Crash Test Dummy

Chapter 22

When I woke up, Mom was sitting in the recliner, a book open on her chest. The TV was on a music station. Something classical was playing. She was snoring softly. She looked wiped.

I thought about changing the channel, but I didn't want to wake her up. There was a manila envelope lying on my tray. The return address was the Chainlink Chronicle. It wasn't sealed, so it was easy to slide the magazine out.

On the cover was a picture of a man wearing a Santa hat handing a brown bag to a man in a wheelchair. Behind him you could see a bunch of bunks lined up and guys sitting on them or standing by them. The caption said, "Merry Christmas from the Wardens."

I opened the magazine. The lead story was about the wardens, evidently there were several of them, taking goodie bags to the offenders. There were several pictures with the article. There were more pictures announcing the winners of a door decoration contest. An article showed a lady giving Hershey kisses and certificates to some offenders. Evidently it was a Christmas shindig for inmate tutors who helped in the education department. A whole two-page spread covered the Angel Tree party. Smiling Dads and grinning kids were featured. There was even sports news. Evidently there was a thriving sports culture where inmate teams were formed to play against one another. Near the back was a section called Art and Poetry. My cartoon was prominently featured. There was an editor's note stating: "This cartoon was drawn by CW Braisford, Paul Braisford's son. He sent it to his Dad who shared it with us. Thanks CW. And to all you other readers, we'd like to encourage the submission of cartoons. That's something this publication has been missing."

Mom stretched and sat up.

"Have a good nap?" I asked.

"Yeah, I did."

"You?"

"I guess." I pointed to a tray sitting on the floor by the door. "It appears I slept through lunch."

"I put your stuff in the fridge at the nurse's station. You've got mashed potatoes, yogurt, and ice cream. And juice, of course." She stood up and picked up the tray. "I'll just go get everything."

When she came back in with the tray, I handed her the magazine.

"This is from Popz prison," I said. "It doesn't look anything like I thought. The wardens are taking Christmas bags to the inmates, the doors are decorated, the tutors are having a party. There's even sports."

"Oh, that's nice." Talk about sounding insincere.

"You don't have to read it," I said. "But my Jonah cartoon is in there. I thought you might want to see it."

"What Jonah cartoon?" she asked.

"I drew one in church when Uncle Clarence came. The preacher talked about Jonah. I was going to throw it away, but Unk thought Dad might want it. I mailed it to him. He asked if he could submit it to the paper. They liked it. It's in there."

I started eating. She opened the magazine. I kind of watched her over the edge of my spoon. Just as I hoped, she didn't start at the back. She was sort of flipping from the front. Mostly looking at the pictures. When she got to the pages with the Angel Tree pictures, she stopped. She read the whole article and studied the pictures.

"This is the party you missed out on," she said.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm sorry, CW. I should have let you go."

"Why?"

"Maybe you wouldn't be in a bed hooked up to an IV and pain meds."

"This isn't your fault, Mom. I'm the one who made the bad choices that got me here."