I don't own Life, or it's characters. Just playing with them.
He thought the worst day of his life was when the judge declared proudly that he'd be heading to Pelican Bay's maximum security prison to serve his sentence. There was no denying he'd done the crimes, and he was perfectly willing to do his time. The idea that they would lock him away with murderers and rapists for a little (well a lot) of embezzling had never occurred to him. It wasn't fair, even the prosecutor had looked a little shocked.
He heard the judge now had a television show; he'd never checked.
The worst days of his life were the first week at Pelican Bay. The first two days he kept to himself and was left alone; now he knew they were just scoping him out, figuring out what exactly he'd done to get sent here. How much of a threat he was.
He was too unimportant for most of the inmates to bother him much. Not all of them though.
Johnny, a gangbanger wannabe who if he was five feet five inches then Ted was completely innocent had taken a dislike to him. At first it was just knocked over meals, the occasional shove. He'd kept his head down, figuring that if he just turned the other cheek—
Then he'd made the mistake of turning his back on Johnny and the next time he was out in the yard--
"You turn your back on me, Grandpa? Gonna make you my bitch!"
The punch to the back of his head stuns him, knocks him to the cement. A foot catches him in the ribs, then in the stomach, then the spine. He curled up as tightly as he could, trying to protect his head, wishing it would be over, wish he could just die--
"Johnny. He's mine," The voice comes out of nowhere, flat and without inflection.
"Back off, Crews, this ain't none of your business."
"A weak man harms those smaller than himself to create the illusion of strength."
"Shut up with that bullshit, Crews."
"I'm going to tell you one more time. He's mine, Johnny."
"Whatchu go--"
The meaty sounds of fist hitting flesh echo in his ears, the sound of sneakers skidding across the black top, trying to get away.
He opens his eyes and is greeted by his first smiling face since he can't remember when.
"Hi, I'm Charlie, welcome to Pelican Bay."
The sunlight glinting off of red hair forms a halo around a tired looking face as a blood smeared hand reaches out to help him up.
Ted wonders if all saints look so beautiful.
"Save your carrots."
"What," The carrot is almost in his mouth, and he's always liked carrots. Vegetables that aren't boiled to death are rare in here.
"I'm going to take you to see an Angel. Save your carrots."
Angel, it turns out is a six foot five pre-operative transvestite. She's loud and outrageous, long hair styled in cornrows. She has privileges and a hot plate. She is like no one he ever met in his old life.
The carrots, he discovers, are for carrot cake, made with flour and sugar smuggled out of the kitchen where she works. Carrots are harder for her to smuggle, hence why they bring them to her.
The next day she brings them their portion, sticky squares wrapped in a napkin. One bite, the first taste of sugar he's had in a long time, and he swears he's in heaven.
He stays close to Charlie from then on, whenever their allowed outside their cells. His cellmate, who previously had been giving him unfriendly looks now pretends he doesn't exist.
Charlie's no saint, after all he wouldn't be here, wouldn't inspire the fear that does, wouldn't have survived so long if he were. Charlie shows him how to negotiate the politics of the prison, how to protect himself from men like Chico--
They don't talk about what they've done to get here, Ted really doesn't want to know either. It had to have been bad, but Charlie's been a good guy -- to him at least.
Except when the dark moods take over Charlie, his eyes become dead, and Ted knows that Charlie will pick a fight soon, so he can go to the hole and be alone for awhile.
Charlie always comes out of the hole looking well-rested and peaceful, which always slightly amazed Ted. He doesn't think he could handle a month of solitary and come out looking so well.
It's during one of those times when Charlie is in the hole that one of the head guards approaches him and tells him everything he didn't want to know.
Officer Smithson has a vicious temper and is always looking for excuses to use his baton. He tries to start things with Charlie, but Charlie rarely obliges except to utter cryptic Zen phrases that irritate Smithson more than calling him out as the son of a bitch that he is.
"Hey! Earley! You're Crews' bitch now, aren't you?"
He says nothing, carefully looking at the space just above Smithson's left ear.
"You know what he did to get put in here? Killed a whole family: his best friend, the friend's wife, their son. Slit their throats in the middle of the night. All because his friend was skimming a little money off him. Better watch your back, Earley."
