“That’s a strange question.”
“No, it’s not. Isn’t there someone? Even an old flame from the past?”
“No, none of those. Oh, I don’t know, Kezia. I love a lot of people. Some of the kids I work with, you, Luke, other friends, my family. A whole bunch of people.”
“And too many. It’s so safe to love lots of people. It’s a lot harder to love just one. I never did … until Luke. He taught me so much about that. He isn’t afraid of that the way I was … and maybe you are. Isn’t there even one woman you love, as a woman? Or maybe a few?” She had no right to ask, and she knew it, but she wanted to know.
“No. Not lately. Maybe one of these days.”
“You ought to give it some thought. Maybe you’ll meet someone out here sometime.” But deep in her heart, she hoped he wouldn’t. He deserved the best sort of woman there was, one who could give him back all that he gave. He deserved that, because he gave so much. But secretly, she knew that she hoped he wouldn’t find her just yet. She wasn’t ready to lose him. Things were so lovely just as they were. And if he had someone, she would lose him; it would be inevitable.
“What are you thinking about, little one? You look so sad.” He thought he knew why, but he didn’t.
“Just silly stuff drifting through my head. Nothing much.”
“Don’t worry so much. You’ll see him tomorrow.”
She only smiled in response.
Chapter 32
They saw it as they rounded a bend on the freeway. San Quentin. Across a body of water, a finger of the bay that had poked its way inland, it stood at the water’s edge, looking ugly and raw. Kezia kept it in view the rest of the way, until finally it vanished again as they left the freeway and followed an old country road around a series of bends.
The mammoth fortress that was San Quentin took her breath away when they saw it again. It seemed to stand with its body jutting into her face, like a giant bully or an evil creature in a hideous dream. One felt instantly dwarfed beneath the turrets and towers, the endless walls that soared upwards, dotted only here and there by tiny windows. It was built like a dungeon, and was the color of rancid mustard. It was not only fearsome, but it reeked of anger and terror, loneliness, sorrow, loss. Tall metal fences topped with barbed wire surrounded the encampment, and in all possible directions stood gun towers manned by machine-gun-toting guards. Guards patrolled the entrance, and people emerged wearing sad faces, some drying their eyes with bits of handkerchief or tissue. It was a place one could never forget. It even boasted a long dry moat, with still active drawbridges to the gun towers that kept the guards safe from potential “attack.”
As she looked at the place, Kezia wondered how they could be so fearful. Who could possibly get free of that place? Yet now and then people did. And seeing the place made her suddenly know why they’d try anything, even death, to escape. It made her understand why Luke had done what he had to help the men he called his brothers. Prisoners of places like that had to be remembered by someone. She was only sorry it had been Luke.
She also saw a row of tidy houses with flowers beds out front. The houses stood inside the barbed wire fences, in the shadow of the gun towers, at the feet of the prison. And she guessed, accurately, that they were the houses of guards, living there with their wives and their children. The thought made her shudder. It would be like living in a graveyard.
The parking lot was rutted with potholes and strewn with litter. There were only two parking spaces left when they got there, and a long line of people snaked past the guardhouse at the main gate. It took them two and a half hours to reach the head of the line, where they were superficially searched and then herded on to the next gate, to have their pockets ransacked again.
The gun tower stood watchfully over them as they walked into the main building to sit with the rest of the visitors in a smoke-filled, overheated waiting room that looked like a train station. There were no sounds of laughter in that room, no whispered snatches of conversation, only the occasional clinking of coins in the coffee machine, the whoosh of the water fountain or the brief spurt of a match. Each visitor hugged to himself his own fears and lonely thoughts.
Kezia’s mind was filled with Luke. She and Alejandro hadn’t spoken since they entered the building. There was nothing to say. Like the others, they were preoccupied with the business of waiting. Another two hours on those benches … and it had been so long since she’d seen him, touched his hand, his face, kissed him, held him, or been held the way only Luke knew how to hold her. Kisses are different when they come from such a great height, or that’s how it had seemed. Everything was different. He was a man she could look up to, in myriad ways. The first man she had looked up to.
In all, she and Alejandro waited almost five hours, and it felt like a dream when a voice on the intercom squawked out his name.
“Visit for Johns … Lucas Johns….” She sprang to her feet and ran to the door of the room where they would visit. Luke was already there, filling the doorway, a quiet smile on his face. He stood in a long, barren gray room, whose only decor was a clock. There were long refectory tables with inmates on one side and visitors on the other, while guards wandered and patrolled, their guns displayed prominently. One could kiss hello and goodbye, and hold hands during the visit That was all. The whole scene had an eerie unreality to it, as if this couldn’t exist, not for them. Luke lived on Park Avenue with her, he ate with a fork and a knife, he told jokes, he kissed her on the back of the neck. He didn’t belong here. It didn’t make sense. The other faces around them looked ragged and fierce, angry and tired and worn. But now so did Luke. Something had changed. As she walked into his arms, she felt a wave of claustrophobic terror seize her throat … they were lost in the bowels of that tomb … but once in Luke’s arms, she was safe. And the rest seemed to fade. She was oblivious of all but his eyes. She completely forgot Alejandro beside her.
Luke swept her up in his arms and the force of his embrace flushed the air from her chest in one breath. He held her aloft for a moment, not releasing his grip, and then gently set her down, hungrily seeking her lips once again. There was a quiet desperation about him, and his arms felt thinner. She had felt bones in his shoulders where weeks before there had been so much flesh. He was wearing blue jeans and a workshirt, and coarse shoes that looked too small for his feet. They had shipped the Guccis and everything else back to New York. Kezia had been there when the package arrived, everything crumpled, and his shirt badly torn. It gave you an idea of how it had come off his back. Not with a valet, but at the point of a gun. At the time she had cried, but now there were no tears. She was too glad to see him. Only Alejandro had tears in his eyes as he watched them, a radiant smile sweeping over her face, hiding the panic, and a look of intense need in the eyes of his friend. After a moment, Luke’s gaze swept over her head, and acknowledged Alejandro. It was a look of gratitude Alejandro didn’t remember seeing before. Like Kezia, he saw that something was different, and he remembered the urgent plea in Luke’s letters to come out with Kezia. Alejandro knew something was coming, but he didn’t know what.
Luke led Kezia by the hand to one of the long refectory tables, and went around to his side to sit down, while Alejandro took another chair next to her. She smiled even more as she watched Luke take his seat.
“Jesus, it’s so good to just watch you walk. Oh, darling, how I’ve missed you.” Luke smiled quietly at her and gently touched her face with his work-roughened hand. The calluses had come back quickly.
“I love you, Lucas.” She said the words carefully, like three separate gifts she had wrapped for him, and his eyes shone strangely.