
“It’s just a few bucks. No problem.” He smiled again and tapped the menu, encouraging me to choose something.
I scanned the menu, trying to find something cheap. I felt horrible for making Reed pay. He smiled easily at me, still trying to reassure me that it was alright. I finally settled on a bowl of pumpkin soup, its description hinted with spices and warm French bread causing my stomach to growl. I had never had pumpkin before.
It didn’t take long for the food to arrive. The soup smelled amazing, and before I knew it I was spooning it into my mouth, letting it envelope my tongue in its sweet silky flavor. Eddie pounded down a burger, topped with almost every option listed. I had no idea how he could eat so much, but somehow wasn’t surprised when he called the waitress back to order a second burger.
Reed carefully ate his sandwich. He joined in Eddie’s playful banter, but something obviously still nagged at his mind.
The meal went fast. The waitress came by once more, slipping a black folder onto the table.
“Here you go, handsome,” she said, winking shamelessly at Eddie.
Eddie beamed a toothy smile, running his fingers through his red hair. “Why thank you, ma’am. Might I say, those burgers were delicious.”
“Oh hon, they aren’t the only delicious things here,” the waitress replied, her voice dripping. The waitress glanced over at Reed and me. “Looks like the restaurant is full of delicious today.” She winked at Reed.
Reed politely smiled back to the waitress, then reached into his pocket for some money, averting his eyes from her overly made-up ones. “Don’t mind him,” Eddie said, chuckling. “He’s on a first date, and I’m just intruding.”
“First… Eddie, honestly.” Reed shook his head, forcing a nervous laugh. I could see him glance out of the corner
of his eye in my direction, his cheeks looking more red than usual. I could feel my own cheeks reflecting his heat.
The waitress smiled at Eddie again, then turned and walked away. “See you later, Eddie,” she called over her shoulder.
“Bye Rhonda,” Eddie called back to her, pretending to blow a kiss to her back.
Reed raised an eyebrow at Eddie, his fingers counting out a few bills from his wallet.
“What?” Eddie asked innocently. “We went on a date. Once. I think.” A bashful smile crept across his face as he ran his fingers through his hair again. “She said she liked my red curls.”
The boys both chuckled, slipping their money into the black folder before standing. Eddie snatched a handful of fries from his almost empty plate, stuffing some into his mouth as he took a step away from the table. I glanced at the folder. Leaving it there on the table, full of money, did not seem like a good idea.
“It’s okay,” Reed said, leaning toward me. “They got it.” He pointed to the waitress, who waited politely a few tables away. She nodded at me, flashing a brilliant smile before wiggling her fingers at Eddie.
Reed placed his hand on my back. I melted against his hand’s gentle pressure. It felt strange to relish the touch of him. I no longer recoiled or pushed him away. Instead, against all my thoughts and will, I found myself looking forward to his next touch.
It confused me like nothing else.
We walked back out onto the sidewalk. Across the street there was an office that I hadn’t noticed before, its windows blocked with thick white paper. On a board hung above the closed door, painted in fading black, it read: Records.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointed at the office.
Reed’s eyes followed the direction of my finger. “Records? It’s a place where you can find out about the records of any newspaper, arrest, court sessions, sentencings… you know. All of that. Right in there.” Reed clenched his jaw, nodding toward the office.
“Why would you want to do that?” I asked, shocked.
“Some people like to know the truth. Looking up records seems to be the only way to dig some of it up.”
The truth. Everyone lately seemed to be more and more obsessed with that. Being a criminal, committing crimes, and being punished for them, that was the truth. I couldn’t see what else they could look for.
Reed was watching my face, his own deep in thought. As if reading my mind, he leaned in closer, his voice soft. “There is a gray zone in life, Millie. People say everything is black and white. But sometimes… sometimes there is more to the story than what he said or she said. There is always some sort of gray zone.”
Eddie stepped up beside me. He was munching on the fries he had snatched up from his plate, casually wiping his greasy hand on his jeans. “So Millie, what got your folks locked up?” he asked through the mouthful of fries.
I felt the knot rise in my throat. “Murder,” I said, barely audible.
“Murder? Really?” Eddie laughed, choking on his fries as he tried to swallow the mouthful. “How awesome is that!” He moved to slap me on the back, but Reed suddenly intersected his hand, pushing it away sharply.
“Eddie. Really?”
Eddie stopped, lowering his hand to his side. He looked back and forth between us before a smile hinted at the corners of his mouth. “You know, I think I’m going to go mingle. Meet back up in an hour?”
Reed nodded. Eddie winked at me then wandered off down the sidewalk, his backpack swinging with his loose swagger.
“Sorry. About Eddie.” Reed put his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “What he said in the restaurant, about it being a date, I didn’t mean for it to seem like it was a –”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted, offering Reed a soft smile. “I didn’t mind. I really don’t.”
Reed returned my smile. Together, we turned and looked at the Records office in silence. The sign swung slightly in the growing breeze, its hinges creaking. I read the sign over and over, my eyes tracing each letter as if searching for what truth the sign might hold.
“Have you ever thought of looking them up?” Reed asked.
“My parents?” I stopped, thinking. I had honestly never thought about it. Up until that moment, I had never even known that it was possible. “No, I guess not.”
“You are mad at them, aren’t you?”
