The Good Wife (27 page)
Authors: Stewart O'Nan
THERE ARE TWO NEW PRISONS SEPARATED BY A CROSSROADS OUTSIDE of Malone, and a third going up right beside them. At the crossroads stands a brand-new mini-mart and the only stoplight for miles, the concrete that holds up the aluminum poles it’s hung from still raw and white. The land has been cleared for farming, and wind sweeps over the plateau. Every time Patty gases up here and grit sandblasts her paint job, she wonders what state senator sold DOCS on this location.
Tommy says it’s not bad. She knows he misses his little black-and-white TV, even if he says he’d rather have more package privileges anyway. Instead of cells, they have open dorm rooms with bunkbeds. They have a lot of windows, a lot of light. And it’s well insulated; he doesn’t complain about the cold half as much as he did at Clinton. It’s quieter, and clean, and everything works. Patty can verify that from the near-sterile neatness of the visitors’ center; instead of a bus station, it feels like a hospital waiting room.
On the whole, the place is less oppressive than the old maxes they’re used to. The walls aren’t solid, just two silver stands of chain-link fence topped with razor wire, a gravel road running around the outside. Instead of long, massive cellblocks like factories, the
housing units are groups of low, red-brick barracks, with softball diamonds and basketball courts scattered here and there among them, a football field inside a lined running track. Someone driving around lost could almost mistake it for an army base or community college. Franklin, the other medium half a mile down the road, looks exactly the same, making it seem even more impersonal. Over time, she realizes this lack of personality has something to do with the fact that it’s out in the middle of nowhere. As ugly as they are, Auburn fits Auburn the way Clinton fits Dannemora. Bare Hill’s just
there.
housing units are groups of low, red-brick barracks, with softball diamonds and basketball courts scattered here and there among them, a football field inside a lined running track. Someone driving around lost could almost mistake it for an army base or community college. Franklin, the other medium half a mile down the road, looks exactly the same, making it seem even more impersonal. Over time, she realizes this lack of personality has something to do with the fact that it’s out in the middle of nowhere. As ugly as they are, Auburn fits Auburn the way Clinton fits Dannemora. Bare Hill’s just
there.
Visiting is strictly weekends only. With no FRP, she doesn’t look forward to it as much as she used to. Malone’s an hour farther than Dannemora, and the county roads are a nightmare in winter. It’s one reason she finally gets rid of the Horizon and buys a used Subaru. She still ends up missing visits when they get any real weather.
She misses more visits—and work—the next fall, when she strains her back mucking out the gutters. She can’t sit for more than a couple of minutes without having spasms. There’s nothing the doctors can do except prescribe rest and anti-inflammatories. She lies on the couch while her mother waits on her. Having spent so much time around patients, Patty’s aware of how demanding they can be, and tries not to complain.
“Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?” her mother needles, delivering her grilled cheese with pickles. “I’m the old lady here. When do I get to be sick?”
Tommy tells her she shouldn’t have been up on the ladder in the first place. Where the hell is Casey?
“I’m not going to ask him to come home just to do the gutters,” she says. “I’ve been doing them for twenty years. It’s no big deal.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if I was there.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she says, though she’s had the same exact
thought about a million things over the years. “I’m out of shape and I tried to do too much, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”
thought about a million things over the years. “I’m out of shape and I tried to do too much, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”
It’s true, but she needs to be careful. Later that winter, getting out of her car in Eileen’s icy driveway, she slips and only saves herself by grabbing the door, but twists something doing it, and for weeks she has to use her father’s old heating pad. Now when she wants to lift or move something heavy, her mother makes her wait until Cy can come over.
It must be the age, because the years Tommy’s in Bare Hill are full of changes for all three sisters. Eileen is diagnosed with breast cancer and has a lumpectomy, losing her hair and forty pounds to the chemo. When she recovers, she and Cy split up, and then, after Cy goes through rehab for his drinking, they get back together again. Since Kyra and Randy are already gone, Shannon and Marshall take advantage of his early retirement package and move to a condo in Hilton Head. Every year her mother invites them for Thanksgiving, and every year the answer’s the same: they’d love for her to come down.
Patty’s changes aren’t as dramatic, but they seem big to her. When Carol Henry leaves Riverview, she takes over as full supervisor. For the first time in her life she has her own office. Semester after semester, Casey makes dean’s list. She likes to believe he owes at least some of his consistency to her own steadiness, her determination to keep things together.
On his end, Tommy’s been writing to Cy, and though he hasn’t had a drink since that night, in sympathy he enrolls in a substance abuse program that will look good on his record.
