The Reckless Oath We Made(120)



“When are we going to visit Sir Gentry?” he said. I was glad he was focused on my phone, so he wouldn’t see me looking T-boned.

“Well, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You have to be a relative or you have to be eighteen. And you’re not either one.”

“Oh. Will you tell him I say hi when you go visit him? And tell him I’m helping you take care of Leon. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said.





CHAPTER 61





Zee



I got there early, like the Arkansas DOC website said to, and went through all the checks. My car, my purse, me. They even swabbed my hands for drugs, so I was glad I’d quit smoking weed and was only taking drops for my hip. The system at Malvern was a lot more thorough than at Topeka, and different from when I was a kid. When I was little, the visitation area at El Dorado was a long counter with partitions and glass, to keep prisoners and visitors from touching. I remembered how Mom and Dad would put their hands up on either side of the glass, like they could somehow feel each other through it.

The visitors’ room at Malvern was full of square metal picnic tables, with a mesh bench seat on each side. As soon as I was cleared, I filed into the room with everybody else, and found my assigned table.

I was there for five minutes, watching inmates come in and hug their families, before Gentry came through the door with a man in a sport coat. They stood at the doorway for a few minutes, the man in the sport coat looking at me and talking to Gentry, who was looking down at the floor. Finally they walked over to my table and Gentry sat down.

For some stupid reason I’d thought he would look the same, but his hair was cut down to his scalp. Either they were making him get a buzz cut or he was doing that himself with a razor, but he looked like a skinhead. Someone had broken his nose, long enough ago it was healed, but not quite straight. I’d expected him to look smaller, the way LaReigne did, the way my father had, but if anything Gentry was bigger than I remembered. The muscles on the tops of his shoulders bulged so that he almost didn’t have a neck, and the arms of his jumpsuit were stretched tight. He was pale, though, almost as white as me. I didn’t imagine they let him sleep outside.

He wouldn’t look up, so I had to try to figure out how he was feeling by looking at his hands. They were both palm down, pressed flat to the tabletop, the left one relaxed, the right one tense enough that his knuckles were white, and the scar on his thumb stood out purple. I didn’t know what that meant.

“Hey,” I said.

He shifted in his seat, raised his left hand to tug at the collar of his T-shirt, and then started scratching the back of his neck. The guy in the sport coat stood next to our table, but I ignored him until he said, “Gentry, can you put your hand down and introduce me to your visitor?”

I tried to give him a look that said, Can we get some privacy?

“Gentry? Who’s your friend?” he said.

Gentry dropped his chin closer to his chest. He put his left hand back on the table, but his right hand tightened into a fist around his invisible sword.

“Gentry.” The guy snapped his fingers, which made Gentry flatten his sword hand back out on the table.

“Hello,” Gentry said in a voice I didn’t recognize. “This is Lady Zhorzha Trego. This is my psychologist, Dr. Kimber.”

“I’m so pleased to have this opportunity to meet you, Zhorzha. And not a little surprised.” The doctor gave me a cheesy smile and made me shake his hand.

“Oh, you thought I was a voice like Gawen,” I said, and got my hand back from him.

“I admit, I did not expect Lady Zhorzha to turn out to be—”

“Lady Zhorzha is a waitress. She lives in Wichita. We met at physical therapy,” Gentry said.

His voice gave me the nervous giggles. Like a cross between my cousin Dirk and Keanu Reeves—half redneck, half surfer dude. Was he messing with the doctor or with me?

“Very good,” Dr. Kimber said and then, like Gentry wasn’t even there: “But we are trying to encourage Gentry not to use unnecessary titles.”

“I don’t see how my title is unnecessary, since I prefer to be called Lady Zhorzha,” I said. It was a lie—I’d always felt weird that Gentry called me that—but it was a true lie. Gentry was allowed to call me whatever he wanted.

Dr. Kimber frowned. Maybe he thought I was a dominatrix.

“Part of what we’re trying to do during Gentry’s time with us is to encourage him to speak more normally, so he can better adapt to his surroundings.”

“Okay.” I didn’t want to make trouble for Gentry, so I kept what I really thought to myself.

“Well, it’s nice that you’ve come to visit, Zhorzha. I’m sure Gentry appreciates it,” the doctor said, and made me shake his hand again. Then he left us alone.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could think of to say, and then we were quiet for a few minutes. “That’s all I really wanted to tell you, that I’m sorry, because this is all my fault. Especially what happened to Sir Edrard. I’m so sorry about that. I know he was like your brother.”

Gentry looked over his shoulder to where Dr. Kimber was standing across the room, talking to one of the corrections officers.

“I’m gonna go. I shouldn’t have come,” I said.

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