AJ Mirag - Clippings Read online

  “Mephisto, your new chicken is here,” the jailer announced.

  “Go fuck yourself, Josiah,” said the big-nosed man, pulling Daniel inside the cell, closing the door and leaving the jailer outside.

  Then he turned to Daniel. “My name isn't Mephisto, but that's what people call me, so you can call me that too.”

  “Okay. I'm Daniel.”

  The cell was small. Just as the other cells and corridors Daniel had seen in the block, it was in a desperate state of decay. The walls were stained and the paint was peeling due to pipe leakage. The electrical systems were a mess. Bare strands of electrical wire ran about the ceiling and down the walls.

  There was a set of wooden bunk beds on the left side; behind it, a board nailed up against the wall served as a table. Above and below it, there were shelves. At the back of the cell, a half-opened curtain separated the bathroom, which was at a slightly lower level, from the rest of the cell. On the back wall, a barred window overlooked the central courtyard — a very ugly view of dozens of windows with clothes hanging on lines, wires or rods. The sun was setting somewhere along the horizon, behind the hideous building.

  “It's not a Deluxe Suite, but believe me, there are worse shacks in the block,” said Mephisto.

  Daniel didn't say anything. He hated everything. The smell, in particular, made him want to vomit.

  “Chow time's completely different here,” continued Mephisto.

  “Breakfast is at five; lunch is at nine in the morning, and dinner at three in the afternoon. Dinner is early because they count the convicts and lock the staircase doors at five PM, and at half past seven they lock the shacks. That means you've missed dinner. Are you hungry?”

  Daniel couldn't even think about food, not just because he felt sick, but because of what the jailer had told him, that he would be Mephisto's dessert. “I'm not feeling well,” he managed to say.

  Mephisto stared at him with his piercing dark eyes. “Settle down.

  You can lie on the bed, if you want to. Take the lower bunk.”

  “I'm gonna throw up,” said Daniel, and stumbled to the toilet.

  Everything spun around. Daniel thought he was going to fall, so he knelt on the floor beside the toilet. He was nauseated, but his latest meal, in the Infirmary, had been many hours ago. His stomach was empty.

  After a few minutes, the nausea became less intense, and he could stand up. Mephisto, who had been observing him closely, tried to help him by holding him. The contact with the other man made Daniel shudder in disgust. Mephisto must have noticed, for he recoiled immediately. Daniel sat down on the bed, then lay on the old, Mexican-style bedspread. He noticed that Mephisto was still observing him attentively.

  “Want a pillow?” asked Mephisto, handing him a pillow with a blue pillowcase decorated with leaves that were probably white when new, but had now turned gray.

  Daniel accepted the pillow and put it under his head.

  Mephisto searched the shelves under the table and produced a bucket, which he placed beside the bed. “If you have to throw up, use the bucket. I don't want to clean up your mess,” he grumbled.

  Daniel was too weak to react to the disdainful tone of the owner of the cell. He closed his eyes instead, and imagined he was back to his bedroom, in his home, and that everything was fine again. He and his friend Geraldo were working on the first issue of their newsletter at the Journalism College. Their newsletter would be a great success and an effective medium for the spreading of their anarchist ideas.

  And that blonde girl with glasses who snubbed him would realize he was a genius.

  _________ He woke up to the shrill sound of a buzzer, and sat up on the bed.

  “It's the evening cow,” said Mephisto, standing at the foot of the bunk as if he hadn't moved since the last time Daniel had seen him.

  “Cow?”

  Mephisto sighed. “That's what we call the buzzer. It's half past seven. Now all the convicts have to enter their shacks to be locked inside.”

  As Mephisto filled a kettle with water and put it on a makeshift stove, Daniel heard the sound of iron bars clanking, and then of a padlock being locked. Mephisto walked to the door and stuck his head in the hatch. Taking a step back, he grabbed an iron bar that was leaning against the wall, slid it through two iron brackets (one welded to the door and the other to the frame) and locked the door from inside with a padlock. Then he pulled down a sheet that was hung on a line, and covered the door with it.

