At first, I froze, trying to register what he was talking about. Soon, my brain fixed two and two, and I turned to study Butcher who was a good distance away by now.
Maybe it was because of how my relationship with Noah was, but, hearing this pained almost physically.
Next, he snickered, whiling away half a minute to gulp down a few spoons of whatever it was they fed us. "He compelled me into a robbery right beside him, someone told on us. Long story short, we each got five years in here. Never imagined myself in such a place, honestly. My life feels wasted."
My laugh cut him short there and then. Talk about a wasted life. "You got five years? I'm spending every bit of my life in here."
I saw his lips press against each other, almost apologetically as his eyes came up to gawk. "I'm…I'm sorry."
Yeah right. If apologies could shorten the sentence, I'd trade my fortune for them all.
As for now, I smiled, waved him off and fought back the urge to tell him the entire story. At this point, teaching others about my mistakes came with the new feeling of weightlessness, liberty.
However, rule number one in my book; Trust…is not a piece of junk you toss away easily. It's sacred, brotherly.
Speaking of brother, how was Noah?
I hadn't heard from him since my conviction, a disturbingly throbbing thought.
"I loved you matches, by the way," said Jayden without as much as a look up to me. It was amazing how he consumed every spoon of that filth like it was a remedy to all his problems. Admirable.
However, I took my mind back to his statement. "Really? Then, I guess I'm having breakfast with a fan then."
"Fan," he nearly choked on a smile. The new sight for me was warming. Jayden munched on yet another spoon of his food, gazed up at me and extended a hand. "I'm a whole air conditioning, bro."
Well, to that, he got a genuine laugh from me. Having taken his hand, we shared a manly handshake; and I knew it might just be the start of a new friendship.
***
The old saying of the devil appearing right when you thought of him. Well, wasn't Noah the devil.
"You've got thirty minutes," said the grey-headed police man behind me right before the bang sound of a shutting door met my ears. Staring up from my shoes, the sight of my older brother spinning his chair around so he could face me met my eyes. Shame prevented our eye contact from lasting past two seconds at a time; because everytime I studied him, I could read the evident weight of sadness he was doing a bad job hiding.
He took my figure in with his stare. "You seem like you've lost a couple pounds. Do you eat?"
Biting down a smile, I remembered the good old days back in Montana; the way he never batted a lid till I was fed to my full. It was like my mother in a manly costume, or even more.
I sighed and strolled across the distance to stand at his side. "Only when I can't hold on with hunger. Otherwise, I'm not eating the trash they serve."
Maybe I sounded like a spoilt teenager, so what? Spoiling me was what Noah did best.
"What had you expected in jail? Yogurt and expensive wine on a thousand dollar table cloth?" His tone was teasing, hardly serious. If anything, at least the scowl weighing his eyes had lightened now. "Maybe you'd keep that in mind next time you choose to go serial killing mode.
He could be a little raw sometimes though.
"There's no next time, Noah. I'm stuck here till I choke and probably die."
"Not if I get you out," my brother rattled with certainty, finality. So much I had to stare. "I have a plan."
Certainly, this had to be some emotional, illogical shenanigan right. "And how is one supposed to escape a life sentence?"
"I'll tell your story," Noah said soon after. Even with my eyes still fixed on him in search for an explanation, he didn't seem like he wished to go any further than that with that smile he had on.
Tell my story, huh? In as much as his choice of words was meant to convey little info, I knew whatever plan he came up with had every chance to work. And somehow, I didn't want it to, quite strangely.
"I've chatted with a couple of folks," he began to roll his chair away. A couple more rotations and he was facing the plain screen that formed the entire north wall. Without any reason in particular, he stared, narrowed his gaze to slits and went on. "Anna, Simon, Emily, Joey, even that private inspector of yours, Robert. I think I managed to fix the entire puzzle to a piece."
For a moment, insecurity befell me and my figure stiffened. Stalking over to his side, my eyes followed the direction of his and we stared at our reflections while time whiled away.
My story; wasn't that one dramatic piece of a book it would make. I wonder how my brother felt about it. "What now?"
I heard a sigh leave him, almost like he'd come to a conclusion he wasn't ready to turn away from. "We'll both agree murder was an extreme case from your side, you were mostly stubborn and lives have been lost. However, the background of the entire homicide speaks of someone being driven by he pain and anger of loss and loneliness. Someone who still had the thought of saving Max's life despite all you assumed he'd done, someone who supported an entire orphanage because you understood what those kids go through. Jeffery Thompson is that one boxer everyone loves…"
"Not everyone…"
"Not my point." Another sigh and he was rolling his eyes. Through the mirror, he gave me a glower that was enough to shut anyone up. "Your crimes are despicable, Jeff, but I know for a fact you're not evil. I heard about Mr Allendro; and I admit it, I might have gone through with suicide if not the murder you chose. I'm sure the others think the same way. If myself and the rest of the four don't make a strong appeal to the government, the fans will. If not, the nuns and those kids will stop at nothing to get you out; and if none of those work, I'll invite the judge over. Your story, Jeff. If that doesn't convince her, I'd be damned."
The tone of persuasion each word dripped out with, almost like he needed like my permission before he carried this out. I was supposed to be excited about this, wasn't I? That one big plan he came up with to kick back my life on track and resume the boxing dream for me.
It was all I'd ever wanted, right. Or was it?
My chest rose and fell with every deep breath. While I avoided an eye contact in every possible way, I could feel his stare almost like a weight on me.
I'd committed crimes I needed to pay for. As much as I'd thought I could have justifiable reasons, nothing changes my guilt. If honesty was to be given, my months here were the only things that had helped lighten the weight. "Give me two years in here first." I heard myself say in the end.
"What?" Expectedly, Noah flinched; offended, enraged and was in every form, surprised. Watching his reflection, I studied the scowl that weighed down his brows as it slowly passed away. "Jeffery, talk to me."
Previously, he'd been pouring out his views, his excitement, his plans. I believe he finally realised the flaw he'd been making.
Shutting my eyes, I released yet another sigh and manoeuvered my body so I could face him. The familiar look of worry painted his face. Worry and understanding I missed more than I could remember.
"I'm sure you may have been disappointed in me when I turned myself in and pleaded guilty." I began.
"We both know though that I deserve this in every possible way. I feel it. Yes, the food is crap, the inmates are even more crap and the rooms are an eyesore, but, can you compare any of these to the people I've killed, the kids I rendered orphans?"
Understandingly, Noah bowed his head.
And I went on. "We may have the influence and money to get me out of here, but it's unfair, isn't it? I know you want the best for me, Noah. You always have. Still, I have one favour. Delay this plan of yours for two years and let me face the judgement I deserve."
For a few seconds, nothing was said. If anything, I hadn't expected him to listen to me. "Okay, Jones. Two years, you'll bear your cross if that's your decision, and I'll be of full support. Get ready though, because when you're out, we'll make that dream of ours come true."
And I never appreciated his presence enough till that very day. With failed attempts to hold in tears, I laughed and squatted at his side.
Automatically, Noah ruffled his through my hair and put an arm around my shoulders. That day, as I'd returned the embrace, I came to understand that God was never the problem.