Terry -Part 9 - A New Hope

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Terry Part 9

I couldn’t believe what Harris was telling me. I thought it unjust that Terry and I were here-in prison; but, we had committed a crime-maybe not one which deserved almost six years in prison, but, a crime. What had Harris done? He was guilty of loving someone-another boy. What did it matter that the boy was younger than he? He hadn’t even seduced Jamey-rather it had been Jamey, who had seduced him. Two years difference in age had cost Harris six years-no, it had cost him more: his balls; at least additional time in prison; possibly his life.

Justice? Where was the justice? What’s happened to our country that boys like us-for one mistake-can have our lives ruined? The death penalty for loving someone? Oh, they would say that Harris’ crime was murder- but killing O’Leary had been forced on him-would have never happened it he hadn’t been sent to prison for loving Jamey. Anyway, hadn’t he already been punished enough-hadn’t I-hadn’t Terry? Set free, none of us would ever do anything that would land us back in this hell. Isn’t that what prison should do-make useful, productive citizens of us?

Seventy months minus the six I had spent in the Fort Worth jail-that meant I had sixty-four months left-mandatory. I couldn’t even earn an early release for good behavior. Sixty-four months: five years and four months. I had only been in prison for days-four days; that was all. Four days and already I could hardly remember what it was like to be free-what it had been like at home.

Home-tears came to my eyes. I missed my mother. Suddenly, I felt like I was six instead of sixteen. I wanted my mother. I wanted to feel her arms around me. I wanted her to tell me that I was forgiven-that everything was going to be all right. But, she wasn’t here. Even if she came to visit me, I wouldn’t be able to touch her. There would be a glass or screen between us.

I wished that I hadn’t asked Harris about Jamey. Sympathizing with his plight had only made me feel sorry for myself. What had happened to my flash of insight? How difficult it was to hold on to it. I thought of lines from poems I had read: “Stone walls do not a prison make; I am the master of my fate.” Hell, looking around me, I thought that stone walls were doing a pretty good job of making a prison-and, master of my fate? Shit, I was the master of nothing.

And, Terry? What was happening to Terry? For a few brief moments, I had been transported out of my prison-out of myself-by making love to Harris. For a few moments I hadn’t felt sorry for myself-hadn’t worried about Terry. Hell-and suddenly I began to feel guilty because of it-I hadn’t even been thinking about Terry.

Why had Rogers split us up? Why had he thrown Terry into Harris’ cell, naked and shackled? Did he have something planned for Terry, or...Snyder. Shit, I’d almost forgotten about Snyder. In a few hours he would be on duty-if he wasn’t already. Making love to Harris, I had lost all track of time. In this cell, between meals, without any other reference, there was no way to judge time.

I began to worry more about Terry than I did myself. At least, I wasn’t alone. I had Harris. I could imagine how Terry must have felt to have been thrown into that cell by himself-to wait and wonder whether Snyder planned to hurt him, to torture him, or-to rape him. Laying on my back, I covered my eyes with my arm. I was trying hard not to cry. “What’s wrong?” I heard Harris say.

“It’s so God damned unfair.”

“What?”

“Everything: that you were sent to prison for loving Jamey; that Terry and I were sent to prison for what we did; that Terry is by himself in your cell.”

“Would you rather that Terry was here and I was by myself?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. Making love to Harris had been an incredible experience, and I really liked Harris-maybe, even loved him-but, there was no doubt that I loved Terry. Yeah, I would rather have Terry, but, I said, “No, I wish we were all three together.”

“I don’t,” said Harris. “You wouldn’t even kiss me if Terry were here.” When I didn’t answer, he said, “Well, I’m going to try to get some sleep,” and climbed onto the top bunk.

I couldn’t go to sleep. I kept thinking about Terry-and about Snyder, expecting to hear a whistle or a shout at any moment. I may have fallen asleep at times during the night, but I was awake when breakfast arrived. Snyder hadn’t appeared. While we were eating, I mentioned to Harris that he hadn’t.

