Prison Time

by Shaun Attwood

  ‘I’m just checking.’

  ‘It’s not such a bad thing to check on, actually. The longer I’ve been down, the more I’ve found out what goes on. According to She-Ra, the majority are getting it on, including some of the biggest, baddest-looking prisoners. I almost broke down once, when I first met Gina.’ I tell her about Gina. ‘The prisoners abstaining worry they’ll be incapable of sex when they get out.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They fear it’s been so long, they’ll ejaculate prematurely or be so anxious they can’t get erections. Hopefully, I’ve kept my apparatus in working order in other ways … with … er … magazines, photos.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she says, cheeks colouring in.

  ‘I’ll find out soon enough, if a certain someone follows through on her idea of deflowering my re-virginity.’

  ‘My idea!’ she shrieks.

  ‘OK. Maybe it’s a joint idea of ours.’

  ‘Huh!’ she says, shaking her head, rolling her eyes. ‘But I will be in England for certain other reasons when you are due to be released.’

  ‘I like the sound of that.’

  ‘So, are you nervous about getting out?’

  ‘I can’t wait. I’m so excited. There are all kinds of books and stories I’ve drafted that I want to re-write and start submitting. I’ve spent months working with Two Tonys and T-Bone on their autobiographies. I think it would really make a difference in their lives if I can get them published. I’m less nervous than most about getting out because I have such strong family support. Most of the guys get released with next to nothing, $50 gate money, and are expected to make their way in the world. They end up taking the easiest route to get food and clothing: committing crimes. Nearly everyone I’ve blogged about who has been released has come right back. The prison gets almost $50,000 a year to house each person. That’s why they give them no rehabilitation or education. They want them to come right back to keep the money rolling. The politicians and legislators are in on it too, receiving massive contributions from guards’ unions and private prisons and all of the other contractors cashing in.’ I realise how loudly I’m speaking and stop myself from going on. ‘OK,’ I say, lowering my voice. ‘I’m getting off my soapbox now.’

  ‘Are you coming back?’

  ‘Hell no! I’m going to focus on becoming a writer. And if I make money I’ll use it to repay my parents, help my prison friends and maybe eventually get back to trading stocks online. That way I’ll be able to stay home with the good woman who helps me settle down.’

  ‘You’re too wild to settle down. You’d grow bored with someone like me.’

  ‘That was the old me. The kind of stuff I used to laugh at – watching plays, listening to concerts, reading books other than stock-market ones – that’s all stuff I wouldn’t mind doing now. I still want to have fun, but I’ve realised fun is a state of mind. When you’ve had your life taken away, you learn to enjoy simple things. And there’s nothing wrong with the most fun, most natural thing in the world: making love. Wouldn’t you agree?’ I say, leaning forward.

  Jade folds her arms. ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘Shall we have a stroll in Lovers’ Lane?’ I ask.

  ‘OK.’

  Outdoors, Frankie and a gang of Mexican-Americans at recreation spot us.

  Frankie cups his hands. ‘I’m giving you a thumbs-up, Englandman. But I still want a bathing-suit shot. No, let’s make that a G-string shot. I’m also gonna need a letter from her, asking for permission for any more kisses.’

  ‘That’s Frankie,’ I say to Jade. ‘But I can’t yell to him because the guards will cancel the visit. I think he approves of you.’

  Jade chuckles.

  ‘Did Englandman tell you,’ Frankie says, ‘that we’ve been doing tongue exercises together? I showed him how to kiss you behind the neck with my magic tongue. Ask him how Frankie tastes?’

  ‘I worry about you and Frankie,’ Jade says, shaking her head.

  ‘He’s bonkers. But he’s got a good heart. He was the first to protect me when all hell broke loose over a blog I wrote.’

  ‘Mmmm-mmmm-mmmmmm! Englandman knows what time it is!’ Frankie yells.

  ‘What time it is!’ Jade raises her brows. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘That I’ve got it going on because I’m with you.’

  ‘How funny,’ Jade says, smiling. ‘Why do I feel like I’m being paraded around prison?’

