Kenzo

Note: Implied sexual violence, drug references, actual violence. Reference to drugs,

Smiling to myself, I close the only book I’m allowed in here, The Bible. I wish I understood it.

One time I was very small, hunched up, sitting on the ledge inside the watch house visitor’s cubicle, Mum looking at me through the grill.

" Sit on the chair Ken” she said, looking around at the dim green room.

The sergeant sat behind his desk chewing gum, quietly scanning the side of Mum he could see. His gaze turned to me, his eyes clearly stating " Hurry the fuck up”

“Mum please get me out of here” I said, pushing my smallness towards her, hoping for recognition.

She sighed, lungs heavy with smoke, and a body already dead from all of the things inside her.

I live in the jail. Not long now until I get out. At least that’s what they tell me. It’s local, built a while ago but still shiny, looks new from the outside. I try to remember the scenery, playing loops through my imagination while staring at the wall.

It’s a huge silver spaceship, peeking from beyond the trees. It fades away as you get closer and suddenly, you arrive. Crawling out of the truck, feeling the shackles settling back into their familiar home, squinting against the sun hoping for a single cell.

The doors are loud.

I wish I was home.

They won’t deliver you books to read here, but leave you the rejection slips instead, as if urging you to furnish your life with memories and fantasy. They get tangled up inside each other after a while.

I like to watch the new ones, seeing them crumble from gangster to inmate to convict.

You know you’re a con when your eyes can’t focus past the end of the bed.

When that happens, good luck getting glasses. At least the walls are blurry. If I squint, I see a lawn.

Our biggest luxury is visits. It’s not what you think, sure it’s nice to see mum or dad, but as always, we have ulterior motives. When the girlfriends visit, I can smell them, carrying in the smell of the ones outside. We all stiffen in response as they walk in, dragging in that female scent. We lean over the table, watching them out of the corner of our eyes, watching each other for a signal to look or look away. We store everything of note, new thoughts to think, our instincts primed by lack of stimulation.

If you knew how developed our noses become, you wouldn’t smile at us anymore.

The others in here sit tall at first, starting their drama, trying to get others to see them as they see themselves. It doesn’t last long. They start wilting as they start to intuit the future, the rest, the part where all that is left is the truth.

I can see when you reach that point, my eyes are blinded from isolation but I’m still institutionalized enough to read you like a book.

I’m always judging, the lifers are too, always. I don’t care, we live to see you fall, I watch from my corner, claimed through years of habit. I follow you with my eyes but you will never see it. Old men in jails, never trust them.

I turn my head to stare at the other side, my pillow smells but it’s mine. My smell, my room now. The illicit oxys take hold, guiding me into my thoughts. I’ll forget my pain for now, focus on what matters, hiding from the past. I struggle with it; I don’t want to know the past anymore.

I have no future, but that’s all I want.

Still my thoughts turn back inward, upending all the rocks just to show me that there’s more. I close my eyes so tight, involuntarily clenching my teeth as I fight them off.

“Fuck off,” I scream in my head. Was it in my head? Or did I say that out loud?

“You ok champ?” the voice reached me as I dove down.

“Hey you fucking gronk, you still owe me money for that.”

I keep my eyes shut. I will never pay it.

Some nights were better than others.

I can’t wait for tonight.

My hands ache to hurt, to intimidate. I hope he understands why he cries.

I stare at the newcomers. They stare back. I laugh silently. The guards turn their backs as the last of them is deposited into our yard. The door spits them through, like new coins out of an ATM. I clench my fists waiting for the feelings to align, the yard fades and reappears.

We can tell who you are the second you walk in. The door shuts behind you, leaving you to us. No gangsters here, just broken vicious men. Do you have something we want? You better.

I know your face, it’s either resigned, shit scared, or relieved. If it’s the latter, I know you best. You’re one of us.

“Don’t be scared buddy,” the predators start.

“We’re all friends here.”

I wonder idly who’s got the best-looking and stupidest girlfriend.

I pick one out and go to work.

“Hey, mate? Don’t worry, okay, we’re all good blokes in here.”

He slides over, thinking he’s made a friend. After all, wasn’t he popular outside? Of course he’ll be okay. I watch the thought flicker across his face and die.

I don’t care. I just want him to bring me back that smell.

As he walks away, someone trips him. I watch the guards, they breathe slowly, their blood rising to match ours. We read the cues.

My tongue is gripped between my teeth in excitement as I offer him a hand up. His hand in mine, I push his fingers back while pulling him to his feet, letting him feel my strength, not just in my body but in my mind.

I see he’s on the verge of tears. His new friends breathe hard, unsure how to react.

My lungs empty as I read the situation, my eyes turn into slits as I feel my blood pumping.

Someone pushes him over again, gentler this time. He stumbles into someone, who throws me the glance.

I rush over and pretend to rescue him.

“Leave this one alone, okay.”

He nods. I feel a kinship in the understanding.

Dinner now, the potatoes were cooked, I had ice cream, first time in months.

