The Starks Trilogy (Book 1 & 2)

by Nesly Clerge

  “At the end of our last session, I asked you to think about pride.”

  “I considered it. All in all, pride’s a good thing.”

  “It can also be a five-letter word that leads to destruction.”

  Starks sat up straight, drew his feet under the chair. He frowned and said, “Granted. But pride also serves a purpose. Pride can keep people on the right track. It helps build character.”

  Demory relaxed in his chair. “Pride can be a good thing. But every coin has two sides. Misused, it can lead people to make unfavorable, even irrational decisions. If I said a wiser choice is made from reason rather than pride, what would you think about that?”

  Starks looked at Demory straight on, stayed silent for several moments before he replied, “I can see that.”

  “Why do you think you’re having these sessions with me?”

  “I didn’t control my emotions.”

  “Do you think pride had something to do with why you didn’t or couldn’t control them?”

  Starks didn’t answer.

  “You waited a year to attack Ozy Hessinger. You were already separated from your wife. The male ego can be fragile, but do you see how pride played a part in that?”

  “Damn straight.” Starks leaned forward. “I had to honor my children and my family. And, there’s her pride to consider. That woman’s pride is why I’m in here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She doesn’t have any. How could a woman with any pride behave as she has?”

  Pen scratched on paper. “Have you ever considered that perhaps she felt the same way about you?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “People hold up mirrors for us. We don’t always like what we see, and we blame them.”

  Starks willed himself to sit still.

  “Do you think Kayla still loves you?”

  “Seriously? Sometimes I think she’d be happier if I were dead. Besides, how the hell would I know what she feels? Sometimes your questions suck, Doc.”

  “What if your anger is just pride speaking?”

  Starks lurched forward in the chair. “That woman hurt me in ways you can’t imagine.”

  “I’m sure you hurt each other.”

  Starks stood up. He glared at Demory then began to pace with as much ease as the ankle shackles allowed.

  “Listen, Starks, it’s a hard fact to accept, but no relationship’s problems stem from just one person. We’re either part of the problem or part of the solution. There’s no escaping that reality. But those problems are in the past. You need to find a way to become part of the solution, as it relates to now,” Demory tapped his pen on the desk, “and the future. Not just about Kayla, but about being here.”

  Starks paced back and forth. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Learn from your past so you avoid repeating mistakes.”

  Starks dropped into the chair. “What the hell good is it for me to keep going back to my past? Thinking about my past only messes with me.”

  “The Danish philosopher SØren Kierkegaard said something that I’d like you to remember: ‘Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.’”

  “Fuck philosophers. They weren’t married to Kayla. Neither were you. So, easier said than done, Doc.”

  “Life isn’t always easy. But it doesn’t have to be as hard as we sometimes make it. Listen, Starks, if you want to regain control of your emotions rather than let them control you, you’re going to have to heal some wounds. Otherwise, your attention stays on them, and that’s where you’ll base decisions from. No one likes to hear this, but it’s true. Although, you’ll have to do what’s needed; no one else can do it for you. This pride you let guide your choices and decisions all this time… how’s that worked for you so far?”

  Starks’s shoulders raised then sagged.

  Demory sat forward. “It’s a lot to take in. Give it time. One of our goals is to get you to a point where you make better, wiser decisions, ones not based solely in pride.

  “Maybe that’s enough about that for now, unless you want to discuss it more. No? Okay. Talk about whatever you want to then.”

  “Kayla. She surrounded herself with the wrong people. Poisonous people. She lacked the discernment to understand that some people don’t have your best interest at heart; they only add fuel to the fire.”

  “Are you referring to friends or family?”

  “Both. But I can’t blame them completely. Kayla manipulated them. She’s very good at playing the victim. I told her repeatedly that she needed to keep them out of our personal business. She never told them about all the crap she did or was doing. With only one side of the story, they found fault with me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”

  Starks’s hands went to his face; he rubbed the skin hard as he shook his head.

  “Pride. My family would have seen me as the failure, not her. Of course, that’s how they saw me, anyway. It was a no-win situation for me.”

  “Didn’t you have a close friend or friends you could confide in?”

  “Friends… ha! They’re right there with you when things are going well, when they can benefit from your success or they need something. Want to know who your friends are? Go broke. Get ill. See how long those friends stick around. Sure, they’ll give advice, but when you need them the most, they desert you.”

  “Did you have one or more bad experiences with people you believed were your friends?”

  “Haven’t we all? The older I got, the fewer friends I kept. But, Kayla? She thinks her so-called friends really care about her. The same people she’s been pouring her heart out to, and lying to, are the same ones judging her and laughing at her behind her back now.

  “One of her friends told Kayla second marriages are so much better. You know, the old grass is greener on the other side bullshit. Why didn’t she advise Kayla to put her pride aside and work on her marriage, the marriage Kayla vowed to stay in, as I did, for better or worse? Senseless damn fool. These are the people she’s listening to.”

