The Ultimate Good Luck by Richard Ford

Author:Richard Ford [Ford, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780307763716
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2012-05-15T14:00:00+00:00

14

THE VISITATION SMELLED like it had been scrubbed with piss. It was prisoners’ work, and the prisoners liked tricks. Half the ceiling lights had been turned off, and the cafeteria was cool and damp and crowded with American visitors, hippies whispering and smirking over the metal tables and the rest moms and dads in bright clothes, sitting erect, being cheerful and not noticing the smell while they chatted. It was the day for people without connections. Extra guards were at either end. Rae kept taking deep breaths.

They had waited an hour in an anteroom while Bernhardt entered the document of release and paid the alcaide two hundred dollars to keep his mouth shut until the judge could be paid. Rae had been searched, and when she came out of the room her mouth was closed tight, and she kept blinking as if the light was bright.

“My college degree isn’t much good to me here, is it Harry?” she said to him, her hands tightly clasped on the metal table while they waited. She had brought two copies of the Sporting News. She kept her hands weighted on them.

“Try to smile,” he said.

“Am I supposed to lead cheers?” she said. She had put on her tinted glasses and her hair looked darker in the bad light. No one was paying attention to them.

The Sporting News had a color picture of Hank Aaron holding a lot of bats. The values were all too harsh. It wasn’t like life. “He’ll be fucked up,” Quinn said. “Just tell him not to do that. We don’t want him hospitalized.”

Sonny was let in the yellow door at the end of the room, searched, then released. His expression was different. It was as if he was thinner. Something wasn’t quite right.

Rae began smiling when she saw him and kept smiling. When Sonny got close she reached across the table and tried to touch his hands, but he hid his hands in his pockets. “I’m fucking cut,” he said and sat down.

“Oh Jesus,” Rae said, leaning on the table still trying to touch him.

“Fucking shit, man.” Sonny jerked his head angrily so his pony-tail jerked.

“Just a second now,” Quinn said. Sonny wasn’t popped. His eyes were small and pencil-pointed. “Just wait a second.” He was trying to put some ideas in front of Sonny to keep him calm. Rae looked as if someone had hit her face. She seemed to want to speak but couldn’t. Quinn wanted her out, but there wasn’t any way for it now. “How bad are you?” he said. He wanted to see a cut to be sure. This was something not to happen. He glanced at the picture of Hank Aaron with his arms surrounding the bats, smiling. It pronounced a malediction on everything.

“I’m all right,” Sonny said in a soft voice. “I didn’t go upstairs with it.”

“Who did it?” He wished Bernhardt were there and Rae was gone. He could hear her breathing too hard.

“A fucking spic grease-ball. Cut me with a Sidra bottle,” Sonny said, staring down.

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