The Truth Behind a Smile
Stephen spoke just loudly enough so that Clarence was able to hear every word he had said, provoking the puffed-up guard even more. Visibly irritated, Clarence nonetheless maintained his composure and stayed at his post, squeezing his weapon until the veins in his hands began to show.
Stephen leaned in even more closely, almost at my ear now, and whispered as softly as possible.
“He’s one of the nicer guys in here. One day when I felt extra ornery, I got under the skin of one of the guards—just enough to make him punch me up a little. Clarence stepped in and pulled the guard off me. The three of us fell to the ground in the mix-up, and Clarence’s wallet fell close to my face. I caught a glimpse of a cute photo of him with what I assume are his kids, but they had a much lighter skin tone them him so I can’t be sure. Anyway, it’s the only time I’d ever seen him smile and there was something about that photo that told me he’s a good guy deep down. So, I try to go easier on him than—”
Clarence jammed the baton under Stephen’s chin and yanked him back so hard the metal chair teetered on its back legs. When the chair righted itself, Clarence traced a line across the middle of the table with the tip of his baton while staring Stephen dead in the eyes. Clarence slowly walked back to his post, never taking his eyes off Stephen. Mr. Clark blew a kiss to the hulking guard who’d just tossed him backward like an old rag.
I was taken aback—not so much by Clarence’s sudden violence as by Stephen’s words. Stephen had gone from talking about how he teased the guards to bragging about the murder of an officer to secretly admiring one of the men after merely seeing a photo of him smiling then to taunting the same man with an insulting kiss.
The strangest part is that a normal sociopath would get joy out of pushing the men past their breaking point, but it seemed as though Stephen had other reasons. Sociopaths don’t respect their victims, but it was obvious that Stephen cared for these men.
Done provoking the guard, he turned to face me. The subtle warmth of summer sunlight on my skin distracted me. I glanced at the window, and the brightness made me squint, I realized the sun had begun to rise and our time had been shortened by the unnecessary disputes between the two men. We had less than two hours left—all visitations would be prohibited after 8 am, just about the time the sun would be clear of the horizon. My eyes met with Stephen’s, and it was as though we had shared thoughts without speaking.
“So, shall we begin?” I asked.
“I think so.” He was smiling again.