You’re Kidding

“I have a plan.”

Roach looked up when Martin spoke. The din of shouting men echoed constantly off the prison’s concrete and metal surfaces. Whispers would be lost.

“To escape?”

“You crazy? I’m getting out in an hour. Why escape?”

Roach sighed. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you can get impatient…”

Martin paused. He didn’t want to feed his friend’s delusion.

“Urgency demands action, Roach. That doesn’t mean I’m impatient. You could catch fire and take a nap.”

A sense of déjà vu washed over Roach.

“…Your plan? Going on vacation?”

Martin and Roach waited for release in their shared cell. Martin had wait five years for his parole. Roach wanted out, of course, but regardless the circumstances, always felt free.

“After this, anything will feel like a vacation, Roach. Knowing I’m about to step out, I feel like that fool blindly stepping into the abyss.”

“Hope you get out before lunch. More of their cooking might kill you. Be a shame…” They laughed. “You’re lucky. I’ve been condemned to at least one more meal. So, tell me your plan.”

To Martin, it sounded like, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ He remembered his life before getting sentenced to this hell hole. He’d never planned to deal. And never saw the bust coming. He’d been a wide-eyed college kid with a future.

Mistakes were made.

How does a kid who wanted to be a cowboy or an astronaut end up in prison? It began as a game. A little shoplifting… books of all things. What criminal mastermind shoplifts books?

Looking back, the steps were obvious. He decided that trusting the untrustworthy and trying to get something for nothing, were the biggest mistakes of a multitude. So easily made at that age.

Never again.

Some might think of three squares a day as chill. But no. He’d demonstrated terrible judgement. ‘No going back,’ had become Martin’s motto. Still young, he planned to do something that counted.

He still looked young. Even younger prisoners called him ‘the kid.’

Martin laughed at himself. He’d gotten an education there, a B.A. in business. And a practical education in managing other income streams. Forgery, black market pharmacy, money laundering, and counterfeiting were popular. He knew on-line scams and phishing cons were the future.

Dangle that ‘get rich quick’ carrot. Honest men need not apply.

The cell provided little respite from the harsh roar of men’s voices amplified off hard surfaces. Some commotion caused the noise to rise, punctuated by slamming metal doors and shouting through megaphones. Martin and Roach exchanged glances. Neither of them would miss it.

“I am so done with this place,” he said to Roach. “I never could’ve imagined living inside a walk-in closet for five years. A small one. Tricked out with a toilet and sink, hold the stall. And having to share it, no less.”

Roach nodded.

“Not that you haven’t been a great roommate, Roach…”

They both doubled over laughing.

Martin couldn’t imagine having survived without this friendship of five years. Roach never had the opportunities Martin enjoyed and squandered. Neither the lifestyle, the education nor the promise. But Martin easily admitted Roach had the smarts.

“I’m stepping into a new chapter, my friend. With this degree, I’ll get work. Save money. Start a business. I can do this. I earned it. Don’t have to frame the diploma. No one needs to know it wasn’t Ivy League.”

Roach listened. Martin couldn’t read him.

He stayed in his cell and never left it without Roach by his side. He only had to survive the next hour.

“I’ve been sending out resumes.”

Roach couldn’t hide his smile. “Not a lot of interviews, though…”

As if trying to convince himself, “Gotten encouraging responses, too.”

“With this address? The commute might be tough.”

Martin ignored the jab. “I can go into accounting. Or become a casino dealer, a blogger, an employment counselor… P.R… Write a book. All the above. Anything I want.”

“Wow… You’ll have time for all that?”

“Why not? Up to me now. Make money. Focus. Optimize and maximize my income. Make up for lost time.”

“What about... your previous employ…”

Martin shook his head. “Oh, no. No going back.”

“They’re not on your resume? Don’t think they’d welcome you back?”

“I’m done. Quit. Not interested…”

“But are they done with you? Their loyalty talk didn’t sink in? You know they’re big on that. Everyone goes straight back into the fold. You can’t just quit, Marty.”

“What do you mean? They wrote me off. Five years without a word. No cards, letters. No sobbing from the back of the courtroom. That’s a dead end.” Roach remained silent. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Are you? You think they are? They think they own you. They hold the deed.”

“They don’t. They don’t want me. No secret, sales wasn’t my thing. Top to bottom, my involvement was a mistake…”

“You’re sure…”

Martin stopped. A loud buzzer added to the cacophony.

Roach shook his head. “You’re saying after five years in, on their schedule, with every movement observed... I mean, you can’t take a dump without someone noting it… All this regimentation and you don’t get that once you’re in the system, you’re in?”

“But…”

“It’s a one-way street, man… leading to a cul-de-sac. A lobster trap. You think you’ll ever be out?”

“I’ll come and go as I please, where and when I want.” Roach laughed. “My debt’s paid, man.”

“Of course. Society asks nothing else of you.”

Martin nodded. He rarely won a point with Roach.

“But I wasn’t talking about society.”

It hit him. He felt the mire rising past his ankles.

“But what do I do, Roach? What would you do?”

A guard appeared at the cell door. They looked at him.

“Martin! Time’s up. You’re out.”

He jumped to his feet but stepped back. Panicking, he looked at Roach.

“But wait… you’re early…”

The guard laughed. “Never heard that before… Grab your gear. Move.”

Martin looked at Roach, pleading.

Roach said, “Stay cool. Head down. Keep moving forward… See ya…”

The guard escorted him through heavy doors and buzzers at each checkpoint. At the last, a guard had him sign papers and passed him a plastic bag with more personal items.

He was out. What now?

Martin stood in the sunshine beneath the prison walls. The eerie, silent parking lot stretched before him.

‘What’s that?’

A bird chirped and pecked at the gravel. A dust devil swirled. An empty paper bag rattled and danced across the lot.

He saw the black SUV, with tinted windows, idling at the far end.

No place to hide.

Without looking at the SUV, Martin walked steadily to the bus shelter beside the highway. He didn’t look back.

A few minutes later, a city bus pulled up. Martin climbed the steps and sighed as the doors creaked shut behind him. The bus pulled away. The acceleration catapulted Martin into the closest seat.

He was free.