  ‘I can’t deny there’s an element of that to Lovers’ Lane. Do you mind?’

  ‘No, it just feels strange.’

  ‘There’s She-Ra,’ I say, pointing. ‘The blonde giantess with tattoos all over her body, playing volleyball.’

  We eavesdrop on the players.

  ‘Come on, Miss Priss,’ a prisoner yells at She-Ra. ‘Hit the ball! Don’t you like playing with balls?’

  ‘That’s fucking queer stuff!’ She-Ra yells.

  ‘You’re a fucking queer!’

  She-Ra yanks up her shorts and wiggles her hips. Revealing the butterfly to the players, She-Ra yells, ‘Queer this!’

  ‘Are they the balls you practise on?’

  ‘Come to a cell with me,’ She-Ra says, ‘and I’ll show you how to hold balls. The only difference is mine are hot and sweaty.’

  Jade’s hand is moist and my scalp is sizzling, so we go indoors. At the visit’s end, our parting kiss is prolonged and passionate, leaving me hungry for more.

  After she leaves, I join the prisoners awaiting strip-searches in an outdoor cage known as the Arizona room, some clutching bellies expanded as if pregnant.

  ‘We saw you macking, England,’ Max says, referring to kissing.

  ‘Englandman’s not lost his touch,’ says Frankie’s massive compadre with gold teeth and a bald tattooed head.

  Max points at me. ‘Homey’s got G-A-M-E. England’s a pimp. A mad pimp.’

  When I get back to my cell, I write to Jade:

  You brought just the right amount of food. It was delicious. I’d like to express how you made me feel with a quote from Tolstoy’s love story Anna Karenina: ‘But what struck him like something always new and unexpected was the look in her sweet eyes, her calm and sincere face, and her smile, which transported him to a world of enchantment, where he felt at peace and at rest, as he remembered occasionally feeling in the days of his early childhood.’

  Jade responds:

  … I find your affection for me endearing and it is mutual to a certain point. My affection for you, however, is more rooted in a deep friendship than a future relationship. I know you know this, but I don’t think that you listen very well. We will just have to continue as we are. I should feel guilty for that and I do, but not enough to have not said it. I will be at the next visit that is on a weekend day.

  PS. Sprayed with Victoria’s Secret perfume

  Her insistence on friendship increases my determination to forge a relationship. With T-Bone saying she wouldn’t be wasting her time visiting unless she has strong feelings for me, I’m convinced a relationship will happen. She probably just needs more time to sort her emotions out after the cancelled wedding.

  65

  Amid paperwork and personal effects on Dr Pedder’s cluttered desk are Power Plays by Tom Clancy and a copy of Arizona Highways Magazine. Dressed in a brown blouse and skirt, Dr Pedder has big slate-grey eyes like a cat. Her long, light-brown hair is parted and pulled back. Her sceptical gaze intimidates me. After discussing my ups and downs, and the progress I made with Dr Owen, she asks about my level of self-understanding.

  I wish Dr Owen was here. ‘Before my arrest, I was oblivious to my flaws,’ I say, shifting in my seat. ‘I never thought about the reasons behind my behaviour. Since then, thanks to psychotherapy, and my psychology and philosophy studies, I’ve come a long way in understanding myself. I realise we all have dual natures: good and bad. I’ve tried to analyse what sparks my bad side and how to channel that energy into positive things, like yoga and writing. Throwi
ng parties satisfied my rebellious nature but so does writing. My goal is to become a better person, instead of being a sex-and-drug addict and having my life crash again.’

  ‘Out of the disorders you mentioned, bipolar and anxiety problems are classified as Axis 1 major mental disorders. Bipolar is thought to be genetic and, although I’m against meds, 99.9 per cent of psychiatrists would recommend treatment with meds such as lithium and Depakote.’

  Not another pill-pusher! ‘I prefer the holistic approach,’ I say in a hostile tone. ‘By changing the way I think, I’m trying to address the root causes of my problems instead of just masking the symptoms.’

