Forky

My coffee's gone cold and I look at her over the rim of my cup. I look at her throat, at the tiny part that moves as she talks. I listen to her life and I know when to nod my head and when to smile. But my stomach tightens as I try and look like I know what she's sayin'. I see her naked, her belly against mine. And I think how she was probably still intact my first year down.

Johnny looked too much like my brother Marty with his smooth face and small shoulders, and when I saw him that first time at the commissary, I knew I wouldn't let this kid fall, not this one. And I'd been in for four, three more to go. And nobody fucked with me after the first two. They called me Forky.

I was a first offender. And I never would've gone down if I had listened to Marty, if I hadn't a used the .38. But I did. And when that fat manager went for me, I turned and stuck it in his face, watched him turn to butter. And before I knew it, I'd gone from County to the state pen at Canon. Five to ten for armed robbery. And I couldn't even cry.

That was the last time I saw Marty. An hour or so at County before Canon. He said to get a rep right away, to watch for the lifers. Then he said the words and I said 'em back. And I was glad I said 'em. And I thanked Jesus I said 'em after that letter came from my sister in Jersey, three years down the road.

I light her cigarette and watch my hand shake. And I know it's not the coffee, 'cause I drink a shitload of it. I'm wondering why she's takin' all this time with me, and I think it can't be the free drinks. She don't seem the type. And even though she ain't one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, she's all right. And I want to tell her where I've been. But I wait.

It was my sixth day in the joint. And the word was out that I was Leroy and Wallace's lady in waiting. Wallace was the biggest. At mess, I looked and found his bald, brown head, shinin' like the corridors after lights out and lookin' just as hard. He was at the end of the table near the aisle, and lookin' back now, there wasn't nothin' to it at all.

They don't let you eat with metal. So I had to settle for plastic. And I knew I'd have to get a runnin' start to do the damage I wanted to do. So three tables before his, I lengthened my stride, picked up speed. And my heart was beatin' so fast I didn't think I'd be able to line it up right. But then Wallace looked up and his black eyes caught me and he flashed that gold-toothed smile, the one that says, "You's mine." And that's all I needed. I drove it in fast and twisted quick so that my fork broke off inside. Then Wallace was up with a kind of grunt-hiss, then a wail as he fell over backward off the bench. He wouldn't let go of my arm, and it was warm and wet with that shit from his eye. I wanted to wipe it off, but then there were the guards and it was lights out.

She asks me why I don't talk much, and I tell her I like to listen. Then I tell her she's beautiful and she gives me that look I ain't seen in seven and a half years. The one that says, "I don't believe you, but thanks anyway." I ask her to dance. It's a slow one, and I can't believe I'm smellin' a woman this close. And I remember junior high. Me and Be Bop Little. She had the biggest ones in school, and all the guys used to call her Be Bop Floppity Flop. Once, I got her for a slow dance and I had to pull away, I got so hard. I have to pull away from this one, too. Just a little. She looks up and gives me a half smile with her lips, but her eyes are beaming. And I swallow hard.

Johnny was a smart one. Even though I was older and bigger, sometimes he'd make me feel young and small around him. He was always readin' a book. Always writin' to the warden and his P.O. Always talkin' a couple of dudes out of a fight and the hole. And he always had a string a top-notch jokes when we were drinkin' at night. I remember him after his first shot of tomato jack. Man, he hugged me like a sonuvabitch. Couldn't believe he wasn't gonna go five more years without a snort or two. Then he found out it was a secret formula. So he typed the recipe up one night and passed it out to all the Joes in B.

The number's over, and I'm so nervous, I jump off the wagon and switch over to a CC on the rocks, a double. She's not talkin' as much, and I think how I don't want her to get stiff. I don't want my first time to be with someone who's not gonna remember. So I down my drink and ask her if she wants to go for a walk. I get her a pack a cigarettes at the machine by the door. Then we're outside.

It's almost cold, not too bad, just enough to wake you up and clear your head. The stars are out and you can smell the snow, because it's city snow.

"Where'd you get a name like Forky?" she says.

