Grant part 2 of 3

Grant

"This place is going to eat you,"

Mark Mann

The bright white linen was tidy and tucked in on the top bunk. The folds and creases of Grant’s sheets were so smooth and undisturbed Grant took care when placing his cardboard box of possessions on top of it. "So how's the food down here," Grant asked as he unpacked.

"Pretty much crap but we get Burger King on Tuesdays and McDonald's on Fridays," Mann said brusquely.

Grant nodded and said, "Yeah, up on eight it was the same but the days were switched.”

"Huh?" Mann said in disgust or confusion as he sat down on his bunk.

There wasn't much Grant could say to that so he said, "switched like reversed. So Tuesdays were McDonalds and Friday-"

"Uh, well a switch doesn't necessitate reversing something.” Mann interrupted.

Who is this guy, an English Professor? Grant thought.  “Yea I guess you’re right.  So what did you do before this?”

“Well if you want to get into that you’d better sit down.” Mann laughed and sat up.  Grant saw no other seat besides the toilet and his bunk so he climbed the bunk pushing the box to where his pillow was.  The pillow fell as Grant adjusted to a comfortable position.  His cellmate’s voice was no longer hoarse and Grant could recognize a slight Italian accent.  “I couldn’t have known I would have ended up here but now looking back it’s so obvious.”

“Is that part of the story, too? How you got here?” Grant suggested.  It could have been five maybe ten second.  But when Mann spoke Grant knew this man was on his side. “Ambassador, can I call you that?”  Without waiting for approval Mann went on, “Ambassador, you’re an impatient man.” Mann laughed heartily and to himself.  Grant laughed a little too and said, “Well you just said it was very obvious so I’m pretty damn curious now.”

Grant laughed and Mann interrupted him declaring, “It wasn’t my fault that my family disowned me when I was sixteen but it was my fault when I came back killed them all.”

That made Grant feel sick and his laugh was more of a gasp that was interrupted by violent, jerking breaths. I should not be here, Grant thought to himself.   Grant’s whole body went fiery hot, he leaned back against the wall, and his hands went to his face. “Ambassador, you are too soft, this place is going to eat you,” Grant heard Mann say.  But that phrase was an echo.  He had know it all along.  Did he know it when he heard the guilty verdict at the courthouse?  Had he known it when he fought from his hospital bed only to fall to the ground?  Or had he almost come to that realization when he threw the Psychologist’s laptop against the wall?  Maybe it took someone more expert than a psychologist in dealing with the insane: someone who is truly insane, to tell Grant how things really were.

“There is no way. I’m not.  You’re right.” Grant said through his hands. “I’m not meant for this place or your people.”

“No, Ambassador, you don’t understand though,” Mann’s voice was high and filled with sudden inflection.  “That’s just a joke.  It’s a bad normal-people joke but prison humor is much different.  For example,” Grant’s head was spinning but all he could do was listen.  “If some two guys get into a fight and it’s just between them and say no pups see and come break things up.  And say it’s between me and you and I says, ‘We cool man,’ after you know, we’re done.”

“Yea. What are pups?”

“Pups they’re like the pups that just came in: the guards. Yea, anyway you says, ‘yea except you got blood on my, I don’t know,” Mann leaned over to Grant’s fallen pillow.  “Ok so you says, ‘Yea we cool except you got blood on my pillow.” Mann laughed a high hoarse chuckle.  “See we gotta laugh at things like that. Especially since neither one of us ended up in solitary after that.”

“So you didn’t kill your family,” Gant said, disgusted.

“No, man.  And another thing.”  The short Italian stood up and it seemed to Grant he was looking at a totally different person, “Even in here we are not like ‘Oh I embezzled money or I killed someone.  Anyone who flat-out tells you what they did to get in here are lying.  They’re either exaggerating to sound tougher or lessening it to sucker you.”  And he sat back down. Who is this guy? Sitting now below Grant, Mann said, “Oh and I used to be an English teacher.” 

Grant lay down and gulped a hearty chuckle filled with one part relief and one part irony.  “You’re kidding right?”

“No, I am not.  And I take offence to that Ambassador.  I don’t get you,” Mann said defensively. And I don’t get this place, Grant thought.