Roger was 39 years old and facing jail time. He had spent the last few weeks since his arrest trying to figure out how to get out of the corner he had backed himself into. He knew that he had to show up for his trial because his sister had put up his bond and he could never let her down. His instincts told him to run faster than the wind. It was all he could do to keep himself from doing that very thing.

Roger had been a smoker since he was fourteen years old. Right that minute, he needed to feel the release of inhaled warmth more than ever. He had already smoked nearly a full pack of cigarettes in the last two hours. The sun was just beginning to come up, and he felt his heart beating faster as the clock showed the passing of time. His mind was racing through the many images of events that brought him to this point in his life. Within hours, he might be in a place where he could not pick up a cigarette or turn on a television. He would be little more than a caged animal. The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt in the deepest part of his stomach.

This was not the first time he had been in a bad position with the law, but it was the first time that he had not been able to get out of spending time in jail. His father was no longer there to call in favors from local authorities. Even if he were alive, laws had become very strict about how anything related to DUI was handled. This time there would be no way out, and he knew that. He felt his stomach rumble, and he made a quick dash for the bathroom. He would be glad when this was all behind him, but right this minute, he was not sure how he was going to get through the day. The thought of having to make it through the next six months was more than his mind could comprehend.

Roger was never a bad person. He just had a wild streak that he had never been able to tame. He had been hooked on alcohol for as long as he could remember. Pot was not a stranger either; both vices had controlled his life. He was still stuck in that place that most people leave behind once they settle down. He still thought a good party was far more important than family, or holding down a job. When he was sober he would do anything for anyone. He was a good worker with a strong back. In fact, he did the back breaking kind of jobs that no one else wanted. He didn't make big money, but he could earn something everyday. The problem is that those had become the only kinds of jobs he could get these days. He had never kept a regular nine to five job because he liked getting paid by the day. He liked that because he could buy beer everyday and his wife never really had to know just how much he had earned. It made him feel like a man. It made him feel popular for friends to join him for a drink. He never seemed to notice that it was always at his own expense. He was in trouble now and there were no friends in sight.

His wife came downstairs to find him with a cigarette in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. It was a sight she had become accustomed to seeing. She had given up on trying to help him find a job. She no longer tried to give him advice. Her bitterness was becoming more apparent every day. She got up and had to get ready to leave for work while he slept. She had no choice about whether or not she worked. There were bills to pay and she liked a roof over her head. Sometimes she felt so much anger with him that she would not speak to him for days. Yet, she still loved him. She looked past the shell of what was really there. In her eyes, she saw the man that Roger could be, if he really wanted too. This morning she would not be dressing in her hospital scrubs. Today she would dress in a skirt and blouse. She would bite her lip and accompany her husband to court. She would stand beside him and pray silently for God to have mercy on him. It was all she could do. She felt a knot in her stomach and had to take a deep breath.

She got herself a cup of coffee. Her eyes moved to the dog bowls to see if they were filled with food and water. She and Roger had no children together so the dog had become her companion. He kept her feeling needed when her husband only needed a beer can. She shared her deepest secrets and her deepest fears with the dog. No one else wanted to hear them. Both of them loved the dog but she always knew when Roger had a bad day. The poor dog would be hidden and trembling with fear. It was those times that she felt her own body start to tremble. She was never sure what her husband would do next. It hadn't always been like that; several years had gone by that she had no fear of the man she married. Last fall, that had changed. He had come home reeking of alcohol and making demands. Without warning, he had grabbed her and pushed her into a wall. When she tryed to move, he had slapped her. He had looked like a wild animal that attacked an animal of prey. Thoughts of that night came flashing back to her whenever she smelled that familiar scent of alcohol in the house. Each time the memory came alive it left her frightened. She was still unsure about why it happened, but she feared him now. Yet, she stayed with him.

Roger stared out the window and looked at the small creek flowing past their house. He could not help but notice how clear the water was. He listened to the gentle babbling sound that it made. He had not slept for the last two nights; he knew that today was coming. He knew that in all likelihood, this would be the last morning he would be standing in this room for at least six months. In fact, he might not ever be here again. He had watched prison movies before. He had heard tales from men who had served time. He never let that make an impact on his thoughts, or his life. He took his life for granted. Now his worst fear was that his wife would discover that life was better without him there.

He watched his wife taking care of their dog. He felt in his heart that she should end this marriage while he was in jail. She deserved someone to take care of her. Someone that did not need a bottle to make him a man. He knew her family would agree with him, especially since she had joined the church. In his heart, he knew that when she asked him to change his ways, it was because she loved him. He could never admit that to her. He fought her at every turn when it came to getting help for the addictions that controlled his life. Sadly, he had no idea about why he did it.