I stop and look down at her, like it's the first thing I've heard her say all night, and I think how young she looks for havin' two kids already. Then I take a deep drag off my cigarette and look straight ahead as we walk.

I did 90 days in the hole for gouging Wallace. And in all that time, in all that emptiness and quiet, I never stopped being scared. And then the voices made it worse. And when I got out, I was so scared, I must've been the meanest motherfucker in Old Max. And then I found out about Wallace, about him almost killin' one of his own boys for usin' my name around him. And when I heard that, I knew I'd taken somethin' out of him. I knew he wouldn't come after me alone. So I got a shank.

We walk up the street and it's pretty quiet, 'cause it's a Tuesday night. There's still some ice on the walk, and I let her hold my arm so she don't slip. She smells nice, and I feel myself start to swell again. I think I should start talkin' more, so I start to ask her her kids' names. But when I do, my voice sounds phony, like it's in a deep hole that it's gotta shout at to get out of, but it's gotten so used to the hole that it don't even try anymore. So I leave it alone. She's come this far without it.

A bus swings around us on the corner of Fifth and Euclid. I see people in it. They're all starin' straight ahead, and their faces look gray in that light, like wax. And for an instant, I get a chill, deep, like a shock. I turn and pull her toward me. She's got surprise on her face. But it ain't hard. It's soft. So I lean into her and she tastes like gin, but she's warm and she lets me use my tongue as she slides hers over and under mine. I feel a sudden weakness, but I'm hard and I pull her closer. I want her to feel it, to know it. And when she doesn't stiffen up on me, I feel like my soul is bein' offered back. And for a second, I see Ma washin' my hands for me, hers bigger than mine, all slippery and warm with the soap and water. And it feels like medicine.

It was rec time, and me and Johnny was in the yard. I had gotten him into my routine, and we had just finished, red and sweatin' like bastards. I straightened up to walk and Johnny headed for the fountain in the shadows of the tier. I had just started when I froze still. I remembered Leroy's face my sixth or seventh time around the yard, he and one of the brothers under the tier. And runnin' back toward it, I knew somethin' was goin' down, 'cause it was quiet, empty. And I knew they was in the blind, that corner no tower guard could see around.

By the time I got around it, I had my shank out, and when that first sonuvabitch turned his head, I sliced him clean right beneath the hairline. Then Leroy turned toward me, and that's when I saw Johnny, a flash of him, white as a ghost but breathin'. Leroy got in a crouch.

"Uh, big man, heah! Big man, Mothuh Fork! Watchoo want, Mothuh Fork?" His shank was catchin' the light of the sun as he turned it over in his hand. But I wasn't even there, man. I was five stories up, calm and together, watchin', waitin' for my move. Waitin' for the burn. And I didn't give a fuck. I wanted him. So I stopped and stood and let him come. And when he did, I shifted to the side and let him come into it himself. I aimed high and caught him in the shoulder.

"Cocksuh!"

He moved again, this time wildly, and I got ahold of his knife hand, then cut him again in the same place, jabbin' hard till I struck bone. His arm went limp against mine, and I butted him hard in the chin with my head. And down there in the dirt, breathin' hard and holdin' his own wound, he didn't have no fear in his eyes. But I could smell it, man. And I could feel it, too, cold and clammy. So could Johnny, 'cause that's when he came up from behind and gave him a good swift kick to the back of his head, snappin' Leroy's big mouth to his chest before he went out. Then we were outa there. Runnin' and laughin' like whores, fuckin' giddy with ourselves, man. Scared shitless.

Her place is small, and it smells like laundry and fruit. She pays the sitter, (continued on page 158)Forky(continued from page 64) young and fat, chewin' gum. Then we're alone. In the kitchen, she pours us gin, and in this light, I see the crow's-feet at the corner of her eyes, the tiny hard look of her hands as she cuts the limes. I look at the walls, at all the kiddie drawings lining the room, and I see me and Marty sluggin' it out over a box of crayons. She hands me my drink and I think how much I like brown eyes, the way they take you deep down somewhere, and then it just comes out.

"I've spent the last seven years of my life in the joint." She don't say nothin'. Just looks at me.

