Page 28 of Into The Light
"Oh, a salon. I'm a cosmetologist. My dream since I was a sophomore in high school has been to own a hair salon. I'm right there, bear.Right there. I know I can do it. I just…I need the right location at the right price. That's the hold-up, though. Real estate on Main Street, where I want to be, isreallyexpensive. So either I need to keep working and saving and building up my credit, or I downsize where I live to somewhere cheaper, or I go for a space in a less-than-ideal location. Or all three."
"No sense in compromising on a dream you've been working on for this long," I say.
She groans. "I know. I know. I keep telling myself to just be patient, but it's hard. I've watched four perfect properties come and go in the last year alone. It's demoralizing because they're alljustout of reach."
"One day at a time. It's all we can do." I hesitate. "When you're looking at a long stretch like I was, you learn to focus on the day in front of you."
She rolls her head on the couch-back. "What was it like? Being in prison, I mean. Mind me asking?"
"Nope. It's…hard. Boring, most of the time. Not much to do to pass the time. Can't trust too many people. Gotta watch your back. Especially when you're me."
She frowns at me. "Why?"
I tip my head to one side. "New guys like to prove themselves by picking fights with the biggest, baddest dude they think they can take. It's always me. So they'll jump you in the showers, or try to shiv you in the hall or in the chow line. Just to prove a point."
"Shiv means stab, right?"
"Yep."
“You've been stabbed?"
I snort. "Too many times to count."
She sits up and looks at me, concern knitting her features. "Bear,no."
I want to laugh at the compassion, the fear for me, the ache for my pain. She’s so sweet, so innocent. Instead, I touch the pad of my thumb to her furrowed brow. "None of that. I'm fine."
"But…people just come up and stab you for no reason? And the guards let them?"
I shrug. "They get caught, they do a few days in the box. Lose privileges. To them, it's worth it."
"But…why?”
"It's not for no reason. If they can do damage to a guy like me, it proves to the rest that they're not someone you wanna fuck with. Means they’re more likely to get left alone by the other guys.”
She blinks, thinking. "But…you're bigger than just about everyone, right? Can't you just…stop them?"
I nod. "Sure. Wanted to, I could snap 'em like twigs. That don't do me any good, though."
"I don't understand." She toys with the end of her braid as she looks at me.
"If you get caught fighting, you get punished. Locked in solitary, what we call the box. Or, you lose privileges—time outside, time in the commissary, phone calls, visitation, shit like that. Plus, if you fight a lot you get tagged as a problem. Parole board won’t even look at you if your security level is too high, and neither will work release programs like Riley’s.” That’s the most I’ve said all at once in a long time.
"So what did you do?" she asks. "When guys tried to hurt you?"
"Depends. Usually, though, they'd get one shot in, and then I'd take the shiv from 'em. By that point, the guards show up and take it from there. They get punished and I don't."
"But that means you just…let them shiv you?"
I shrug. "Sure. One little poke ain't gonna kill me, long as they miss the vitals." I pat my stomach. “I’ve got enough padding that most shivs can't even reach my organs anyway. Most shivs aren’t that long.”
She stares at me for a long, silent moment. "And this happened often?"
I shrug. "First few years, yeah. Eventually, my reputation spread around, and new guys knew better and learned to leave me alone."
She lapses back into silence again. "Geez. That sounds awful. People sure are mean."
I snort at that. “Nice guys don't end up in prison."
