vagabondprophet:

Dear Joshua                             October 3rd 2017

Can you get here tomorrow? So I worked a lot and the most valuable thing I can get here with my credit is a carton of cigarettes. You likely can’t do much with that but here it’s a currency better than cash. Trevor says if I give it to him he can trade it to someone else for something he can give to Mark for a bit of cash. I can give you the cash tomorrow if you can visit me. I was able to take a peek at a newspaper and took a look at the classifieds.There is someone not far from you selling a shiny red tricycle. The cash should be enough, if you could pick that up for me and on the morning of the ninth leave it on my front step with a note that just says “Happy birthday Nina from Daddy,”

I’d really appreciate that man. Could you do that?

It really kills me that I haven’t been able to see the kids, I really wish Liz would bring them to see me. I know that I could probably get a lawyer or social worker in here to help me with visitation rights or something but I don’t want to stress Liz out she’s got her hands full with both kids I’m sure. Also if she’s mad at me and I want to have any chance of being on good terms with her again I better not bother her with lawyers and stuff like that. Man it’d probably stress me out too. I’ve got enough to worry about walking around here all the time worried about who’s around the next corner or in my blind spot.

It’s weird I used to worry about the blind spot in my car you know. Saying things like,

“next vehicle I buy I want it to have better visibility.” I never worried about my own blind spot, just me as a person and the area around me I can’t see. In here it seems like the scope of my own vision is just enough to let me know there’s a lot going on I don’t know about. As a result I’m not sleeping all that well. Not sleeping well really makes time pass in a strange way. I know how soon my next meal is but I can’t remember what day of the week it is. Kal still hasn’t said anything to me after these couple months I’ve already been here, but the deepening furrow in his brow tells me he’s getting mad. I think he’s frustrated that Trevor and some of the other guys are always around, Zach and even Mark sometimes. It seems like I’m not alone often when I’m not working or in my cooking program. I’m really glad for that, given Kal’s criminal history I think I can make an educated guess as to why he might want to catch me alone.

Anyways I really hope you can make it tomorrow I badly want to get this present to Nina, it’s kinda been the only goal I’ve had to work towards for a little while. If this goes well I’ll use my work credit to start saving for Christmas presents and then before long after that it’ll be Alister’s birthday in February. I think it helps for me to have something to strive for, makes me feel like it’s not totally pointless and hopeless being here. I’m hoping I can still be a father to these children of mine even if it’s in a pretty remote sense of the word.

Man I used to have such high standards for myself and where my family was headed. I’d work as long as I had to, as much overtime as we needed to get the kids into private school once they were of age for school. I was just about to open RESP’s for both of them so that they could have the opportunity for education when they’re older like I didn’t. Now I’m in prison, I don’t know what school my son has started in, and all I hope for is that they get my presents.

If you come tomorrow I promise I’ll buy all the drinks at the pub for the first year that I’m out. I swear that is the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help me God.

vagabondprophet:

Dearest Elizabeth                   June 18 2017

I hope you and the children are well. I miss you guys so much it’s painful. I still cannot believe I’m in prison. Convict, inmate, incarcerated, prisoner, criminal. I never ever thought that these words could be used to describe me.

It all sounds so fruitless to tell you now but it’s just like I said in court. I had been laid off from my job, more workers than they could afford once some of the investors pulled out of the contract. I didn’t want to come home from work early to tell you I had to look for work again, not again.

It was raining that day so I took the bus. When I was at the bus stop I was talking to a guy about how he hasn’t seen me at this time of day before because I just got fired. He was a big guy, broad shoulders, shaved head. He told me he owned a business and was actually looking for able bodied men who take directions well.

“I can do it! I’m your man, let me see it’s Friday today so I’ll get you a resume and references and meet you on Monday? Does that work for you?” I said to him.

“ That won’t be necessary, I trust your word. If you tell me you’re solid I’ll believe you. Just don’t let me down.” He replied.

That bastard! He was so friendly, so kind. You always said I was too trusting of people and I should have listened to you. What was I thinking! Getting hired at a bus stop without any kind of interview or anything. I should have smelled the bull shit right away but I couldn’t, all I could think was how I wouldn’t have to tell you I’d lost my job.