“Yeah, I kept waking up, expecting him, but he never showed up. He should have been on duty last night. Maybe,” he said, looking down, breaking eye contact with me, “he was with your friend.”

With my friend, I thought. You mean he was fucking my friend, or hurting my friend. I felt a flash of anger at Harris. He didn’t care about Terry. He was just glad that it wasn’t he in that cell by himself; it wasn’t he that Snyder fucked or hurt last night.

Could I really blame Harris, though? Would I, as much as I loved Terry, have traded places with him? There wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done for Terry, but to be alone in that cell, waiting for Snyder-not knowing what to expect? Thinking of the possibility gave me chills. Maybe I would have given my life for Terry, but the anticipation-the fear of what might happen-would have been worse than anything that Snyder might have actually done. Secretly-hiding it the best I could even from myself-I, too, was glad that it had been Terry, instead of me.

From time to time, during the morning, Harris attempted to start a conversation, but, angry-as much at myself as at him-I responded so abruptly that he soon quit trying. When he asked me what was wrong, I just told him that I didn’t feel like talking. Some time before lunch, Rogers and a new guard came for us. I supposed that it must have been Crabb’s day off.

The new guard, Hawkins, was smaller than Rogers and seemed to be intimidated by him. I was certain that he would let Rogers do whatever he wished to us. We stopped at Terry’s cell. Although encouraged that we had stopped, I didn’t know what to expect.

Since he was already shackled, he didn’t have to be handcuffed first. Rogers just opened the door to the cell. Then-Terry walked out. Although he seemed tired, I could see no other signs that he had been abused. I wanted ask him what had happened, but didn’t dare to ask with Rogers present. I didn’t want to have his baton rammed into my gut again.

On the way to the recreation yard, Hawkins said to Rogers, “So, Snyder called in sick last night?”

“Yeah, the pussy’s got the flu. He might be out all week-poor baby.”

How incongruous it seemed to hear Rogers refer to Snyder as a pussy. Snyder, to me, was the devil incarnate. How could anyone call the devil a pussy? But, Rogers wasn’t much better than Snyder. Possibly it was OK for one demon to belittle another.

When we were alone in the yard, I hugged Terry. “What happened last night? I asked.

“Nothing,” he answered. “I was scared shitless, expecting Snyder to show up at any time, but he never did. I don’t think I slept all night. Guess I was lucky that he was sick last night. I hope the mother fucker dies. Shit, Lyons, we’ve got to get out of here. I’ll go crazy if I have to go through too many more nights like last night. Was it as bad for you?”

“I didn’t sleep too well either-kept expecting Snyder-but, at least I had Harris in with me.” I looked away, not wanting him to-supposing that he might somehow be able to-guess what had happened between Harris and me. Glancing around, I saw that Harris was on the other side of the yard. Being excited to see Terry, I had forgotten about him.

“Oh, they put Harris in with you? I thought that they might be splitting us all up. I hope Rogers puts him back in his own cell. I don’t want to spend another night alone in there.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing once again at Harris, feeling rather guiltily, “I hope so.” And, I meant it. As much as I liked Harris, as much as I had enjoyed making love to him, Terry was the one I loved. It would have been impossible for me to choose anyone over him, even though I knew that love would never be returned-at least not in the manner I wished.

Rogers put Harris back in his own cell-without shackles, but alone and naked. The look that Harris gave me as he entered his cell almost broke my heart. Then Rogers placed Terry and me back in our cell. “Oh, shit, Lyons,” Terry said when we were alone, “I was so afraid that Rogers was going to put me back in Harris’ cell.”

Later that day, we were told that we were going to Connolly at the end of the week. “Lyons,” Terry said after we had been told, “we’re getting out of here, and Rogers said that Snyder might not be back for the rest of the week. Maybe we’ll be gone before he gets back.”

