Hands are being shaken, fists are being pounded and hugs are given freely. Yet with each gesture of saying goodbye, I lack the genuine feeling of appreciation and longing that most people have. Simply, I perform the acts, mostly out of etiquette, so that I appear somewhat humane. In actuality, I could care less.
“Thanks for everything, I really appreciate it.”
“Give me a call when you get out . . . You have my number right?”
“Good luck with everything, I’ll see you when you get out.”
. . . And so forth and so forth. I haphazardly gather my things, throwing them in the “Department of Corrections” clear plastic bag provided by my tax dollars. Today is my release date and I can’t say that I’m truly happy leaving the prison system. I don’t think I’ll miss the mismatched colors of sea green and beige, or the fact that everything is bolted to everything else for the sake of safety, however, I am going to miss the people. Yes, I can’t believe that I’m sayin this but I will be missing the murderers, druggies, and burglars that I’ve grown close to. I have to admit that prison life does have its charm. I received three meals a day, a shelter with complementary water and power, and the occasional shanking here and there. Well no, I can’t say I ever witnessed a shank, but its true that that’s all prisoners talk about. Shanking and drugs, drugs and shanking and when they’ve fully tired out the two topics, oh yeah, drugs, mainly ice.
“James, pack your shit and get the fuck out!” The officer opens the steel door with reinforced bullproof glass to the block’s day room and yells out for me.
It’s time for me to go and I’m still procrastinating. I’m stuffing my face with food purchased from the prison store, also known as the canteen. I still can remember the Korean guy that operates it, ridiciously spiking the prices, because lets face it, its not like prisoners have anywhere else to shop. We can’t go to the mall on the weekends or a casual stroll to the convenience store. Although, rumors amongst the detainees state that if a person escapes and returns within twenty four hours, an additional charge won’t be placed on his record. So technically, if all is true, I CAN stroll to the convenience store and get some goodies. I need to find my pliers . . . wait what pliers? I need to escape to the hardware store first. Um, let me think this through.
I don’t know why I’m stuffing my face, but for some reason, I get a sense of feeling that I won’t be eating when I enter the real world once again. I’m eating pop tarts, chips, pizza, whatever I can get my hands on. I think I’m going into panic mode. Fellow detainees are entering my cell.
“It’s time to go James, the cops are calling you.”
“Hold on, I’m really hungry.” I replied.
“You’re getting out, why the fuck are you eating. Eat at your favorite restuarant.”
“I don’t know, but I’m really hungry right now. You want some?” I offer him a piece of a poptart. “Wait here take the box, I’m not going to be here anymore.”
“No shit.”
I make sure to check every corner for my things. I check behind the small table and chair set bolted to the wall, under the beds that are bolted to the wall, and near the sink that is also bolted to the wall. Everything I need is in the bag and I’m ready to go. I call my only good friend Kaipat over.
“I want you to have this.” I hand him my gray cotton blanket, brought in from the outside. It’s special because it’s from my house, and not some bullshit sheets from the government.
“Thanks, I’ll see you out there when I get out.”
For some reason, a spasm hits my chest when those last words are uttered. I give him a weak smile and wonder, if I would ever see him out anytime soon. Will I really see him out there in the real world? He’s being charged with murder. Glimpses of his wife and children during visitation hours rush through my head. Such a loving family. I remember and confirm to myself that he’s innocent and in time, the system will unearth his innocence. Surely, I will see him. Surely.
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