Last and First Meal

Last and First Meal

Caleb was led down the sterile concrete corridor. The cold steel of the cuffs rubbed against his wrists. Jacobs, his guard, was following behind him. The only noise is the sound of their footfalls echoing off the walls. “Where are we going?” Caleb asked. No answer. Asking again, “Where are we going?” Still no answer. They continued to walk in silence until Jacobs stopped Caleb in front of elevator doors with a little box and screen next to it. Jacobs leaned over the box and it scanned his eyes. After a confirmation beep, Jacobs leaned back while the doors opened. Jacobs pulled Caleb’s arm and led him into the elevator. Caleb has never been down this hall before, nor in this elevator. On the wall there was one button. Jacobs pressed it, and the elevator whirred into action. Caleb could tell the elevator was going down.

The doors opened, and Caleb, led by Jacobs, stepped into a large room. A room that looked nothing like the rest of the prison. Dark wood floors in a herringbone pattern. Paneling of the same color on the bottom half of the walls, with a chair rail separating the wood from the pristine white paint above. A large crystal chandelier with what looked like a million tiny lights hung above. A table covered in a white tablecloth with a single chair sat in the middle of the room. Caleb had seen nothing but grey walls and grey floors for a couple of decades. A moment after his entry into the room, the aroma of meat cooking hit his nostrils and transported him back to when he could eat actual food. Not the grey cubes they called food in prison. It was then that it hit him. This was it: his last meal. Today must be his execution.

Panic set in. He had been looking forward to this day for the past few years. The boredom, the regimented day, the minimal interaction with other prisoners, had made him rather be dead than live in that repetitive daily grind. Now that the time had come, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to live. Jacobs pushed him forward and removed his handcuffs. Caleb rubbed his wrists, glad to be free of the cold steel. “Please sit.” Those were the only words Jacobs said to him. Caleb complied with Jacob’s request. Jacobs turned and went back to the elevator. He wondered why the formalities. They treated the prisoners like shit for years, feeding them something only a step above shit, yet they go all out for a last meal?

In stepped a tall man with a gaunt face and a smile on his face. He thought it wasn’t a calming smile, though. It seemed more like the smile a vivisectionist would have when grabbing his scalpel to begin his work. In a deep, monotone voice, the man says, “My name is Ames, and I will be your chef this evening, sir. We will have three courses. First is a salad with fresh vegetables, succulent chicken seasoned in my mix of spices, feta cheese and a balsamic vinaigrette to top it all off.” Ames looked at Caleb to gauge his reaction; there wasn’t any. Caleb had his mind elsewhere. Continuing, “The main course is filet mignon, medium rare. With a mushroom reduction sauce. My original creation, a side of seasoned rice and oranges and carrots. Finally, we will finish your experience with a rich chocolate lava cake. The explosion of chocolate when you cut it open will blow your mind.” Caleb had zoned out through most of that. Ames reached over and said, “Here is your apéritif.” He placed a small crystal goblet with a reddish-orange liquid.

“My what?” Caleb asked.

“Apéritif. It means ‘to open’ it’s a drink to stimulate your appetite. This is Aperol, which contains rhubarb and a few other ingredients. Have a taste.”

Caleb grabbed the glass and downed it. He was overwhelmed; it was bitter and had a strong flavor. He immediately felt a little lightheaded. It has been a long time since he had a drink. That is part of the reason he ended up in this prison. Ames took the glass and headed back into the kitchen.

Caleb went back to the night that it all changed. Everyone has a moment that separates part of their life into a before and after. He knew that the night was his. Caleb, in his early 20s, having fun with friends, had just left a bar. He and his friends lived ‘up top’ the higher levels of the city where it was safe, but also boring. They would come ‘down below’ for the entertainment. The alleys contained bars, strip clubs, places offering more than just dances, drug dens, and everything else imaginable. There is no law down there, not realistically, at least.

As they stepped out of the bar, the neon lights of the tight, dark alleys illuminated the streets. The rain had stopped, though the puddles remained, and the reflections of the neon in the water made the pavement look enchanting. His friend Brad suggested heading into the strip club. He laughed and said, “I need to see some titties.”

Laney looked over, lifted her shirt, showing her breasts. “Here are your titties. Let’s head home.” Brad’s eyes grew wide, but he said nothing. They continued to walk to the lifts and passed by the strip club called ‘Peaches’.

