Rehabilitated

"Rehabilitated" was written last school year from a class creative writing activity in which we selected a classified ad and then wove a story around it.  Here was my ad:

SWM 45 inmate in search of a special lady with a warm heart.

I have worked on this story through about 3 revisions so far...any and all feedback welcome.  :)  Thanks, Liz, for your suggestions thus far!

 

Enjoy and please follow my blog!  :)

 

Rehabilitated

Brandon lay in his bunk, his legs crossed, and breathed a heavy sigh after finishing his latest novel.  He yawned and stretched, but not too far back as his bottom bunk didn’t allow much space for that.  Shortly it would be lights out.

            Brandon got up from his bunk, feeling several of the joints crack with the effort.  Getting older certainly took a toll on one’s body.  Hadn’t he heard that the 40s were the new 30s?  He certainly wasn’t feeling any younger.

            Moving toward the sink, Brandon caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror, stained from years of men doing their daily cleansing routines.  He caught a glimpse of the lines in his face, the deep crevices of his eyes.  So aged, but still ready for life to begin again for him.  Only one night left here, and he would be out, working as a grocer, part of his plan of reintegration into society. 

Brandon wouldn’t make the same mistake again that got him in here.  He would live a good, clean life as a rehabilitated, contributing member of society, and never let the anger get the best of him again.  How he regretted his actions from that day, the events that put him in here.  He would never forget the rage when he saw that bastard put his hands on his girl.  Sure, they had broken up, but Irene had been his first love, and he just couldn’t bear the thought of someone else’s lips kissing her or touching her.  Brandon had become consumed when he yanked that kid from the car at the drive-in and hit and hit and hit, only satisfied when the screams finally stopped.

            That was all behind him now, though.  He had paid his debt to society, and the anger was now buried deep.  Brandon turned on the cold tap water, cupped his hands, and brought it to his face time and again.  The chill was refreshing.  He thought of his new life before him, felt hope for the first time in a long time.

            After all, he had something great to look forward to…he had met a very kind lady.  Well, met probably wasn’t the best word to describe this new relationship that has blossomed over a letter correspondence.

            A few months earlier, Brandon had moved past his previous reservations and had placed a personals ad in the classified section of the newspaper.  His ad simply read:

            SWM 45 inmate in search of a special lady with a warm heart.

            He hadn’t really expected a response from anyone.  He had never created a personal ad before, but he wanted to give it a shot.  He received 10 responses to the ad, a complete shock.

            As he read through the varied responses, he was shocked at the sincerity of all the women.  They were single mothers or recent divorcés.  Some had college degrees while others had barely finished high school.

            One letter, however, touched his heart and set itself apart from all the others.  Marie’s letter.  She wrote him a brief description of herself and her life.  She was a caretaker for an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s.  She had two older sons who now lived out of state.  He could tell she had purity about her, and he responded to her immediately.

            To his surprise, she continued to write to him; day after day he would receive a new letter, fresh with news of her life and dreams for the future.  Her letters flowed with hope and wishes for love.  She yearned for happiness again since the unexpected death of her husband.  He felt her devotion through her words.  He knew he could maybe, if she would let him, fill that void.

            Tomorrow was the day his life would change forever.  He would get to finally meet Marie; he would see if his mind’s picture of her matched reality.  He lay back in his bunk, his eyes closing while he listened to the coughs, laughs, and rustling of blankets of the other inmates.  He was ready for tomorrow to begin.  He had paid for his sins for 25 long years, so now he was ready to move on, hopefully with Marie.

            Brandon woke to the sounds of his cell mate flushing their shared toilet.  He was so glad that his daily personal hygiene routines would no longer be shared with anyone.  Luckily, he had been bunking with Mario.  He was a good guy overall.  Just one bad decision when he held up that convenience store to buy food for this family.  Mario had been caught on surveillance, and even worse, his getaway car had been out of gas! What bum luck.  Now he was stuck here for the next 5 years.  Up for parole in 2 if he had good behavior.

            Brandon swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his prison issue clothing.  Blue shirt. Black pants.

            “Well, today’s the day, man.  I am sure you are ready!”  Mario wet a comb and ran it through his jet black hair.

            “It’s been a long time coming.  9 years has been more than enough,” Brandon reached down and tied his boots.  He then looped his belt around his waist.

            “I feel you, bro.  Take it easy out there.  I can’t wait until I am in your shoes.”

            “Ok, Mallory, time to go.”

