Only the Moon Watching

Chapter 42: Am I Losing Him?

"I waited three days just to get it, then we run into the library and he's acting all nervous. He's so apologetic I haven't gotten it yet! He says it's important, I have to read it ASAP and then I tell him about Kristina Kelly and he takes it back! Won't send it to me!"

"Maybe he was going to confess he loves you or something," says Tangler. "People say things like that way faster in jail. Time's different here, Einstein's relativity and all that. A week inside is a month on the outside world. Maybe he was going to drop an L-bomb and he thinks Kristina Kelly made you change your mind about saying it back?"

"I don't think it's anything like that." I push my carrot-peach mush around my plate, morosely.

"You gonna fake vomit again, to see him?" asks Shiv.

"I never fake vomited, remember? Girdle confiscated it."

"Brilliant plan, still. Gonna use it in one of my books I suspect. Gonna real vomit, then?"

I mime catapulting a spoonful of mush at her, and Garda Girdle catches me.

"OI! INMATE!"

I put down my spoon and hold my hands up in surrender.

"The boys have gardening duty," Needler says. "Got the schedule on the bowl this morning. They're pulling up weeds between the asphalt in the rec yard. Then, they'll go straight to laundry. Maybe if you puked on yourself this time–"

"Oh shut up!" I pick up my spoon but let it clatter onto my plate again. "Not every plan needs to revolve around me throwing up on myself!"

"Ew," says Kristina Kelly, as she passes us. "Why did I ever think I'd have to compete with you?"

"Inmate!" This time, the call comes from Garda Girdle's boyfriend. "Come here for a minute! Bring your tray!" he waves at me from being the kitchen barricade. I check that Girdle isn't watching me, then hurry to meet him.

"You looked finished with that," he says, eyeing my full plate. "We could use an extra hand back here, just for a minute." He cocks his head slightly, and behind him, I see Steak waiting. "You wanna do some kitchen duty?"

"You first," Steak and I both say.

"No you, really," says Steak.

The kitchen smells like burnt refried beans and there's a pile of moldy tortillas stacked on the counter. The floor is wet with some unidentifiable but slightly-orange substance, and theres a weird smell lingering around the upended mop bucked in the corner. Somehow, the fact that he risked meeting me right under Garda Girdle's nose makes everything feel romantic.

We're drying trays with rags that I'm pretty sure are dirty; Steak's wearing a hairnet, but I'm not; Chet's guard stands watch over the door, prepared to flirt with Girdle and distract her if she comes asking questions about where I've gone missing.

Before I can explain, Steak hugs me. I almost tear up at the normalness of it.

"It's so hard to say," I start, pulling away from him. "I don't know how to share bad news, I don't want you to think I'm being too casual about it or dismissive."

"I laugh when I'm nervous," he says. "I get it."

I try to say it as gently as I can:

"Kristina Kelly's in for assault. She tracked down your ex-girlfriend. She did it for you, beat her up. Choked her or something. She put her hand on my throat yesterday and told me–" I have to think for a minute, to remember. "–told me if I didn't scream she wouldn't squeeze. But your ex screamed."

"Oh my god!" Steak drops a tray in surprise, it falls on his foot first then clatters across the floor.

"What's a matter?" asks Chet, his stubbly face appearing in a gap between the pantry shelves.

"Nothing," says Steak, rubbing his sore foot.

"Nothing," I agree, but Chet narrows his eyes at his roommate.

"Steak, you can tell me. You look like shit."

"Kristina Kelly got to my ex, assaulted her, that's why she's in again!"

"Kristina Kelly lies through her teeth," says Chet. "How'd she have found her, anyway? You never mention her name!"

Had Steak mentioned his ex's name to Kristina Kelly? Were they really closer than everyone thinks?

"You look like shit, man," Chet says again. "But she's probably only lying."
Steak reaches for a new tray but his hand is shaking. Instinctively, I reach out to catch it. He gives me a wincing smile and sets it down between us. Chet shoots a cheeky smile at the guard and disappears into the back of the kitchen.

"What was your urgent message?" I ask Steak, after a few minutes of working side by side in awkward silence.

"I don't know," he says, staring into the sink. "I'm gonna have to think about it."