His work assignments at Bare Hill are different. Since it’s a medium, he’s actually allowed out. He’s part of a supervised crew that helps renovate Malone’s ice rink, and in the spring of ’98, when a huge ice storm knocks out power from Albany to Montreal, they’re tapped to provide emergency services, turning the visitors’
center into a shelter. Besides his work assignments, he’s taking vocational training. As Casey’s preparing to graduate, interviewing with GE and IBM in a beautiful suit she picked out for him, Tommy’s piling up certificates—even one in computers.
center into a shelter. Besides his work assignments, he’s taking vocational training. As Casey’s preparing to graduate, interviewing with GE and IBM in a beautiful suit she picked out for him, Tommy’s piling up certificates—even one in computers.
He’s so proud of Casey getting job offers. Over the phone, he laughs that everyone in his unit is sick of listening to him brag about his genius of a son. Patty says she’s the same at work. She updates him on which way Casey’s leaning this week. All of the places seem far away, but she trusts Casey has a plan. She and Tommy agree: it’s his life. They don’t want him staying home to babysit her. They discuss the possibility all that spring, so when he eventually accepts a job in New Mexico, she can’t say she’s shocked.
It rains the day of his graduation, and the pictures come out dark, but there’s a nice one of the two of them smiling, showing his open diploma. Beside him, she seems tiny. She makes a copy for Tommy and frames the original. The big console TV her father and Tommy used to sit on is long gone; she and Casey join them on the sideboard in the dining room. Walking through, she sometimes stops to admire the resemblances and ends up brooding on Casey going away. Looking at Tommy and her father, she thinks it makes sense that she’d lose him too.
Casey stops home for a few days on his way west. She can’t believe he’s really leaving, that he won’t be back to work summers at the Parkview, that Adam won’t be cruising by to pick him up. It’s a great job, and they’re paying for his grad school, so she can’t argue with his choice, but in many ways he still seems like a teenager.
“When am I going to see you again?” she asks as he’s gathering his things.
Tommy tells her to look at it logically. He can’t come back for both Thanksgiving
and
Christmas, the plane tickets are too expensive. She needs to invite him for just one.
and
Christmas, the plane tickets are too expensive. She needs to invite him for just one.
Christmas is longer, and Casey has time off. He flies into Syracuse and rents a car and spends the week visiting his friends around town. They’re supposed to go up to Bare Hill, but it snows, so he heads back on New Year’s Eve without seeing Tommy.
Casey’s private about his life, like in high school, his silence over the phone a closed door. He’s not allowed to talk about his work, which frustrates her. He’s got an apartment and a car, he has friends at the lab, but he never mentions girls or dating. Weekends he likes to hike and camp out in the national forest around Santa Fe. He says he’s getting better at cooking. She worries that he’s lonely. At the end of their calls, she says she misses him, and he echoes her, but dully, just to get her off the line.
“He’s so unemotional,” she confides to Eileen. “That’s not how he used to be. Remember when he was a kid, he was so sensitive.”
“I think he’s fine,” Eileen says. “That’s just the way he is.”
“I don’t know if he’d even tell me if something was wrong.”
“Of course he’s not going to tell you if something’s wrong. He’s a guy.”
Her mother agrees with Eileen, so does Tommy. She has to learn not to worry about him so much. It might be that she’s grown too used to constantly fearing for Tommy, not knowing what’s happening inside. That’s going to have to change when he gets out. She can’t be worrying every time he runs to the store.
She tries not to get too excited, but their initial parole date’s coming up. Tommy’s automatically enrolled in the Transitional Service Program. He’s been meeting with his facility parole officer, working with him to put together his file for the board. Even people who don’t know him have to admit he’s done good time. He’s never been written up for any kind of discipline, and his work assignments and program certificates will count in his favor. So will their marriage, and Casey, and that he’s got a place to stay. The
only thing he needs help with is a job, and that’s easy: Patty has enough friends in personnel that she can guarantee him a position at Riverview. With all that going for him, she doesn’t see how the board could possibly turn him down. While everyone else is gearing up for the millennium, she’s focused on November.
only thing he needs help with is a job, and that’s easy: Patty has enough friends in personnel that she can guarantee him a position at Riverview. With all that going for him, she doesn’t see how the board could possibly turn him down. While everyone else is gearing up for the millennium, she’s focused on November.
It’s not that simple, Tommy warns her. Hardly anybody gets parole their first time. He’s learning how it works in the pre-release class he’s taking. It’s not about how he’s become a better person. The first thing the board will ask him about is the murder. He’ll have to answer their questions without a lawyer present. It’s like a trial except he doesn’t have any rights. Since he’s presumed guilty, they’ll want him to take responsibility and show remorse. If he doesn’t, that’s it, so it’s either lie or be denied right off the bat. They have to rate his crime using a point system. The more forcible contact there was with the victim, the higher the score, and they’re allowed to consider aggravating and mitigating factors, so Mrs. Wagner being old and blind will hurt him just like it did at the trial. He’ll do okay with the prior criminal history score, but on top of the scores there’s the victim impact statement. Patty thinks it’s not fair. The family can say anything they want, but she’s not allowed to testify on his behalf. She’s not even allowed to be there.
