What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  Something she said slowly sank in. I had always thought I was conceived and born inside this prison. That wasn’t true. My parents were already pregnant with me before they were committed. And they had refused to abort me when urged to. Something tugged at my mind, but I forced it away, realizing that Dr. Eriks still had not stopped.

  “…always seemed indifferent to parents’ crimes. In most sessions, has been calm, aloof, and quiet. Millie has stepped up to her parents’ responsibilities. Millie withdrew from school a year early to proceed in independent study.”

  Pausing a moment, Dr. Eriks dug through the folder, finally finding a sheet of paper. She took a moment to read it, then proceeded. “Her final exam showed extreme knowledge in the greatness of our Nation. Millie has been awarded an A, thus securely passing.”

  I felt my shoulders relax slightly. Moving my eyes from Dr. Eriks, I took in the rest of the room. The others at the table were all watching me. Reverend Smitson had a soft look on his dark-skinned face, as if ready to offer me the salvation of the Lord at any moment. Judge Woods looked bored. Oscar still had a fist up to his lips, his eyes watching me almost in fear. I lingered on him a moment, confused. Then I finally let my eyes trail to Carl.

  He was smiling.

  Dr. Eriks closed the folder, knitting her fingers and resting them neatly on top. “Millie has never proclaimed any affiliation to any gang, group, religion, or faction. She has proven her loyalty to the Nation. She has never been in any confrontation and has never been accused of any crime. Her submissiveness and humbleness are appreciated by the Nation. I -”

  “Yes, but do you recommend release?” Carl asked, leaning toward the doctor.

  Dr. Eriks’ eyes widened for a moment. Turning her face towards Carl, she stared at him as if in disbelief. “Excuse me, GF?”

  Carl leaned back, knitting his fingers across his chest as he glanced at me. “You say she is an asset, you tell us about her parents and her exam results. But we already know all of this.” Carl looked back toward Dr. Eriks. His eyes were squinted, bearing into her.

  Her lips parted a moment. I could see her brow knit together, anger flaring behind her narrowed eyes. Dr. Eriks was not a person accustomed to being interrupted. “I was getting there, GF.” She spat out the last word, her lips tightening into angry lines. “I was −”

  Carl looked away from Dr. Eriks. His eyes locked back onto me, a smirk passing his lips before he cut her off again. “Then I suggest you get there already.”

  Dr. Eriks paused, her eyes locking onto mine for a moment. I could have sworn I saw contempt flash across them, but it vanished as fast as it had appeared. “I give my approval for release.”

  I couldn’t speak. It seemed so sudden, so simple. I had expected Dr. Eriks to tear me apart. I had thought she would reveal all the secrets she must have discovered and written in that notepad of hers. Instead, I had just been awarded her approval without hesitation.

  Looking over to her, I saw the hate radiating from her eyes. Then, slowly, a thin smile spread on her pale face. I felt sick.

  Carl leaned forward. “Millie 942B, due to your shining report and passing grade, you will be given the option to accept a job for the great Nation and work here in Spokane. All your needs will be taken care of as you work to better our Nation as we reform its criminals. You must announce your decision now. Have you decided?”

  His eyes suddenly turned cold. I felt them bear into me, cutting through my very being like jagged knives. No one else seemed to notice his intense stare. The slight parting of his lips. His fists as he clenched them tight. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he had pressed me against the wall. His words echoed suddenly in my head, angry and distant.

  “So, I think you need to ask for a job here. In the upper blocks, where I will be transferring back to very soon. I have tried to suggest it nicely. But obviously nice just didn’t get my point across.”

  “I −”

  “Might I remind you, 942B,” Carl interrupted, his voice coming out business-like and indifferent. As if he had never spoken to me before. “Accepting a job within the Prison is a great honor. You will be compensated well, and offered the ultimate protection from the… unjust.” His eyes scanned me a moment, so quick I knew no one else could have caught it. “Have you decided?”

  I knew then, as sure as my blood now ran like ice through my body, that I did not want to be anywhere near this man.

  “I have,” I said, my voice obviously shaking.

