When the waitress came back with their drinks, they were ready and ordered deluxe cheeseburgers, cheese fries and onion rings.
“Any salad?” she asked, which made both of them shake their heads.
As they waited for their meal, a small silence fell, then Kell pushed his beer over toward Marston.
“Take a sip,” he said. “I’m used to drinking warm beer out of a can. Warm, stolen beer.”
Marston shook his head, as if to indicate that this wasn’t at all important, and then, slowly, lifted the glass of beer and took a sip. Then, equally slowly, he looked at Kell with half-lidded eyes as he licked a bit of beer foam from his upper lip.
“Is it good?” asked Kell, though he could hardly focus on anything other than the glisten across Marston’s mouth. “Why were you drinking? Why did it get you in trouble?”
He hadn’t meant to ask the question, hadn’t meant to pry, but Marston seemed like such a steady guy, not one prone to fits of boozing. But Marston had brought it up, so maybe he wanted Kell to know.
Maybe he wanted Kell to understand that while yes, a man might make a mistake in his life, there was no reason to imagine that he couldn’t make a good life. Maybe he was trying to set an example, or maybe he was just trying to share something he’d learned along the way.
It took so long for Marston to answer that Kell began to imagine he wouldn’t. Except Marston took a breath and settled his shoulders, facing the answer like he might face down an ex-con with an attitude problem.
“I was in a bad place,” he said, settling his shoulders as he sat up. “Had been for a while, I guess. Gabe got me a job on the ranch. He and I, we called it a magic job, almost too good to be true. So rather than wait for the second shoe to drop, I guess I wanted to get it over with and dropped it myself.”
“What happened after?”
“Leland was pissed,” said Marston. He swiped at his mouth with his fingers. “But I didn’t get fired. He gave me a second chance, and I took it. Held on as tight as I could. I’m still hanging on, which is why I’m trying to avoid trouble. Though I do love a good beer.”
Marston took a second sip and gently eased the glass in Kell’s direction. Kell took it, picked it up, and drank a huge swallow, the beer bitter in the back of his throat, but almost sweet on his tongue.
“It’s good,” Kell said, nodding. Then he saw Leland walking over to their table, carrying a white plastic bag, the handles curled around his fingers.
His eyebrows flew up. Was Leland going to join them and ruin their private dinner for two, which was starting to feel—had been feeling—a whole lot like a date, in spite of the fact that the program was paying for it?
“Evening, gentlemen,” said Leland. He placed the bag on the edge of the table and made no move to sit down. “Please tell me you ordered the onion rings so I can snag one.”
“That we did, boss,” said Marston, tipping his head back, a spark of pleasure in his eyes. He didn’t seem at all cowed by Leland’s height or air of authority and, having only met Leland via a Zoom meeting, Kell could see at once why Marston had not enjoyed disappointing Leland, why he’d fought to keep the second chance he’d been given.
“Congratulations on making it to the two-week mark, Kell,” said Leland. “We’re really pleased with your participation in the program, thus far. All the reports I’m getting indicate that you’re a hard worker with a sensible head on your shoulders who will soon be ready to go back out into the world.”
Leland had the air of a leader, the hard jaw of a man used to being in charge, being obeyed. At the same time, when he looked at Kell, and held out his hand for Kell to shake, he didn’t act like Kell should bow and kiss his feet, merely that Kell should act like a productive member of society, be polite, and shake his hand.
Kell shook it, and looked over to see Marston watching him, eyebrows flicking up, a delighted signal that seemed to say,Here we are. Isn’t this great?
Yeah, it was great. Better than great and when Kell finally let go of Leland’s hand, he wanted to do a small jig. He’d made it out of prison, the worst time of his life, pretty much, and he’d made it two weeks in a parolee program he’d not even been sure he wanted to sign up for.
Sure, he was nervous about what might happen when the parolee program ended, but right at that moment, he was inside a bubble of bliss. Both Leland and Marston were smiling at him, and Leland was holding the plastic bag in his direction.
“It’s not wrapped fancy or anything,” said Leland. “But it’s your phone. Every parolee in the program who makes it this far gets one, complete with six months of data.”
“Thank you.”
Kell took the bag, smiling so broadly it almost hurt. When he pulled out the box, it was wrapped in plastic, as though it was brand new. There was another box, more slender, also wrapped in plastic. Placing both on the table, he looked up at Leland.
“This is new,” he said. “I thought we got refurbed phones.”
“Typically,” said Leland with a tip of his head, stepping to one side as the waitress brought them their cheese fries and onion rings. He paused to take a large, crispy onion ring and sighed as he bit into it. “Damn, these are good.” He chewed and swallowed, then wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb.
“Typically, that’s what happens. But where you were concerned, Marston over here decided that wasn’t good enough and kicked in the rest for a brand-new phone. And the phone case, which he picked out himself.”
Kell didn’t know what to say as a lump the size of Marston’s fist shoved its way into his throat. He could easily recall the day he’d joined the track team when he’d gotten the uniform, the running shoes, and the cleats for sprinting—not on his birthday, but because he needed them and to celebrate his getting a spot on the team.
This felt like that. A kindness just because.
