Page 134 of After Anna

“Go in and turn around,” CO Evesham said, and Noah obeyed as the CO unlocked the cell, then uncuffed him. Noah dumped his mattress and sheets on the top bunk, and CO Evesham locked the door and walked away.

“I’m Noah Alderman,” he said, and the old man stood up, extending a withered hand.

“Mike Smith, but they call me Peach because I’m wrinkly.” Peach leaned a knobby elbow on the bed frame.

“Hi, Peach.” Noah unrolled the mattress, glancing around. The cell was six by twelve, and the walls were grimy white cinder block. A long skinny window was set lengthwise at the end, and underneath was Peach’s shelf, which held toiletries, paperback books, and oddly, a magazine collage of Tony Bennett.

“You look like Dr. Kildaire, from the TV. You old enough to know Dr. Kildaire? Good-looking guy. A doctor. Dr. Kildaire.”

“Right, Dr. Kildaire.” Noah sensed Peach was the chatty sort. He set his toilet kit on a narrow metal shelf next to an open toilet and a urinal.

“You got in late. Normally they don’t do intake this late. They tell you your job assignment?”

“No.” Noah unfolded his single sheet and tucked it around the thin mattress.

“You gotta get a good one. I work in the leather shop. I make boots. That’s the best. There’s a waiting list. The only people who work there are lifers. They gotta die for something to open up.”

“What else is a good job?” Noah got the sheet on, and the buzzer sounded, reverberating in his ears.

“Try laundry.” Peach eased back into his bunk. “Garment sucks. Kitchen sucks. Wood shop’s decent. Friend of mine works there. He can put in a good word. He knows people.”

“Thanks.” Noah finished making his bed, then went to the sink, brushed his teeth, and washed up. He’d already relieved himself atintake. It was one of the things he hated most about prison, the lack of privacy. He would have to come to aplace of acceptance.

“You don’t talk much.”

“I’m tired.” Noah climbed up into his bunk, stretched out, and clammed up, in prison mode. Suddenly another buzzer sounded, and the lights went off abruptly.

Peach clucked. “Damn, I wasn’t at the end of the chapter. It’s good you got here. I could do a lot worse.”

“It’s mutual.” Noah looked at the ceiling. He could hear men talking, praying, and singing, the noises echoing in the dark cellblock. He heard a congested cough nearby, but he couldn’t see who it was because there were walls between the cells. He diagnosed it reflexively, as sinusitis.

“I been here twenty-one years. It’s no picnic, but you get used to it. People get used to anything. Put your hand over the side.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Put your hand over the side.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Noah let his right hand drop and felt Peach give him a paper bag. “What’s in it?”

“What’s in what?”

Noah shifted onto his side and looked inside the bag, in the dim light from the window. It was a makeshift first-aid kit with a roll of gauze, a small bottle of Betadine, dental floss, and a heavy industrial needle, glinting in the half-light. The needle was contraband, which could get him thrown into the RHU, the Restricted Housing Unit, or solitary confinement.

Noah asked, “Peach, why did you give me this? Are you setting me up?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Noah’s thoughts raced. He’d been right about the undercurrent. Something was going to happen.

“Get some sleep, doc.”

Chapter Sixty-six

Maggie, After