Ray

The sky was the colour of metal, reminding him of where exactly he was. Ray sat back down on his bed and waited for the buzzing sound, and the jangle of keys, the metal snapping against metal and the heavy cell door opening. As usual, his mind flew back to his wife and kids; surveyed an imaginary dinner scene, hovered over them and kissed them on the forehead, went everywhere they went.

He stood and felt the years catching up with him. He was now in his mid-fifties, and he finally understood the value of time; knew that his was running out, and that there was nothing he could do to get any of it back, for he had wasted it on a mistake, and now the state was making him pay.

The guard came and opened the iron door and led him down the corridor, where he walked, as he had done these past nine years. As always, Ray looked at the faces, watching him from behind bars. Men that would have killed him, given half the chance. He walked the cement floor and was escorted to another door. The guard opened it, and he was led to the outside. Like stepping out into another world, the sunlight and air hitting him in the face.

Men lifting weights. A truncated green oval with a giant fence surrounding it. He walked out into the middle of the grass, as was his habit, and started walking the laps. Just then, a new guy, he had never seen before came up to him.

‘Someone said you could get smokes’, said the new guy.

‘What about it?’

‘Can you get ‘em or not?’

‘It’ll cost ya.’

‘How much?’

‘A favour.’

‘A favour?’

‘That’s right. At my command. You getting me?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, Ask one of the other guys about it, then.’

With that, the kid took off, and he went back to his meditations about the remainder of the time that he had before release. Ten years and eight months and four days. Felt like an eternity. And yet, every day that he struck off the calendar was another day defeated. Another day closer to his old life, the life that he had before the madness of armed robbery.

The memory came back as if it was yesterday, horrifying him: the lounge room full of cigarette smoke, a woman - somebody’s wife - in the midst of it, pouring beer.

‘So, this one will be a real stinker,’ someone was saying. ‘If we work hard enough, though, none of it should be a problem’.

They eyed other and drank the beer on the table. Deciphering who was for real and who wasn’t. But they were all just as desperate as each other, for they were men with debts, men with mouths to feed and rent to pay.

‘So, what’s the risk?’ said one, looking at the others.

‘Well, if you get caught, you might have to do as much as much as eighteen years. So, in that case, you can kiss your wife and kids, goodbye.’

‘What’s the pay off?’

‘Could be as much as ten million. Split between us, that would be a million each.’

They had looked at each other and there was a stony silence that echoed off into eternity. Getting involved was the greatest mistake of his life.

Ray sat on the bench and looked up at the sky and wondered about it all, the meaning of everything. He sat, and for the millionth time, rued the day that he had decided to commit armed robbery, with his so-called mates. And was his life really that bad that he should gamble everything on it? The answer was no, and a definitive one at that. He had a wife and kids and a steady job, but someone had told him that it wasn’t enough. And now, here he was, wishing that he was someplace else, anywhere, just not here.

He looked up at the sky one more time, aware that the outdoor hour was almost up, looked over at the guards and saw that they were moving back into the facility, and so, he did the same. The bodybuilders finishing their sets, packed up the weights; one guy yelling at another guy to quit.

They started walking the grass and he wondered how he was going to survive ten more years in this hell hole. They walked the linoleum floor and then to a wide-open space, full of tables and chairs. Men planted around the tables. In a moment, there was a buzzing sound, signifying the line-up for the nightly meal. Ray lined up with the others. Took his metal tray and waited for his servings of meat and vegetables from the women, serving, behind the counter.

Ray admired them, even if there wasn’t much to admire. A woman with brown mousy hair, wearing glasses with string beans attached. How long had she been working here? Seemed like forever. What did she do with her time, he wondered. Probably had her own family. He took his food and walked the floor to his usual table and sat on his own. For some reason people didn’t bother him. Maybe because he was an older guy and didn’t really look as if he had much to offer anyway. Too damn ugly for all of them.

He picked out a paper-back from the tiny library, as was his habit, and started reading, and was suddenly interrupted by a thud, landing on the table. Ray felt his heart miss a beat, looked up and saw the punk that had pestered him for smokes back in the courtyard. Long black hair falling on a face that could have been almost pretty. He looked up at the kid, tried to recover from the shock.

‘Listen, old man. I don’t like you,’ said the kid.

Ray looked up at him. Tried to match his gaze.

‘I got that,’ said Ray.

The kid leaned in close, close enough so that he could smell his breath.

‘I tell you, you give me any s**t, and I’m liable to cut your f*****g head off!’

‘Is that so?’ said Ray, trying to remain calm but feeling his heart racing in his chest.

