by Nesly Clerge
“I want you to keep in mind what I said earlier: There are always at least two sides to every story. It may be painful for you to travel that path, but I’m going to ask you to travel it, with me here to assist you. And I’ll need you to be honest. We want to consider what you both did. We don’t have time to get started with that today, but plan on it the next time we talk.”
Demory closed the file then looked up to see Starks, head down, wringing his hands.
“What is it?”
“I’m scared, Doc. I don’t think I’m going to make it here. Big Bo or one of his gang will kill me. I’m sure of it. One of them just recently let me know I should plan to die. By his hand or not, I know he meant it.” Starks wiped away tears he’d fought hard to suppress.
“I’ll report this so the COs can keep watch.”
“You know how it is; it won’t help. I’m a dead man. As much as if I were on death row.”
“You riled up the wrong bunch of inmates, not that there’s a right one. They’re used to dealing with life only one way. And I know from prior experience that talking with them—the way I’m talking with you—won’t work. That’s one reason I’m committed to helping you.”
He locked his gaze with Starks’s. “You use your mind. They use only muscle. The best thing for me to do is inform the authorities, or at least recommend they keep you in isolation until I say otherwise. I know that’s not easy but it’s safer.”
“That’ll keep me from being so exposed. But you and I both know that even in isolation, there’re no guarantees. If—when—they get serious about getting me, they’ll do it.”
“We’ll do whatever we can for now. Hang in there, Starks. I’ll see you next week.”
He watched Starks rise, thrust his shoulders back and hold his head up as he opened the door and left with the guards. Starks wanted to live; the suicidal tendency was fading, or so it seemed. But now this extra threat was hanging over his patient’s head.
On one hand, he wanted to help Starks get over the violent behaviors that had emerged, but he knew that might be another form of suicide in here. Especially if Boen Jones and his gang intended to make good on their threat.
There was also a selfish aspect: This was the first time in a very long time that he was working with a redeemable inmate. Whether or not Starks remained here or was eventually returned to society—or God help him—faced life imprisonment, he wanted the man to live, and even die, feeling like a whole man again.
A system was supposed to be in place to protect inmates in danger. And although he couldn’t name names for certain, he knew some of the guards were on Boen Jones’s payroll, whatever form that took. The gang leader got away with too much; too many illegal activities had his name written all over them.
As counselor, he was obligated to report this latest threat to authorities. Doing so might lead to a sure death sentence for Starks, and soon.
His choice was obvious, as was his responsibility.
***
I have to survive.
The powerful feeling underneath this thought made Starks stop pacing in his cell. For the first time in untold months, he wanted to live—the word hammered in his head. But, what could he possibly do to guarantee it? He was an engineer, a problem-solver. This problem seemed like one without a solution. No ready answer came to him.
His attention was drawn to his mattress. The shank he’d taken so long to make as a weapon of self-destruction had, in an instant, transformed into one that might save him. For now, all he could do was continue his daily routine. And be vigilant.
Starks wondered if he was becoming paranoid. Each day, as the week crept by, he found he flinched more and more at every sound. When out of his cell for the one hour, he repeatedly looked over his shoulder. When he shot hoops, he missed and had to chase the ball every time. Then he had to listen to the derisive laughter and jibes coming at him from other inmates standing with Bo, who managed to be outside when he was.
Was it even possible to request transfer to another prison? If it was possible, would his request be denied, and word spread around that he wanted out? If transferred, he was sure he’d find a different version of Bo and his gang wherever he went. Who else filled the cells besides people just like them, or worse?
He imagined Demory’s voice in his head saying, “Maybe you ought to look at that last question you just asked yourself. Maybe you want to ask yourself what kind of person you choose to be while you’re here.”
Maybe the counselor had a point.
CHAPTER 37
DEMORY TOOK NOTE of Starks’s downward cast eyes and hunched shoulders. Everything about the man’s demeanor was constricted, as though he was holding himself together, barely. He knew that Bo’s eventual payback weighed on Starks’s mind. There was nothing he personally could do about the actual threat, but he could help Starks emotionally, at least as much as the man would allow him to.
Demory picked up his pen and held it poised, ready to make notes. “You haven’t received any visitors since you arrived here. I checked. You put it in writing that you didn’t want to see anyone.”
Starks shrugged.
“Why is that?”
“My family feels shamed. As for friends… I realized most of them aren’t really friends. Except for Jeffrey. But I told him I didn’t want any visitors, at least not for a while.”
“Why would you shut out your support system?”
“The trial was humiliating enough. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
“Sometimes the way to become stronger is to talk with others you trust about how you feel. Give them a chance to assist you, let them show they care.”
“Weakness is detested in my family. And damn dangerous in here.”
“Getting what you need isn’t a sign of weakness.” Demory sighed. “All right. You don’t want to see them. Yet. You’re here now. Talk to me. Start wherever you want.”
