Chapter sixty
Slowly, Noah forced a smile, leaned in and clutched the telephone in a shaky grip. Mine was already up my ear by then.
"Hey Jeff," he said, no trace of enthusiasm on his face. His lips a thin line of despair, my brother found some more words. "You look better, much better."
His statement left me staring blankly at him, wondering if that was the apology he'd practiced back home. Leaning my head against the telephone, I let the silence pass between us.
Noah swallowed an uncomfortable feeling in his throat as he failed to meet my gaze for more than two seconds. Finally, he stilled and watched the table as his fingers tapped vainly on it. "Are you certain you want to keep staying here for two years, Jeffery?"
Leaning back in my chair, I sighed. Whether or not he currently spoke in jibbering stutters, the concern was obviously in his tone. However, I was not exactly sure if I had the answer to that question.
I was locked within the solid walls of Los Angeles correctional center, only permitted to limited freedom once a week and for two hours. The right rooms made me slightly claustrophobic; and due to my horrid social life, I barely had someone to speak with.
Once again, I stared up at him. Having run a minor calculation of the time I had left, it was with great pain that I answered him. "I don't want to, but, I deserve it."
Expectedly, he groaned in dismay. "It's my fault! I was the one who made you feel guilty and jump to this decision, wasn't I?"
"Well, there's some truth in there," I shrugged in response. Another round of uncomfortable silence came over us, and to keep busy, I smacked my jaws together and wondered if I should tell him what presently bothered me.
On second thought, why not. "Noah, there's something I've been thinking about lately," I paused to make sure I had his attention. "While you decided to ghost me for three months, I had a bit of alone time to think about finding Dad."
"Although it was unnecessary to rub the guilt in, I'm listening," he said.
Yep, there was the attitude. Smiling, I went on. "I might be wrong, but there's someone I'm on to here in prison."
"You suspect our father is one of the prisoners here with you," Noah grinned, arms folded. The look on his face quickly turned serious though, and he frowned. "What are the odds?"
"I won't leave a name yet," I said. "However, his look tends to bring back these strange childhood memories."
Noah's head tilted. He seemed to be buying it. "Go on…"
"That's it! There's nothing more to latch on to as proof. When he stopped Alan and Butcher from killing me back then, the look he gave me proved he knew me and hated the fact."
Noah took the phone away from his ear for two seconds, his eyes looking like he was trying to wrap his head about it. Soon, he came closer until he was mere inches from the glass. "Here's what. Speak to him, nothing too desperate."
I rolled my eyes, clearly finding that funny. "This is a man who left me lying broken three months ago and walked away. Until now, I thought I was the most antisocial person the planet."
" Like father, like son…"
" Not so fast, brother. As much as I wish to be proven wrong, I'll speak to him. Be a pest if I have to. In the meantime, I don't know how you'll do it, but, get me some photos."
He scowled for a second, sighing afterwards. "Anything you say. However, if he proves too tough, he's probably not the one. We are to be mad at him for leaving, not the other way around."
I nodded without response.
I'd begun to think this way of Dylan since he more or less saved my life without plausible reason. Well, not immediately.
It was a few days after when I was habitual night gazing that the thought hit me. I'd asked my roommate if he'd known anything about the famous Dylan Joe. Right after telling me things I already knew, he was back in his world of oneness with the universe.
I had this feeling he was going to vanish someday.
"Any more threats from Alan?" Noah's words smacked me out of my world of thoughts.
It took me some time to register what his question meant. After having used ten seconds for that, I laughed. "Them? I don't think they'll be disturbing me for a while. They still need to recover from their punishment."
"What punishment?" He seemed pleased enough.
With a smile, I shook my head. "Reminded me of the good old days in Montana. What Uncle Tim did to us didn't even come close."
With a choking laugh erupting from him, he wiped his face and seemed to feel much better.
***
It was Dad hunting…
Time after time, I filled my mouth with sticks of fries, taking care to gulp downs after each few mouthfuls.
Compared to what usually used to be breakfast, this was some form of upgrade I was grateful for today. Asides myself, the rest of my table was gracefully empty, granting me just the space I needed to spy on Dylan Joe.
Two tables ahead and three to the right, he was seated alone, struggling with what everyone saw to be his bad mood that repelled any table partners.
But then, he was always in a bad mood when I saw him. For a good half of his meal time, he'd never cared to stare away from the table or his food. Well, I had never cared to stare away from him as well.
What was the goal?
Make him overly uncomfortable until he stared back at me with disgust; giving me just the greenlight I needed to go sit with him.
However, if he noticed he was being watched, he did a beautiful job ignoring me. As usual, I was offended and my patience was running low.
After a few more minutes of munching down fries and gulping it in with water, I crossed my arms and leaned forward upon the table.
I'd be damned if he ignored me now.
Soon, his attention left his food and fell on me. The glare he watched me with did well matching up my own, as though he was silently warning me to move my eyes away.
Well, I did not get this far in my life by giving up. Instead of bowing to the stare he returned, I took the greenlight immediately and rose from my seat.
Lifting my tray into my hand, I crossed over my bench and began my walk towards him through the aisles.