Terry was the happiest I’d seen him since we’d entered prison. At Connolly: we would still be in prison; we might not be housed together; we might be hurt or raped by other inmates; but, at Connolly-there would be no Snyder. Strange, Snyder had done nothing to us, other than make us stand on the yellow line in our cell that first night, but we were more frightened of him than we were of the unknown of Connolly. Although Harris had told us about his rape and torture by Snyder, our fear of him went deeper. He frightened me; Terry was mortally afraid of him. Over and over he had said, “I’ve got to get out of here, Lyons. I’ll die in here.” At least, now, we were leaving the Walls.

I slept better that night than I had since I’d been in prison. Of course, I was tired from not having slept well the previous night, but it was more than that. Possibly, at Connolly, we would have some control over our lives: we might be able to work; we might be able to complete our high school education-maybe even take college courses. At least, now, I felt we had a chance. Even the weather seemed to be cooperating. It was cooler, which might have been another reason I had slept so much better. I could lie on my bed without the sweat dripping from me. Hope-that was the difference. Now, at least, we had hope.

Later, that morning, after our shower, we were given fresh uniforms. Although mine fit me poorly, I was as glad to have it as I had been to have received any clothes that I could remember. Clothes provided us some modicum of dignity. Being naked had made me feel even more vulnerable-but that had probably been Roger’s intent.

When we were in the recreation yard, Harris asked, “What are you guys so happy about today?”

“We’re going to Connolly,” I answered.

“You’re going to Connolly-when?”

“Friday, they said.” Terry answered, almost gleefully. “Hey, what is today, anyway?”

I had to stop to think about it. It was so easy to lose all track of time in prison: we had entered prison on Friday; we encountered Snyder Friday night; Saturday and Sunday were his nights off; Harris and I made love Monday; Terry was back in the cell with me last night-Tuesday. “Today is Wednesday,” I said.

“You mean this is only our sixth day here? It seems like we’ve been here forever.”

“At least,” I said, “we’ll only be here a couple of more days.”

I shot hoops for awhile with Terry, but he was beating me so badly that I soon gave up. While he continued to shoot the ball, I walked over to where Harris was sitting-looking down at the ground. “Hey,” I said.

Slowly, he looked up at me. “Hey.”

From the tone of his voice-from the look on his face-I knew something was wrong. “What’s the matter? Snyder wasn’t here. No one bothered you last night, did they?”

“No-no one bothered me.”

“What’s wrong, then.”

“Nothing-what do you care?”

“You know I care. How can you ask that after what happened between us?”

“What happened? We fucked, that’s all.”

“It was more than that,” I said. “You, yourself, said that we hadn’t fucked-that we’d made love.”

“Yeah-but now that you’ve got Terry back, you’ve forgotten about me. Besides, you’re leaving in a couple of days. I’ll never see you again.”

I felt guilty that I had caused Harris pain. I did care about him. I think I even loved him. If it hadn’t been for my love for Terry, I’m sure that I would have been happy to love only Harris. “Don’t say that. Who knows what’ll happen. Maybe we’ll end up at the same prison-or maybe we’ll see each other when we get out.”

“Get out. I’m not getting out. One way or the other, I’m going to die in here. Either they’ll stick the needle in me, or one of those Aryan shits will get me.”

“How can you not have any hope?”

“You’ll find out. You’ve only been here for a few days. They’ll kill your hope. The prison will kill your hope, if it doesn’t kill you first.”

I placed my hand on his head. “No matter what, Paul, I do care about you.” Leaning over, I kissed him, not caring whether Terry saw me or not. He started crying, but pushed me away-then walked away-when I attempted to comfort him. Before long, the guards came for us.

Back in my cell, I was lying on my bunk in my whites. It was cool enough that I hadn’t even taken off my shirt. Besides, after being naked for several days, it was nice to have clothes on, even if it were just Terry and I in the cell.

“Just two more days, Lyons. God, I hope Snyder doesn’t come back before then. He frightens me so much, Lyons. I don’t know why, but he does.”

Snyder scared me, too-and I wasn’t sure why, either. One more full day at the Walls-two nights, but those nights could last forever, if Snyder returned before we left. I could only hope that he did not.