guard. He’ll check on you once an hour, ask if you need the infirmary. Otherwise you’ll be left in peace.”
Joey felt fresh grief well up, not for the loss of Julia, whom he couldn’t see, couldn’t talk to, couldn’t touch, but for himself – the last remnant of his old life, lost forever. Still in his uniform and heavy standard-issue shoes, Joey lay atop the rough gray blanket, turned his face to the wall and sobbed until no more tears would come.
* * *
W hen Gabriel returned after work detail, Joey was sitting at the table again, smoking a cigarette. Julia’s letter was tucked in his left breast pocket.
“Lonnie said you were a carpenter before.” Joey nodded at the faint layer of sawdust on Gabriel’s uniform.
“Still am.” Gabriel brushed at his trouser legs. “The governor and the administrators use me shamelessly, right under the eyes of God, a master carpenter’s free labor. And they know I won’t botch it up just to spite them, ’cause I take too much infernal pride in my work. Once the world learns the source of your pride, it owns you.”
“I would say, the source of your shame.”
“Ah. Well. That, too.” Pulling out the little table’s other chair, Gabriel turned it around and straddled it. An unlit Pall Mall appeared in his hand as if by magic. “Joey. Whatever news the letter brought. I’m damned sorry for it.”
Joey stared into Gabriel’s hazel eyes. The rectangular face, the high cheekbones, the firm chin and creased forehead – he was utterly masculine, hard as granite except for those eyes. Like the eyes of a great predator, a cheetah or lion, Gabriel’s eyes could be soulful, hypnotic, beautiful.
Joey laughed. The sound was nothing like usual. Was the old Joey Cooper gone for good? Had his earlier outpouring of grief been the death knell?
Gabriel seemed unoffended by the laughter. “I know, ’tis useless to go round saying sorry for things we’d naught to do with, nor any power to heal. But—” He broke off, transparently startled when Joey struck a match and lit his cigarette for him. “Why. Thank you.”
“I wasn’t laughing because you said sorry about the letter. That was decent. Polite.” Taking a drag off his cigarette, Joey blew smoke out his nostrils. “I was laughing because you had the bollocks to say sorry for a letter you never read and not for what you did to me in the showers.”
Gabriel stared back silently for so long, Joey began to think the other man wouldn’t respond in words. He braced himself for Gabriel to leap to his feet, overturn the table, curse and rage. But Joey didn’t shrink away. Part of him welcomed it.
At last Gabriel put the Pall Mall to his lips and inhaled. “If could take it back, I would.”
Pointing with his own cigarette, Joey leaned across the table, stabbing the lit end mere centimeters from the tip of Gabriel’s nose. “Not an apology.”
“You wouldn’t accept it.”
“You don’t get to say what I’ll do with it!” Joey cried, on his feet all in one motion. “Last night you – I – we almost—”
Cigarette held between taut lips, Gabriel was also on his feet, catching Joey’s arms and overpowering him with ease. “Quiet,” he said, forcing Joey back into his chair. “Say your peace but say it low, unless you want us both birched for fighting.”
“Everyone who should have stood by me turned away,” Joey said fiercely, trembling all over. “I wanted Julia to join them, I asked for it, I expected it. The only thing left that doesn’t make sense is you.” Joey glared up into Gabriel’s face. “I hate you. I don’t want your protection. Let them kill me!” Flinging down the half-smoked cigarette, Joey crushed it under his heel, wishing everything could be stamped out so easily.
“Joey—”
“No more! I’m done with you. Let them kill me or kill me yourself,” Joey cried, throwing himself back on the bunk and covering his face. For a long time there was silence.
Joey felt fresh grief well up, not for the loss of Julia, whom he couldn’t see, couldn’t talk to, couldn’t touch, but for himself – the last remnant of his old life, lost forever. Still in his uniform and heavy standard-issue shoes, Joey lay atop the rough gray blanket, turned his face to the wall and sobbed until no more tears would come.
* * *
W hen Gabriel returned after work detail, Joey was sitting at the table again, smoking a cigarette. Julia’s letter was tucked in his left breast pocket.
“Lonnie said you were a carpenter before.” Joey nodded at the faint layer of sawdust on Gabriel’s uniform.
“Still am.” Gabriel brushed at his trouser legs. “The governor and the administrators use me shamelessly, right under the eyes of God, a master carpenter’s free labor. And they know I won’t botch it up just to spite them, ’cause I take too much infernal pride in my work. Once the world learns the source of your pride, it owns you.”
“I would say, the source of your shame.”
“Ah. Well. That, too.” Pulling out the little table’s other chair, Gabriel turned it around and straddled it. An unlit Pall Mall appeared in his hand as if by magic. “Joey. Whatever news the letter brought. I’m damned sorry for it.”
Joey stared into Gabriel’s hazel eyes. The rectangular face, the high cheekbones, the firm chin and creased forehead – he was utterly masculine, hard as granite except for those eyes. Like the eyes of a great predator, a cheetah or lion, Gabriel’s eyes could be soulful, hypnotic, beautiful.
Joey laughed. The sound was nothing like usual. Was the old Joey Cooper gone for good? Had his earlier outpouring of grief been the death knell?
Gabriel seemed unoffended by the laughter. “I know, ’tis useless to go round saying sorry for things we’d naught to do with, nor any power to heal. But—” He broke off, transparently startled when Joey struck a match and lit his cigarette for him. “Why. Thank you.”
“I wasn’t laughing because you said sorry about the letter. That was decent. Polite.” Taking a drag off his cigarette, Joey blew smoke out his nostrils. “I was laughing because you had the bollocks to say sorry for a letter you never read and not for what you did to me in the showers.”
Gabriel stared back silently for so long, Joey began to think the other man wouldn’t respond in words. He braced himself for Gabriel to leap to his feet, overturn the table, curse and rage. But Joey didn’t shrink away. Part of him welcomed it.
At last Gabriel put the Pall Mall to his lips and inhaled. “If could take it back, I would.”
Pointing with his own cigarette, Joey leaned across the table, stabbing the lit end mere centimeters from the tip of Gabriel’s nose. “Not an apology.”
“You wouldn’t accept it.”
“You don’t get to say what I’ll do with it!” Joey cried, on his feet all in one motion. “Last night you – I – we almost—”
Cigarette held between taut lips, Gabriel was also on his feet, catching Joey’s arms and overpowering him with ease. “Quiet,” he said, forcing Joey back into his chair. “Say your peace but say it low, unless you want us both birched for fighting.”
“Everyone who should have stood by me turned away,” Joey said fiercely, trembling all over. “I wanted Julia to join them, I asked for it, I expected it. The only thing left that doesn’t make sense is you.” Joey glared up into Gabriel’s face. “I hate you. I don’t want your protection. Let them kill me!” Flinging down the half-smoked cigarette, Joey crushed it under his heel, wishing everything could be stamped out so easily.
“Joey—”
“No more! I’m done with you. Let them kill me or kill me yourself,” Joey cried, throwing himself back on the bunk and covering his face. For a long time there was silence.
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