So, here’s a conversation I had today with Dan:
“How are you doing, Archie?”
“How do you think?”
“Tell me.”
“I’m crap. How else would you expect me to be?”
“I was hoping you might feel ready for more honesty about your mother.”
“I haven’t told any lies about her.”
“You haven’t told the entire truth either.”
It frigging gets me, the way he manages to know stuff he shouldn’t. “Why do you want to know more about her? She’s got nothing to do with any of this.”
“She thinks she has.”
“You’ve talked to her?”
“Of course.”
“I could get really mad about that, Dan.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you, she’s got nothing to do with this. No one has. It’s just me. I’m the one who did it, right? That’s why I’m in here.”
He doesn’t say anything after that, and it really starts getting to me, like he knows I want to speak, but I don’t. Or not about my ma, anyway, so I end up suggesting we change the subject, and he predictably says, “To what?”
“Anything you like. I know, let’s talk about you. What makes you do this stuff with people like me? I suppose you think you’re some sort of Samaritan or something.”
He laughs at that and I laugh too, though God knows why because it wasn’t funny. “Do you have a mother?” I ask him.
“No. She died a few years ago.”
“What about your father?”
“I lost him when I was sixteen.”
“Mm, tough. Did you like him?”
“Very much. Do you like yours?”
“Give me a break. I don’t even know who he is.”
“Then who’s BJ?”
Some of his questions set my teeth on edge and make my fists clench. “He was my handler, you know that, and he’s definitely not my old man.”
“How did your mother come to know him?”
I go silent, and he’s the first to break it.
“You know you could end up in prison for a very long time. Is that what you want?”
“Makes no difference to me.”
“Why do you say that when we both know it isn’t true?”
I just shrug.
“What are you hiding, Archie? I know there’s something, so why don’t you tell me what it is?”
“I’m protecting my ma, right?” I nearly shout at him. “If I tell you anything they’ll go after her and it won’t be pretty. Is that what you want?”
He doesn’t say anything, but we both know it’s not what he wants. “Who are we talking about, Archie?”
I don’t answer, but I don’t think he expects me to.
“Wouldn’t it be better for your mother if you told the truth?” he asks.
“I already have,” I remind him. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”
“I mean the whole truth.”
“You’ve got it.”
He shakes his head and I can see how disappointed he is in me. Join the club, Dan. Membership’s free.
In my head I’m thinking about you and what difference it would make to you if I said any more—and the answer is, it’s too late, it wouldn’t change anything, so what’s the point?
I committed the crime, so I do the time.
He left just after that and I was so mad and scared and all kinds of other shit that I decided to sit down and write you what happened, like as if you’re ever going to see this, or even care.
Don’t worry, I’m not seeing you as some kind of friend I can run off my mouth to, or anything like that. I get how sick it would make you feel if I did. I guess it’s just easier to write down how afraid I am that he won’t come back than it is to tell him.