Ophelia by Norman Bacal

Author:Norman Bacal [Bacal, Norman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988025650
Publisher: Barlow Books
Published: 2021-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

PART II

CHAPTER 20

Tal studied the slightly bent man who had just walked into the room, a huge smile plastered across his ruddy face. He was wearing a sleeveless undershirt that clung to his barrel chest. An elaborate tattoo adorned each shoulder, though Tal couldn’t make out what they were. Something in cursive writing that was partially covered by the undershirt. His shoulders were thick but Tal could not yet tell whether that was from daily exertion or weight room habits cultivated in a previous life. He was handsome enough, with round cheeks and a clean-shaven face and head that were glistening, probably from a pre-dawn workout. Tal was wearing a sweater against a cooling mid-April breeze.

“G’day, mates, and for you newcomers, welcome to Serenity. Ain’t Western Australia grand? You can call me Gar.”

Gar paused and surveyed the twelve male faces around the semi-circle. Tal had chosen a seat at one end of the semicircle. Most of the six new members looked as if they had been dragged in off the street. Shrunken shoulders, pasty complexions, fidgety hands, wandering unfocused eyes. They had two more things in common. They all wore a red name tag, like his, and they all radiated hopelessness. They were probably looking at him thinking the same thing.

“Let me tell you a little story about a guy who ran a very successful company. It began with painkillers for my arthritic back. Eventually I was stealing from it to support my habit. I hated everything about me. Couldn’t stand the way I looked, couldn’t stand the way I smelled. Hated my life, I did. I tried to get off them but I continued to relapse and the pain only got worse. After a few months I started to self-medicate and before I knew it, I stopped caring who I bought from. Ended up with a five-year sentence for fraud. They shed me of my white-collar label and gave me a new one — inmate. I was no better than anyone else in that hellhole.”

Tal looked around at the group. All together a baker’s dozen worth of misery.

They were all dressed in the same white Serenity T-shirts and khakis.

The man sitting at the other edge across from Tal had a short stubble on his head and tattoos running up and down his bulky arms. Their eyes locked for a moment and the man smiled. Three of his front teeth were missing and the others were badly yellowed. Next to him was another man who looked to be in his late thirties. About thirty pounds overweight, all of it around his waist, head hanging. His face was much paler than his bald head. He’d probably had a beard until he arrived yesterday. Those were Gar’s rules. No facial hair, no drugs, no alcohol. Cold turkey quit. Tal had shed the beard and unruly hair yesterday afternoon, a couple of hours after his arrival.

Yesterday’s interview, one on one with Garson Allen, had left Tal a little shaky. He had understood that Lucinda had booked him in here for a one-year stay.

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