A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [136]
I sit down so I can see Lilly and Lilly can see me. Leonard and Miles and Ed and Ted and Matty are talking about the imminent Heavyweight Boxing Match. They ask me what’s new, I tell them about my Sentence. They are all surprised. They figured whatever time I was looking at was likely to be short and easy. Leonard asks what I did and I tell him. Ed and Ted both say nice work, three years for popping a Cop is probably worth it. Matty says he knows some good fighting tricks that will help me once I go inside and he’d be glad to teach them to me. Miles asks in what Jurisdiction the case is located.
We eat. I glance at Lilly. We talk. Prison is the main topic of conversation. Everyone at the table has been to Prison except for Miles and me. Leonard did what he calls an easy four at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas. Matty spent six years in a Juvenile Correctional Facility, where he learned to box. Ed did two years at Jackson in Michigan for Assault with Intent to Inflict Great Bodily Harm, Ted has twice been to Angola State Farm in the swamps of Louisiana. Miles says he has sentenced men to Angola, but he has never been there. He says from what he hears, it is Hell on Earth. It is located in the deep bog, hot, humid and miserable, fifty miles from the nearest town. Cells are often open, the Yard is basically unsupervised, and there are scores of Gangs, usually organized according to race, that are in a constant state of war. The busiest part of the entire Facility is the Morgue. When men aren’t fighting or hiding or trying to survive, they work fourteen-hour days in the state-owned fields digging irrigation ditches and growing vegetables.
Ted laughs and says it ain’t that bad. Miles says if that’s what you think, you are either the sickest man alive or you’re just fooling yourself. Ted stops laughing and says he’s facing Life-No-Parole there under the Third-Strike Law, and that if anything, he’s just trying to get prepared for it. Miles asks what the strikes are and Ted says Armed Robbery at nineteen, for which he did four years, Possession of a Controlled Substance with Intent to Distribute and Possession of an Automatic Weapon when he was twenty-five, for which he did three years, and most recently, at thirty, Statutory Rape, after he was caught in the backseat of a Trans Am with the fifteen-year-old Daughter of a Small-Town Sheriff. Miles asks why the District Attorney would push on the Statutory charge if he knew Ted was facing Life-No-Parole. Ted laughs and he says he did the same thing with the DA’s two Daughters, but that they were both in love with him and were unwilling to press charges. Miles shakes his head in disbelief and asks if Ted would like him to try and help him. Ted says fuck yes, my life is at stake here. Miles says he’ll see what he can do.
We finish eating and we stand. As we walk out, I see Bobby sitting at a table with the familiar man the menacing man the man I know but do not know from where. Bobby is staring at me. The man is staring at me. I stare back. I hold my ground.
We leave the Dining Room. My friends go to the Lecture, I go to the Family Center. When I enter the Main Room, I see my Parents in the same chairs they were in yesterday. As I walk toward them, they stand and they greet me. Dad speaks.
How was your lunch?
Okay.
Mom speaks.
Who did you eat with?
I have some friends in here.
What are they like?
Do you really want to know that?
Dad speaks.
Of course we do.
My closest friend is some kind of Mobster. My Roommate is a Federal Judge. My other friends are Crackheads and Drunks. I sort of have a Girlfriend, and she’s a Crackhead and a Pillpopper and she used to be a prostitute.
My Mother cringes, though she tries to hide it. She speaks.
Are they nice People?
I nod, smile.
They are, and in weird way, they’re the best friends I’ve ever had.
That’s all that really matters, if they’re nice People and you like them.