THE LEGACY HE LEAVES

Spike is shaking as he writes the words I confess, I’m guilty in a notebook on his lap. He looks up at the barred window, which hangs like a painting on the wall depicting a waxing crescent moon in a dark blue sky, adorned with shimmering stars. Today has been perfect; he’s seen the sun blazing its golden light on the lush trees. Tomorrow it’ll rain, storm and thunder, until there’s only silence to hear, and darkness to see. He shudders thinking of what’s to come and continues to scribble. 

This letter is not to clear my name, nor to cleanse my soul, but to let you know I accept responsibility for a crime far worse than the one I’m charged with. Born in poverty, I lived my early life in hunger and pain. This led to fear of becoming a failure like my father. So, once I became a man, I set out to become wealthy. But I was blinded by greed and I never saw how rich I already was with you as the most priceless and rarest of diamonds by my side.

A teardrop falls on the paper, smudging the ink of his words, as he thinks of his son’s smile and piercing blue eyes. Sniffing his running nose, Spike wipes his cheeks dry with his sleeve. 

You once told me you don’t understand yourself, why you do the things you do. That’s my fault. Swallowed by my shadow, I’ve failed to let you shine. Though your heart is big like your mother’s, it appears you see through my eyes. Son, a lifestyle of crime and money is a lethal combination. It’s like eating your favourite soup with too many red peppers; hot before you burn. I should know. I was that fool.

Spike put his pen down and gets up from what reminds him of one of his grandmother’s kitchen chairs. He paces up and down his three-by-three cell, his mind a jumble of thoughts. Like an insect trapped in resin, Spike gasps for air. He grabs and shakes the bars of the small window, and a roar of frustration leaves his throat, slowly morphing into soft cries of regret. How was he going to say goodbye to his boy? Defeated, he draws in a stuttering breath, drops back down onto the chair, and picks up his pen again.

I can’t blame the coal-dust from my old hometown for my black-stained heart. It’s time to face what I deserve. But before I go, there’s one thing I need you to know. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unworthy. You are so much more than I could ever be. I may not have contributed much to your life, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned and that I can teach you, it’s don’t take the road I took. Whenever you go off the rails, just think of me, my ashes, if I’ve faded from your memory. That’s the price you’ll pay for choosing crime. That’s the naked truth. Thank you, my son, for reading my words, and for giving me the time. It’s more than I’ve ever done for you. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. I love you. Your father.

Spike tears the letter out of his notebook and folds it in half, the paper quivers like a dead leaf between his fingers. In a few hours, he’ll meet the priest for his last rites, and he’ll ask him to pass it on to his son. He gives a heavy sigh, and lies down on his flimsy bed, staring at the creased photograph he holds in his hand, his son beaming a forgiving smile at him. 

The restaurant where the picture was taken reminds him of the steak with peppercorn sauce, mushrooms, peas and fries he used to order there, served with a cold beer. Thinking of it makes his mouth water, and he inhales deeply through his nose as if drawing in the scent. Looking at his wife sitting next to his son in the photo, he concludes she must’ve given up on eating salads. Spike prefers her like that – more curves, more woman – and a soft chuckle passes his lips as he remembers the fun they used to have. He sighs, grateful of her standing by him through thick and thin. He can still feel her warm breath fanning his ear as she whispered the words, “We’re in this together, darling, till death us do part.” At the thought of never holding her again, letting his hands touch her soft skin, or feeling her lips on his, a pang stabs his chest and Spike releases a mournful groan. He has missed her so much, but he’s pleased that her suffering, too, will soon be over. She deserves a good life, a better man, a fresh start.

It’s beginning to feel colder and he pulls a thin blanket over him, wondering what it will be like to leave these four walls that for so long have been his home. Tired of the guilt suffocating him, he looks forward to the dissenting voices in his head being silenced, and to rid of the unwanted thoughts clogging his mind. This is not the legacy he’d intended to leave behind, and he can only hope his debt has been paid.

The guards switch off the lights as the day draws to an end. Wrapped in darkness, he suddenly feels how his life’s journey has drained him of everything he was. It’s time to sleep. What will he dream of tonight? The quiet outside is peaceful. From his bed, he notices the moon is no longer visible through the window, only the stars remain. They’re winking at him, as if calling him over. He’s ready, all is said that needed to be said. 

Then he sees it, a falling star. He’s granted a wish, and he softly says, “Not for myself, but for my son, please let me make amends by being his guiding light,” and he closes his eyes.