Indigo by Richard Wiley Page B

get the board president on the phone, wanted, if possible, to see the man that night. As they passed through the gate he took Lawrence Biko’s hand and shook it. “Whatever happens, I am sure the worst is over,” he said.
    But Lawrence lost the lightness of his look when Jerry said that. “Oh no, my friend, the worst is yet to come. I’m afraid I can guarantee you that one.”
    Was he joking? Jerry wondered. What could be worse than the last day and a half had been? “I mean for me personally,” Jerry said. “I never want to go through yesterday again.”
    â€œBut you surely have not forgotten the secretary, have you?” Lawrence whispered. “If she dies you will be charged with murder, which is another kettle of fish.”
    Though he had seen her damaged body, Jerry indeed had forgotten the secretary. He hadn’t thought of her once since his arrest. “How is she?” he feebly asked.
    Lawrence put a calming hand on Jerry’s arm. “No change,” he said, “no one knows what her chances might be.”
    Until that moment Jerry had not allowed the prospect of going back to jail to enter his mind. He could handle the pressure of this situation, but he did not want to think anymore about that cell.
    â€œReally, Lawrence, don’t say such things,” he said, and for some reason that brought the robust Lawrence back. “Ah, but never mind!” said the lawyer. “Chin up! We don’t cross our bridges until we come to them, don’t you know?”
    When Jerry got out of the car some of the teachers were waiting, ready to welcome him home. He smiled at them and was about to close the car door when another question occurred to him. He leaned in and asked Lawrence, “How did you know where I was? How did you find me and get me out so quickly?”
    â€œAh,” said Lawrence, “did I not say? I was awakened yesterday evening quite late. Indeed, it must have been past midnight when I got a phone call from a lady representing Nurudeen’s dad.”

    After Lawrence Biko drove away Jerry spoke to the teachers for a while, but though they had prepared food for him, he was too tired to eat and asked to be excused. He was surprised at the degree to which the experience had shaken him, and he wanted to be alone.
    Inside his flat he was pleased to find that Jules was gone, with only a note reminding him to leave money for shopping before he left for work in the morning. Jerry ran water for his shower and while he undressed he tried to get the school board president on the phone. But just as he heard the man’s voice he put the receiver down. What if the president took him to task for letting such a thing take place, or worse, what if the phone was bugged? Such an idea would not have occurred to him before, but if what Lawrence said was true, perhaps he’d better not take chances of any kind.
    When he got into the shower he shut his eyes and let the water wash away the dirt of the prison floor, the stink of the urine and the memory of all those men. At the spot where that unattached hand had touched him he washed himself especially hard, and only when the water began to turn cold did he get out and wrap himself in a towel. He then found a pair of starched pajamas in his bottom drawer. The pajamas were lovely to step into, the legs opening crisply as he put them on.
    Jerry walked through his flat, turning off lights and bolting the door. He then got Charlotte’s photograph from his desk, brought it to the bed and crawled in, holding it for a while before placing it on the table by his side.
    When he turned off his lamp the quality of the light in the room changed, and he pulled his legs back quickly on the chance that another prisoner’s foot might be lingering at the bottom of his bed. God, what a plot these strangers had hatched. Not since he was a child had he felt so vulnerable, and it made him consider what life