Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison T. Parsell (ebook reader play store .txt) 📖

"So you're gay, right?" Chet asked. He had been talking to me for a while, but this was the fist thing that registered. I hadn't heard anything he had said before this.

"NO," I answered quickly, "I'm not!" At least I tried to say it quicklyinstead my words came out slow and slurred. I wasn't even sure that I got the "I'm not" part of the sentence out or if I just thought I had.

"Uh-huh," he nodded. He wasn't buying it. "Then what did you think was going on? And why did you keep asking if there were any fags here?"

I couldn't say anything. There was a menacing quality to him that wasn't there before. It was as if I was talking to somebody I didn't know. And come to think of it, I really didn't know Chet.

"The picture of Bobbi last night, my classification notice, the party this morning? Did you think I was doing this because I'm a nice guy?"

"The picture? What picture? You mean that guy in woman's clothes?" There was a delay from when I said something, and when I heard myself say it. I think all that came out was a slurred "... picture ... fag."

"What are you talking about?"

The room began to spin. It was like everything in sight was rotating to the left, but then flipped back and turned again in the opposite direction. All I could do was hold onto the bench I was seated on and blink in disbelief.

"The classification document that I showed you last night," Chet said.

"What about it?"

"It said that I was sent here because of homosexual tendencies," Chet shouted. It was becoming clearer to me. "If you weren't gay, why'd you stick around?"

I felt trapped and cornered and didn't know how to respond. I remembered him handing me a piece of paper last night. Why didn't I read it? I looked at it a couple of times, but I was too distracted by Scatter. Did it really say he was brought here because of homosexual tendencies? Fuck! I wished I had read it. Of course Chet was being nice to me. He was interested in me! How could I have been so stupid? How could I not see what he was up to? I wished I read the clues that he'd been sending, like his friendliness, the free cigarettes and spud juice and conversations about family and looking out for each other. Until that moment, the bug in the hallway didn't register, the one that was calling him scandalous. Or what it meant when the guys kept calling him Mr. Wilson. I asked Slide Step what he meant and he said something about Dennis the Menace and about how Mr. Wilson was always nice to the kid. But I still didn't understand. Everybody could see what was happening but me. Or what about that picture of Bobbi-the guy in woman's clothes? How could I have been so naive?

Red! What about Red? Was he in on it too? Why didn't I pick up on all of those nasty comments of his? How could have I been so stupid as to think that Chet was going to protect me from them. Or was this what he was trying to say? Was Chet making a play to protect me? Was he trying to become my Man?

I looked up to ask him something, but he was gone. I was sitting there alone. In fact, the shower room was empty. I started to get up, but I couldn't move. It was as if I was so exhausted I didn't have the energy to get up. The room had stopped spinning, but I still couldn't move. There was saliva hanging from my bottom lip, which I wiped on my sleeve.

Maybe Chet was right. I am gay, but I didn't want to admit it. I still wasn't sure that I was. Even if I were, I didn't want anyone to know about it. Was that why I didn't see what was coming? I did and I didn't want to admit it? I was glad to be so many miles from home, a world away from where anyone knew me. Whatever happened in there was for me alone to know about. Who I became there and what I did inside would be sealed within these walls. It would be my secret alone. I would never see these people again.

Sitting there by myself, I thought about how freeing that would be-to be able to have sex with men in an environment that permits it, someplace where in fact it's even celebrated. All of these strong, masculine men. I just wished they were younger, I wished they were my age, and then maybe I could get used to it. The only one that I'd liked so far was Scatter, and maybe Young Blood. They were my age and both of them were beautiful. I'd love it if somehow something sexual happened with one of them. I didn't know what was happening with Scatter. That guy sitting with him the night before was mean. Maybe he was Scatter's boyfriend. He could have been offended that I asked about fags. I was confused. The booze was good, and I thought it was cool that they got me drunk. Maybe something would happen with one of these young guys. My chest and my body tingled at the thought.

I wished Chet wasn't so old. At least he was white. He seemed to have a handle on how to do time. He's got money, he's got booze, and he'd been very nice to me. Perhaps that's how it worked. He takes care of me, and I take care of him. Yeah, that's it. He takes care of me, makes sure nobody hurts me, makes sure I have plenty of booze so I can check out any time I like, makes sure I have cigarettes and candy and whatever else they sell in the commissary, and all I