I set my pathetic bag of belongings on the bed and opened the envelope Ms. Randall had given me. Two hundred and fifty dollars. More money than I’d held in my hands for years. I counted it twice, my fingers trembling slightly as I handled the bills. Eventually I had to put them down, the feeling of actuallyowningsomething almost overwhelming.
I went to the bathroom to wash up before I went into town. But the moment I stepped inside, I paused. The bathroom mirror revealed someone I didn’t recognize. I’d avoided mirrors in prison. They were usually just polished metal anyway, giving distorted reflections that nobody wanted to see. Now, fluorescent lights highlighted every hard line of my face, the dark circles under my eyes, the way my cheekbones stood out sharper than I remembered. I looked like a man haunted by his past. And I guess, cliché as it sounded, it was true.
I splashed cold water on my face and tried not to think about tomorrow. I just had to take it one day at a time, like Ms. Randall said.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since the tasteless breakfast at the prison. According to the faded pamphlet on the nightstand, there was a diner two blocks down. I pocketed some cash, locked the room behind me, and headed out.
The evening air had cooled, but I didn’t mind. After years of having no control over my environment, just being able to choose whether to stay out in the chill felt like a luxury.
The diner’s windows glowed warm yellow against the darkening sky. A bell jingled when I pushed the door open, and several heads turned to look at me. I kept my eyes down, sliding into a booth in the corner where I could see the whole room.
An older waitress approached, notepad in hand. “What’ll it be, honey?”
I scanned the menu quickly. “Cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake, please,” I said, my voice still sounding strange to my ears.
She smiled. “Coming right up.”
When she walked away, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Ordering food was such a simple interaction, but it had my heart racing. There were only a handful of people in the diner minding their own business, but to me it felt surreal. To think that I could sit at a table and choose what I wanted to eat and then eat it without being watched… it was a luxury I’d missed dearly. I glanced down at the table and saw the metal cutlery all wrapped up, the sharp tip of a steak knife sticking out of the napkin roll.
Suddenly, a rush of anxiety and fear filled me from head to toe. Getting caught with a knife could add months or years to mysentence. That was the last thing I wanted. What if the guards saw?
Without a second thought, I grabbed the napkin roll and stuffed it between the cushions of the booth. My heart raced as I tucked it away, making sure that not a single piece was sticking out. No sooner had it disappeared than the waitress placed a glass of ice water on the table, startling me half to death.
“Sorry, honey,” she smiled. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“It... It’s okay,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “I was just lost in thought.”
First day out of prison, and I was already lying. That didn’t bode well.
“I swore I put silverware on this table,” she said, making my heart rate spike. But then she just tapped the side of her head with a chuckle. “I swear, I’d leave my head on the dresser in the mornin’ if it wasn’t attached! Let me get you some silverware.”
“No knives!” I called a bit too loudly.
She stopped, turning to look at me with an odd expression on her face. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t argue. “Okay, honey. No problem.”
The waitress’s puzzled look made me realize how weird I must have sounded. Just another reminder of how prison had rewired my brain. I forced a smile, trying to seem normal.
“Sorry. I, uh... just prefer a fork.”
She nodded slowly. “Sure thing, sugar. One burger, fries, and shake coming up—fork only.”
When she walked away, I slumped in my seat, mortified. Seven years inside and I’d forgotten how to act in public. I took a long drink of water, focusing on the cold sensation sliding down my throat, trying to ground myself in the moment.
The burger, when it arrived, was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Steam rose from the patty, cheese melted perfectly over the sides, and the bun had those little sesame seeds I’dforgotten existed. My mouth watered as I picked it up with trembling hands.
That first bite nearly brought tears to my eyes. Real beef. Real cheese. Real bread that wasn’t stale or tasteless. I devoured half of it before I remembered to slow down, prison habits making me protect my food even when there was no threat.
“Everything good?” the waitress asked, refilling my water.
I nodded, unable to speak with my mouth full. When I finished chewing, I managed a sincere, “Best meal I’ve had in years. Thank you.”
She beamed at that. “Well, aren’t you sweet? You new in town? I only ask cuz I’ve never seen you around here before.”
I hesitated, not wanting to mention prison but not wanting to lie more than necessary. “Just passing through. Heading to McGrath Ranch tomorrow for work.”
Her expression shifted subtly. “Oh, you’re one of Pete’s boys, then?”
My stomach tightened. Was it that obvious? Did I have “CONVICT” stamped on my forehead?
