Point of View: Nick
I was standing with my arms spread apart. Zoe was sitting on the plastic chair behind me, tugging at the suit and sticking pins in it. The fabric was nice. Someone shelled out a lot for this suit, I could tell. First off it was Hugo Boss, second it was tall which always meant more, and third off the fabric was really, really soft.
"I'm going to use hemming tape," Zoe said, as though reading my mind, "So that it's only a temporary alteration. That way you can use it again after we beef you up."
I laughed, "Beef me up?"
"What's your favorite food, Nick? I'm making it for you for when you get home."
"I dunno," I answered, "Anything homemade..." I pictured sitting at a real table with real food and people around me - people I loved and who loved me back. "Meatloaf," I answered finally, "With potatoes, and peas." I smiled.
"Okay, you got it."
I thought for a second. "Actually, what's Kayla's favorite?" I asked.
"Chicken and broccoli alfredo," Zoe replied.
"Make that instead," I said.
Zoe mused as she reached up my back, feeling along the seam, "Why?"
"Incase I don't get out, at least Kayla has her favorite food to eat."
"I'm making meatloaf," Zoe replied.
I wished I had the confidence she did that I was getting out. I couldn't picture myself actually walking away from all this.
I felt Zoe struggle to stand up and I grabbed her crutches and turned around. "I need to reach a higher seam," she explained, frowning. "I can't reach it sitting down, you're too damn tall."
"Well don't stand, you're gonna hurt yourself..." I crouched down so the knees of the suit's pants wouldn't get wrecked.
"You silly boy," she muttered, sitting down. She reached down the jacket from my neck and poked at the seams there, tugging and fixing my shoulders in various positions. "Move your arms," she commanded at one point. I flapped like a bird. She laughed and caught my biceps and stilled them. "Stay." When she had it all placed how she wanted it, she leaned back. "Okay, turn around."
I took a couple steps forward, then turned around for her to see.
A smile crossed her face as she looked me over and she nodded. I picked some dust off one sleeve and smiled back. "Well?"
"You look so much better," she said.
I smiled. I felt better. I felt a little more like me, I had to admit. As soon as I'd put on actual clothing, it was like stripping away the persona I'd become in jail and I remembered who I was. I felt like a million bucks.
Zoe stood and I handed her the crutches and she made her way over to me. Leaning on them, she reached up and adjusted the tie that I'd done up kinda funny and dusted the shoulder gently. She nodded. "You look good."
"Thank you, Zoe," I said.
"It's not a problem at all, Nick," she answered. She sat back down, "Okay, why don't you carefully take off the jacket, and then go change and I'll work on the hem tape and we can visit."
"Okay." I gently shrugged the jacket off and laid it carefully on the garment bag on the table, and grabbed my seafoam scrubs off the table where she'd folded them when I came back. I paused. "Zoe?" I asked.
"Yes?"
"What you said before? About me being a good person?"
"Yeah?"
I hugged the scrubs to my chest. "I haven't always been. In fact, for a long time I was a really bad person." I looked at her solemnly. "But I want to be a better person."
"You have a good heart Nick," Zoe answered, "You can do anything."
I nodded. "I just wanted you to know," I said. "I've got a sordid past, you know? I'm not a saint. I'm not an angel--"
"Just an ordinary man?" she laughed, and I realized she was quoting Help Me.
I smiled, "Nice. You know my music."
"Kayla's been having Nick withdrawals. I don't think your music has turned off in our house since you've been gone."
I laughed, "Even my solo record? Jesus..." I thought of Girls in the USA and Is It Saturday Yet? and snorted. "I feel for you."
"Go get changed."
"Okay."
I followed the officer down the hallway towards the common bathroom, thinking about Zoe. He waited outside while I went in and waited for a stall to open up. I leaned against the wall by the air dryer and stared at the hem on one of the scrubs. When a toilet opened, I hurried in and started changing.
I was in the middle of folding the dress shirt so it wouldn't wrinkle, when I heard commotion just outside of the stall. Someone banged against the door and I looked down and saw somebody's feet scuffling. A moment later, they were pulled away, the commotion continuing, and there was a loud crash that sounded like the trash can got tipped over.
I left the folded suit pants and shirt and tie on the back of the toilet and opened the stall door.
Tattoo had a young kid pegged against the wall across the room. The trashcan was, indeed, flipped over and paper towels had flown everywhere. One of the mirrors over the sinks was broken and there was blood on the wall beside the kid's face as Tattoo was working one-handed on his belt.
I moved without thinking and without hesitation, Eric going through my mind.
I grabbed the back of Tattoo's scrubs and pulled him away, forcing him to lose his grip on the kid. He slid to the floor and laid on the tile. He was probably only just eighteen...
Tattoo turned and swung at me, but I ducked it, and slammed him into the wall. "Don't you fucking dare hurt someone else," I hissed. I slammed him once more for good measure, then turned to the kid and pulled him up. He was shaken. I kept my eye on Tattoo as I stepped into the stall, grabbed my suit, and started toward the door. "Don't fuck with me," I stated solemnly to Tattoo.
He stared defiantly back at me.
When we got to the hall, the kid took off running and the officer looked at me curiously, but I said nothing. He led me back to Zoe and the visiting room as I carried my suit, and wondered what I could do to make sure Tattoo could hurt nobody else.