  ‘In the past, were you impulsive?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Self-damaging?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you drive recklessly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You already mentioned sex-and-drug abuse. Did you have intense relationships that went bad?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you feel devastated afterwards?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you feel totally alone?’

  ‘Sometimes I liked being alone. Other times I threw parties so I’d be surrounded by thousands.’

  ‘Do you experience emotional ups and downs on the yard?’

  ‘Not as much as before Dr Owen. It’s tapered off.’

  ‘Were you abused as a child?’

  ‘No, I had a normal upbringing.’

  ‘Does anyone visit you?’

  ‘Yes, my parents usually come at least once a year, my sister has been three times and a female friend comes.’

  We discuss my post-release goals: writing and further education.

  ‘It sounds like you have good plans,’ Dr Pedder says, ‘and you’ve come a long way in understanding yourself. It’s obvious that Dr Owen had a big impact on you. Is anything really stressing you out?’ she asks brusquely.

  ‘My release,’ I say. ‘I keep thinking that I’m not going to get released come November.’

  ‘Anxiety is normal in this situation. I would expect your symptoms to increase as you get closer to the date. Have you been using cognitive techniques?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been reading more Aurelius and Epictetus, and last night I taped to my wall a quote from a Siddha Yoga lesson: concentrating on any problem only intensifies it. I even laugh at how ridiculous I am for worrying, but then later I convince myself I’m not getting out again. Do I have short-timer madness?’

  ‘That’s not how I’d describe it. This anxiety is a normal thing.’

  ‘Even if it keeps me awake at night with racing thoughts? So many strange things have happened with my legal case that the law of averages suggests my release will get botched somehow.’

  ‘Staying up at nights isn’t a good thing. You need to sleep. Concentrate on breathing. Are you aware of how rapidly you’re breathing now?’

  ‘I wasn’t, but now I am. I felt so excited when this year began. But now my thoughts have shifted in another direction.’

  ‘Freedom equals the realisation of your hopes and fears. You must use cognitive techniques or else your symptoms will get worse. Is there anything else bothering you?’

  ‘No, that’s my main concern.’

  ‘Then put in a request if you need to see me again.’

  Disappointed, I leave longing to decorate the house built by Dr Owen, not having to rebuild with Dr Pedder, with whom I feel zero rapport. Don’t give up on psychotherapy. Try to make the most of it.

  Early in my incarceration, survival was paramount. Getting released seemed so far away I never really thought about it. But when this year began I became more forward-focused. Increasingly, I’m dwelling on freedom. Sometimes I think about my goals and get manic joy. Other times I worry about how I’ll cope; I reassure myself that prison has enabled me to deal with anything. I’m concerned about being a burden to my parents. All of my assets were confiscated by the state of Arizona and I still owe them almost $100,000 in legal fees. I don’t want to cost them any more money. I’m a natural money-maker, but sometimes doubts arise. I worry about the effect of my behaviour on my parents’ mental health. My sister sent me printouts of my mum’s blog, barbarabarnes.blogspot. Reading them made me feel ill – and deservedly so – as I was reminded of how my situation continues to affect my mum. Since my arrest, she’s been on and off medication and is in therapy. Recently, she sent a letter describing recurring nightmares she had about me with drugged-up eyes. Shocked and riddled with guilt, I replied that incarceration has knocked common sense into me, has matured me and focused my mind on a path that I won’t divert from by behaving idiotically. I’m driven to do well for their sakes and my own.

  When I get out, what do I do for fun that isn’t illegal? Spend time with family and friends. Read and write. I’ve finished with drugs. My future will be wasted if I repeat the mistakes that put me in here. Whatever is driving me to write is coming from deep inside. I’m convinced I was given a platform to not just share my experiences but also bring attention to the plight of others, such as Slingblade. Writing has consumed me. To improve my writing, I’m making a final push by reading everything about writing I can get my hands on and forcing myself to read more classical literature. I read 268 books in 2006; I’m on track to achieve my goal of over 1,000 by my release. Thanks to literary journals, I’ve become a short-story junkie. I believe that style is inherent, but it’s important for a novice like me to learn what not to do. Visualising myself sat tapping away at a computer makes me smile. Being this close to the gate it feels like I’m on the verge of a brand-new existence full of the joy only known to those who have lost and regained their lives.