If he does make parole, he still has to report to a local parole officer every week. Because he was drunk that night, he can’t drink—at all—and because he’s a convicted felon, he can’t be bonded for certain jobs, like being a security guard. At Riverview he can clean up after patients but can’t take care of them. He has to pay taxes but can’t vote or own a gun, or even a knife. His parole officer can come to their house and search it without a warrant, or check in on him at work unannounced and demand a urine sample. Tommy can’t get a driver’s license without getting permission, can’t leave the state without permission, can’t change jobs without
permission, can’t change residence without permission, and on top of all that, he has to pay the state a fee of thirty dollars a month.
permission, can’t change residence without permission, and on top of all that, he has to pay the state a fee of thirty dollars a month.
“Thirty bucks a month to have you home. Sounds like a good deal to me.”
As the hearing nears, they make the necessary preparations; they just have to go ahead and assume he’ll be approved. The class he’s in has a long checklist he needs to take care of before he’s release-ready, things she wouldn’t even think of, like renewing his driver’s license. She’s amazed at how organized they are: he can apply right there.
He has his records together. They’ve even located their original defense attorney to give a statement. All that’s left is the hearing.
She has no idea who’s on the board. Supposedly it’s only two or three people. Again, she feels helpless, putting their lives in the hands of complete strangers. After everything that’s happened to them, it’s hard for her to believe, and that day—so mild she eats her lunch by the river—she keeps busy, tries not to imagine him in the bright room, facing the table of judges.
He calls that night and says it went well enough. Elsie Wagner did send a statement, but the defense attorney said if Gary hadn’t squealed, Tommy would have probably gotten manslaughter.
“He’s still saying that,” Patty says. “What did you say?”
“I said I was sorry for everything that happened.”
“But you didn’t do it.”
“I was there,” Tommy says, as if it’s the same thing.
They’ll send him a letter in a couple of days. If he’s being released, they’ll give him a date; if not, they’ll explain why they turned him down. She’s used to waiting—she’s made an art of it—but the rest of the week seems endless. She smokes too much and upsets her stomach. She’s scattered at work and hides in her office, goes home and watches TV and then can’t sleep.
When he finally calls Friday night, there’s no drama; she can hear the disappointment in his voice. Because of the age and the physical condition of the victim, the board has given him the maximum, two more years. She tries to convince herself that she knew this would happen. She’s been living on faith for so long, she can’t just suddenly turn it off. She swears she won’t make the same mistake next time.
THE MILLENNIUM COMES, AND 2001, UNBELIEVABLE, TERRORISTS knocking down the twin towers, war in Afghanistan. The big event in Owego is the demolition of the Court Street bridge, there as long as Patty can remember. With a couple of puffs, it crumples into the river.
She turns fifty-five before his next board, older than her mother was when he first went in. Some days when it’s damp and her back’s bothering her, Patty feels her age, but she’s still in decent shape, considering. She’s been lucky healthwise, not like Eileen, still undergoing chemo and having mammograms every six months.
They prepare for the second board the same way, which makes no sense to Patty, since they’re hoping for a different outcome. There are only three possibilities: the board can give him two more years, one more year, or they can let him go. Since his sentence is twenty-five to life, he can never max out; they can keep giving him
two years forever. If they give him one year, that’s good—they can’t go back and give him two years again. But they can keep giving him one year. There’s no logic to it that Patty can see.
two years forever. If they give him one year, that’s good—they can’t go back and give him two years again. But they can keep giving him one year. There’s no logic to it that Patty can see.
He gets one year. This is supposed to make her happy.
The year that she waits for his next board seems longer than all the others—but they all seem long. It never gets easier. Bare Hill is worse because there’s no FRP to look forward to, making the time he’s been there feel unbroken, a long swim underwater.
She still goes up, but not as often, taking the bus from Elmira because the drive’s hard on her back. The other women in the visitors’ center are young and mistake her for someone’s mother. Tommy’s working as a gardener that summer, his arms tan. Every week he completes another module of the pre-release course, building life skills, filling out a monthly budget like a farmwife. He makes fun of it, but she can see he’s tired.
The board meets as U.S. troops are massing in the Kuwaiti desert for another war in Iraq. The panel is all-male; Tommy’s not sure if that’s better or worse for his chances. He submits his usual stack of documents and answers their questions as honestly as he can. He can’t tell if he’s getting better at it, but by now he knows what to expect.
For some reason Patty will never understand, this time Elsie Wagner doesn’t send a victim impact statement. Three days later, Tommy gets a letter from the state.
He’s somber when he calls. He doesn’t tell her what they said right off, he just reads the letter. “‘Dear Mr. Dickerson,’” he says, and pauses—too long, teasing—and she doesn’t have to hear the rest of it.
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