Page 21 of The Fall Guy

It’s peaceful in the yard, even if I’m surrounded by people. I can think more clearly, as if the oxygen reaching my brain is fresher.

Smoking used to relax me, but now I’m not sure it would help. Being on the move is better than watching the world go by. It’s easy to go insane in here. Standing still isn’t something I can afford to do, or I’ll be going stir-crazy. Another lap, another faux minute of freedom.

Max slows to match my pace so he can run alongside me. “Showers, then church if you’re still in?”

I nod. “Yeah. I could use some holy water.”

The only reason I’d take anything from church would be to cause sin. Holy water would probably burn me and everyone else at Eastward like vampires in sunlight. But no one has ever called me sensible. I’ll try the water if it’s offered.

We finish our lap before heading inside. The guards open the gates, and we move through the compartments into the belly of the prison. After grabbing a shower, I dry off, dump the towel, and change into fresh clothes.

Once in the main room, I don’t have to wait long until we’re taken down for the Sunday service. We line up like school children before walking down in single file.

I haven’t been inside a chapel since my dad’s funeral. The smell of frankincense and myrrh brings back memories of that dreaded day. My dad was a hard man but also the person who grounded me, and without him, I feel lost. I fight back the pain threatening to invade my chest, choosing to focus on the organ that starts to play.

Both Ernie and Max find a seat in the front. They pick up the hymn sheet. I sit in the second row next to the two cronies who dragged Rio into the TV room. The priest runs an ordinary service, or at least that’s what I think it is; I’ve never been a regular. We sing, we pray, and we are blessed with holy water that doesn’t burn after all.

After the majority of inmates leave, the priest calls me to his chamber. I guess there’s no threat in a holy place, although there are a lot of candles everywhere.

“Great service, Father,” I say.

It’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever given. Listening to a guy talk about his passion for God isn’t something I enjoyed. Faith isn’t going to reform me. At this point I’m not sure anyone can save me.

“Thank you, child,” he says, holding his hands out for me to take.

I hesitate at first, not sure how this is supposed to go. I’ve never had a meeting with a priest before. He reaches into his pocket with his right hand before placing both of them around mine. Cold metal lands in my palm, making me frown. It’s too small to be a knife but has sharp edges.

“Thank you.” I take the item, getting a quick peek at it before slipping it into my pocket. It’s a small, handcrafted knife with a thin handle.

“Don’t overthink the gift. It’s for protection only. I like to look after my boys. That reminds me, I need someone to help me set up for the Sunday services. Can I count on you?” he asks.

“Of course.”

He nods. “Excellent. Have you spoken to your family back home yet?”

I rub the back of my neck feeling a little uncomfortable with the question. “No. I called my brother but he didn’t pick up.” I’ve been trying to forget about my blood relations. They haven’t supported me through this.Fuck them. I don’t need them.

He pulls out a piece of paper and an envelope from the top drawer of his desk before handing them to me. “Think about reaching out. God put you with them for a reason. They’ll forgive your mistakes if you let them. I’ll see you before your run next week.”

I never told him about my running resume. Maybe he’s trying to tell me he has eyes and ears all over the prison, or maybe I’m being paranoid. I thank him again and leave his chamber.

Max and Ernie have their private meetings with the priest. Since there are no guards to take me back to my cell, I have no choice but to hang around while everyone is finishing up.

Finding a pen near the organ, I stare at the blank paper the priest gave me. Should I write to a member of my family? I wonder how private my letter would be. It makes sense tokeep my message cryptic but to the point. I have so much anger toward my brother the pen pierces the paper

I write:

Dear Kai,

You screwed me over. What was I supposed to do when your wife was crying, and your boy needed his father? I didn’t deserve prison, but you left me no choice. Now I’m rotting in a cell, and you don’t even have the decency to visit.

Fuck you brother

I screw up the paper into a ball and shove it deep into my pocket. My thumbnail catches the edge of the blade, giving me a small cut at the end of my finger. I suck the metallic tasting blood into my mouth, letting it linger on my tongue. If I believed in karma, that was probably a sign not to post the letter to my brother.

Max approaches me while Ernie is in with the priest. “Did you get the blessing you needed in the priest’s chamber?”

I touch the new toy in my pocket. Although it cut me, I’m happy to have the gift. Jono’s death was a warning that not everyone is playing fair. Having protection is both a safety net and a risk of getting in trouble. If I get caught with it, the consequences could outweigh the benefits, but it could save my life if I’m attacked.

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