He walked up the stairs to get dressed, stopping to take a long look around. He stopped again at the top of the stairs and felt emotion nearly overtake his composure. He wished that it was not like this. He wished that they were heading for a vacation on the beach, or even a shopping mall, instead of to see a judge. Wishes never change anything, though, and he knew what he had to do.

Walking into that courtroom was difficult. His legs felt like lead, and his chest was so tight that he could barely breathe. He knew that he was no longer a boy; he could not just break down and cry. He had always dealt with his mother to get his way. He had to be strong and take his punishment like a man; his father would have expected that of him. Why that mattered now was another thing he did not understand. He had never listened to his father. After all, his mother told him all along that he did not have to. If he could see his father now, he would apologize to him for so many things. He would tell him about what he had learned. He would tell him how hard each lesson had been. But his father was dead. He would never have that chance.

His mind had drifted and now he was jolted back into reality. His name had been called. Within minutes he would know his fate. He stood up and looked over at his wife. She sat there with tears in her eyes. He felt them start to sting his own eyes, so he looked towards the wall. She stood to follow him, but they motioned her to stay seated. He would have to do this alone. He had never felt so empty and alone in his life.

The decision had been made before he entered the room. He would do six months in a regional jail that was 65 miles from his home. They gave him twelve hours to report to the facility on his own. He had to tell his wife and family now; there was no way out. He felt truly remorseful for the first time in his life. Suddenly, he realized that this was not just about him; his whole family would suffer. He lowered his head and walked towards the waiting area. His wife had her head lowered in prayer. He quietly said to her, "It's not working, you can stop now."

Silently they walked to the car. He was aware of how good the cool, crisp air felt as he breathed. He looked at his surroundings with fresh eyes. He knew that in a few hours, he would be breathing air that had been inhaled, exhaled, and then recirculated. He just wanted to go visit his mother. He needed to tell her that he would be back.

He was not sure she would be there when the six months was over. Her health was failing quickly. He looked at her and knew this might be his final chance to tell her what was in his heart. He thought of his sister. She would have no one at all to help with lifting their mother in and out of the van now. She would have to get their mother in and out of the doctor's offices alone. Because of him, his sister would have more weight to carry. He knew that her shoulders were already tired. She was rearing his son and taking care of their mother. She worked for the state and managed her own daycare. She was his idea of a perfect woman; kind, loving, and with more determination than he had known in anyone else. Yet, he had never told her that. He would do that before he left today.

The ride to visit his family went by quickly. The visit, although emotional for all of them, went even quicker. His sister told him that they would do this as a family, and he knew that she meant well, but she would not be the one in that cell. She would be able to come and go when she wanted too, she could eat when she was hungry, and walk along the river anytime. For a fleeting second, he felt jealous of her, even angry. She was always so damn perfect; but then again, she worked very hard and made it a point to never hurt anyone along her journey in life. He could never stay mad at her for long. It had been that way since they were young children. None of this was her fault, and he knew that. The anger passed quickly. The realization that he would not be talking to her every day sank in. He was going to miss her more than he could explain.

His mother cried. She touched his hand as she told him to look towards Jesus. That was nearly laughable. Where had Jesus been all his life? Why did he have these cravings for alcohol? Why were they stronger than his urge to eat when he was hungry? Why did he get caught every time he made a mistake, and others get away with everything? He fought the urge to denounce her God; he knew how bad that would make her feel. Instead, he told her that he would see her as soon as he could. He walked away with his fists clenched and felt tears once again stinging his eyes. It was time to go. He would not leave her hurting any more than she had too.

His wife and sister both accompanied him to report to the jail. The drive there seemed long in one way, and way too fast in another. Guards stopped them at the door and took him inside. The women he loved so much were left to watch him walk out of their sight. He could not bring himself to look back at them. He passed through metal detectors and was handed his new suit. It would be worn every day that he was there. It was bright orange with the words "Southern Regional Jail" stamped on it in big black letters. He had no idea how many other people had worn these same clothes. He felt humiliated and degraded, less than human. He wanted to turn and run towards his wife and sister. Instead, he lowered his head and walked, in front of one guard and behind another, to start a whole new way of life. For the first time in his life, he said a prayer. Even though he was sure God was not listening, he asked him to look over his family. Suddenly, he knew what was really important in life. Someday, he would prove that to the ones that needed to know.

Copyright © 2002 Dianna Petry
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