Mail time!
Hey I’ve got some mail!” declared Sucre excitedly, when they got back to their cell after PI. He scooped up the three letters from his bunk, and jumped up, his legs dangling over the edge as he selected the long thin peach coloured envelope with girly handwriting on the front. Then sweeping it under his nose he closed his eyes,
“Mmmmmm MariCruz”, he carefully opened it and laying back on the bed lost himself in her words.
After a few minutes he laughed and leaning over the edge read aloud to Michael the far too personal details about Maricruz latest scan. “They say the baby’s big for its age and asked her if the daddy was big too!”
As he looked down at Michael he noticed for the first time a pile of mail still rolled in a large elastic band, at the bottom of his bed.
“Hey you’ve got mail too Fish, first time since you got here. “
Michael was lying on his bunk, his eyes half closed, the mail lying untouched next to him.
“Aren’t you gonna open them” asked Sucre, momentarily distracted from his own letter.
“Probably not”, Michael turned his head to the wall,” I’m kinda tired.”
“Too tired for mail? Hey you don’t even know who they’re from yet”
Sucre felt this complete lack of interest in mail was unhealthy and jumped down from the top bunk reaching for the roll of letters and magazines.
“At least see how many you got fish,” and he stripped the elastic band off and several letters and magazines fell onto Michael’s bed.
“Don’t you want to know who’s writing to you? It might be that wife of yours.” continued Sucre, impatient with Michael’s lack of interest.
“It wont be” said Michael,” there’s no one of importance on the outside to write to me, it will be junk, trust me.” Then, as an afterthought. “Feel free to have a look if you want “he added.
Sucre’s face split into a grin,
“Well if you’re sure, I’ll save Maricruz’s my mom’s and my cousin’s letters for later, it will be something to look forward to.”
He gathered up the pile of mail from beside Michael and climbed back up into his bunk. He started with the small letters, tearing them open carefully his puzzled face quickly scanning the typed print.
“It’s from a Homeless refuge, they’re asking you for money, fish, maybe they heard about your bank robbery?” and he laughed at his own joke.
Michael smiled from below.
“I donate every year, they’re probably just wondering where this years check had gone to. “
“Papi you should be asking them for help now! Sucre added with a grin, and then reached for another letter.
“Man! Another begging letter, a charity for the deaf blind, they’re inviting you to a fundraising dinner, $1000 a seat. $1000 and you get just one meal? Papi they’re ripping you off big-time, trust me on that.”
Michael couldn’t hide his grin,
“I went last year; it’s a good night and a good cause”
“Yeah? But papi, a $1000?” Sucre shook his head
Sucre suddenly stopped and leant down over the side to look at Michael.
“Hey how come you’re getting this mail now, you’ve been here 4 weeks and nothing.”
Michael shrugged.
“I arranged for a mail redirect after the trial, it’s supposed to carry on for 6 months but I guess the P.O messed up. I suspect the building supervisor forwarded it on here after the trial. The gossip in that place meant he was sure to find out what happened to me.”
Sucre tossed the letter aside and picked up the next one.
“It’s a catalogue, my mom gets those too. He flipped through the thin booklet. “Its just shirts, pages and pages of nothing but shirts.” He let out a low whistle
“These are over $100 each! And they don’t even come with buttons on the cuffs man.”
Michael leaned out from his bunk to check what catalogue it was.
“They’re tailored shirts, Sucre, really good quality cotton and you don’t need buttons if you have cufflinks.”
“So you bought a shirt from them?”
“I bought all my office shirts from them. They have a great fit and always look classy” Added Michael, as if that made ample sense.
Sucre shook his head; “fish were you rich on the outside? “
Michael’s face became thoughtful his hands came together his long fingers interlocking and coming to rest on his lips.
“I was comfortable and I didn’t have anyone else to spend my money on except myself, so money didn’t seem a problem”
Sucre opened the final small letter’
The top of the notepaper said “Loyola Alumni Association”
“What’s an alumni, fish?”
Michael replied, his eyes half closed. It’s all the people who used to go to my college, or any college actually. Kinda like a club for ex students.”
“Ohh “Sucre read the letter, and laughed
“Jeeez all your mail is asking for money, they want your subscription and want you to sell these raffle tickets.”
Sucre put the letter down and picked up the tickets.
