A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [135]
My Father takes one of his arms and he puts it around me and I do the same. Take my arm and put it around him. My Mother is still crying she can’t stop crying her youngest Son has just been sentenced to three years in Prison my Father and I hold her. We hold each other. We are a Family. Though I have been their child for twenty-three years, we have never been a Family. We are now. As we hold each other. As my Mother cries for my wasted life. As my Father tries to figure a way to save it. As I try to accept three years locked in a cell.
My Mother stops crying. Everything is streaked and stained, but she doesn’t seem to care. She pulls her arm from my Father and leaves her arm on me and she wipes her face with her free hand. She sniffles. She takes deep breaths. She tries to compose herself. She speaks.
What are we going to do?
Wait and see, Mom.
I don’t want you to go to Prison.
I don’t either.
What are we going to do?
Let’s just wait and see.
She nods and her nod is some form of cue that we my Family all understand. We pull away from each other and we sit, though not in our original chairs. We sit close. In a small half circle. We all know something has changed, we are all exhausted. The change has drained us. We sit close. We are a Family.
My Father looks at his watch.
I think it’s about time for lunch.
My Mother and I stand. We walk toward the door, open it, step outside the room. My Father speaks.
We’ll see you this afternoon.
Yeah.
My Mother speaks.
Can I have another hug?
I smile.
Sure.
She steps forward. I put my arms around her. I am immediately uncomfortable and I immediately feel as if I’m somewhere I don’t belong. I gently squeeze. I am more uncomfortable, feel more foreign and out of place. She squeezes me, which makes me want to run. This is my Mother. I am hugging her. I don’t want to hug her, but I want to try. I hold her tight and I hug her. It is but a small price to pay for all that I have done.
She releases me and I step back. I feel better.
I’ll see you later.
I turn and I walk away, through the Halls and toward food. I am hungry. Hungry from the cold of last night, hungry from the tension of the morning, hungry to feed just for the sake of feeding. Hungry.
I enter the Corridor. I glance through the glass to the women’s side. I see Lilly sitting at a table. She is pretending not to notice me, but I know that she does. I am pretending not to notice her, but she knows that I do. In her arms last night after she cried she clung to me like a lost child. She held me strong and thin and she told me she never wanted to let go of me. She told me that she had never been so open or honest with anyone before and that the feeling scared her to death. She told me that she never wanted to let go. She asked me about my plans for the future and I told her I didn’t have any and I didn’t know what I was going to do. She told me she that she is going to a Halfway House in Chicago, that she doesn’t feel strong enough or free enough to live without some form of supervised support. She will be near her Grandmother and being near her Grandmother will make her feel better. She will be able to get a job and she will be able to start building a life in a City where she feels a sense of safety. After she finished speaking, she asked me again if I knew what I was going to do. I told her again I didn’t know. She asked me if I had been to Chicago before and I told her yes, that’s where both my Parents grew up. She asked if I still had Family there and I said yes. She asked if I would consider moving there and I said yes. She asked if I was considering it because that is where she is going to be living. I smiled and I thought for a moment and I said yes.
I get a tray and I get in line. I get a plate of chipped beef, a plate of chicken