rangy, an inch or two over six feet, with long ropy arms and bulging biceps. His nose had been broken and poorly reset, and the lines that ran from the wings of his nose to the corners of his slightly crooked mouth looked as though they had been filled with coal dust. His wide lips were about the thickness of two dimes. When he grimaced occasionally--he had a slight tic--he reminded Stanley of a lizard. Stanley didn't mention this, and neither did anyone else, but Stanley was not the first man to notice the reptilian look that appeared on Troy's face whenever he pulled his lips back hard for a split second, then relaxed them.
The cell was four feet by eight, with a two-tiered bunk bed, and there was a stainless-steel toilet without a seat at the back of the cell. There was a steel sink in the back corner, but it only had one tap, and that drizzled cold water. There were no towels or soap. The bars were painted white and were flaked away here and there, indicating that they had been repainted many times. There was no window, and a single forty-watt bulb in the ceiling, covered with heavy wire, lighted the cell dimly. With Troy stretched out on the bottom bunk, there was no place for Stanley to sit, unless he climbed into the upper bunk or sat on the rim of the toilet.
"I've got to use the toilet," Stanley said, after clearing his throat.
"Go ahead. It's right in front of you."
"I can't go with you looking at me."
Troy closed his eyes; then he put his fingers into his ears. "Okay. I won't look and I won't listen."
Stanley urinated, and then washed his hands and face at the sink. There was a deep cut on his upper lip, and he wished that there were a mirror so he could see how badly it was split. There was a lot of blood on the front of his shirt, but his lip had stopped bleeding.
"Let me take a look at that lip." Troy didn't sit up, so Stanley had to bend over the bunk for Troy to examine it.
"If it was me," Troy said, "I'd have a couple of stitches put in. Otherwise, you're gonna have a nice little scar. Seems to me you're too old to be brawling anyway. A man your age'll lose more fights than he'll win, Pop."
"I wasn't fighting. My neighbor hit me, and he didn't have no call to do it. I was going to explain, but he hit me and then twisted my arm up behind my back while my wife called the police."
"Did you hit your wife?"
Stanley shook his head. "I been married forty-one years, and I never hit her a single time. Not once." He said it as though he'd had ample reason to.
"Then why'd your neighbor bust you in the mouth?"
"My wife told him I molested his little girl, and I didn't do a darned thing to her, nothing at all, but he wouldn't listen to me."
"How old was the girl you showed your weenie?"
"I didn't show her nothing. She showed me, and she's nine, going on ten."
"You're lucky there, old man. If she was eight or under you'd be looking at twenty-five years. But once they hit nine they're old enough to take instructions in the Catholic church. So eight's the magic number in most states. But when they hit nine or ten, sometimes you can make a deal with the state attorney. Unless you hurt her. Did you hurt her?"
"I didn't touch the girl. I was taking a nap out on my back porch, and she came in the screen door and woke me up by putting her tongue in my mouth."
Troy nodded and made the lightning grimace. "You must've seemed irresistible to her, laying there with your mouth open. I had a girl friend once in San Berdoo who used to wake me up by sticking her tongue up my asshole. But she was thirty-five and didn't have very much else going for her. What did she do then, Pop, pull your pants down?"
"No, she took off -her- pants, her shorts, red shorts. I was still half asleep, or half awake, and didn't quite catch on to what she was doing at first. She had a bag of pennies, you see, and she wanted one penny for the soul kiss, and then asked
The cell was four feet by eight, with a two-tiered bunk bed, and there was a stainless-steel toilet without a seat at the back of the cell. There was a steel sink in the back corner, but it only had one tap, and that drizzled cold water. There were no towels or soap. The bars were painted white and were flaked away here and there, indicating that they had been repainted many times. There was no window, and a single forty-watt bulb in the ceiling, covered with heavy wire, lighted the cell dimly. With Troy stretched out on the bottom bunk, there was no place for Stanley to sit, unless he climbed into the upper bunk or sat on the rim of the toilet.
"I've got to use the toilet," Stanley said, after clearing his throat.
"Go ahead. It's right in front of you."
"I can't go with you looking at me."
Troy closed his eyes; then he put his fingers into his ears. "Okay. I won't look and I won't listen."
Stanley urinated, and then washed his hands and face at the sink. There was a deep cut on his upper lip, and he wished that there were a mirror so he could see how badly it was split. There was a lot of blood on the front of his shirt, but his lip had stopped bleeding.
"Let me take a look at that lip." Troy didn't sit up, so Stanley had to bend over the bunk for Troy to examine it.
"If it was me," Troy said, "I'd have a couple of stitches put in. Otherwise, you're gonna have a nice little scar. Seems to me you're too old to be brawling anyway. A man your age'll lose more fights than he'll win, Pop."
"I wasn't fighting. My neighbor hit me, and he didn't have no call to do it. I was going to explain, but he hit me and then twisted my arm up behind my back while my wife called the police."
"Did you hit your wife?"
Stanley shook his head. "I been married forty-one years, and I never hit her a single time. Not once." He said it as though he'd had ample reason to.
"Then why'd your neighbor bust you in the mouth?"
"My wife told him I molested his little girl, and I didn't do a darned thing to her, nothing at all, but he wouldn't listen to me."
"How old was the girl you showed your weenie?"
"I didn't show her nothing. She showed me, and she's nine, going on ten."
"You're lucky there, old man. If she was eight or under you'd be looking at twenty-five years. But once they hit nine they're old enough to take instructions in the Catholic church. So eight's the magic number in most states. But when they hit nine or ten, sometimes you can make a deal with the state attorney. Unless you hurt her. Did you hurt her?"
"I didn't touch the girl. I was taking a nap out on my back porch, and she came in the screen door and woke me up by putting her tongue in my mouth."
Troy nodded and made the lightning grimace. "You must've seemed irresistible to her, laying there with your mouth open. I had a girl friend once in San Berdoo who used to wake me up by sticking her tongue up my asshole. But she was thirty-five and didn't have very much else going for her. What did she do then, Pop, pull your pants down?"
"No, she took off -her- pants, her shorts, red shorts. I was still half asleep, or half awake, and didn't quite catch on to what she was doing at first. She had a bag of pennies, you see, and she wanted one penny for the soul kiss, and then asked
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