  “So you don’t think Kayla has a mind of her own? You believe she’s that easily influenced?”

  “Everyone can be influenced by other people. Some more than others. Even me. Look how I let her do it to me all these years.”

  Demory steepled his fingers. “You’re right that we’re all open to being influenced by others but it’s less likely to happen if we have a strong personal foundation. It’s possible that you both had faulty foundations.”

  “I don’t give a damn about foundations, Doc. She went looking for a Prince Charming rather than working things out with me. Instead, she got Ozy, who used her, and then she got a man and his daughters who are living with her on her nickel. Correction, on my nickel. Initially, I wanted us to start over. Forgive and forget, you know? But after Ozy… no way. I no longer respected her. Soon as I pulled away, she wanted me back. I couldn’t do it. And frankly, Doc, I wish to hell you’d stop nagging me about what that damn woman thinks or feels. I don’t give a fuck.”

  Demory put his pen down. “I can see this is making you angry so let’s move on. Continue with where you wanted to go with what you were saying.”

  Starks picked at his ragged cuticles. “We struggled in college. More than we needed to. I’ve always said my family could send only so much to help us out. That’s not true. They sent what I asked them for. I didn’t want to ask for even that much, much less more.”

  “But they would have sent more, if you’d asked?”

  Starks nodded.

  Demory twirled his pen. “All that stress on both of you could have been avoided then. If they could send more and would have, why’d you choose to struggle?”

  “I lied to Kayla about that. Otherwise, she would have insisted I ask for more. If she hadn’t always spent more than what came in, we could have made it. It would have been tight at times, but nothing like what it was.”

  “Despite tight money, we
re you happy as a couple back then?”

  “We had some very happy times together, or at least I thought we did. Because we were in it together.”

  Demory nodded. “It’s hard to face the fact that you shared a history, and now that relationship is broken. Our belief about how life should go tells us such an outcome isn’t right. People don’t tend to like change, don’t find it easy to adapt. Some do a better job of it than others because of what they tell themselves.”

  “Some changes are unnecessary, so why the hell should I adapt to them?”

  “What if I said everything happens for a reason?”

  “That’s some philosophy, Doc. I can’t see any reason for what she did. Not after all I did for her.”

  “Sometimes it takes time, even years, before we understand. We come together for growth. Sometimes it’s for life, sometimes it’s not. We often get signs that something needs to change. When we don’t pay attention to the signs, life changes in spite of us. Transitions are more painful when we ignore the signs, when we resist the inevitable.”

  Starks waited for Demory to look at him. “Speaking of change… I’m ready to go back into general population.”

  “Last week you wanted me to keep you in solitary as long as possible.”

  “I know. Because of Bo.”

  “What’s different?”

  “I realized I have to deal with it.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I’ll think of something. Our sessions are helping.” In response to Demory’s raised eyebrows, Starks said, “I mean it. I’m getting a lot out of what we’re doing.”

  “I’ll think about it. I’d like to feel confident about making the recommendation.”

  “I understand. One more thing. Can I have visitors, or make a phone call?”

  “That is an improvement. Visitations are limited for people in isolation, but I can see about arranging it. I’ll check on the phone call, as well. Anyone particular in mind?”

  “Jeffrey.”

  “The friend you mentioned. What about what you said about friends?”

  “I should have excluded Jeffrey from my comments.”

  “I’ll see about getting approval for you to call him.”

  “What about his visit?”

  “I’ll see to that, as well. If they agree to let you call him—and I’m going to push them to agree, have him contact me.”

  “I appreciate it, Doc. One thing: I put it in writing that I didn’t want visitors until further notice. How do I change that?”

  Demory handed him a tablet and pen. “Write it and sign it. I’ll sign off on it and get it to the right person.”

  Starks wrote out his request, signed it, and watched Demory add his signature.

  “I’ll take care of this today. And, our session’s up.”

  “You’re making a difference, Doc. See you next time.”

  Demory leaned back in his chair, tapped his pen on the open file in front of him. He didn’t want to discourage Starks by telling him he didn’t think the man was ready to leave isolation. But facts were facts. Nor did he want to put the man’s life in jeopardy. Or was this Starks’s way of putting his own life at risk with yet another form of suicide? His comment that he’d handle Bo was suspect; Starks didn’t stand a chance. Or was he underestimating his patient, especially considering what he’d done to get himself thrown into isolation in the first place. That, however, was a one-time deal. Bo’s gang would never allow it to happen again.

  Something felt wrong. He’d do what he could to arrange for the phone call and visit, but not the release from solitary confinement. It was too soon.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up.

  CHAPTER 43

  STARKS’S CELL DOOR flung open so fast and hard it hit the wall. He leapt from his bed, landing in a crouch.

  Jakes laughed then sneered. “Let’s go,” the CO said.

  “Go where?”

  “Phone call.”

  “I’ve got a call?”

  “We don’t take calls, asshole. You asked to make one.”

  Demory had come through for him.

