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“You look good, Jude. Real good. Got that fire in your eyes.”
“I ’spose keeping my nose clean will do that,” he lied. They both shared an all-knowing grin.
Jude leaned across the table, clasped his hands, and could practically smell the change in his brother. The bad man from Middle Tennessee had been weakened by the prison walls. Brought down a notch or two. He was pale, almost ghostly. Gone were the days of his sun-kissed skin and jet-black, shoulder-length waves flapping in the wind while riding his Harley. Gray hairs sprouted at his temples, threatening to spread to the fallen king’s crown, and his blue eyes looked dead. The hell and brimstone of his nature was extinguished. His drive to fuck shit up all but gone.
“You’ve been had. The life is sucked out of you. What are you going to do about it?” Jude questioned.
Prison was a wretched, ancient vampire. Her fangs were made of iron, and her agonizing bite matched her earsplitting bark. The cage for men extracted one’s liveliness, and never gave a damn thing back except a day closer to death, tinged in the blood of lost freedom.Remember it and weep.
“The lifeissucked out of me. Not much I can do. This place is my wife, these walls, my mistress. All they do is fuck me over, take my pride, my money, nag and holler, and run off with my best friend. Forget about me though. I understand you’ve been clean all the way around.” Cain’s eyes turned to inky slits, the color in his face showing for a split second, as if by chance, those words alone could allow him to live vicariously through him.
“Gotta stay clean, man. Ain’t the tweakers dirty enough?” Jude chortled.
Cain shot a couple guards a careful glance, then leaned in. The brothers faced one another like opposing mirrors. Reflections of fraternal tainted blood. Bonded by silent oaths, and unbreakable alliance.
“How’d you always look so healthy locked up? When you were doin’ your time, Jude, you were bigger and stronger each time they let your ass back out into the wild.”
“I told myself I refused to die in here.” He looked around the prison, then rested his eyes back on his best friend, his brother. “I had hope.”
“You didn’t have a life sentence. You had assault charges… racketeering… sellin’ weapons…No monkey on your back countin’ down the days.”
“I did almost everything you did, and then some… you know that. You and I could have a graveyard named after us. I did it though, without the sentiment. It was never based on my pride or emotions. It was never personal. All business. You could never keep your feelings in check, Cain. I told you it was gonna fuck you up one day.”
Cain sighed loudly and lazily looked away.
“I tell you what though, if I had a life sentence, Cain, I’d spend all my time in the library here reading law books, on the phone and computer any chance they’d give me, workin’ out and forming alliances with any and every motherfucker who knew about jurisprudence up in this joint. You’ve never been able to see past your own circumstances. You’re too emotional.”
“Oh, shut up. I don’t need a lecture.”
“You need a kick in the fuckin’ ass. That’s what you need. Now I have to do everything by my gotdamn self,” he spat while jabbing his finger against his chest. “You were the only one I trusted. I warned you about this, but it ain’t over till the angels sing. It might take five years. Maybe ten. Maybe twenty. But if you believe you’ll get the hell outta here, you will. Have a little faith. What’s the harm in that?” He shrugged. “You ain’t got shit else to do.”
“Now you sound like me… what you accuse me of doin’.” Cain shuffled about. “Selling pipedreams.”
“Oh, I sell plenty of pipedreams, brother.” Jude’s lips curled at his own little joke. “Let’s turn that frown upside down… talk about something that makes you happy. Oh, I know, your brief time in the Marines. You enjoyed that. Let’s see. Oh yes, Memorial Day, two days before you got locked up. You loved the fireworks and barbecue. We had a good ol’ time… the family… kids. It was a night to remember.” Cain looked down at the floor, his eyes glossed over. “Come on, man. Don’t you want to be patriotic for a minute? Lift your spirits?”
“Ain’t nothin’ patriotic about my circumstances, Jude. I ’preciate you tryna help, but I’m not… I’m not like you.” He turned away, gripping the white fabric of his prison jumpsuit. “The American flag I held in high regard while servin’ my country, ain’t the same American flag I saw in that courtroom. The American flag I saw in that courtroom when they handed down my sentence, might as well have jumped down from that damn pole and strangled me.”
“And you’d let it do it? Like a sitting duck? Flags are made of cloth. Every piece of fabric has holes in it, Cain. It’s woven for God’s sake. Find a fuckin’ hole and crawl through it, you pathetic piece of shit.”
Tense silence stretched between them. Cool air rained down on hot heads soaked in sweltering tempers, temperatures, and sweat. The stench of body odor from his brother permeated the air like a fog. His own expensive cologne blended with it, making a nauseating bouquet.
“You need to wash your ass.” Cain offered a half smile and folded his arms. “Depression doesn’t look good on you, Cain. It definitely doesn’t smell good, either.”
“I’ll wash my ass soon as I kick yours, you cocky cocksucker. Look, the only thing Ineedis a cigarette and a crossroad puzzle.” Cain winked at him, then leaned back against his chair.
“I’ll take care of it.”
As usual, they danced around words, turning and twisting them into a language only they could understand. Those left unsaid spoke the most. They’d done this since they were small children. Sneaky little devils, Mama used to call them. Two filthy sides of a dusty coin.I need a crossroad puzzlemeant he was having a problem with an inmate. I’ll take care of it meant, well… just that.
“Patriotic?” Cain’s brow rose, as if he was suddenly interested in revisiting the topic after all.
“Yeah, that’s what you like, right?”
“Right!” He jetted out his tongue, scoffing. “You can take that flag and stick it up your keister. I’m going to die in here. I want you to be prepared for that, Jude. I’m not, but I need you to be. Don’t get optimistic on me now. I’d hate for you to change up from your usual self during the last inning.”
“You were given a life sentence. Don’t mean a period was put on that sentence. It’s a comma.”
“You uh Language Arts teacher now? Grammar. Fourth period. Subbin’ for Mr. Jacobs’ class.”