I turned to Reed. “Wouldn’t you be? If you were me, wouldn’t you be mad?” I asked, my voice slicing through the air. I hung in mid breath, almost begging for his answer.
Reed lightly shrugged. “They would still be my parents,” he said softly.
“They murdered people, Reed.” My voice hissed, but I didn’t care to stop it. I felt desperate, like I was suddenly drowning and my words were the only thing that could save me. “And what’s even worse, they told me they didn’t regret it. They said the men deserved it. The men deserved to be killed because my parents ‘didn’t like them.’ What kind of monsters –”
“Monsters. They do sound like monsters.” Reed looked me in the eyes, watching me. He leaned in closer, bending down to make sure I could see his face as he studied me. “But have you ever wondered if there could be more to the story?”
I felt my head nodding. I couldn’t speak. Before my parents had told me their crime, I had always hoped there might be a loophole. Some sort of forgotten truth that would set them free. Some mistake that had happened that could prove they never deserved the life they had lived for the last eighteen years. Could it be possible that hope could still live?
“Maybe. Not right now though. I just…” I trailed out, letting my eyes drift back to the sign.
“Hey, no rush. That office isn’t going anywhere.”
Reed put his hand on my back again, guiding me down the sidewalk. We walked slowly, enjoying the still warm sun. It was nice to get away from the apple picking for the day. I hadn’t realized how dull the routine at the Orchard had gotten until now. Walking down the side of the street, with nothing planned or expected turned out to be a welcome change.
I took a deep breath, the feeling of drowning disappearing with each step we took away from the office. The fog teased me, but I blinked it away.
“Reed,” I asked, finally venturing into a question that had been on my mind. “You said your parents are gone… where are they?”
Reed stared ahead, his hand still light on my back. “Dead.”
“Oh,” I said, unable to think of a better response. “Do you know… who…”
“The Nation killed my parents.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Reed clench his eyes shut a moment, swallowing hard.
We stopped at a street corner. A few cars passed, followed by the same rolling police car. The man with the star pin, the Sheriff no doubt, drove slowly by. His eyes fastened on mine a moment before he looked away. I could barely see him through the tinted glass, talking into a small radio before driving on. Reed watched the car disappear around the corner. His eyes suddenly glittered, his breath coming quick as he grabbed my hand and held it tightly in his.
“Come on,” he said. “I want to get you something.”
He pulled me across the street, his mood suddenly light and happy. I tried to protest. I already felt strange that he had bought me food. I knew I would have to repay him. Now he wanted to get me something else. It didn’t feel right. Reed shouldn’t be spending anything on me. He barely knew me.
Reed ignored my silent protest. His hand, firmly holding mine, pulled me along behind him. I looked down to see his fingers wrapped around mine, tiny scars from working at the Orchard in the trees scattered across his tan knuckles. My hand looked so small and pale in his, but something that seemed right about their stark contrast.
I looked up in time to see he had pulled me to a stop in front of the clothing store we had first passed. The mannequins in the windows smiled at me, beckoning me in. I looked down at my dirty blue shirt, my used prison jeans. The loose seams, the dirt stains and tears made me very awar
e of Reed’s other hand on my back, touching the worn-out shirt.
Reed opened the door and pulled me in. Inside it smelled of flowers and clean linen, light music playing from hidden speakers. I stopped for a moment, letting the music flow over me. Reed gently tugged on my hand, pulling me towards a stack on a clean white table
It seemed to hold a shirt in every color I could ever imagine, simple button downs made to fit snug against the body. I reached forward and touched one lightly. The fabric was soft, so soft.
“Well, pick one.”
I glanced at Reed then looked back at the waiting shirts. I didn’t know where to start. Slowly walking down the length of the rack, I took in every color. Then I saw it. A dark purple shirt, the same shade as the shirt of the woman who had released me, sat neatly folded at the edge of the rack.
I picked it up, running my fingers over it. The fabric felt so smooth under my touch, like warm summer water. I could barely imagine how it would feel wrapped around me. Reed smiled at me then pulled me to a small room at the back.
“Go in there and put it on,” he said, opening the door for me.
I walked in, Reed shutting the door behind me, and quickly did as he told. Pulling off my blue shirt, I carefully put on the purple top, taking my time to button each button as delicately as I could. The fabric hugged tightly against my body, wrapping me in the silky smooth bliss.
Cracking the door open, I waited until I saw Reed’s face smiling at me. “Well, do I get to see?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.
I stepped out tentatively. In front of me stretched a large mirror, my entire body reflecting back at me. I stared at the mirror, realizing I had never seen a clear reflection of myself before. My reflection had always been flits I saw in windows or the hammered metal mirrors, splashes in puddles of water, glimpses in the truck’s side mirrors. This mirror was smooth and perfect, shining as my mirrored self stared back at me.
The top fit snug around my body, showing the curves of my hips and bust. Its vibrant purple made my skin seem to almost glow, my cheeks rosy above the crisp collar. I took a step closer, barely able to believe that the person staring back at me could actually be me. Even with the same jagged cropped hair, the same full lips and pale skin, I looked… different. It wasn’t the light red always present on my cheeks from the long hours spent out in the sun. Or the always present layer of dirt under my short finger nails. There was something else, something new and very different, that I couldn’t place.
Prison Nation Page 16