"Prison," I say. For an instant, I see myself back on the street, breathin' the cold, headin' for the north side of town, back to my one room where I gotta keep the shades down so the streetlight don't keep me up. Then her eyes take me deeper.

"I've spent that time working and raising two kids, mostly alone."

"Yeah, but I was in jail."

"And I was married." We laugh, and I feel shaky again. She sees it. So we sit and drink our gin.

Johnny'd pulled all the boys together after mess and told 'em how short I was. A few of 'em came in one at a time during the night. Mac brought me a milk carton full of raisin jack. And he only stayed for a shot. He had eight more to go before parole, but he was warm, man.

"You motherfucker, Fork. Take care a yourself."

Valdez and Leary came in together. Valdez was like always, dark-eyed and quiet, but Leary was talkin' like a sonuvabitch.

"Man, it ain't gonna be the same, Forky. Who's gonna be the great white hope now, motherfucker? Who's gonna put it to 'em like you done?"

"Johnny's in trainin' for the spot, ain't ya, John boy?"

"Damn straight," Johnny said. Then he took a deep one off the jack. He looked so little there then, and I was sorry I said it. I offered them some jack, but they knew how tight me and Johnny was and they didn't want to work on our last bottle together.

"Well, what the hell, Fork." Leary gave me his hand. "Get some for me, man. Hot and juicy." On the way out, Valdez handed me his crucifix and gave me sort of a bow, like he was Chinese or somethin'.

Johnny passed me the carton and I had all my shit taken care of, so I swallowed two or three times. Man, it was Mac's best, like brandy.

"You going back East, Forky?"

"I don't know, man. I been thinkin' about hangin' out on the eastern slope awhile. I mean, shit, Johnny. You're a short timer, too! Hell, almost as short as me! I was thinkin' about hangin' around till you're processed out. Then, what the hell, you and me go back East and let 'em know what's fuckin' what, you and me, Johnny."

I passed the jack back, feelin' for the first time a lot bigger and a little older, and it gave me a kind of shudder. That's when I handed him my shank. He had the carton held to his mouth, and when he saw it, he stopped. Then he looked straight ahead and drank.

"You use it, motherfucker."

He was smilin' at me.

"If the man comes, put it in his fuckin' gut. No hesitation."

He was sittin' there lookin' at me, lookin' small and wise again. And I knew that he'd keep it in his fuckin' house, that he wouldn't carry it.

"I ain't bullshittin', Johnny." He took another swig, then passed it back to me.

"Hey, Fork." He reached over and started scratchin' my head. "What's this?"

"It's your fuckin' ass-wipin' hand."

"Nope. It's a brain eater."

"Yeah, so?"

"What's it doing?"

"Beats me, Johnny boy." Then he looks me in the face, real serious, already a little glassy with the jack.

"Starving."

"What?"

"You heard me, Fork." I could see his face holdin' back the laugh.

"What's starvin'?" Then he let loose, laughin' like no tomorrow, rollin' backward on the bed.

"You're one sorry sonuvabitch, Forky!" He had his legs drawn up to his chest, and the veins were showin' in his forehead.

"Remind me never to send any of my brain-eating friends over to you for chow." He stretched out his legs, then went into his high-pitched laugh.

"I don't think they'd get by on cobwebs!"

I looked at his little body shakin' on the mattress. Then I got it but lifted the carton quick, so he couldn't see me smile.

I look at myself in the mirror. Not bad. Still lean. I look at her deodorants and perfumes, her floss and skin cream, and I wonder how I got here. Then I find the pink razor and I use soap and hot water and shave as close as I can. But she uses it on her legs and I cut myself twice on the chin. And I feel the same way I did with Bertha back in Jersey 11 years ago. She was big and black, and she'd been takin' kids' cherries for years. The neighborhood man maker. Marty had it all fixed up, and I think I only spent two hours in the bathroom before. Shavin', zit cream, after-shave, mouthwash, deodorant, and I finally decided to keep my rubbers tucked in my skivvies for quick reference. I'm more than nervous, but there's somethin' else. I check my face. There's somethin' else. I wait until the blood stops, then I go to her room.