            The guard, Officer Mitchell, unlocked his cell door.  Brandon gathered up his only belongings, which consisted of several well-worn books and his journal.

            “Catch you on the flip side, Rodriguez,” Brandon held his hand out to Mario.

            “You bet. Take care.”

            He followed Officer Mitchell to out processing, so glad to never see the inside of this place again.

            Officer Mitchell dropped Brandon outside of the room holding personal belongings and he changed into his jeans and plaid shirt, the clothing he had worn in.  Brandon looked for his watch, and of course it was gone. Probably stolen long ago.  Checking his wallet, Brandon found it was empty of the cash he had when he arrived.

            “Okay inmate Mallory, you are finished.  Best of luck to you.”  The guard recited, of course, the same phrase given to all inmates leaving every day.

            He nodded and headed to the exit.  When he pushed the door open and felt the cold breeze on his cheek, he experienced freedom again for the first time in years, and damn it felt good.

            Brandon entered the parking lot to see his buddy, John, waiting beside his souped up 1993 red Mustang.

            “Hey buddy! Good to see you on the outside.”  He wrapped Brandon in a bear hug, patting him on the back.

            “I have fresh clothes for you.  Go ahead and change if you’d like.”  He handed Brandon brand new jeans, a short sleeved shirt, and new boots.

            Brandon unbuttoned his shirt and slipped on the new one.

"Let’s roll.  There is a lot to do.”  Brandon opened the Mustang’s door and John followed suit.

            “So where to?  Where can I drop you?”  John turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

            “Here’s the address.”  He handed him Marie’s return address and sat back.

            “Who’s this?  Where are we going?”

            “Just to meet the love of my life.  I have waited a long time for her.”

            “She only lives a short distance from here.  Why didn’t she ever visit?”  John gunned the Mustang out of the parking lot and hit the highway.

            “We’ve been corresponding through letters for months.  She hasn’t been able to visit as she is a caregiver for an elderly woman with dementia and can’t really leave her side.  Easier just to write letters in her spare time.  I can tell from her words that she is kind, smart, caring.  I know she is my ‘it’.  Now it’s time to see her in person.”  Brandon rolled down the car window, enjoying the breeze of the crisp day, thinking of his girl.  She was the only thing to bring him any happiness in a long time.

“Wow, have you seen a picture or anything?” John shifted, and the motor roared.

“Well, no, but I am not worried.  She will be amazing.”  A small grin crept across Brandon’s face and he looked out at the country scenery, dreaming of finally holding her, gazing into her eyes.

“Well, I hope everything works out.  You deserve happiness after the time you’ve been away.”

John slowed the car and approached the highway exit that would bring them to Marie’s home.

“Almost there.” Brandon thought to himself.  His stomach fluttered and his palms dampened.

As they approached Marie’s address, John slowed the car.  Large houses with well-manicured and landscaped yards were in abundance.  This was a neighborhood of wealth, and Brandon wondered how she could afford such a home on her salary.  Maybe her sons provided for her needs?  Possibly her husband had been quite wealthy before his death.

John braked, “Here we are, man.  232 Mountain Laurel Lane.”

The yard was full of geraniums and trees with cedar chips surrounding them.  Not a weed could be found in the flower beds. 

Brandon opened the door of the Mustang, grabbed his backpack, and then leaned over the side of the car into the open window.

“Thanks for the ride.  I will give you a call later.”

“Good luck, man.”  John backed the car out of the drive, and then Brandon walked up the cobblestone, anxious for what lay ahead, excited to finally be with Marie.

Brandon approached the front door, and as he lifted his hand to the large brass knocker, he heard voices inside and deep laughter.  He clinched his fist to his side.  It was the laugh of a man, there was no doubt.  Knocking and being united with Marie would have to wait for a few more moments.  Who was that man?  A neighbor stopping by the check on her?  A friend saying hello? A salesman trying to sell Marie a vacuum?  Brandon’s mind raced for an explanation.

He moved around the side and back of the house.  He needed to see this man with Marie.

As he made his way to the back windows, he could hear music, and the laughter continued.  Who was this man who seemed to be so incredibly entertaining?  Rage started to boil within him, that old, familiar friend.  What if this man was more than a friend?  Maybe a lover?  Is so, Marie had betrayed Brandon, betrayed their love.  He couldn’t believe this had happened again!

