A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [10]
You’re new.
He’s nervous and hyper.
Yeah.
And his eyes are empty.
What’s your name?
James.
I sit up.
I’m John.
He sits on the edge of the bed and he hands me a card.
That’s my card.
I read it. It says John Everett. Sexual Ninja. San Francisco and the World.
I laugh.
Wanna see something?
He reaches for his wallet.
Sure.
He opens it and he draws out a faded newspaper article and he hands it to me. The article is old and from the San Francisco Chronicle. It has a picture of a man standing in the middle of a Street holding a sign. The headline reads Man Arrested On Market Street With Sign Reading Cocaine For Sale Three Hours After Being Released From San Quentin.
That’s me.
I laugh again.
I went back for three more years.
I hand him the article.
That sucks.
He pockets it.
You ever fuck anybody in the ass?
What?
You ever fuck anybody in the ass?
What are you talking about?
I got into it in Prison and now I’m addicted to it. That and rock cocaine. I thought you should know right off the bat.
I stare at him.
Honesty and openness are very important here. They’re part of the Program and since I’m working the Program, I wanted to tell you. Is that okay?
I stare hard.
It’s fine.
He gets nervous, stands, looks at his watch.
It’s time for lunch. You want me to show you the Dining Hall?
I stand without a word. I just stare.
We leave and we make our way through the Unit and down another series of Halls. As we walk, John talks about himself. He’s thirty-seven and he is from Seattle. He grew up in a wealthy and powerful Family that has cut him off. He has a twenty-year-old Daughter whom he hasn’t seen in ten years. He spent eight years in jail. His Father started molesting him when he was five.
We enter a long Hall with glass walls on either side of it. In one of the sections, women sit eating their lunches, in the other sit the men. At the end of the Hall is a Common Area with a salad bar and two cafeteria-style lines where food is served. John grabs two trays, hands one of them to me, and we get in line.
As we move forward, I take in my surroundings. There are men and women. There is food. There is talking, but there are no smiles. There are round tables surrounded by eight chairs. There are People sitting in the chairs, there are plates and glasses and trays on the tables. There are about a hundred and twenty-five men in the Male Section spread among tables that probably hold two hundred. There are about a hundred women in the Female Section spread among tables that hold about one hundred and fifty. I get a bowl of soup and a glass of water and as I walk through the Room, I can feel People staring at me. I can only imagine what I must look like.
I find an empty table and I sit down and I’m alone. I take a sip of the water and I begin spooning the soup into my mouth. It’s hot and each spoonful shoots a wave of pain through my lips, my cheek, my gums and my teeth. I eat slowly and deliberately and I never look up. I don’t want to see anybody and I don’t want anybody seeing me.
I finish the soup and for a moment, at least, I feel good. My stomach is full and I am warm and content. I stand and I take my tray and I put it with a pile of other trays and I leave the Dining Hall.
I walk back to the Unit. As I pass an open door, someone calls my name. I stop and I go back to the door and a man stands and he comes from behind a desk and he walks toward me. He’s in his early thirties. He’s very tall and very thin. He has dark hair pulled into a small ponytail and he wears round black glasses. He is dressed in a black T-shirt, black pants and black tennis shoes. He looks like a grown-up version of a kid who spent his childhood sitting behind a computer and hiding from Bullies.
You’re James.
He reaches out to shake my hand. We shake.
I’m Ken, your Unit Recovery Counselor.
Nice to meet you.
He turns and he walks toward his desk.
Come in and sit down.
I follow him in and I sit down in a chair across from him and I look around his Office. It’s small and cluttered and there are piles of paper