Catherine.”
“Catherine? I thought that…”
“What,” Robert said, cutting him short, “that eight years in jail wipe away the memory of love? The only thing that kept me alive in there was the thought of meeting Catherine. Had we met, my forgiveness would’ve broken her.”
“But?”
Robert’s voice cracked. “One hundred and seventeen days before I got my walking papers, I went to sleep at midnight. At one thirty in the morning I woke up to the sound of whispers. I looked up and saw four guards in my cell. Before I could figure out what was going on, they shackled my arms and legs and jammed a filthy rag in my mouth. I’ve never been so scared. They pulled me outside and took me down the spiral staircase to the hole.
“They threw me inside, on a mattress, stripped me, and waited. They pushed my head down into the mattress and laughed. I knew something awful was about to happen. Then the door opened and a fifth man came in. He told them to give him half an hour. They left. It was just the two of us, Moulard and me. He got undressed and mounted me. I tried to break free, to yell, to fight, but he was enormous. The whole time he whispered in my ear, ‘your birthmark’s driving me crazy … I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw it … what a star, Robert superstar … Moulard wants you … Moulard loves you…’ When he was done I wanted to retch, but the shock prevented me from reacting, especially as he continued to whisper, ‘Now you see why I do this? Why I work here?’
“He got up, got dressed, and called the others. They took me back to my cell and wished me sweet dreams. I didn’t sleep for three days; didn’t eat, didn’t shower. I just sat still and thought. On the fourth day, he came to my cell and brought me a book. Calm and collected, smiling like nothing happened. I played his game, giving him the feeling that all was good. A week went by. He brought me another book. There was a note inside: ‘Superstar. Tomorrow night, you and me, in the hole. M.’ The next day I returned the book with a note of my own, ‘Moulard, tonight, you and me, in the shower, alone. I want to do it right.’
They came during the middle of the night. All four. They took me to the shower, threw me inside, closed the door, and waited. Moulard was ready for me, naked, his hands clasped behind his back, excited for my arrival. He asked me to get undressed. I did. He asked me to come close. My heart must’ve been doing two hundred beats a minute. I approached him and saw that he was holding a gun. I started to sweat, asked him what he was doing. His voice cold, he told me to get down on my knees and go down on him. I asked him to let go of the gun, said it was ruining the romance. He brought it to my head and said romance was the last thing on his mind. I got down on my knees and did as he asked. He warned me that if I made any kind of false move he’d blow my head off. When he started to move with pleasure, you know, started to lose control, I bit down with all my might. He cursed me and fell to the floor, writhing in pain. I grabbed the gun out of his hand, put it to his temple, and shot three times. That’s when the four guards came in and started to beat me up. You can imagine the rest. When I was up for release, I went back to court, this time for premeditated murder. It’s one thing to kill a prisoner and another thing entirely to kill a guard, especially when four other guards testify against you, saying you killed their friend in cold blood. It was the shortest trial in the history of man. Two weeks after my original discharge date, I was sentenced to twenty-five years in jail. Twenty-five more years.”
* * *
Ben’s mouth fell slack. “Robert, I don’t know … what to say … it’s … it’s inconceivable.”
“No,” Robert said, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you what’s inconceivable. It’s inconceivable that a broken man by the name of Robert did twenty more years,
“Catherine? I thought that…”
“What,” Robert said, cutting him short, “that eight years in jail wipe away the memory of love? The only thing that kept me alive in there was the thought of meeting Catherine. Had we met, my forgiveness would’ve broken her.”
“But?”
Robert’s voice cracked. “One hundred and seventeen days before I got my walking papers, I went to sleep at midnight. At one thirty in the morning I woke up to the sound of whispers. I looked up and saw four guards in my cell. Before I could figure out what was going on, they shackled my arms and legs and jammed a filthy rag in my mouth. I’ve never been so scared. They pulled me outside and took me down the spiral staircase to the hole.
“They threw me inside, on a mattress, stripped me, and waited. They pushed my head down into the mattress and laughed. I knew something awful was about to happen. Then the door opened and a fifth man came in. He told them to give him half an hour. They left. It was just the two of us, Moulard and me. He got undressed and mounted me. I tried to break free, to yell, to fight, but he was enormous. The whole time he whispered in my ear, ‘your birthmark’s driving me crazy … I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw it … what a star, Robert superstar … Moulard wants you … Moulard loves you…’ When he was done I wanted to retch, but the shock prevented me from reacting, especially as he continued to whisper, ‘Now you see why I do this? Why I work here?’
“He got up, got dressed, and called the others. They took me back to my cell and wished me sweet dreams. I didn’t sleep for three days; didn’t eat, didn’t shower. I just sat still and thought. On the fourth day, he came to my cell and brought me a book. Calm and collected, smiling like nothing happened. I played his game, giving him the feeling that all was good. A week went by. He brought me another book. There was a note inside: ‘Superstar. Tomorrow night, you and me, in the hole. M.’ The next day I returned the book with a note of my own, ‘Moulard, tonight, you and me, in the shower, alone. I want to do it right.’
They came during the middle of the night. All four. They took me to the shower, threw me inside, closed the door, and waited. Moulard was ready for me, naked, his hands clasped behind his back, excited for my arrival. He asked me to get undressed. I did. He asked me to come close. My heart must’ve been doing two hundred beats a minute. I approached him and saw that he was holding a gun. I started to sweat, asked him what he was doing. His voice cold, he told me to get down on my knees and go down on him. I asked him to let go of the gun, said it was ruining the romance. He brought it to my head and said romance was the last thing on his mind. I got down on my knees and did as he asked. He warned me that if I made any kind of false move he’d blow my head off. When he started to move with pleasure, you know, started to lose control, I bit down with all my might. He cursed me and fell to the floor, writhing in pain. I grabbed the gun out of his hand, put it to his temple, and shot three times. That’s when the four guards came in and started to beat me up. You can imagine the rest. When I was up for release, I went back to court, this time for premeditated murder. It’s one thing to kill a prisoner and another thing entirely to kill a guard, especially when four other guards testify against you, saying you killed their friend in cold blood. It was the shortest trial in the history of man. Two weeks after my original discharge date, I was sentenced to twenty-five years in jail. Twenty-five more years.”
* * *
Ben’s mouth fell slack. “Robert, I don’t know … what to say … it’s … it’s inconceivable.”
“No,” Robert said, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you what’s inconceivable. It’s inconceivable that a broken man by the name of Robert did twenty more years,
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