“Everything starts—and ends—with Kayla. I knew the first time I looked at her that I had to be with her for the rest of my life. At first my family rejected her, because of her mother. My mother said Kayla’s mother was a loose woman. And it didn’t matter how intelligent or polite Kayla was. Not to them. But I refused to give her up. Eventually, they grew fond of her, including my mother. My mother even told me how wrong she’d been about Kayla, something I never expected to hear.”
“Were you physically intimate before you married or did you wait?”
“Long before.”
“How did that go, for both of you?”
“We were teenagers driven by hormones. More obviously so for me but Kayla responded in her own quiet way. We were both curious about sex. We tried everything we could think of. Went at it any place we could find that was private.”
“What else did you do as a couple?”
“Spent as much time together as we could. I’d pick her up in my Dodge and ride around, go to the park, or spend time at our houses. Then she got her first car. A Geo Metro. It didn’t even have power steering.” He smiled and shook his head. “I teased her about how she’d develop muscles driving that damn car.
“We didn’t have a lot of money to spend, so we rented movies more than we went out to see them, which was a good thing because both our homes had finished basements used as entertainment rooms. We’d watch movies then get physical, if we could wait until the movie was over. Our parents believed we would never do anything until we were married, so it didn’t concern them to leave us alone like that. We were in love. Or so I thought.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt.
Demory leaned back in his chair. “What about after high school?”
“I wanted to be a mechanical engineer, so applied to MIT. Kayla applied to Boston University, with a major in information technology.”
“How’d it go, being at two universities?”
Starks propped his elbows on the chair arms and stretched his legs out in front of him. “We had our disagreements from time to time, like all couple
s, but we stayed together. Until my second year.”
“What happened?”
“I told her we were definitely getting married after college but that I felt we’d become a couple so young; that we should take a break from each other, apply ourselves to our studies. I thought I’d presented a logical suggestion; that she’d see reason. When I saw how upset she was, I tried to take it back, but she refused. We broke up.”
“Was that your only reason for making that suggestion?”
“Kayla was the only one I’d ever had sex with. And there I was, surrounded by attractive, intelligent, fun women. I didn’t want to eventually marry Kayla and feel I’d missed out or had regrets. But I didn’t want to tell her the truth, either. She would never have come back to me if I had.”
“How did you feel during the break-up?”
“It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Our families weren’t happy, especially mine. Especially after all I’d put them through at the start of our relationship. But I felt if I didn’t take a break from it and experiment a bit…”
Demory waited then asked, “Did you go out with other women?”
“I dated, but never got serious with anyone. In fact,” he snickered, “the only woman I got physical with was a woman named Janisa. All those women I wanted to enjoy, and didn’t. And even with Janisa it never went beyond heavy kissing and some groping. My heart wasn’t in it. And no one was more surprised than me that my penis wasn’t either. I wondered if something medical was wrong with me. I did get interested in one other woman, but not for long. Turned out I was a rebound for her. All she talked about was her ex-boyfriend. I couldn’t stand to hear about him anymore.”
“Did Kayla get involved with anyone?”
“Bernard Hazely. But it was brief. I saw to that. Jeffrey told me about Bernard. Told me I was going to miss out on a very nice girl, meaning Kayla, if I didn’t get my act together. I did miss her, more than I expected to. And I didn’t like how it felt to know she was with someone else.” He rubbed where the gold band used to reside on his wedding ring finger.
“Were you and Kayla in touch during the break-up?”
“We spoke occasionally. Soon as I learned about Bernard, I told her I wanted her back.”
“What did she say?”
“She wanted to know why she should take me back. I told her it was because I was the one for her, just as she was the one for me. That we both knew it. She said what I had done wasn’t nice.” He tapped a forefinger on the edge of the desk. “I told her that in this world nice guys finish last; that I never intended to hurt her. That I did it for us. I told her she’d always be first with me. That it might take a while to get going, get successful, but I’d be the one to give her everything she wanted or could ever want.”
“Did she come back to the relationship then?”
“She went out with Bernard for another month and a half before she broke it off with him.”
“How did you feel about that?”
“Pissed-off. Scared.”
“Were she and Bernard intimate?”
“She said no. Told me I was the only one. It was a lie, of course.”
“But at the time you believed her?”
“She wasn’t the type of girl to sleep around.” Starks placed his head in his hands. “God. I actually just said that.”
“What was your reunion like?”
“We had some issues. Broke up a few more times, but always got back together.”
“And then you stayed together.”
“Yes. Soon after, the difficulty she was having with her mother escalated so Kayla moved into an apartment just off campus; I was still living at home. She was crap at managing money but I always found a way to help her out, even though I didn’t have a lot. Had to tap my savings fairly often. I yelled at her about repeatedly overdrawing her checking account. I’d ask how she could mess up something so simple. Her answer was that I was the one who knew how these things worked; that I was the man. Even though I took over doing her bank statements, she still spent more than she had. I had to work overtime hours so I could deposit money into her account every month. All those damn overdraft fees.”
