Outside The Walls

When the large metal door slid open, he saw for the first time the open field that surrounded the complex. He was first transported here in an enclosed space at the back of a van, in a state of disbelief, so much so that he did not notice the field. Now he could see it the width of a road away but hesitated to cross the threshold, because on the other side sat his older brother, atop the hood of a run-down wagon. Three years was an awful lot of time to ponder everything he had done that culminated in his incarceration, and many of those things were due to the sibling looking at him now. So he lingered a little longer, then took a big step out into the free world, with only a bag in his hand and a record on his shoulder.

His brother strode across the road to embrace him and take the bag from his hand. "The hell he’s doing here?" his brother asked, cocking his head towards a Jeep Cherokee parked behind the wagon.

"I called him," he said.

"What for?"

"I'm leaving with Uncle."

"The fuck you're on about? Everyone's waiting for you at home."

His brother threw the bag onto the backseat and got in the car. He stayed put, however, declining the homecoming. Not that anybody cared what he did that put him behind the walls in the first place. But that too was the problem; nobody cared because everybody had been there once at least. And every time someone was put away for a while then got out again, a get-together was called. It happened so often that doing time and the gatherings that followed the releases gradually became the family's rite. Sooner or later they would all go back behind bars for some more time, for they never could remove themselves from the paths they were guided towards by their circumstances. But he wanted a different life, so he refused to get in the car and copped a torrent of curses from his brother, who had and always would oppose his idea of a clean life. "If you're clean, it's only because someone else does the dirty work for you," his brother said, then pointed at the other vehicle and asked, "If he's clean, what do you think Dad went to fucking jail for?"

At this point, an older man got out of the Jeep and stood watching the siblings with eyes buried behind dark glasses. This brought his brother's rant to a stop. His bag was retrieved from the car and hurled at him and soon the wagon sped up into the distance until he heard its stifled engine no longer.

He hung the bag off his shoulder and approached the Jeep. The man gave him a hug and a pat on the back. "Welcome home, kiddo," he said.

They got in the Jeep together and drove in the opposite way. He looked out the window and felt the cold wind in his hair as the Jeep picked up speed. The tip of his tongue wanted to duck into a corner of the past and munch on the words his brother had just divulged, but the prospect of a life outside the walls, however false, meant too much he dared not uncover any truth that could take it all away. So he fell silent and watched a group of children playing on the field and wondered how he had come to sell his childhood short.