"Yup. And Alphie." Alphie's pink face hove into view.
"Hi, Art," he mumbled.
"Jesus," I said, getting to my feet. Audie put out a superfluous steadying hand.
"Wow."
"Surprised?" Audie said.
"Yeah!" I said. Audie thrust a bouquet of flowers into my arms. "What are you
doing here?"
"Oh, your grandmother told me you were here. I was coming down to Boston for
work anyway, so I flew in a day early so I could drop in. Alphie came down with
me -- he's my assistant now."
I almost said something about convicted felons working for government
contractors, but I held onto my tongue. Consequently, an awkward silence
blossomed.
"Well," Audie said, at last. "Well! Let's have a look at you, then." She
actually took a lap around me, looking me up and down, making little noises.
"You look all right, Art. Maybe a little skinny, even. Alphie's got a box of
cookies for you." Alphie stepped forward and produced the box, a family pack of
President's Choice Ridiculous Chocoholic Extra Chewies, a Canadian store brand
I'd been raised on. Within seconds of seeing them, my mouth was sloshing with
saliva.
"It's good to see you, Audie, Alphie." I managed to say it without spitting, an
impressive feat, given the amount of saliva I was contending with. "Thanks for
the care package."
We stared at each other blankly.
"So, Art," Alphie said, "So! How do you like it here?"
"Well, Alphie," I said. "I can't say as I do, really. As far as I can tell, I'm
sane as I've ever been. It's just a bunch of unfortunate coincidences and bad
judgment that got me here." I refrain from mentioning Alphie's propensity for
lapses in judgment.
"Wow," Alphie said. "That's a bummer. We should do something, you know, Audie?"
"Not really my area of expertise," Audie said in clipped tones. "I would if I
could, you know that, right Art? We're family, after all."
"Oh, sure," I say magnanimously. But now that I'm looking at them, my cousins
who got into a thousand times more trouble than I ever did, driving drunk,
pirating software, growing naughty smokables in the backyard, and got away from
it unscathed, I feel a stirring of desperate hope. "Only..."
"Only what?" Alphie said.
"Only, maybe, Audie, do you think you could, that is, if you've got the time, do
you think you could have a little look around and see if any of your contacts
could maybe set me up with a decent lawyer who might be able to get my case
reheard? Or a shrink, for that matter? Something? 'Cause frankly it doesn't
really seem like they're going to let me go, ever. Ever."
Audie squirmed and glared at her brother. "I don't really know anyone that fits
the bill," she said at last.
"Well, not *firsthand,* sure, why would you? You wouldn't." I thought that I was
starting to babble, but I couldn't help myself. "You wouldn't. But maybe there's
someone that someone you know knows who can do something about it? I mean, it
can't hurt to ask around, can it?"
"I suppose it can't," she said.
"Wow," I said, "that would just be fantastic, you know. Thanks in advance,
Audie, really, I mean it, just for trying, I can't thank you enough. This place,
well, it really sucks."
There it was, hanging out, my desperate and pathetic plea for help. Really,
there was nowhere to go but down from there. Still, the silence stretched and
snapped and I said, "Hey, speaking of, can I offer you guys a tour of the ward?
I mean, it's not much, but it's home."
So I showed them: the droolers and the fondlers and the pukers and my horrible
little room and the scarred ping-pong table and the sticky decks of cards and
the meshed-in TV. Alphie actually seemed to dig it, in a kind of horrified way.
He started comparing it to the new Kingston Pen, where he'd done his six-month
bit. After seeing the first puker, Audie went quiet and thin-lipped, leaving
nothing but Alphie's enthusiastic gurgling as counterpoint to my tour.
"Art," Audie said finally, desperately, "do you think they'd let us take you out
for a cup of coffee or a walk around the grounds?"