  When Mephisto turned to face Daniel again, he must have noticed how scared Daniel was, for he frowned and shook his head.

  “I hate fish. Don't look at me like that.” At Daniel's puzzled look, Mephisto explained, “We call newbies 'fish' here. You don't have to be so scared. It's not me who's locking you inside here, it's them. This bar and the frog...frog is what we call the padlock...are forbidden by the administration, but any convict with more than one neuron in his brain uses them. That's because, if you haven't noticed it yet, this place is full of criminals. Many of them are experts on burglary. This latch won't really stop many of them, but at least it will give you time to get prepared to defend yourself, if someone tries to break in.”

  Right. It made sense. On the other hand, Daniel didn't have any weapons to defend himself. As for the sheet, Mephisto hadn't said anything about it. Daniel supposed it served to give them privacy, but...that could have many implications, and not all of them pleased Daniel.

  Daniel was still seated at the edge of the bed when Mephisto handed him a blister pack of tablets.

  “While you were asleep, an official left this for you. Dr. Lopes sent it. It's just a painkiller. But don't take it without eating something first! I'm heating water for tea.”

  Daniel stood up to go to the bathroom. Although both occupants of the cell were thin, the cell was so narrow that, for Daniel to pass by Mephisto, they would have to turn sideways and squeeze past each other.

  “Excuse me,” said Daniel, in a low voice.

  Mephisto did the only thing he could do so that they could pass by each other without their bodies touching: he pulled aside the bathroom curtain and stood under the shower, which was on the left side of the cell. This way Daniel could enter the bathroom, and then Mephisto returned to where he was. Daniel pulled the curtain close and lifted the toilet lid. Thinking of how close the other man was, and on what Josiah had told him, Daniel found it hard to pee.

  Through the window in front of him, Daniel saw dozens of lit up barred windows. The dizziness came back; Daniel leaned on the wall until it was over. Then he washed his hands at the sink, pulled the curtain open and, once again, wondered how to pass Mephisto by.

  He didn't have to worry, though, because Mephisto pulled out a stool from under the table. “Sit down.”

  “What about you?” asked Daniel, seeing there wasn't any other stool or chair in the cell.

  “I'll take my cup of tea to my bed later. What kind of tea do you want? I drink only black tea, but I have some herbal teas, too:

  chamomile, anise...”

  “Chamomile,” said Daniel, overcome with a surreal feeling: he was in prison talking to a supposed rapist who offered him herbal teas.

  Mephisto took down two mugs, put a bag of chamomile in one of them and a bag of black tea in the other one and poured the water slowly. “You probably like coffee.”

  “I do.”

  “I hate it. But don't worry. The Professor, who lives in the shack across the corridor, loves coffee and always has a full pot of coffee available. Today, however, you'll have to go without it.”

  “No problem. My stomach is in knots. Tea is probably the best choice, in the circumstances.”

  Mephisto grabbed a box of crackers, a peanut butter jar and a tin of guava paste from the shelves and put everything on the table.

  “Have fun.”

  Daniel was surprised. Such a meal in prison was probably a real banquet. Josiah's voice echoed in his head: You'll be his dessert.

  “Thank you,”
said Daniel in a not very steady voice.

  There were no knives, of course. Daniel took a cracker and put on some peanut butter with a spoon, while Mephisto made a guava paste sandwich with stale bread and put it on a plastic tray along with his tea mug.

  Then Mephisto climbed to the upper bunk and asked, “Can you pass me the tray?”

  Daniel stood up and handed the tray to Mephisto, who placed it on his bed.

  They ate in silence. Miraculously, the headache that had been plaguing Daniel went away. Daniel wondered if that medicine was really a painkiller, like Mephisto had told him, and if it had really been sent by Dr. Lopes. He realized he was becoming paranoid. Mephisto didn't have to drug him to have what he wanted, if he really wanted what Josiah had hinted he did. Daniel took the tablet, anyway. Maybe it would help him to sleep, since there wasn't anything else to do.