Nate, Laney’s boyfriend, took her arm as they entered the lift station. Lifts are vertical trains. Each car travels up tracks to the top, being pulled from above rather than from the front. Caleb went to the map to see what lift they needed. He heard a slamming noise behind him, and Nate was in a fight with a stranger, the stranger on top of Nate. Brad and Laney stood back, watching what was going on, frozen in fear. The stranger had the upper hand as Nate was lying on the ground with the man punching him over and over. Blood covered Nate’s face. The man grabbed Nate’s wallet and fled. Station police ran over, with a few chasing the man. It remained unclear at the time whether they had caught him. By then Laney was leaning over Nate, shaking him and yelling his name. An officer pulls her off as he checks on Nate. He radioed for medical assistance. “Step back.” The officer commanded. Caleb grabbed Laney, who wanted to help Nate, while Brad just stood there with a glazed look on his face. The smell of that night was just as vivid forever after. The stairwells and lift stations have a unique smell of urine, along with the coppery smell of blood and the sharp smell of ventilation.

“They are going to help him; it will be okay,” Caleb said as he hugged Laney. The medics came to treat Nate; after a few hectic minutes, they put him on a stretcher and wheeled him out. As Laney sobbed and Brad was catatonic, Caleb heard one medic say that Nate was dead. He felt ill and vomited. His legs gave out, and he fell to the floor. His guilt was immeasurable.

Ames snapped Caleb out of his thoughts when he brought in a tray covered with a stainless steel domed lid. “Enjoy.” Ames said as he lifted the lid. The aroma of the seared steak, mushrooms, and rice hit him. It was intoxicating. The drink was nothing compared to this. Ames sat in a chair, watching, but saying nothing. Caleb picks up the for and knife and cuts into the steak. The juice flowed out and the pink center looked perfect. He picks up the cut piece with his fork and tastes it. It was the best steak he had ever had. He wasn’t sure if this was because it was, or it had been so long that even mediocre steak would taste amazing. Ames continued to watch, as if Caleb needed to eat every bite. Caleb did. Tonight might be the last day of his life; so he might as well enjoy it.

“That was delicious.” Caleb says, after a brief pause, “Compliments to the chef.” Followed by a little giggle at his own joke. It was the first time he had laughed in a long time. There wasn’t a lot to laugh about in prison, especially on death row.

Ames stood and grabbed the plate. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate the compliment. I can’t change your circumstances, but I want your last memories to be the best food you have ever tasted.” Ames ambles off and leaves Caleb alone with his thoughts.

When they arrived at the hospital, they were told what Caleb already knew. Nate was dead. Laney let out a guttural cry. It was so raw and emotional that Caleb had heard nothing like it before or since. Caleb comforted Laney as she cried. She would talk to Caleb about Nate from time to time, memories she and Nate shared, or ones all of them had shared. She seemed as if she couldn’t cry any longer as they sat in silence. Then she laughs, almost uncontrollably. “What is it? What’s so funny?” Caleb asked.

“The last-” followed by a laughing fit, “The last-” more laughing. After a moment she calms down and can speak. “The last person to see my tits was Brad, not Nate.” She then breaks down and cries again.

They piled into the car and sat as Brad’s father drove them up top. Silence filled the car. Whether it was grief for Laney, thinking it was a dreamlike state for Brad, or guilt for Caleb. They pulled up to Laney’s house. She gets out, and as she does, her parents step out of the house to comfort her. Before the door closes, she says, “Thank you.” Followed by giving Caleb a hug. It was the last time she ever spoke to Caleb. As Caleb got out, the first rays of sunlight were peeking over the horizon. Tired, Caleb headed inside where his family was, and they hugged him. He thanked them and said he needed rest.

“Okay, Sir, here is your dessert. I think you will find it the perfect finishing touch to this meal.” The smell of chocolate filled the air; it was another aroma he never thought he would ever experience again. He took his fork and took a piece as the molten chocolate poured out. The sweetness overcame him, but it didn’t slow him down; he finished every bit, using his fingers to get the last of the melted chocolate. Ames took the plate away. Came back out and sat in the same chair as before. “Sir, if I may inquire. What brought you to this place?” Ames paused, “If you wish to unburden yourself.” Caleb thought for a moment and was about to tell the story. The shame ultimately made him decline.

His thoughts go back one more time to that morning. Fast asleep, about an hour after he got home, he heard a loud pounding. He thought for a moment, then laid his head back down to go back to sleep. Just as he drifted off, he heard his father calling his name. “Caleb. Caleb. Caleb, wake up.” Caleb sat up and looked at his father. “There is an officer to get a statement about last night.” Caleb wonders why he couldn’t come later.

