Chapter sixty eight
His facial expression was more or less bland. If he felt any bit of excitement or surprise that I was here, he didn't show it, making me feel much more comfortable.
Rather, Alan rested his spoon against the edge of his plate, leaning in and resting an emotionless stare on me. "I'm alive," he said without enthusiasm. Had I expected more?
Now comfortable before him, the awkwardness I felt made me realise this conversation was going to be a near impossibility with that attitude.
I practically had nothing else to say. Maybe it was because I'd never forgiven, maybe it was because the images of our fight still haunted me.
"Are you good?" He luckily added moments after the silence, his gaze pinning me as though to tell whether or not I was lying.
Meeting his stare with slight shock, I nodded. "Sure, just conditions I need to fix in my body."
To that, he dipped his head once in understanding, taking his attention to the porridge that was halfway gone by now. "You might want to eat that before it turns cold."
It took me a while to realise he was speaking of the plate of food on my tray. Unsure of what else to say to drive the talk, I picked my spoon up but stopped halfway into scooping food. "Why did you save my life, Alan?"
Straight to the point, something I began to teach myself lately.
His motion ceased and from his bowed position, he was glaring right at me. His expression showed I'd touched a topic he hoped I wouldn't. Nonetheless, Alan sighed and once again had his attention on me completely. "I don't know. I guess I got to realise how bad your life had gotten that the thought of ending it got to you. I saw your outburst with Dylan, Jayden…and it became obvious to me what you were going through when you feel like you're in a new world and not a single soul could be called a brother. I…I just didn't think killing yourself was the best way out of it."
It surprised me that arrogant Alan could think that way. Infact, my jaws were practically hanging open. "What? How…"
I trailed off when words failed me and just gawked instead.
And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I saw him laugh. Alan let out a deep, extended and fulfilled laughter into the air that he inevitably got the attention of the closest people. The infections gesture got to me and I was laughing as well.
"Don't get it twisted, Jeffery." He finally said when he turned solemn once more. "Even the devil was once an angel."
To that, I understood. Either way, I felt I owed him my honest gratitude. "Thank you, Alan. I guess you're right, I wasn't thinking back then."
He made a gesture with his hand as though waving my statement away. "I owe you my apologies, Jeffery. I think what drove me then were envy and insecurity and I regret having treated you that way despite you having done nothing to me."
Well, I guess we were even then. Swallowing the last of my ego, I extended a hand; the humility needed for the start of peace.
Alan stared at it for a moment, approval evident on his face. Without any dramatic procedure, he took my hand in his, giving it a moderate shake. Just then, rounds of not too distant applauses broke out from the inmates at the surrounding tables. I'm certain they might have been shocked; however, everyone knew progress when they saw one.
I was happy, and I was guessing that was what forgiveness did to one's soul.
Little did I expect the most shocking visitor to join us.
For the next few minutes, Alan and I switched from one pointless conversation to another in order to buy time and relish the new friendship. Talk about the stale porridge to Butcher's beating even to irrelevant matters like his tattoes. However, sooner than not, a third person settled on the bench eastwards from us with sigh.
Instincts made me guess it was either Jayden or Butcher.
However, staring at the visitor presented the priceless Dylan Joe, aka, my father. At that point, my expression lost all its colour. So had Alan's. In contrast, Dylan had a supposedly forced smile.
"You two good? Just witnessed some shocking peace rally here and decided to drop by," he said.
As though planned, Alan and I stared at each other and then at him, somewhat confused and suddenly unsure of what was happening here.
"Good morning, Dylan. How nice of you to drop by," I didn't mean it. Infact, I tried to make it obvious in my look that I didn't. He pretty much got it.
Dad sighed heavily, deciding then to stare towards Alan and avoid the uncomfortable eye contact. "You know of this rehabilitation session we have every night? Tell your story, share the guilt and feel much better? I was hoping you two could sign up for it and join us tomorrow night."
Sometimes, I never got to predict people and it hurt. At this point, I grew insecure, wondering why he wanted to hear my life story by some bloody rehab session when he'd made it quite obvious he wanted nothing to do with me.
"Sure," Alan mumbled after having thought about it. But soon, he was back to swallowing the last of his porridge.
Myself? I was glaring straight at my father, almost as though I could read his mind if I tried a little harder. He was growing uncomfortable, which was the plan honestly.
Shifting in his chair, Dylan more or less muttered. "Uhm, Jeffery. You don't have to if you don't…"
"Oh, I'll be there,"I said finally even before I knew I was saying it. It was almost like my head wanted to decline but my lips just said the words out loud. Never did I stop staring at him though.
When I believed his comfort zone was getting worn out, he slowly came up to his feet with a groan. "Good. See you both there."
He was walking away soon after. And then, I was back to my breakfast. Alan's eyes were on me for a moment, probably wondering what was up between Dylan Joe and I.
"He's my father," I stated without meeting his gaze.
Just then, I felt his body stiffen.