I don’t want to lie down, but I have to. The mattress is lumpy, my back hurts, I look at the ceiling and listen to the noise. I try to think about other things.

I think he jumped, I’m not sure. I don’t know. It was a giant empty space, looking down onto the trees. So much room compared to here. Macca was there. He did one and I did one, so we’d be even. Two bodies, one each, fair.

I don’t care if I’m even anymore, I like to be uneven. It suits me.

The female guard is here again, I lean in, invisible. The smell doesn’t come, it’s too clean, like bleach. I blink. The smell returns, it’s hollow now like someone scraped out the smell and left the skin.

For a moment I’m standing somewhere else, my hand grips the bench to keep from floating. I look around, they felt it too.

“Don’t shower tomorrow miss,” I say inside my head.

She snaps her head back as if she knew what I was thinking. Her eyes, heavy lidded and dull, meet mine and glide off to the ground. I think I see agreement.

What else could it be?

I feel it with the weight of my gut, hanging down, heavy with promise. My muscles swell in anticipation, my jaw clenched tight with hope.

Trying to get to the fucking phone. Fucking hell look at the line.

“Hey fuckhead”

I loom over him, the newcomer.

“Mind my spot will ya”

I watch him as I stand hidden around the corner, so eager to please.

I laugh inside, looking forward to the sport. I like this part, where the belief in mateship is still strong. I’m always looking out for a good guy.

“Kenzo” rings out across the yard, interrupting my thoughts like a knife through a thighbone. Grating, stuck.

Fucking hell who’s this clown, my neck starts to hurt as I unclench my jaw, my eyes trying to get a grip.

“Don’t interrupt me fuckhead”,

I swing around expecting the worst, everyone knows silence is the end game in here.

“Oh, it’s you”

I look away. Following my eyes he sees the newcomer too.

“Will you fuck off, I’m busy”

“Yeh righto mate, just wanted to tell ya, I’m out next week, want me to check on your missus?”

I sighed, why the fuck would he say that.

“I’ll tell her you said it’s Ok”

My eyes close as the corner overtakes me.

He laughs as he sees it, walking away, the victory vibrating through his bones.

I see the newcomer signaling me, I watch, my teeth closed tightly together, breathing through my teeth.

My anger rises as I look at his face, I gesture him over. He hesitates, not wanting to lose my spot.

Come on fuckhead, fuck I’m in a bad mood now. Jesus Christ.

And it’s gone, the line closes again. Spitting out the newcomer like used gristle. He walks towards me, hesitant and slow.

Some old boys turn to watch, standing next to me so they can inhale the humiliation, the tension finding a home in their lifeless old faces.

One smiles, showing his gums,

“I feel good Kenzo.”

“That’s the way”

I smiled at him, he was harmless the old duck, let him think he’s gonna have some fun.

I look at the newcomer, watching his subconscious writhe, urgently requesting permission to leave. I breathe in as he disassociates, saving it in for later use.

“What’s your name son? can’t be calling you new comer all the time”

“Bob, sir”

The oldies, all bark and no bite, snort like hyenas, feeling the prey weaken. Sniffing the air, they edge closer, waiting.

I push him away.

“I’ll see you later” I say,

“Be good”

He looks confused as I tell him his surname is Down.

“What’s your name son” asks one of the hyenas, teeth ready to rip.

We all stare at him, quivering inside with hilarity.

“Bob Down” he answers not getting the joke.

“Your Missus better bring me in some shit Bob”

“But I don’t have a Missus”

“Well, you have to get one, quick!”

The tide is rising now, I feel the corner developing. He’s boxed in now, sooner rather than later.

I stand silent in my unevenness.

Time ripples through the air, I can see it moving as it bites into me with its huge teeth, taking small nibbles, a bit every day. Why can’t it rip into me, take one huge bite and then, I’d be somewhere else, someone else.

I see the guard leave her post, heading into the fray. I lift a finger, signaling my intent to keep watch, as two men crouch by her newly vacated chair.

He’s sitting on my cot now, not quite believing what just happened. Others just outside the door, crowding us in our moment of peace.

I look down at him.

“Not too bad Bob” I thank him, nodding.

The vacancy in his stare will keep me up at night, in a good way. I feel it shaping my mood, holding my thoughts for me, providing a perfect cup. His vacancy in exchange for my presence. A fair trade.

“Smile mate” I instruct, “I like it when you smile”

He smiled.

“Wider”

“I don’t want to see you without a smile from now on”

My insides tightened.

I can see him thinking, his lips stretched across his teeth like rubber, not daring to remember.

Finally, I feel still.

I turn back to my Bible, sitting on the thin mattress, opening a page at random. The words sit on the paper like they always do, no light or forgiveness.

The female guard walks past, face blank as bleached concrete. She doesn’t look our way. Doesn’t need to. I feel the shift, the moment stretching thin before it snaps.

I look down at the book. Matthew 7:12. Do to others what you would have them do to you. I close it again. Still don’t understand it