  When Mephisto finished eating, he climbed down the bed, washed his mug and dish in the sink and dried them with a yellowish dish towel that hung on a nail hammered into the wall. As Mephisto put the things back into the cupboard, Daniel did his dishes.

  “Here in the Detention House,” said Mephisto, “you must follow certain rules. With time you'll understand how things work, but there are some basic things that you'll have to learn now. Like, you shouldn't snitch on any convict, you shouldn't get into debt; if you threaten to kill someone, you have to fulfill your threats...”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. What I said. If you say you'll do it, you'll have to do it.”

  Daniel shook his head. Those ethical principles left him dizzy.

  “There are other things that I won't accept in my shack,” added Mephisto. “Naked women posters is one of them. You can put your magazines under your bed, but don't stick posters either on the wall or on the door.”

  Daniel suppressed the impulse to laugh hysterically.

  “Everything has to be cleaned immediately and put back into place,” continued Mephisto. “There are rats and cockroaches everywhere. Housekeeping and hygiene must be a daily routine.”

  Shivering inside, Daniel nodded.

  “As a college student, you probably like to smoke some pot or snort some coke now and then,” said Mephisto.

  “Er...I only smoke when my friends offer me a joint. I've never bought it myself. And I've never snorted coke or smoked crack.”

  “Good. This rule is important: no drugs and no alcohol here.

  Sometimes it's not easy, and you'll say, 'but everybody smokes crack, everybody drinks Crazy Mary, why can't I do the same?' I'm sorry, I...”

  “What's Crazy Mary?”

  “Crazy Mary is cachaça made by the convicts,” explained Mephisto. “I too like a joint or a caipirinha now and then, but the Professor and I decided that the only way to prevent our own degradation is to stay clean while we're here.”

  “No problem. I don't even smoke cigarettes, by the way.”

  “That's great, because I don't smoke them either. Most convicts smoke all the time, though. That's why our currency here is packs of cigarettes. They call them squares. A deck of squares. Do you have any money?” asked Mephisto.

  “No. I had some change in my pockets when I was arrested, but I don't know what happened to it.”

  Mephisto shook his head. “It's gone, forget it. Problem is, you'll need a bunch of things in your first days here. You can't wait for Mom's and Dad's visit. Your parents are alive, aren't they?”

  “Yes, th-they are,” answered Daniel.

  “Bureaucracy is slow and only God, if anyone, knows when they will give permission for your parents to visit you. Until then, I can get a few things for you: a toothbrush, a towel... Make me a list now and I'll see what I can do tomorrow.”

  What an embarrassing situation. The last thing Daniel wanted was to owe favors to that man. “Er...it's not necessary.”

  Mephisto stared at him with an impatient look. “Listen, I don't want to share a shack with a guy with bad breath and who steps out of the shower dripping water all over the place. As I just told you, hygiene is crucial in jail. You'll have to help keep the place clean.”

  Daniel was speechless. Everything in that prison stank of sewage and mold, and Mephisto wasn't an exception. Now Daniel was being told that he, Daniel, was the one who could “spoil the atmosphere”!

  “Okay,” said Daniel. “When my father comes to visit me and brings me some money, I'll pay you back.”

  “No problem.”

  Daniel started making a verbal list. “I need a toothbrush, a toothpaste, a bar of soap, a deodorant, a shampoo, a towel, a razor...”

  “You can use my toothpaste, my deodorant, my shampoo and my razor, can't you?”

  “Hmm, yeah, I suppose so.” Daniel looked at Mephisto's shoulder length dense black mass of shaggy hair and thought that maybe the shampoo he used wasn't good at all. Daniel decided not to bring the subject up, though. “I also need a comb and...er...” Daniel felt blood rushing to his face “...at least a spare pair of briefs.”

  Mephisto sneered at him. “It's not that easy to buy clothes, you know. You can't buy them at the local grocery store. I'll see what I can do, but it may take a day or two. Anyway...” Mephisto's eyes trailed over Daniel's body slowly, attentively, finally focusing on his hips “...you're quite small, but I'm skinny, too. I can lend you a pair of mine.”

  Daniel bit his lip. Why had he mentioned that subject? “No, it's all right, I can manage.”