  A month later, I request to see Dr Pedder.

  ‘How’re you doing?’ she asks.

  ‘Much better,’ I say. ‘I realise how silly I must have sounded worrying that I’ll never get out. I think what happened was this year began and I spent months in a state of euphoria, telling myself that this is the year I get out. Then there was a backlash and I spent several weeks convinced I was never getting out. I’m over that. I can feel the euphoria building again. I’m eligible to be released to ICE [US Immigration and Customs Enforcement] in November.’

  ‘But it usually takes a few weeks for ICE to pick you up.’

  ‘Yes. And then I’ll be processed at ICE. According to the British Consulate, if I have a passport that should only take a few weeks, so I’m hoping to be home by Christmas. If you get a request from me in January, you’ll know we’ve got problems.’

  ‘So are you ticking things off a list of things you need to do?’

  ‘I’m beyond ticking. The things have been ticked and worked to death. I think my “stressed out about never getting released” phase was productive in that I kicked and screamed to my parents, my attorney and CO3 Hepworth so much that everyone is now doing everything they can to ensure my release is processed. We’re getting regular emails from my attorney, updating us on the status of the proceedings for my deportation order.’

  ‘So if you expect to be home by Christmas, where will you live?’

  I smile. ‘It’s become a joke among my family and friends that I’m going to live in my parents’ garage and they’re going to feed me orange trays through the cat flap.’

  Dr Pedder laughs. ‘What are you going to do when you get out?’

  ‘My goal is to go back to university sometime in 2008 to do a creative writing Master’s. A senior academic in England asked me to consider going to his college. He pointed out that, if I did, a certain best-selling author would confer my degree.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t be living with your parents, then?’

  ‘No. The university has quarters for mature students.’

  ‘How are you going to afford this?’

  ‘That’s the main thing holding me back. The state seized my assets, so—’

  ‘Why did they do that?’

  ‘They said to offset the costs of the case. Anyway, I can’t fa
ll back on my parents because I owe them a lot, so I’m making enquiries about scholarships and loans available to someone in my position. Prisoners Abroad provided useful info and I’ve sent them more questions.’

  ‘How are things on the yard?’

  ‘Everything’s going great. I’m doing correspondence college courses. I just finished a philosophy one and really hit it off with my teacher. My heart and soul are demanding that I take a shot at a career as a writer and, as I’ve only got a few months to go, I’m putting all of my energy into that. I’ve submitted some stories to magazines. I can feel changes coming on in my prose. I believe that all this effort now will help me succeed when I get out. I have manic energy that I’m focusing. I think that being bipolar can be an asset for a writer.’

  ‘Not if you’re suffering delusions of grandeur of being the next Shakespeare and all you’re writing is gibberish.’

  ‘Believe me, I’ve written my fair share of gibberish. I’ve gone through some peculiar phases, which I’m embarrassed about, but there are some gems among the rubble. It’s a question of culling them. Look at all of the legendary bipolar writers and poets, ranging from Virginia Woolf to Lord Byron. I’m not so delusional I’d place myself in their league, but if I didn’t have this manic energy, I couldn’t sit and write for 12 hours, feeling on top of the world, not wanting to take a break for a shower or to go to chow.’

  ‘So you are familiar with the diagnostic criteria for bipolar.’

  ‘I’ve read books on it.’

  ‘You do get talking very fast and loud. Do you have racing thoughts?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How often do they prevent sleep?’

  ‘Only sometimes. They can keep me up for hours at night, but I do eventually get to sleep.’

  ‘You’ve mentioned times during your life when you contemplated suicide and you’ve mentioned times when you’re on top of the world. So you do seem to experience the bipolar extremes.’