Page 70 of Homebound
Inmates recognized her and several issued greetings of various degrees of pleasantness.
Heart beating faster, her composure wavering, Gemma was nearing cell 35. She passed the Tarai, the Birdies, then the empty cell where Arc used to stay, and finally, him…
Simon was sitting on his cot in a loose assembly of long limbs, his preferred position, and his brilliant black eyes were trained outward on the opening of his door. He knew she was here; had heard her approach. The intensity of his gaze took the last vestiges of composure away from her. She grabbed the warped iron bars to stay upright and rested her forehead against them.
“Simon…” was all she could whisper. Her eyes stung.
He moved so fast she could barely track it. One second he was sitting down, and in the blink of an eye, he was towering over her on the other side of the bars, mere inches between them. He wrapped his hands around the same bars, a fraction above her hands, not saying anything, just watching her.
She raised her head and looked back. He seemed taller, bigger than she remembered. His hair was messy, the braid in a need of a re-do. His eyes, completely black and completely foreign, betrayed nothing. Everything about him was just like she’d dreamed about only better, riper.
“I’m back,” she said.
He didn’t reply except raising his fine eyebrows slightly. His gaze shifted away from her and Gemma looked behind to see Ruby standing not too far, staring at them with a dumbfounded expression.
“You’re holding up the roll call, honey.”
Ruby’s prosaic comment grounded Gemma. The world snapped into place. She let go of the metal bars separating her from Simon and gave him a coy look.
“I think I am. Thank you, Ruby. Better get back to business or else someone might get ideas about preferential treatment.”
Simon’s eyebrows remained arched up high. He might have sneered but she wasn’t sure because he pivoted and faded back into the dim obscurity of his cell, folding onto himself and turning his head sideways to Gemma.
His dismissal hurt not a bit. For the first time since laying eyes on him, she felt that the pull that had long been tagging at her went both ways.
She moved on to complete the roll call.
Ruby was waiting for her when Gemma returned from the other end of the corridor.
“I’ve seen the real Simon today.”
Gemma smiled. “You see him every day, Ruby.”
“No, I don’t. Not like this.”
Gemma's smile slipped. “And how is ‘this’?”
Ruby gurgled a laugh. “Let’s just say he has airs about him when he chooses to display any.”
“Yes, isn’t he precious?”
Ruby choked. “That’s not how I’d describe him. More like an ass.”
“Ruby!”
“Badass.” Ruby grew serious. “Are you sure being one-on-one with him is safe, Gemma?”
“You sound like Arc, all doom and gloom. Simon is an intelligent creature, not some war cyborg with wire brain and trigger finger. He has self-awareness and self-control. He’s also unwell and weak.”
Ruby tilted her head. “I’ve noticed his bars are bent. Is it a sign of his self-control? Or his weakness?”
Gemma ducked her head and left Ruby to form her hypotheses.
Arlo hadn’t shown up and would likely stay a no-show, which left Gemma in a bind with supervising the yard time exit and return. Putting their heads together, Gemma a Ruby decided that the Obu should be the first inmate to go out and the first one to come back to his cell, with Ruby in the lead. The guards would help as usual, and that would leave Gemma more or less safe at the tail end of the line.
The exit was executed flawlessly, and she was free for the whole hour of Simon time.
She located the wheelchair that someone had unceremoniously pushed far away from cell number 35, and brought it close. She placed her hand on the scanner to unlock Simon’s cell. The latch released, but she hesitated. Ruby’s warnings and Arc’s prophecies came back to unnerve her.