Caleb walked into the living room and saw a tall man in a grey suit. Younger than he would expect for a detective, maybe 30. Behind him was a uniformed officer, barely older than Caleb. He looked serious, while the detective seemed more affable. “Caleb? My name is Detective Mitchell. Would you mind coming down for an interview?” The detective asks.

“Why? Can’t we do it here? Or later, I am so tired.”

“I’m sorry, but it is better for witnesses to remember what happened closer to the incident. The interview room has no distractions.” Caleb looks at him for a moment. “We will take you down there and bring you back. You can then sleep all you need.”

“Fine, let me get dressed. ”Caleb washed his face, changed his clothes, and followed the officer to the car, getting in. He watched the streets pass as the sun was higher in the sky than when he got home that morning. Once at the police station, an officer escorted Caleb to a small room. The detective tells Caleb that he will return in a few minutes. Caleb sat and stared at the blank walls. Five minutes turn into ten, into a half-hour. He rested his head on his crossed arms and fell asleep. Someone opened the door, abruptly awakening him. Rubbing his eyes, he saw the detective.

“Sorry. I was dealing with other evidence.” The detective interviews Caleb, which Caleb quickly realized was an interrogation. The detective starts with the expected questions. What were you doing when this happened? What did you see? Do you know if Nate knew the guy? And other similar lines of questioning. Then, with one question, everything changed. “Do you know a man named Eddie Palenco?” Caleb froze, unsure what to say for a moment. He shook his head. “Sorry, Caleb, I need you to say it for the recording.”

“No. I don’t know him.” The sentence hung in the air for a moment, and to break the silence, “Did he kill Nate?”

“Yes, we believe so. But he said something interesting.” Caleb felt warm, and his mind was racing. “He said he knows you.” This was a waiting game. He would say no more until Caleb spoke.

After a couple of minutes, Caleb finally had the strength to speak. “That’s weird, I don’t know him. Maybe we went to school or something, or worked together, and I just don’t remember.” Caleb spoke a little too fast, almost rambling.

The detective sat forward, “Maybe. I didn’t delve into his past work experience. Except for one job. You see, Mr Palanco is a thief; he robs people, which is what happened to Nate.” The detective held eye contact with Caleb. “What is really interesting,” holding up a finger, the detective pushed on, “Nate wasn’t a random victim. Someone asked Polanco to rob him, gave him a description, and told him where Nate would be going. Polanco had followed Nate since you left the bar.” Caleb felt nervous, thinking he knew where this was going. The question he had to ask himself is: What does this detective know versus what he thinks he knows? “He robs Nate, and it seemed he didn’t want to kill him, just make it look good, his words, not mine. What do you make of that?”

“I don’t know, that seems far-fetched, like he is trying to reduce his culpability.”

The detective leaned further and stared at Caleb. “Maybe, absolutely. Except he didn’t give us the name of some shadowy figure or someone he has a grudge against. He said your name. Clear as day. Why is that?” Caleb doesn’t say a word; he just stares down at his hands. “I think it is because you hired him. I did some digging. You owe some bookies and loan sharks down below a lot of money. You know Nate always carries a lot of cash, and his bank card could get you even more.”

Caleb broke down. “I didn’t want him to die, just get hit a few times and Eddie would run off with his wallet. We would split the money, and that would be that. Eddie took it too far. I feel so guilty; he was like a brother.” Caleb was crying. The detective stood and left the room. A moment later an officer cuffed Caleb and walked him to a cell. He hasn’t been free since.

A jury found him guilty at the trial. During sentencing, Nate’s family and Laney spoke. She didn’t speak to him, but to the judge, and how she hoped Caleb would get the same fate. She said what he did was worse than was Eddie did; he was a brother to Nate. Nate was kind enough that he would likely have given Caleb the money. The judge sentenced him to death.

Ames broke the silence while Caleb was lost in thought. “It has been a pleasure, sir. I am glad you enjoyed your meal. Now I must go; a doctor will be in to escort you.” Ames stood and returned to the kitchen.

The doctor escorted Caleb through a door. Once Caleb passed through the threshold, he no longer continued to be Caleb. He was nothing, nobody. His memories were gone, erased from existence.

The next morning Caleb sat stiff and robotic at a metal table and bench, eating his grey cube. He didn’t know his name, his past, or anything before that day. Just that he needs to eat and then work. Nothing more, nothing less. He savored the cube as his new consciousness’s first meal.