100TWC - Day 96: Lesson

The heavy iron door clanged shut behind him. Felix was on his own for the first time in twenty-six years. He knew he was supposed to be walking away, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to move. Not yet. This close to the prison he could still smell it. Or was the smell merely lodged in his nostrils? How long would it take to clear out? He had no idea, but one look at the sky -- all that fresh air just there for the breathing -- told him that the reek of a life sentence behind bars would soon be gone.

A small shiver of incipient agoraphobia ran through him, finally urging him into a slow amble away from the prison gates. Too much out in the open would probably be bad for him, at least in the early stages. He should find a bolt hole for a spell. Sit, ponder, decide on his next steps.

It was a strange feeling, the concept of next steps. For twenty-six years his every step had been programmed for him by prison routine. Get up, slop out, breakfast, pool, lock-up, exercise yard, lock-up, dinner, lock-up, bed. Same every day. He'd never been any good at mental arithmetic, but that must have added up to thousands of days. All gone. Shut away behind the clang of that door, out of reach. An uncertain future stretched out ahead of him. He needed a jolt of familiarity to bring him some concrete reality.

He'd been walking for about an hour when he spotted the Starbucks sign. Just the kind of 'familiarity' he'd been seeking. With a pang of regret, he remembered that Starbucks had been Margaret's favourite. They'd always stopped off for a latte and a muffin on trips into town. That was before... well... just before. He wondered briefly where Margaret was now. If she was doing OK. Then he pinched his thigh hard, through his pocket, brought himself back to the moment. The barista was asking him what he wanted. He stopped, open-mouthed, on the point of ordering a latte. Surely there'd be something new on the menu after a quarter of a century? He scanned the board quickly.

"I'll have a venti caramel macchiato."
"Drink in or take out?"
"In. Thanks."
"That'll be £2.95 please."

Felix almost choked. Right enough, the price was on the board in front of his eyes. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. That was almost a quarter of the funds he'd left the slammer with. He handed over a five pound note and collected his change.

Seated in the window, Felix watched the pedestrian traffic while he sucked on his drink. Busy. It was a cold November day with a light breeze and a clear blue sky. The smell of Christmas in the air. Must be a street market somewhere close, he decided. Well, that was one thing he didn't need to worry about. No presents to buy. No cards. No-one to celebrate with. No money either. But at least there should be some seasonal work going. He was still physically strong, could do regular lifting and carrying, and he'd always been a hard worker. Just so long as he could keep his temper. So long as no-one crossed him. Twenty-six years was a long time to spend thinking about that. To learn the lesson that his sentence was designed to teach him. It had been hard, staying out of that kind of trouble inside. Screws winding him up all the time, and the inmates worse. Taking a pop at him almost every day for something or other. It was a fine line, staying away from a spell in solitary but still managing to stick up for himself so's he didn't get a rep as a soft touch. An easy target. He'd seen it so many times. Regular people who just couldn't cut it on the inside. The slightest show of weakness was all it took. Then the vultures would start circling and pretty soon your life wouldn't be worth living.

Took him a few years to learn to tread that path. It wasn't exactly the lesson he'd gone in for. No, that one was to stay out of trouble altogether. Inside he just had to avoid being seen defending himself.

"Hey!"
A man's voice from behind him gave him a jolt. He turned around, bristling, ready for trouble.
"What?"
"You done with that sugar?"
The innocuous question hung in the air for several seconds while Felix processed the fact that this wasn't an unexpected attack. He looked at the sugar dispenser on the table beside him; back at the man.
"Sure. Help yourself," he said, passing the container across.
"Thanks mate."