I cough.
“Alright, get dressed,” Officer Berty snaps.
A wave of relief washes over me as I hurriedly stand up, grab my clothes, and get dressed as fast as possible. He points to the end of the hallway and tells me to face the wall and not speak.
My feet lift up and down, but I feel like a puppet on a string, as if most of me isn’t even here.
A few men are already standing in line. I step up next to them.
We ignore each other.
Face the wall.
Think about what you’ve done.
2
HUXLEY
Five Years Later
My skin feels too tight. My clothes too itchy.
I pick at a hangnail and chew on my thumb as I try to drown out the noise, but nothing I do helps. Everything is too loud. Too bright. Too much.
I’m at my brother Ozzy’s engagement party. He’s been with his girl for six years now, but he said he wanted me out of prison before getting married.
That should have made me feel good.
It doesn’t.
All it does is remind me that I spent almost half of my twenties in prison and made him wait to marry the love of his life. For a stupid fucking decision I made when I was seventeen. I was the getaway driver in a liquor store robbery gone wrong. The car was stolen, so they eventually got me for Grand Theft Auto.
Ozzy should have forgotten about me.
Everyone else has.
I study him from where I’m sitting. He seems happy. Likereallyhappy. Eyes bright, shoulders relaxed. He’s dancing withJames, his fiancée, and his friends on the small makeshift dance floor they made by pushing some of the dining room tables against the wall near the kitchen. They closed their friend Itzel’s restaurant just for their engagement party.
It’s meant to be intimate.
Still, there are too many people here for my taste.
I’ve been out for a couple of months now. But it still feels like there’s a rope around my neck, choking me. Ozzy told me that therapy would probably help. I told him to fuck off. The feeling is especially acute when I’m around practical strangers and can’t drink alcohol to numb the edges.
Fucking probation.
I abruptly stand up and head for the back door.
At least I’m still allowed nicotine.
The back door swings open,letting the music spill out along with Connie, James’ best friend from LA.
“Oh!” she blurts when she realizes who’s outside with her.
I already feel like a fucking pariah, but the look she gives me just solidifies the feeling.
I look away, pushing the smoke from my lungs out into the night sky.