Brandon stepped on to the back deck for an even closer look.  He gazed at the pair through the window and saw Marie, his Marie, in the arms of another man.  She was laughing, laughing about him more than likely, and looked to be enjoying this man’s company very much.

Brandon’s heart pounded, and he grit his teeth.  His eyes burned with anger and jealous rage. He knew it deep in his soul.  Knew the woman he had devoted months to was s liar!  A cheat!  He would have to deal with this!

He turned the brass doorknob and found the door unlocked.  Quickly he entered the house, stopping only briefly in the kitchen, and finding quickly what he needed, he headed toward the music, the laughter.  She had betrayed him.  She was with another!

He burst into the drawing room of Marie’s house.  She was in the other man’s arms, dancing.  He held her close, and she leaned into him.

Marie was the first to notice Brandon.

“Oh my gosh!  Who are you?” Recognition entered her eyes.  She realized who stood in the doorway.  She noticed that his blue eyes were attempting to pierce right through her.  She looked to Brandon’s side as the sun gleamed off her kitchen butcher knife.

Before she could speak Brandon rushed toward Marie and the dog that dared to steal her from him.  He held the knife over his head, ready to plunge it deep into the man!

“Roger!  Watch out!” Marie yelled as Brandon pushed her from the man’s embrace to the hard, cold laminate flooring.

Her warning was too late, though.  Brandon sunk the knife deep into Roger’s chest.

“Take that, you bastard!”  Roger let out a small sigh and then closed his yes.  Blood poured onto the floor, seeping into to floorboards.

“How could you?  I can’t believe you!  I don’t understand!”  Marie brought her hands to her mouth to stifle her sobs.  Tears rushed down her face, streaking her cheeks with mascara.

Brandon went to her, attempting to pull her into his arms.  She pushed away from him, curling into a ball.

“How could I?  How could you?”  Brandon began.  “You cheated on me and our promise of love. Marie!  I came right here for you so we could start our life together.”  Brandon felt exasperated with Marie.  He felt so betrayed.

Marie jumped up and ran towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

Marie didn’t answer and slammed the door behind her.

“Marie!” Brandon pounded on the door.  “Come out!  I am sorry.  Please.  We can still start over!”  He turned the knob only to find it locked.

Still no answer from Marie.  He could hear her on the other side of the door, crying softly.

“Damn it, open the DOOR!”  Brandon demanded, screaming at Marie.  He pounded on the door, kicking at it and swearing under his breath.

He needed to open that door.  That bitch had cheated on him and now had locked him out.  He raced to the kitchen and looked under the sink for something to assist him.

“This should do just fine.”  He pulled a crowbar out from under the sink and went back to the door.  He found it open, and she was gone!

“Marie?  Where are you?”  He checked all the downstairs rooms.  In the drawing room Roger lay lifeless, surrounded by his own blood.  He checked the living room.  Nothing.  The hall closet.  Nothing.  He knew she was upstairs as the front door had never opened.

He padded up the carpeted stairs and found 3 closed doors.

“Marie!  He again yelled.

“Marie!”

“She’s probably called the police.  I need to find her,” Brandon thought.

He entered the door on the left.  A guest bedroom.  He looked under the bed and shrieked.  A white fluffy cat hissed at him.

“Fucking feline! “  He swatted at the cat and left the room.

He turned down the hall.  The next door he tried was locked.  She was in here.  He knew it.  Brandon took the crow bar to the door and banged away.  The wood splintered from his force, and soon enough, he had a hole large enough for his hand.

He stuck his hand through, unlocking it from the outside.  He pushed the door open to what could only be Marie’s bedroom she shared with HIM!  Brandon’s rage was renewed and consumed him.

“Marie!  I will find you!”  He hollered.  He went to her closest, and when opening it, he found her huddled on the floor, sobbing.

Brandon brought the crow bar over his head and brought it down swiftly.  Anger, misery, desperation burned on his face.

Marie screamed as the bar connected with her skull.  He brought it up again and struck her chest.  He wouldn’t let anyone have her.  He had loved her.  She had consumed his every thought for months, and all the while, she had been with HIM!

“Why, Marie,” he leaned over her body.  Her breath was raspy and blood came from her mouth.  He eyes fluttered, and she spoke. 

”He was my dance instructor…” her eyes closed.

Brandon fell over her body.  Tears flowed freely from his eyes, realizing what he had done.

Police sirens interrupted his regret.  He had done it again and deserved all he got.  Rehabilitated?  Not yet.