  Mephisto frowned. He was probably offended. Daniel was feeling more and more awkward. It wasn't going to be easy, living with that guy, being with him every day. Daniel didn't know anything about him and didn't want to know. All that Daniel wanted was not to be where he was.

  Mephisto shook his head and grumbled. “Fish... I bet you think you'll stay here just a day or two. That they will realize the mistake they made and blah, blah, blah. I'm sorry, fish, but that's not how things are here. Be prepared to stay a long time.”

  A shiver ran down Daniel's spine. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if to shield himself. Mephisto wouldn't take his eyes from him; it was disturbing. Daniel couldn't read the other man's expression and felt fragile, vulnerable. “I think I'm going to sleep now.”

  “Feel free. I don't have a TV, I prefer reading books. But if you want, I can get you a TV. It's not difficult. I can exchange it for something else.”

  Daniel didn't want that kindness. It was distressing. He felt as if the other man was trying to seduce him. “No, thanks. I don't like TV very much, either. I like reading best, too.”

  “Tomorrow you'll meet the Professor. He has a lot of books in his shack. When I want to read, I go there and fetch a book. You'll like him. He's not like the scum you'll find here. He's not a mediocre guy like me. He's a genius.”

  Mephisto said that as if he was just stating a fact. Daniel found it weird.

  “What're you reading now?” asked Daniel.

  Mephisto reached for a book lying on the upper bunk. It was a novel by Anne Perry: The Cater Street Hangman.

  “I like mystery stories,” explained Mephisto.

  Daniel's sister, Sophia, loved Agatha Christie. When Daniel was younger, he preferred adventure and science fiction books. In the latest two years he had started reading history and social science books. He had never been much into mysteries. “You mean mysteries like Agatha Christie?”

  “Yeah, but this one has a gothic tone, too.”

  The surreal feeling hit Daniel again. Now he was discussing literature with a rapist. That was totally unexpected.

  “Does the light bother you?” asked Mephisto.

  “The light? Oh, no. I think this painkiller is going to knock me out.” Daniel pushed the bedspread aside and sat on the bed.

  “Sorry, I don't have extra sheets or blankets. Just the bedspread,”

  said Mephisto.

  “Oh, this bedspread is yours? Do you want it back?”

  “No! You can keep it. I have another one up here.” Mephisto lifted the
edge of the other Mexican-style bedspread on the upper bunk. “I have another pillow, too, so you can keep that one.”

  Daniel was starting to understand the situation. Everything inside that cell was Mephisto's. He felt confused. “Er... Are we entitled to anything here besides these trousers and this t-shirt?”

  “Very few things. Basically breakfast, lunch and dinner. Toilet paper, too, if you don't use too much of it. And this set of bunk beds, but not every shack has beds. Some of them have just a concrete slab.

  Ah, they also give us the sink and the bull.”

  “The bull?”

  “That's what we call the toilet.”

  “Oh. What about the shower?”

  Mephisto flashed a proud smile. “This shower was bought by me. It's one of the few showers that work fine in the Detention House.”

  Daniel slipped under the bedspread. He should thank God for having been “chosen” by an elite convict, shouldn't he?

  3. The Professor

  Daniel woke up to noises coming from the corridor. He struggled to open his eyes and saw Mephisto's silhouette passing by the bunk toward the door with an empty mug in his hand, and then returning with a steaming mug and two rolls.

  “If you want your coffee hot, you'll have to drink it now,”

  warned Mephisto. “And it's no use staying in bed longer, because the counting is in a few minutes, and you'll have to appear with me at the hatch.”

  Mephisto didn't like coffee. He had fetched a mug of coffee especially for Daniel. Once again, suspicious kindness and generosity.

  Daniel got up just when the counting crew arrived. Mephisto pulled the sheet-curtain aside.

  “Come here, or they won't see you,” said Mephisto.

  The blond jailer who was doing the counting winked at Daniel.

  Daniel got annoyed.

  “Hmm, your chicken is cranky. I'd be careful if I were you,” said the jailer to Mephisto.