The Cage Keeper by Andre Dubus Iii

Author:Andre Dubus Iii [Dubus, Andre III]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Short Stories (Single Author), United States, Fantasy, United States - Social Life and Customs - 20th Century - Fiction, Manners and Customs, Short Stories
ISBN: 9780375727740
Publisher: E.P. Dutton
Published: 1989-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

FORKY

My coffee’s gone cold and I look at her over the rim of my cup. I look at her throat, at the tiny part that moves as she talks. I listen to her life and I know when to nod my head and when to smile. But my stomach tightens as I try and look like I know what she’s saying. I see her naked, her belly against mine. And I think how she was probably still intact my first year down.

Johnny looked too much like my brother Marty with his smooth face and small shoulders, and when I saw him that first time at the commissary, I knew I wouldn’t let this kid fall, not this one. And I’d been in for four, three more to go. And nobody fucked with me after the first two. They called me Forky.

I was a first offender. And I never would’ve gone down if I had listened to Marty, if I hadn’t a used the .38. But I did. And when that fat manager went for me I turned and stuck it in his face, watched him turn to butter. And before I knew it I’d gone from County to the state pen at Canon. Five to ten for armed robbery. And I couldn’t even cry.

That was the last time I saw Marty. An hour or so at County before Canon. He said to get a rep right away, to watch for the lifers. Then he said the words and I said them back. And I was glad I said them. And I thanked Jesus I said them after that letter came from my sister in Jersey, three years down the road.

I light her cigarette and watch my hand shake. And I know it’s not the coffee ’cause I drink a shitload of it. I’m wondering why she’s taking all this time with me, and I think it can’t be the free drinks. She don’t seem the type. And even though she ain’t one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, she’s all right. And I want to tell her where I’ve been. But I wait.

It was my sixth day in the joint. And the word was out that I was Leroy and Wallace’s lady-in-waiting. Wallace was the biggest. At mess I looked and found his bald brown head, shining like the corridors after lights out and looking just as hard. He was at the end of the table near the aisle, and looking back now, there wasn’t nothing to it at all.

They don’t let you eat with metal. So I had to settle for plastic. And I knew I’d have to get a running start to do the damage I wanted to do. So three tables before his I lengthened my stride, picked up speed. And my heart was beating so fast I didn’t think I’d be able to line it up right. But then Wallace looked up and his black eyes caught me and he flashed that gold-toothed smile, the one that says, “You’s mine.

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