  Simmons came in with the shackles. Starks held his wrists out and fought the urge to grin. No point in letting them think he was excited about this opportunity. He felt in his gut that any sign of enthusiasm on his part might lead them to muck everything up.

  Eager to speak with Jeffrey, he had to focus on not tripping on his ankle restraints during the long walk to the few phones mounted on the wall. His shoulders slumped; each phone was in use and several inmates waited their turn.

  “I just dial out?”

  Jakes’s sneer returned. “Why don’t you learn what’s what here? You gotta call collect. The person’s name has to be on the list you turned in. Name’s not on the list, you can forget it.”

  Jakes told him to mind his manners, before they left him and went to talk to the guard in the enclosed booth.

  He hadn’t been around this many people in so long it felt as though he’d entered an alternate reality. Realization of the role human interaction played in a person’s life struck him. Fear or no fear of retaliation, he needed to get out of his solitary hole.

  Inmates in the area stared at him as he waited his turn.

  He heard one of them say, “That’s the fool that fought Big Bo.”

  “He may be a fool, but that little dude is quick,” the inmate near him said. “You saw how he kept punching Big Bo’s ass. Like in the movies.”

  “Movies, my ass. This Big Bo we talking about. That little dude is crazy.”

  Starks put a scowl on his face before he turned around. “Mind your fucking business.”

  The inmates moved away. Two other inmates took their place in line behind him. Starks’s glare made them back up a few feet. He stood with his back straight, tried to look relaxed and on alert at the same time. The inmate in front of him ended his call.

  Starks lifted the receiver and punched zero for the operator. The buzz of conversation in the area distracted him; a quick look back showed inmates were keeping their distance but kept their eyes on him the way people watch a lit firecracker.

  He heard a voice on the line he recognized.

  “Bro, how the hell are you? Everyone keeps asking about you. Everything okay?”

  “I need you to visit me as soon as possible.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “You could say that. No time to explain. You need to call and arrange a visit. But call Matthew Demory first so he can tell you what’s involved. That’s D-e-m-o-r-y. We talked about you coming here.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Prison counselor.”

  “The what?”

  “I need to go. Please. Just do it. As soon as we hang up.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Starks stepped away from the phone. The two guards joined him to take him back to the confinement unit. Murmurs from inmates were heard as he passed their cells. He slowed to see if he could catch what was being said.

  Jakes yanked hard on his wrist restraints. “Get moving.”

  “Pull on me one more time and see what happens.”

  “I’d like to see what happens.” The guard shoved him.

  Starks narrowed his eyes and stood with controlled stillness.

  Jakes pulled out his nightstick and whacked the palm of his hand with it several times. “You wanna play, asshole? Let me tell you how it’ll go: you’ll lose.”

  Starks snickered and resumed walking. It was all for show, for all the inmates watching his every move.

  He couldn’t afford to drop his façade. Not until he was alone in his cell again. Not until he was safe in isolation.

  It had been a long time since he’d heard Jeffrey’s voice. He hadn’t believed he’d miss anyone from his former life, other than his children, but the brief call with his friend proved him wrong.

  Now he had to wait.

  ***

  Jeffrey stared at the
phone. Why was a counselor involved? What the hell was going on with Starks? Whatever was happening, he’d do whatever he could to help.

  The first call was brief because Demory had another patient showing up in minutes, said after that session he’d get the ball rolling about a visit.

  It was an anxious hour and a half before Demory called him back.

  “What’s going on with Starks?” he asked.

  “I can’t tell you. That would be a breach of confidence. Let him answer any questions you have when you see him. If you’re ready, I’ll give you the details about how to make that happen. The paperwork should be faxed to you today. I set it up so that if you fax the forms back ASAP, they’ll rush it so you can see him next week.”

  “Fire away.”

  Jeffrey ended the call. He cracked his knuckles and swallowed hard.

  CHAPTER 44

  NO WORD HAD come from anyone as to whether or not the visit would happen; though, he was sure Jeffrey had made the call to Demory, as he’d said he would.

  Frustrated, Starks sat on the concrete floor opposite his bed and shut his eyes to close out the bleakness of the cell. He rubbed his chin; heard the scratch of skin across bristle. Ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. If Jeffery could visit, he hoped it was at a time after he’d showered and shaved. His friend had always teased him about seldom having so much as a hair out of place. There was no way he could look as presentable as he had in the outside world, but neither did he want to be scruffier than necessary when he saw his friend.

  Thank God for Jeffrey.

  His friend always came through for him, like the time he wired three thousand dollars to him and Kayla when they lived in California. Jeffrey had added in his note that no payback was required or would be accepted.

  Kayla was thrilled to get the money.

  “That’s a good friend you have,” she said.

  “He’s always been generous and concerned about others, especially his friends.”

  “You looked so relieved when you opened his envelope.”

  “You bet. The bills are piling up. His timing was perfect.”

  The extra money was gone by the end of two months, and they’d been back to where they usually were when it came to money.