Reasonable Doubt ✔ | Open Novella Contest 2020 | Complete

Two - Alex

The first two weeks of prison involve the state checking off all their boxes. It's a lot of orientation to the different departments and services offered. I get screened for mental illness, infectious diseases, and placed in GED programming.

I acclimate to the rhythm, the controlled movement. It's a lot of watching and learning. I don't talk to many people, Colt included. Information is power. I can get more from listening than speaking.

Technology is scarce. No cell phones. No video games.

Some of the guys have things called JPlayers – akin to a tablet. If that tablet were cantankerous as fuck and had a processor slower than dial-up. They're damn expensive, too.

Most luxuries in prison are ratcheted up. Especially the illicit stuff. Cigarettes are $20 each. A chapstick-cap full of marijuana costs $100. Tattoos and sex even more ludicrous.

Yes. Tattoos and sex. I didn't believe it until I saw dude giving head at rec. Right out in the fucking open.

Seriously, is nothing sacred in this place?

I learn quickly that privacy isn't a thing. I have to use the bathroom with another man literally two feet away. I might be in the middle of taking a shit when the CO does his rounds. Thank fuck I'm too stressed to feel the urge to jack off.

Colt is up at the ass-crack of dawn and is usually home by the time I'm through with GED classes. He passes out until evening chow, showers and recreation. Always with his heavy Timberland boots on.

Home.

This tiny box with this big man is my home, now. A microcosm. An apartment in a city of enrichment programming and gang warfare.

Our cell door pops, sliding open along the rails. I hear Burke's loud, projecting voice announce, "Low-side, day room!"

It's enough to stir Colt. He rolls off his rack as I hop down from mine.

It's the second half of the 1.2 hours of the day we're permitted outside our cell on the unit. A time we can visit with other inmates, occupy the tables downstairs for cards, get on the phones.

Or run contraband.

I pause behind Colt where he blocks the door. Like clockwork, a lean man slinks into the threshold. Glancing at me, then Colt, he extends his hand in greeting. I see the pack of Marlboro's against his palm hidden from the camera.

"Hey, man," Lawson greets. "Good to see you."

Colt meets the handshake, smoothly palming the pack and pocketing it. "You too. How many Bens?"

"Two."

"I'll make it happen."

Lawson claps his shoulder. "I know you will."

I'm fluent in Spanish and English. Prison-speak is an entirely new language. Code words for locations, currency, drugs and gangs.

"You paid $200 for a pack of cigarettes," I admire. Then, like an idiot, "They aren't even good ones."

Colt laughs, squirreling them behind the electrical outlet under the bed. "I know. Goddamn highway robbery." Standing once more, he smirks, "You're learning, Alex. I'm proud of you."

I'm not. I shouldn't know what any of that just meant.

I want to ask how he pays. We're not allowed to have physical money in here. Instead, I keep my mouth shut.

Colt doesn't take offense. It's why I like him. I almost think he's too stupid to really be bothered by much.

"What's for dinner?" He asks some random guy in the dayroom.

"Turkey burger."

He pulls a face. "Fuck that." Then, to me, "Hey, Alex. Find us a table. We're staying in for chow."

I grunt in response, pretending I'm as thrilled with the prospect of a missed meal as he is. He's up the stairs in a matter of moments.

Turning to the dayroom at large, I find a seemingly empty table and sit. It's not two seconds before an older inmate slams his fists down on the metal, leering down at me.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, Beaner?" He growls, puffing his chest out. "This table here's for OG Niggers."

"Nobody was sitting here," I inform him, setting my jaw.

I should really just move. Only I don't appreciate the slur. It's just a name, shouldn't bite like it does. Puerto Ricans are nothing if not prideful. That's what got Javier killed.

"Don't matter, Spic," the man returns. "Get your ass up."

I stand, but don't move. Instead, I get right back in his face. "The fuck did you just call me?"

"I said – "

"Gentlemen," Burke interrupts us, one hand on his night stick, the other on his mace. "Do we have a problem?"

I smirk. "No sir. Just inviting my friend to sit down and join me."

The man grits his teeth, forces a smile. "Maybe some other time."

I watch him walk away, knowing that it will somehow come back and bite me in the ass. Burke moves on in his range check. Colt plops down across from me, grin wide.

"Why do you look so goddamn happy?" I'm still moderately incensed from the name-calling.

He shrugs. "You held your ground, didn't let him bully you. We'll make a solid inmate out of you yet."

I snort. Fantastic.

"Plus," he lays out the commissary supplies he got from his locker box. Ramen noodles, Cheetos, summer sausage, pickles, can of jalapenos, and squeeze-cheese. "We're gonna have a break."

"A break?" I repeat stupidly.

"You've never had a break before?" He demands, then shakes his head. "Alright, ese. Watch the master."

I do, utterly rivetted. He nukes the summer sausage, rendering out the fat to fry the noodles. Once sufficiently sautéed he dumps the Cheetos, pulverized to powder, overtop.

Using the lid of a can he minces the sausage, pickles, and jalapenos to dump in, adds cheese, then mixes. The entire concoction cooks in the microwave for five minutes.

The resultant monstrosity looks almost like meatloaf. If meatloaf were made of vomit and playdough. It smells amazing.

It tastes even better.

"Nothing about that is okay," I declare, even as I stuff my face.

Colt howls through his own mouthful of food. "I know, right? Sick shit."

It's enough to crack the ice a little more. I appreciate the gesture, even if I remain suspect. Just because I can't find his agenda doesn't mean he doesn't have one.

For whatever reason, everyone on the unit avoids him. It's like he's been branded a plague carrier. That means I probably should, too.

Except I live with him. Right now, sharing his food and colorful anecdotes about prison, he's the closest thing I have to a friend in here. 

AN:\\

Welcome back, lovelies! Thank you for reading :D. Any and all comments are greatly appreciated.

...I gotta say, I felt super uncomfortable using those slurs x__x. I apologize in advance if I offend anyone. I tried to make a PSA in the novella's description.

How's Alex adjusting to prison?

How's his interaction with Colt?

How are you liking the daily life of prison?

Thank you for all your input <3. Remember, feel free to ask me anything.

Stay safe out there

~ T