  Carl let out an exasperated sigh, his lips slightly smiling as he awaited his expected answer. “What is your decision?”

  I swallowed hard. When I finally spoke, my voice surprised me by coming out clear and strong. “I wish to be released. To work and earn my freedom within the Nation as I better the land and people around me.”

  Carl’s face turned dark. I could see his muscles tighten as he clenched his jaw in anger. Dr. Eriks’ eyes flicked to look at him, her lips tightening into a thin line before looking back to me. Her eyes focused on my shirt, refusing to look me in the face. In a level voice, his eyes still bearing into me, Carl coolly asked, “All in favor of Millicent 942B’s release?”

  The four others raised their hands, muttering “Aye.” Carl watched me a moment. The vote had to be unanimous. If it failed, I would be detained until a consensus was decided. I suddenly realized that Carl could make that indefinite.

  In a low voice, he finally answered, “Aye.”

  Judge Wood cleared his throat. His bored eyes rose to look at me, barely taking me in. “Millicent 942B, by permission from our great Nation, I am proud to be the first to announce your release from Spokane Prison. As is practiced, you will be on watch for the first month. Your job will be assigned, and you will be expected to earn your living. Spokane will release you come midnight of your birthday, with any points earned and any belongings thus acquired. Are there any questions?”

  I shook my head.

  Judge Wood nodded. Without another word, he pushed himself up from his seat, breathing hard against the weight that tried to keep him down. Oscar rose, his eyes nervously watching me. I could hear the paper shuffle as the typist gathered the records and left the room. The others followed close behind.

  Carl stayed in his seat, watching me. He looked about ready to launch himself over the table at me. Then he suddenly smiled, standing smoothly.

  “Remember, Millie,” he said, his voice an unsettling calm. He smoothed his hands over his vest, glancing coolly at the empty doorway. “I get what I want. Enjoy your release. I will see you around.”

  With that, he excused himself from the room.

  | | |

  That was it. I was going to be released. Even though I always knew I would be, it still felt strange to stand there, knowing that tomorrow I would leave the only place I had ever known. I was finally going to be set free.

  When I got back to my cell, both my parents were standing near the bunk. I could tell they were nervous. My mother kept trying to flatten her knotted hair. My father shifted from foot to foot, watching her every move, one hand resting lightly on her back. He cradled his other hand across his stomach, the bright white gauze that covered it a stark contrast against his dirty shirt. As I walked in, my mother saw me and jumped, clapping her hands together.

  “So? So, so, so?” She sounded like a young child, bouncing up and down and repeatedly clamping and unclamping her hands.

  “I passed,” I said simply.

  “Oh, Millie! I am so proud of you! I am so, so, so proud!” My mother moved to wrap her arms around me. I threw my hands up, stopping her mid-step.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  My father sat down on the edge of the bed, his tired eyes watching my mother. Wondering what he was looking at, I turned my eyes to her. She stood where I had stopped her, her hands hanging limp at her sides. Tears were flooding down her face, her lower lip quivering as she sucked in a sharp breath.

  “M-Millie. I just wanted to hug you. Can’t I ju
st hug my baby?”

  The thought of her wrapping her arms around me caused my stomach to tighten. I could see her, covered in blood. I could see the photo of the man lying dead on the ground. I didn’t want to be touched anymore, by her, by anyone.

  “Is it true?” I blurted out, my voice suddenly full of anger. “Is it true that you don’t even regret it?”

  “It?” she asked innocently, genuinely confused.

  “The men you killed! Remember that! The whole reason our family has been locked in this God awful place instead of living a normal life, free in the Nation! God Mom! You killed someone! Don’t you regret it?”

  My mother watched me, the tears still streaming down her face. Regardless of her quivering lip and sniffing nose, her voice came out strong and sure. “I don’t regret a single stab.”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake her until her stupid crying stopped and she finally admitted that what she had done was wrong. My nails dug into my palms, the pain a welcome release from the thoughts that ran like angry fire through my mind.

  “You have to understand, Millie. Those men, they needed to die.”

