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Because it was no secret that my co-worker had a giant crush. In fact, he’d been flirting with me for a while now. Mark would always find excuses to come into my office, just so he could linger around my desk, sneaking a peek down my shirt.
But I never showed any interest. First, because harassment is uncool. I knew what he was doing, even though the guy thought he was discreet. Second, Mark is sad and flaccid, with shiny skin and hair so fair that his scalp was sunburned. But most importantly, it was his attitude. I resented the way he spoke about the San Nemo. Every individual has a story, even if they’re a prisoner, and his comments was unusually cruel and harsh.
So when he reached out to cup my cheek in his palm, I dodged the advance by ducking down to fix the strap of my heel. By the time I straightened myself out, his arm hung limply by his side.
Good.
I slipped into the car.
“Come on!” were my words. “Let’s go!”
The thud of the heavy door seemed to break Mark out of his trance. Quickly, he rounded to the other side, hopping into the driver’s seat before putting the pedal to the metal.
For a while, we didn’t talk. The awkwardness was thick and uncomfortable, and I cursed myself. Why did I ever agree to let him give me a lift? If only my trusty little Nissan hadn’t broken down earlier this week.
Well, maybe the car wasn’t so trusty, given that it wasn’t working.
“So… I was thinking –” Mark began as we cruised down the street.
“Turn here,” I interrupted. “It’s faster.” I pointed through the window.
“Fine.”
He did as he was told, driving along a winding back road. Those narrow, pale fingers fidgeted against the steering wheel and his lips opened and closed like a couple of flaps fluttering in the wind. The man wanted to say something, but had grown hesitant.
Good.
Because I didn’t want to hear it.
It’d be bad for sure.
Most likely he was going to ask me to go out for a drink. Again. Every week, he would ask the same question even though I always said no. Mark didn’t seem to understand the meaning of that word. Maybe he was just confused. After all, I would happily join in on group drinks, but never one-on-ones with Mark. No way. I had no doubt he would get the wrong idea.
“Um, so are you going to keep up with this prison project?” the man asked, struggling with his words. He was obviously trying to fill the silence.
“I think so,” I answered slowly. “I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”
Mark shot me a sideways glance.
“Really Laney? Most of those guys are illiterate. The newspaper is going to be crap. I mean, come on, what could they possibly write about? The best way to make a shank out of a toothbrush handle?”
“I think you’ve been watching one too many movies,” I replied, my tone somewhat icy.
But Mark is a clueless guy and didn’t detect the freezing temperature.
“I’m being serious. It seems like a waste of time. What do we care about those people anyway?”
Again, outrage tore through my soul. Because they’re people, I wanted to say. Real people, with hopes and dreams, even behind bars.
But I went with a vague answer instead.
“It’s just the way it is Mark.”
He snorted with derision.
“Yeah whatever. They shouldn’t have committed a crime, no way no how. They deserve to be there.”
But I just didn’t think life was that simple. It’s not black and white, one two three. Life is about choices, sure, but sometimes, there are no good options.
Suddenly tired, I sighed, looking out the window.
“That’s a very narrow-minded perspective Mark,” I said softly. Everyone makes mistakes. If you were there, wouldn’t you want a second chance? Wouldn’t you be grateful for people who came in, volunteering their time?”
My co-worker plowed on ahead, face in a scrunch.
“Yeah well, I don’t like it. And I definitely don’t think it’s a place for a pretty girl like you.”
I blushed a little at the compliment. I can’t help it. When I was a kid, my brown hair was more frizzy than curly, my weight a giant issue. I used to wish that I could disappear, literally vanish into thin air. Over the years, things have gotten better. I’ve grown and matured somewhat, but any mention of my looks still makes me blush, even compliments.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” were my soft words. “I’ll decide what’s right for me.”
Mark sighed, shaking his head. But at least he didn’t say anything. Good.
For the rest of the ride, we drove in silence. It felt like hours before we arrived back at the Star.
And as soon as he parked the car, I swung the door open, ready to make my escape.
But Mark was fast, real fast.
