Sparring Partners(51)
“And you served it to him, right?”
“Yeah, and watched him eat it. He kept trying to offer me some of his last meal, but it just didn’t seem right.”
“And he ordered a bottle of wine, too.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t get it. No alcohol, of course.”
Cody takes a small bite but it’s obvious he’s losing interest. “You know that a few minutes after you die your bowels and bladder relax and release everything, a real mess. I guess Skunk got the last laugh.”
“I don’t think he was laughing.”
“Do you get the cleanup duty?”
“Nope. That’s somebody else’s job, thank goodness.”
“What happens to me after they cut off my clothes and hose me down?”
“I don’t know, Cody. I ain’t never been that curious.”
“You ever watch an execution, Marvin?”
“Nope. This is as close as I want to get.”
“I wish you’d eat some of this pizza. It’s not that good but it’s sort of filling.”
“No thanks.”
“Let me guess. You don’t like frozen pizza?”
“You got that right.”
Cody chuckles and hits the straw. “That’s hard to believe, Marvin. When me and Brian broke in a house, we’d always go for the guns first, guns and jewelry, valuable stuff that’s easy to carry and even easier to fence. After we looked around real fast, it was my job to go to the refrigerator and freezer and find some food. We were usually hungry by the time we broke in a place. If we got lucky, there’d be frozen pizza in the freezer. We had this little charcoal grill that we’d stolen, hell, everything we had was stolen down to the shoes on our feet, and, anyway, we’d grill a frozen pizza at midnight and watch the stars.” He stands and faces Marvin and closes his eyes for a long pause. Then he smiles and says, “Those were happy days, Marvin. Me and Brian, free as birds, living off the land, so to speak, sleeping in pup tents, always moving around so no one could find us. Think about that, Marvin. Nobody in the world knew where we were and no one cared. And we damned sure didn’t care about anybody else. Total freedom out there, hiding in the woods. Those were the best days, and I was just a kid.”
Marvin has nothing to say. A long minute passes as Cody seems to be in a trance. Down the hall, the door clangs again, but no one joins them. Finally, Marvin says, “Look, Cody, I’m not being a hard-ass here, but you need to finish eating. We gotta move you to the holding room in a few minutes.”
“Why can’t I just stay here until the big moment?”
“I don’t know. I don’t make the rules.”
“I know, I know.”
“Sorry.”
“Say, Marvin, I was kinda hard on the Padre earlier. Is he still around?”
“Yeah, he’s up front with the warden.”
“Could you ask him to sit with me in the holding room?”
“Sure. He’d like that.”
“You wanna watch my execution? I got plenty of tickets.”
“No thanks.”
Cody breaks into a big smile and starts chuckling. “Say, Marvin, how about a favor?”
This is funny and Marvin laughs. “A favor on death row?”
“Sure. You can do it. A simple favor and it would mean a lot.”
“What is it?”
Cody walks to the bars and lowers his voice. “Marvin, I haven’t seen the moon in fourteen years, and I would love to see it just one more time.”
“Come on, Cody.”
“No, you come on, Marvin. I’ll be dead in less than an hour, so who gives a damn if I sneak outside for a bit of fresh air. What’s the harm?”
“It’s against the rules.”
“You make most of the rules around here, Marvin. Nobody will question you. Hell, nobody will ever know. We ease down the hall, take the side door to the yard, and there it is. A big moon, nice and full, the first summer moon. Right up there in the eastern sky.”
“It’s too risky.”
Cody laughs and says, “Oh, get real. What am I gonna do, Marvin? Beat you over the head, jump half a dozen fences, dodge a thousand bullets, outrun the bloodhounds, and then, exactly where would I go, Marvin? Hell, they got half the state police out there just waiting to celebrate because we damned sure love our executions. Come on, Marvin, do something nice. I’m so dead here, okay?”
Marvin glances around, uncertain. “I’ll go ask the warden.”
“No! Don’t waste your time with that fool. You know he’ll say no. Just ease me out the side here and nobody will see us. Just five minutes, Marvin. Please.”
“Can’t do it.”
“Sure you can. Who are you afraid of?”
“No way. I’ll get fired.”
“No you won’t. Nobody’ll know.”
“Sorry, Cody.”
“Just five minutes.”
“Two minutes. Then right back in here.”
(8)
The yard is a small outdoor space, with a picnic table on a slab of concrete surrounded by a few sprigs of grass. Twenty-four feet by twenty, to be exact, and the death row inmates know its precise dimensions because they walk the fence lines daily. Dirt paths had been worn between the concrete and the chain-link and below the shiny razor wire. They were allowed one hour each day, alone and unsupervised, to inhale the fresh air, to gaze into the distance and dream, and to shuffle along the paths. Seven or eight long steps, then a ninety-degree turn and more of the same. In the old days, the yard was much larger and had a set of old weights and a basketball hoop. Four men were allowed at each break, and rowdy games of two-on-two were the norm. Then there was a fight and one was bludgeoned by a dumbbell.