  “Why, Mom? Why did they need to die?”

  She snapped her mouth shut, her eyes widening as she stared at me.

  “Because,” her voice was low, trembling slightly. “Because I didn’t like them.”

  “Mom,” I said, my voice barely audible. “My entire life I have known you were strange. But I loved you. I believed you were normal, somewhere deep down inside. But now I know.” I took a deep breath. “You really are the crazy monster everyone in here sees.”

  My mother choked on her tears. I could see my father lower his head, his hand rising to wipe at his face. He should have yelled at me. He should have leapt forward and slapped his insolent daughter who stood there and insulted his wife. But I knew he wouldn’t. He was just her shadow, her silent watch dog.

  My mother raised her arms, her fingers reaching for me as a strangled squeak escaped her lips. I could see her retreating into her own world, the glaze taking over her tear-filled eyes. “Oh, my baby… my baby…” she took a step for me, her fingers pleading to let her hold me one last time.

  I looked straight into her eyes. She stopped talking, her glazed eyes watching mine.

  “I never want to see you again.” My voice was barely audible. It held no humor, no side smile at the irony of the statement. I meant it with every inch of who I was.

  My mother began to shake, raking sobs taking over her entire body as she started to crumple to the ground. Darting forward, my father wrapped his arms around her and dragged her back to the bunk, laying her gently down. He cooed softly to her, whispering things I could not hear. She finally calmed, passing into a dead sleep.

  I just stood there and watched. I wanted my last sight of my parents to be one of who they truly were. I felt like I didn’t know them. They were just a pair of crazy, random inmates who I had been forced to live with for the last eighteen years.

  My father glanced at me, his eyes full of pain. I felt something in me reach for him, hating the look of betrayal in those tired eyes. But I forced it away, locking it behind a door deep inside of me. Without a word, he laid down next to my mother and closed his eyes, his bandaged arm wrapped tighter around her than usual.

  The buzz cut through the air. I hadn’t even heard the first two warning buzzes. Behind me I could hear the door slide shut, locking me in for my last night.

  I didn’t climb into my bunk. I walked just close enough to inch my notebook out from under my pillow, then settled down next to the door. Guards walked by, their boots pounding the ground as they checked each cell. The med cart rolled by, pushing the three cups under our door as soon as I answered their usual question. I stared at the cups, frozen in time, waiting for the walk to die down into night. Before long it fell into the usual nighttime murmur.

  What is life? I scribbled. Tying it to my shoelace, I threw it out from under the door and waited. As soon as I felt the tug, I reeled it back in.

  It isn’t death. Did you pass?

  I did. I wrote. This is my last night.

  I am so proud of you, Millie. Orrin wrote, his handwriting clean and smooth. You better be careful out there. I really mean it. I don’t want to see you rot away in a place like this.

  You haven’t ever seen me. I wrote back.

  As soon as I threw it, I regretted the words. They were harsh. Orrin didn’t deserve my hostility. He had always been open with me. He had listened to me like a father should have, and had given me advice when I needed it the most.

  Yet he had still refused to ever meet me.

  I have. It’s hard to miss one of the only young women in this block, Millie. You stand out. I read the words over again. Orrin knew who I was. He had seen me. And still he never had stopped to introduce himself.

  Why haven’t you told me that before?

  Because you would ask why I didn’t say hello. I smiled. He did know me. You are magnetizing, Millie. A true beauty. Somehow this ruined life hasn’t affected you. I fear that others will see that, and try to ruin you. Please. Protect yourself.

  I remembered Carl. His broad grin, his hungry eyes. My pencil hovered above the paper, ready to tell Orrin about my encounters. But then I stopped myself. There was something about Carl. Something that made me scared to even mention him to Orrin. I didn’t want to put him at a risk that he could otherwise avoid. My throbbing cheek agreed.

  I know. I will. I finally wrote. Tell me about the world. Where is your favorite place? Maybe I can go there?

  It took a while to feel the tug on the shoelace again. It was slow, meaningful.