The kid raised his fist and looked as though he was actually going to strike him, just before a bulky arm grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground, like he knew would happen.

Ray watched the kid get cuffed and marched off, then went back to his meal and his book. There was cheering as the kid got taken away. He would probably have to do some solitary confinement, but what did it matter? None of it brought his release date any closer. Still, at least the kid would learn. The hard way, like the rest of them, like everyone else, like himself.

Everyone went back to their meals. Quiet conversations, the guards standing, watching. Ray felt his heart rate go down; let his thoughts drift back to Peg and the kids. One of the guards came over and asked him if he was ok, to which, he answered that he was. He, then finished his meal and got escorted back to his cell.  

The door slammed shut and the guard turned the key, and he walked over to his bed and turned the lamp on, found his page in the paperback and started reading, but he couldn’t concentrate. It was the end of the month, and Peg was due for her visit, her and the kids.  

She didn’t bother writing anymore, or even calling, and the monthly visits were petering out, and he was starting to worry. His eyes grew tired, and so, he turned the lamp off and lay in the dark, praying that she would be there.

The next morning, he woke with the usual barking alarm, at six am, through the jail. Not long after, the sound of keys opening the metal doors. He got up and marched out and took his shower with the others, always vaguely disgusted with the other men’s bodies, got dressed and walked back to his cell, then got dressed. He had a tiny hand mirror, amongst his things, and so, he stood and brushed his hair, put on a small dollop of aftershave, then sat, expectantly, waiting for the call-up, hoping that she would be there.

It wasn’t long before the guard was standing at the door, looking at him, a glimmer in his eye, giving away the fact that she had made it, and, on his birthday, no less, which he had virtually forgotten about. He hurriedly checked himself in his hand-mirror again, put more water in his hair from the basin, and pulled it back with his hand, like he knew that she liked it, then straightened his shirt and walked through the open door with his heart in his mouth, like it always was whenever she was around.

He walked the long walk toward the booth, aware that the possibility existed that he may never see her again, or the kids; was led into a small room where other inmates were sitting, talking on phones to their respective others, and she was already there with the kids sitting next to her.

Seeing them, looking at them, his heart broke. They were the only things in the whole world that meant anything at all to him, and he suddenly realized that he had made idols of them all and that it was wrong. Trembling, he sat down in the booth and watched them do the same.

They sat, looking at him, with a bored look on their faces, as though the whole thing was an ordeal, getting here, seeing him, which it probably was. He looked at his two children, who looked to him, like tired angels, dark rings under their eyes, as though they weren’t sleeping that well. Peg, the same, then summoned the courage to look her in the eye and saw that she too looked tired. They both picked up the receiver and looked at each other, and, for a while didn’t say anything.

After a while, she took a deep breath and sighed, and wished him happy birthday, and he looked back at her and couldn’t think of what to say and then used his usual ‘how’s the kids’?’ line, to which she nodded and said that they were ok.

After a while, she looked back down at the ground, as though searching for inspiration, and he looked at her forehead and wanted more than anything, in that moment, to be able to kiss it.

Then, her face changed for an instant; her skin, looked suddenly more pallid than usual, and she suddenly looked angry. She looked him in the eye.

‘I can’t do this anymore, Ray.’

He looked back at her, horrified that the hour had finally come.

‘Please, Peg, I need you.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

With that she hung up the phone and he watched a tear fall down her cheek, before she put her arms around the children and turned away. The youngest, the boy, escaped and pressed his nose against the glass, and he looked and saw a younger version of himself, with straw colored hair, and he knew that he wouldn’t see any of them, perhaps ever again, and he could feel the hot tears streaming down his face. He called out but his throat had constricted, and no sound would come out, and she was gone. Then, sat back down on the wooden chair and stared into the empty room where she had been, and had been, so many times before. After a while, a hand lay on his shoulder.

‘It’s time, Ray,’ said the guard.

Ray looked up at the man. How long had the guy been working here? Must have been years. He wondered if he’d still be here by the time that they let him out. But, by then, he would probably be at retirement age. The jury was out as to whether or not, Ray himself, would even live out his sentence. Chances were, he’d live and die in here. God only knew what would become of Peg and the kids. Probably, she would remarry. Probably, she was already with someone else. Hopefully, the new guy, whoever he was, wouldn’t f**k the kids up too badly. Still, the likelihood was that he wouldn’t live long enough to ever see them again, to repair the damage.

He stood and looked at the room one last time. Incredible, to think that it was the last time that he would ever see them. Then, was led back down the linoleum walkway, his sneakers making squeaking sounds as he walked.