Page 11 of The Care of Broken Things
“Unless there’s some kind of lockdown, or too few staff to supervise. It happened last Christmas, but it wasn’t one of my visiting days.”
“They split them up?”
“Chop the alphabet in half. I get Mondays and Thursdays. You get Tuesdays and Fridays. We both get Saturdays.”
“An hour, right?”
“And two hours Saturday.”
Eli smiled. “I didn’t know that. Nathaniel will be thrilled. What time are your visitors coming Saturday?”
The question threw him off. “Why?”
“We can schedule for the same time. Nathaniel wants to meet you.”
Guilt like a flagon of kerosene spilled into his brain, and with it came the image of a vengeful husband lunging at him with a broken bottle. How did Nathaniel know he was looking at his husband? But that was a stupid question. He’d just assume everyone in the prison was after him.
“Jenny usually comes at four.”
“Jenny,” Eli repeated. “Your girlfriend?”
“Of course not,” he said. And then realized his mistake. His words, and even more so, his tonehad outed him more effectively than a direct confession would have.
Eli laughed when he saw his expression. “Sorry, I just wanted to see you blush again. She’s your sister, right?”
His embarrassment flashed into anger. He started to get up, but then Eli’s hands came down on his shoulders and he said, “No, no, I’ll let you throw the peanut butter as many times as you want, just don’t go. Nathaniel will kill me.”
“Kill you?” It was that, more than the hands, that made him pause.
Eli sat back. “He says I’d better treat you well. ‘Like a goddamn prince’ was how he worded it.”
Samuel was obviously missing something. Maybe it was married-people jargon. Either way, he wanted no part in it. He pushed the hands off his shoulders. “Enjoy your fish,” he said, meaningchoke on it.
Eli grinned and hefted the pouch again. “Does this mean I can start stalking you again?”
“No.”
“Don’t be like that. Are you really leaving? Do you want me to die of loneliness?”
“You seem to be good at making friends around here.”
Eli pointed a sardine at him. “You’re the only one I’d call a friend.”
His hand missed the bed rail. “I’m not your friend.”
“Is there a different word for it in prison? Maybe brothers?”
"No,just—God—You’re soweird.”
Eli popped the sardine into his mouth. “Look, if you stay, I’ll make it worth your while. Ask me anything and I’ll answer it.”
Any question? Yeah right.
“Good night, Thompson.”
“Pearson-Thompson,” the man corrected. “I wasn’t going to share Nathaniel’s name with these guys, but with you it’s all right.”
That brought the anger back. “No, it’s not alright. I’m not your friend, so keep your trust locked up inside or your husband isn’t going to sleep a wink until you get out of here.”
