Counting Stars (Lucy, part III)

I looked up at the velvet canopy overhead, littered with diamonds. Well, at least at the small square of the universal quilt I could see through my cell window.

I loved the night. My cellmates, and most of the inmates here in San Quentin, preferred the daytime. That was when we got to be out of our cells, spending time in the prison yard. It was a little easier to remember what it was like to be free when you could feel the sun on your face and the breeze and smell the grass. And when you could take maybe 100 steps in a row without running into the cell wall, or your bunk.

Yeah, the daytime had something going for it; I won’t try to deny that. But at night you didn’t see guards, prison uniforms, stone walls, and iron bars. You could lay on your bunk, close your eyes, and picture someplace you missed. Or someone you missed. Like Lucy.

Or you could look through the small cell window and see that velvet square and the sparkling diamonds sprinkled liberally over all of it, or at least over the part you could see. So I preferred the night.

And it was quiet, after lights out. Most of the time. I could hear Bobby in the cell next to mine, snoring. But he wasn’t too terribly loud. I didn’t have a cellmate now. They put Jimmy in solitary. At least that’s where they said they were taking him. It’s hard to trust the guards in here. Unless they’re telling you something awful. Then it’s real easy to believe them.

Jimmy believed Mr. Johnson, Mr. P.J. Johnson, the daytime guard on our cell block. Mr. Johnson told Jimmy he wasn’t going to be allowed to have any more visitors for a month. That was easy to believe, even though there really wasn’t a reason for it. So Jimmy believed it. He believed it so much he started pounding on Mr. Johnson. He got him good, too, before Mr. Johnson laid into Jimmy with his baton. Then he called for backup, Mr. Johnson did. Backup came running. They always do in here. Then it wasn’t just Mr. Johnson hitting Jimmy with a baton.

It looked like they were about to kill Jimmy when Mr. Wilson came to see what was going on. I believe Mr. Wilson all the time. Even when he tells me something good. He’s one of the good ones. It seems like he believes in something, too. Mr. Wilson believes in justice, I think.

Anyway, Mr. Wilson came over and told them to stop hitting Jimmy. They stopped then. Two of them turned away, so Mr. Wilson couldn’t see their nametags, and they went back to their places. Mr. Wilson bent down to see how Jimmy was doing.

I knew Jimmy was in pretty bad shape, but he was alive. He got himself up into a sitting position and looked at Mr. Wilson through his right eye. The left eye was bruised and swollen shut. There was blood running down Jimmy’s nose and out of his left ear.

“Let’s get you to sickbay,” Mr. Wilson said, taking Jimmy’s arm to help him stand up. Jimmy started shaking his head. “I don’t want to go to no sickbay, Mr. Wilson. I ain’t sick, you see?” Jimmy was afraid people who went to sickbay got sick unless they were already sick before they went. That’s ‘cause Butch went to sickbay to get some pills for his headache, and he got cancer. I know he couldn’t catch cancer by going to sickbay, but Jimmy didn’t believe me when I tried to tell him that.

“Solitary is where he needs to go, Wilson.” That was Mr. Johnson talking. “He attacked me for no reason.” Mr. Wilson looked like he didn’t believe Mr. Johnson. He turned to look at Jimmy, now that Jimmy was on his feet.

“Is that what happened, Jimmy? Did you attack Mr. Johnson?”

Jimmy nodded. “That’s right, Mr. Wilson. I started hitting him afore he started hitting me.”

“Why’d you do that, Jimmy? Why’d you start hitting Mr. Johnson?”

“‘Cause he told me I wasn’t gonna get no visitors for a month, and I was waitin’ to see my Darlene next week.”

“Did you say that to Jimmy, PJ?”

Mr. Johnson scuffed his feet and looked down. “That’s right. I told him that.” Then he looked up at Mr. Wilson with a dare in his eyes.

“Why’d you tell him that, PJ?”

“Because I felt like it. Darlene comes to see him every other week, even though he’s a thief and a killer. Nobody ever comes here to see me. Us, I mean. And we’re the good guys.”

See why I don’t trust these guards? Except for Mr. Wilson, anyway. Mr. Johnson straight up lied to Jimmy, just because he felt like it. I wanted to punch him in the nose myself, but I just stood there in my cell. I’m supposed to get out of here in two days, and I don’t want to mess that up.

“Mr. Johnson, I’ll see you in the Warden’s office after shift.” Mr. Wilson looked mad. “You sure you don’t want to go to the sickbay, Jimmy? You look pretty banged up.”

“I’m OK,” Jimmy told Mr. Wilson. “If I go to solitary will I get out in time to see Darlene?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be in solitary for 3 days, Jimmy, for assaulting an officer. Will she be here before then?”

“No sir, she’ll be here in five more days. I keep track.”

“Well, if you’re sure, we’ll take you to solitary then.”

“I’m sure, Mr. Wilson.”

I suppose they did take him to solitary, seeing as how Mr. Wilson went along. I told Jimmy goodbye because he was still going to be in solitary when I got out.

One more night, looking up at the stars. I could count ‘em, at least the ones I could see through my cell window. I counted fifteen; enough for two more visits from Darlene.