She's sittin' up in bed, smokin', the sheet coverin' her, and I like how small her shoulders look. But I'm rubbery all over, and I feel a sudden urge to just sit across the room and let somebody else do it.

"I thought people got fat in jail."

I suck in my gut, then show her my arms. She laughs. I drop my skivs and slide in next to her. She reaches over to the bedstand and passes me a drink. I see she's already got one.

"I need this," I say.

"Seven years is a long time."

"Seven and a half. I feel like Rip van Winkle." I laugh.

"You don't look it." She's smilin'. And I think how confident she looks knowin' she's gonna be the one to give it to me. I down the rest and pass her back my glass.

I woke up dry and heavy-eyed from the jack. And I'd already pissed and washed before it hit me all at once; hit me in my stomach, my finger tips and toes, my hung-over head that, man, I was never gonna wake up in this fuckin' place again! I was hyper as a sonuvabitch. Ripped the sheet and blanket off my bed. Rolled the mattress and put it against the wall. Folded the linen and put it on the springs. Then grabbed my shavin' kit and bounced on my toes a few times before the cells opened. My escort guard was late, so I decided to head down to processing myself.

D block had been mine. And movin' through it, I memorized the faces, the cells, the clean tile and gray brick. Some of the guys slapped me on the back or punched me light in the arm.

"Do it, motherfucker."

"Taste it, Fork."

And when I got to the passage at C, I fought it and didn't turn around. I was walkin' pretty fast, breathin' real easy, and I was halfway through C before I noticed. Nobody was around. Even slow Joe Fernandez was up and outa his cell. But there was more. Somethin' else. And I did what I always did when I felt that way in the joint--I reached around and checked my shank. I felt my belt and my skin through my shirt. Then I remember and I'm runnin'. The first part a B is empty, too. Then I see 'em, all crowded around, a bunch a blue shirts, and I plow into 'em. Watch it, motherfucker! I'm pushin' to the center and I feel the way I used to get with Marty jumpin' the bridge for the bay; you're free-fallin' and you want to hurry up and hit, 'cause the weight of your whole body has moved up to your head, but at the same time, you don't want to stop movin'. Then I see his feet and I scream, "No, motherfucker! No!" And she's outa bed and she's holdin' me and I swing away from her and slam my head into her wall and it ain't brick, the fuckin' wall ain't brick! Then I'm up and reelin'. I'm in the cell and the first guard is still cuttin' Johnny's hands loose, and I scream, "No, motherfucker! No, motherfucker! No!" And his face is blue and gray, like candle wax, and his eyes are bulged out like a fuckin' fish, and I'm swingin' and she's sayin', "Shut up! My kids!" And the guards're holdin' me and I pull away and wrap my arms around little Johnny and he smells the way he did when I hugged him in the hall, when I said the words and he fuckin' said 'em back! Like a boy! Then the other smell hits me, and I know if the motherfuckers could write, it'd be to Forky, best wishes, Leroy and Wallace. And I want to die. And I want them dead. And I want them dead through me, and the guards're holdin' me and the doc's puttin' it in my arm, and I scream, "No! No!" And she's dressed and she's pullin' me, the door's shut and I reach for the curtain, but the water's beatin' down on me cold and I think how they must've done it right after lights out. He's so cold, so fuckin' cold.

"Johnny, you sonuvabitch. You're almost as short as me, you sonuvabitch. Johnny. You sonuvabitch."

She's with me. All wet. And she's got eye make-up on her cheeks. She ain't dressed anymore, and I just keep cryin'. I see the letter about Marty. I kept it for almost a year and I thought I'd cry, but I never did. And I feel the weight of the hole, 90 days and still not a tear. I was ten and it was hot out. You had to have shoes on in the street, and you couldn't lean against the cars without a shirt. And I kept bringin' the bucket back into the kitchen, fillin' it up, then back outside and I'd throw half on my friend and he'd dump half on me, then I did it again and again. And Ma was sick and she came out smellin' funny and her hair was all messed up and her face was white and she slapped my face and said, "I hate you!" I ran outside, and it came out of me like a flood.

"She hands me my drink and I think how much I like brown eyes, the way they take you deep down."