“$20 dollars each, $200 for the whole book!” He whistled. “Hey the prizes are good though, I could get me some of that first prize a BMW convertible,”
Sucre dropped the tickets onto the bed next to him, and then continued in a low voice.
“My High school had a raffle once, first prize was a lawnmower, and kinda stupid really, most of the kids didn’t even have yards!”
Sucre turned his attention to the magazines next, ripping open the plastic wrapper.
“‘Architectural Digest’, what kinda magazine is this?” He flicked through, gazing at its pictures of buildings, and rooms with striking designs,
“Was this what you did outside, you were an architect right?”
“No, I was a structural engineer” Replied Michael.
“But that’s the same right, so this is for your work?”
Michael let out a slightly irritated sigh. “Not really, I’m interested in architecture; especially beautiful buildings. I get,” a slight pause “got that magazine for pleasure.”
Sucre nodded his head quickly from side to side, “Huh fish, I wouldn’t tell anyone else in here that, not good papi.” Michael couldn’t help himself, his face cracked into a huge smile.
Sucre stopped flicking through the pictures and looked back over the edge of the bed with a serious face.
“You know Fish; you can really freak me out sometimes.”
He picked up the final magazine; again he released it from the sealed plastic bag.
“’Structural engineer’? – Papi I’m bored already, just reading the title!” Sucre laughed as he said this
He opened the magazine and started reading. “It’s more buildings, and drains, and roads, and dams and”…he carried on turning the pages. Then suddenly,
“Hey, that’s near my Mom’s house”, he stopped and scanned the article next to the picture of a large local Safeway store.
“Papi it says here that the shop is having all its concrete tested …I think. Does that mean it’s not safe? My Mom shops there!”
Michael reached up and grabbed the magazine, reading the article quickly then handing it back to Sucre.
“It was built during a period in the 70’s when construction companies used a new type of quick drying concrete for the in-fill walls. It was supposed to save time, and therefore money during construction. A few years later, cracks started appearing in a lot of the buildings using that method. Seems they were doing a refit in the shop and realised it had been built with the stuff, even though it missed being checked during the original scare. They’re just precautionary checks, your Mom will be safe don’t worry.”
Sucre sighed, “Good”
He carried on turning the pages and came to the jobs section.
“Man, wish I’d paid more attention at school, do you see how much these guys earn? “ Sucre hesitated then “Oh, of course you know. Guess those shirts seemed cheap to you, huh?”
He turned towards the back where the pages were full of pictures of men in suits, and dinner jackets.
“Who are all these people? “
“Is it the back few pages?” asked Michael.
“Yeah lots of men and some hot looking women, all dressed up, smart like.”
“It’s the social pages, lots of boring dinners where everyone talks shop and gets very drunk usu……”
He was interrupted by a loud sigh from Sucre
“Hey Fish it’s you! Look all dressed up in a penguin suit. Man you look good.”
The magazine was again passed down from the top bunk and Michael sat up slowly and took it from Sucre’s outstretched hand. There at the bottom of the page was a photo of 7/8 people standing self consciously in a row raising glasses of champagne, the men in evening dress, the women in long dresses. Third from the left was Michael.
The caption underneath explained it was at the ‘Young Engineer of the Year Awards’ held by the Chicago branch of the Professional Association.
Michael closed his eyes briefly, he remembered that night. He’d tried to get out of it, too caught up in his plan by then and resenting losing a night to a stupid dinner when he could be finalising the designs for the tattoo. His boss however had insisted and he’d played the dutiful employee. The girl standing to his right in the picture had tried to hit on him, a junior partner from one of the rival firms. She was pretty and it would have been so easy to end up in bed with her that night, but he had resisted, and left as early as was polite to go back to the apartment and work on the plan.
He looked again at the picture. That was only 2 months ago, it felt like a lifetime. It was a lifetime; his life would never be like that again. He checked out the other people, he knew them all, good guys. He wondered what they’d thought when they heard about the bank robbery? He pursed his lips and then dropping his face into his hands he sighed and rubbed his eyes. He would not look back to that life that was a waste of energy and thought. He had to focus now on his brother.
He reached up to the side of the bunk and found the allen key. Checking his watch,” Sucre, it’s 52 minutes to count, I’m going into the wall.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Still new at this fic thing but I can spot an obession creeping up on me....
PB and its characters are not mine, and never will be and thats sooo sad.
PB and its characters are not mine, and never will be and thats sooo sad.