I was so happy. I’d been saved. After one day “working” with this man I find myself slammed in jail, the court, and now here. All so fast.

Day one he just told me that we were just picking up some cash from somebody who owed him on the way to the work site. So we pulled up to the back of this building and he told me to wait by the door with a bag. I just stood there waiting, totally oblivious they were robbing the place until alarms started ringing and cops showed up to cuff me. The bag I was holding had a gun in it I didn’t know about, the other guys had bolted out a different exit.

Now I have to listen to the people here drone on and on about things I really can’t care about. They keep talking about programs that they offer here. Education, skills training, that sort of thing. So many guys here haven’t even finished high school. For me though it all sounds so pointless. They keep reminding us to take our programs seriously as they prepare us for rehabilitation into society. I know how to live in society! I was real good at it too. I had a job, I paid taxes, I got educated. I was a construction worker for goodness sake I was the damn poster boy for responsible citizen. Working hard to support a family, rain or shine. Exercise in the evenings, cycling to work to reduce my carbon footprint. All the stuff these programs are supposed to prepare me for. Now I’m stuck here for five long years.

I can’t even pretend to care about how any of that matters. Right now all I can think of is how today is Father’s Day and I’m in prison. I’m going to end this letter now and go to the visiting area in case you guys decide to surprise me with a visit. It’s the only thought that’s gotten me through the day.

Sincerely,

Your Husband

vagabondprophet:

Dear Josh        June 30 2017

Hey man, are you doing okay? I’ve been thinking about you and the other guys, I miss movie night and beer and pizza. I really appreciate you writing to me the other day, it was so nice to get mail. Everyday I hope for some but it usually doesn’t happen. To answer your question, no the food isn’t too bad and yes it is scary in here. I’m kind of freaked out that somebody is going to hurt me if I look at them the wrong way, I’m trying to stay quiet and lay low.

Liz and the kids haven’t written to me or visited, not even on Father’s Day, nothing not a peep in any way shape or form. Are they okay? Have you heard anything from them? I suspect that her parents and mine will help her financially in any way she needs but I’m still worried about them. It’s my job to worry, it’s about all I can still do from here.

It was so weird getting here. Being told I’m doing time for armed robbery. Minimum sentence, first time offender and all but still five years is a really long time. My son will be ten years old when I get out. Ten! My daughter will be eight, I’m going to miss so much. I’m going to miss teaching them to ride a bike, and their first home runs.

Can you check up on my family every now and again for me? I’d really appreciate it. They shouldn’t get into any trouble, I never talked about that guy I thought was my boss (the name I have is likely fake anyways).

When they walked me to my cell for the first time they had a guard walking next to me on either side. Is that normal? You know me, I’m like one hundred and fifty pounds when I’m wearing my steel toe work boots. Yet here they had two big bulky guards for one of me for our short walk together. Last door on the left of the range.

They call the hallways that have all the cells ranges.

Range: like pasture for cattle, all us morons being corralled into cages like the dumb beasts we are. Herded to our identical little rooms with our identical uniforms and our similarly terrible bad decisions.

Range: like a shooting range for fish in a barrel.

In my barrel with me is a guy named Kal. He’s a lot bigger than me, that’s the first thing I noticed about him. He was doing pushups when I got into the cell. The second thing I noticed was his glasses, I’ve never seen glasses like that before. The lenses were perfect circles only the size of quarters and the black frames were curled like the head of a fiddle on the outer side of the lenses and then only held the lenses on the bottom half of them. If he hadn’t been doing pushups when I entered I would definitely have noticed that first, it was off putting seeing this big muscular man with these small quirky glasses. If you had described those glasses to me and then asked me to describe the kind of man I’d expect to be behind them I’d have said some skinny nerdy guy with his nose buried in a comic book and badly groomed facial hair. Not this huge clean shaven guy with a crew cut and veins in his biceps thick as twizzlers. He didn’t say anything to me, he just looked at me and gave a smile. A smile too big and held for too long.

He scares me.