“ It was just some candy. We never really had much and most times, we would go to bed hungry. I only saw my father once, when I was twelve years old. He never showed up again, after that.” He placed his head in his hands and robbed vigorously, as if to scrub out the recollection and painful memories. Then looking up again, he focused his eyes at nothing and no one in particular and continued with his story. “We were often bored and mischievous, so we played pranks. It was one of those days, when we grabbed the candy from the little bodega."
"The owner, a middle-aged Asian man, called the cops. He proceeded to tell them, that we robbed the store all the time. He reported that we constantly stole everything, from beer cans to cigarettes. He had previously made numerous complaints, about theft in the store. Now the cops had their suspects. So at ages 14, thru to 16. All four of us friends, were convicted and thrown in jail.”
Trel paused again, to look at the three men on the table with him. They listened intently, while he spoke. Theirs was an eager and attentive audience. Silently promising to hear, maybe understand, empathize or console. The reception to these types of revelation, was never that clear. However, he would continue to speak. His chest felt like a locked up and rusty cage, about to burst open. Yet the corrosion from times past, accumulated inside the lock. Made the key, even harder to turn.
“We were somehow separated, after the sentencing. I am not quite sure, where the other three boys were sent. They never really told us anything. They mentioned stuff and informed us vaguely of others. However, no one really spoke to us or actually told us what was happening and for how long.”
“Did your family know about the arrest and subsequent sentencing?” This came from Finn, who poured himself some water from the large jug sitting on the middle of the table. “They said they had tried to inform my mother, but she was supposedly so strung out on drugs. It was difficult to communicate with her, at the time.” The politician nodded his understanding, as the other two men looked on silently.
Trel looked down at this hands, for a few moments. Clasping one fist, after the other. After what felt like a heavy and lengthy pause, he continued. “I met other boys my age in my unit. We were all in, for almost the same reason. Except for a few strange situations; Like a boy who had fatally stabbed his mother’s boyfriend. After an altercation, that made the man come for him.”
"The prison garbs felt a little too big, but apparently it was supposed to be that way. There were no belts provided, as the pants sagged freely. Belts would have posed as murder or suicide weapons. That was of course, the commonly accepted and mainstream explanation.” He paused again. This time running one hand, through his nearly bald head. Very slowly, his mind simultaneously and reluctantly. Began to wander into that very dark day.
14 year old Trel, heard his new friend yelp in pain, from the other bathroom stall. He then, quickly donned his prison t-shirt. With soap suds still dripping down his back, he hastily climbed into his pants and began to pull it upward. “There will be no need, for that now boy. Those were made to sag and keep you available.” The intruding voice, was deep and intimidating. The boy froze momentarily, afraid to turn. Meanwhile, nearby. His friend's silent sob, would fill his ears.
Writer's NB: One more episode and you can get the book (THE INVITATION), for the whole story.
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