  It was the beach. I had a home on the beach, with my wife and boys. At night we would sit out on our porch and listen to the waves crash against the sandy shore. My sons would cuddle on my lap, their heads on my shoulders as they fell asleep, safe in my arms. I remember the smile on my wife’s face as she sat curled up in a blanket, hot cocoa in a warm mug in her delicate hands. She was beautiful.

  When you walk along the beach, you feel a strange peace with the world. The ocean waves wash away your thoughts, letting you feel the sun on your back and the sand between your toes. It is truly a beautiful, breathtaking sight. I could sit for hours on the beach, watching the world disappear over the watery horizon, and never regret a single moment of the wasted time.

  It sounds amazing. I wrote.

  I already knew though. I knew I would never get to see that sight. The Wall stretched along both coasts, blocking out the beach from everyone but the guards who patrolled. And the wealthy privileged with beach access. I felt a pang of sadness for Orrin. He knew this too. Even though he would spend the rest of his life behind these locked doors, the knowledge that the beauty of the beach was locked away even from the free must kill him.

  I felt a tug on the shoelace. When I started to pull it back toward my cell, it felt oddly heavier than usual. As I pulled it into the dim light, I saw a strange lump in the folded paper.

  I carefully lifted the edges of the note. There, sitting on top of Orrin’s neat handwriting, was a piece of glass. It was a soft green, looking almost frosted. Its edges were worn smooth, its surface almost sandy to the touch. I held it in the palm of my hand and stared at it. I had never seen anything like it. It was beautiful.

  This is sea glass. Orrin wrote. When glass falls into the ocean, it gets tossed and beaten by the waves. After some time, all of the rolling and roughing smooths its surface. It loses its sharp, deadly edges, and becomes a thing of beauty. I used to spend hours scouring the beach for sea glass. I would bring it home to my wife, who would turn it into jewelry and centerpieces on tables. Her face lit up every time I would come in the door with my small handful of sea glass.

  This was the last piece I found. The day they locked me away. I never even had time to give it to her, to my wife. I have held onto it since. It has been my only connection back to the life I lost. And now, Millie, I want you to have it. Think of i
t as my birthday present for you.

  I can’t take this, Orrin. I wrote.

  I waited for his agreement, the glass now held softly in my hand. I couldn’t stop looking at it. It was so beautiful. It looked almost like a small rock, except for its clear green surface that glowed in the light.

  You can’t give back presents, Millie. I want you to remember what I said about that glass. Can you do that? The world has a way of making even the most deadly, jagged shards into something beautiful. Let’s hope that someday it may do it to this Nation.

  I could hear footsteps sounding down the walk. Tears stung my eyes as I realized I didn’t have time to send him one last note. Sitting back against the wall, I let the tears hit my cheek. The footsteps slowed, checking every cell as they passed. It almost felt as if they were taunting me, reminding me that I would never speak to Orrin again.

  I was about to leave everything I ever knew. Everyone I knew. My life would be wiped clean and I would start new, in a world I didn’t know. I would never meet Orrin now. I might never see Jude again. I found myself weakly questioning my decision to leave.

  Down the walk, in a loud whisper, I heard someone say my name. I crushed my face against the opening of the door, holding my breath.

  “Happy birthday, Millie,” the voice roughly whispered. The words carried down the quieting walk to my anxiously waiting ears. “I hope I never see you again.”

  Then it fell silent. I stood up, wiping the tears off my face with a shaking hand.

  “Goodbye Orrin,” I whispered.

  Part Two: LIBERTY

  11

  I finally stopped the tears.

  Climbing up onto my bunk, my head hit the pillow, hard. I could hear my parents breathing below me, soft and even. Outside the cell, the murmur of the block nightlife continued. Occasionally the heavy stomp of guards passing in the dark echoed down the walk, only to disappear once again into the dull murmur. I held the sea glass firmly in my fist, letting it press hard against my palm. Every so often I would creep my fingers open, gently rubbing a fingertip along its smoothed surface. I could almost feel the sand and waves as they rolled over the glass. Then I would snap my fingers back shut, locking it away in the safety of my palm.