His stomach churns as he tries to imagine Charlie doing that; he can't see Charlie killing anyone, except maybe when his face froze in that perfectly neutral expression right before he beat the hell out of McIntosh to get in the hole this time. That Charlie could kill someone easily, but even so-- not a woman, not a child.
He just doesn't know. No one wants to contemplate that their savior might be fallible.
With Charlie in the hole for a month he really can only talk with Angel. Charlie, Angel and him, they're the misfits in this prison. No gang would want them, Charlie because he's an ex-cop, Angel because she's homosexual, and well, he's just too old and soft.
During one of their stays out in the yard, standing in a corner with their backs to the fence, Angel finally asks the question he's been dreading.
"What did you do to get in here, sugar? I keep trying to guess, and you've got me stumped."
"I stole some money -- a lot of money--"
"I stabbed a john. He lived, but he was a senator's son so--" Angel shrugs. Before prison, Ted would've been looking to make a quick exit, to get away from the murderess next to him, but he finds himself shrugging along with her.
"I feel sorry for Crews," Angel says, sucking in a deep hit off her cigarette. "You know he was a cop, before he got thrown in here? Poor thing, after they let him out of solitary that first year I didn't think he'd make it six months. Everyone was looking for a piece of him, even the guards. It's a miracle someone hasn't killed him yet."
If he believes in miracles, then Charlie can't have committed those crimes, because why would God spare Charlie all this time? Why not let him die?
Charlie comes back from solitary looking troubled and disappearing weekly from the yard.
"Where do you go, Charlie," He asks as Charlie nervously returns to the yard, watching over his shoulder for anyone making the wrong move.
"I go everywhere Ted; Jamaica, Mars, Alaska--"
"Where did you go today?"
Charlie fidgets, lips pursing as he looks him over, before leaning in and whispering in his ear:
"There's a lawyer -- she thinks I'm innocent. She's trying to set me free."
"That's gr--"
Charlie's rough finger presses on his lips, frowning deeply, eyes troubled. "No one can know."
Ted nods. It's human to want to celebrate good news, but good news can be dangerous, especially for someone with as many enemies as Charlie has.
Six months later the judge sets Charlie free, a martyr to police investigation before DNA vindicated.
He's sad to see him go, and a little terrified. Charlie's protected him these past few years, and soon he'll be gone and it will just be him--
"Don't worry Ted," Charlie smiles, slipping him a tattered copy of The Art of Zen. "You'll be fine. Your date with the parole board's coming up, isn't it?"
"Yeah--" Ted doubts it will go well, he's been well behaved, but no one likes the guy who robbed Mom and Pop's 401K. Who would vouch for him anyway? "I'll miss you, Charlie-- you've done a lot for me and--"
"Hopefully, some day, you'll be able to repay the favor," Charlie replies, one lip quirked before he leaves the yard for the last time
Hope is all they have in here. Hope they'll make it to the next day, hope that they'll get out, hope that someone will be there for them outside the barbed wire.
He's struck dumb as he walks out of the parole board an almost free man. Good behavior and a positive character reference from someone on the outside. He can hardly believe his luck.
He's frightened too… to go back out into the real world and start over with nothing and no one. The world will have changed, and he's been stuck in amber these last four years. If he feels like this now, he understands a bit better why Charlie beat the hell out of McIntosh after he met with the lawyer the first time.
Funny that prison would come to seem like a refuge.
Walking through the gates there's relief, the slightest bit of terror, and a little bit of grief as he sees no one he recognizes. A silly fantasy that his wife would be out here waiting with open arms disappears.
So, now, he'll board the bus, head into the city and try to find some shelter, a job --
"Hey! Ted!"
He turns and sees the Bentley first; a Bentley that, had the last few years not happened, he probably would have bought for himself. Then Charlie, sitting on the hood grinning like a loon.
Charlie strides towards him, embracing him in a hug.
"So, about that favor-- I've come into a bit of money, and I need someone to manage it for me."
"You want me to invest your money for you."
"Yeah, pretty much. I didn't know much about investing before I went in and wow… it's really changed. I mean, China's in the stock market, can you believe that?"
"Charlie-- I went to prison for embezzling--"
"And you've done your time. Time for to get your life back, Ted."
Maybe that's the biggest miracle, the miracle of second chances.