“What was the problem between Kayla and her mother?”
“They argued. A lot.”
“What about Kayla’s father?”
“He deserted them when she was young. All she knew about him was what her mother told her, and it wasn’t good. She didn’t like to talk about him, so I didn’t ask.”
Demory took a few seconds to complete his note. “What about after college?”
“We graduated the same year. My family made a big deal out of celebrating our accomplishments. Her mother attended. It went well enough, considering.
“I got a paid internship with Gravitron Enterprises, which lasted a year. After that, I enrolled in the master’s program at the University of Houston. Kayla also wanted to pursue a master’s degree. Where she did that wasn’t an issue for her, so we went to Houston together. Got our first, very small, apartment as a couple.”
Demory looked up. “Were you married?”
Starks shook his head. “My family wasn’t happy about that. All that mattered to us was that we were building our future together.”
“Any chance you still love her?”
Starks shifted in the chair. He stared at the floor, took a few shallow breaths then said, “No.”
Demory put his pen down. “We’ll pick up next week where we’re leaving off today. But I’d like you to consider pride before our next session.”
Starks smirked. “As in ‘Pride comes before the fall?’”
“Something like that. Pride can guide us but sometimes it’s the enemy.
“I want you to think about this, Starks: The people who love us hurt us, whether they mean to or not. We hurt those we love, whether we mean to or not. And when we make one person the center of our world, perhaps put them on a pedestal, where they can’t move without falling off, both get hurt. There’s also the fact that people change over time. And they should; we’re all meant to. Partners sometimes outgrow each other because of how they change as individuals. The strength of any relationship has everything to do with whether or not, and how well, the individuals ride the occasional storms these changes bring. One thing that makes a difference is being open-minded about the change life brings. We want to get you comfortable with exploring how to become more open-minded about what happened then and how you can move forward now.”
Starks winced.
“What is it?” Demory asked.
“My own words—open-minded—coming back to haunt me.”
CHAPTER 38
STARKS LAY ON his bed with one arm covering his closed eyes, contemplating the question that had come to him during the trial and again in his last session with Demory: had Kayla actually loved him during those early days, or had he been fooled into believing it—because he’d refused to believe otherwise?
Certain details of his and Kayla’s start together in their first apartment in Houston were still clear in his memory. They’d been lucky to find the tiny, sparsely furnished place. Kayla wanted to decorate it, make it feel more like a home. When they had free time, they’d go to the local dollar stores, flea markets, and garage sales. They went to many such places because Kayla was very particular about her purchases: She did not want their furnishings to appear as cheap, even if they were. They had so little money then. Each of them had a small stipend from their financial aid loans, and his family sent a small amount each month. It was never enough.
Two months after they moved in, they lay entwined in the darkened room, spent after making love.
Kayla lightly traced his chest with a finger. “Tomorrow morning I’m looking for work. We could use the extra money.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll find a way. Don’t worry about it.”
“You have to study.”
“So do you.”
“Your studies are more important. Your degr
ee has more requirements than mine.”
“That’s true. But still—”
“Just a part-time job. It’ll be fine. We’ll have some extra for expenses and for some fun now and then.” She nudged him playfully. “Tell me it’s okay.”
“I don’t like it but if it’s what you want…” His hand stroked her damp back.
She lowered herself on top of him. Her kiss lingered on his lips. “It is what I want. Now I’ll give you something you want.”
They both knew his groan of weariness was pretense.
Three days later Kayla had a job as a waitress in a diner. One month later, she took on extra shifts. Two months later, she took incompletes in all her courses and went to a better-paying job at an upscale restaurant. Starks was angry she’d dropped out of university without discussing it with him but knew that being without money made her unhappy, which she made clear when they argued about her decision.
They lived off her income, his stipend, and his family’s small contributions for the next year. It became too much for his pride. He got a part-time job at a department store and worked full-time during breaks. They still squeaked by most months. Time together, aside from finally sharing a bed late at night, was infrequent, and more precious because of this. They made those times as special as they could afford to. Each left love notes for the other to find—in the book for his next class, pinned to her waitress uniform, next to key rings.
Together they’d done what was needed to create a better life then and for the future. There was true pleasure found in sharing a purpose and dreams, or so he’d believed.
Starks sat up, swung his feet to the concrete floor of his cell.
They’d been happier then, when they’d had nearly nothing. When they’d worked as a couple for everything they had. Had done whatever was needed to support each other, love each other.
During those early years, he never imagined how very wrong things could go.
Starks rose from the hard prison bed, went to the washbasin and splashed cold water on his face. He turned the spigot off. The scar on his right hand caught the light, bringing to mind the sharp teeth that had torn his flesh. It had happened up the block from the one-bedroom house he and Kayla had rented after that first apartment.
