Page 93 of Harbor

Renzo wished he could laugh like the man did. Except he couldn’t because that was a sad reality for him. Sometimes, he called people, and nobody picked up. God knew he didn’t have a lot of people to call in the first place, but it seemed like rubbing salt in an already sore wound when he waited all week for one phone call, and the person on the other end didn’t even bother to answer it.

In the grander scheme, he supposed that was yet another way of life showing him that he didn’t matter all that much. He wasn’t that important. People didn’t give a fuck what happened to him in here.

He was just another kid from the Bronx that fucked up his life. He’d been raised on the streets, and the only place people like him went was into a grave, or a prison cell. He was living up to that statistic, nothing more and nothing less. Surprise, surprise. He was going to get what he deserved, and they didn’t give a shit one way or the other.

“Yeah, let’s hope,” Renzo muttered.

Without another word, the guard lifted up his hand for the camera above the doors leading into the corridor for the payphones. Once it was unlocked, he let Renzo go through alone, but made sure to stay on the other side of the door in full view of the glass. It gave Renzo nothing more than a false sense of privacy, really. They were always watching him. Cameras were at every angle. Microphones, too, listening to each and every word he said. Not to mention, each phone call was recorded.

Everything he said could and would be used against him.

He always had to be careful.

Stepping up to the payphone, Renzo plucked it off the cradle, and slid the quarter into the slot. He pressed the numbers he had never forgotten. He’d called it once before since being arrested, but she had been way too angry with him to talk, then. He understood, so he hadn’t pushed.

Today was not going to be the same.

Today was important.

Renzo didn’t want her to think he forgot.

In his ear, the call rang and rang. At the fourth, he closed his eyes, and pinched the spot at the bridge of his nose to ward off the feeling of dread resting across his shoulders. He was sure the voicemail would pick up the call, but to his surprise, she picked up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?”

“Rose,” Renzo said, “it’s me, Ren.”

For a second, his sister said nothing. He kind of expected that, really. This wasn’t easy on her, and he didn’t think it would be, either. He didn’t expect her to like what was happening, or to agree with the things he did. He just loved his sister, and it didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he was always going to look out for her in whatever way he could.

“Ren?”

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Happy birthday. Eighteen today, huh?”

“Oh, my God, Ren,” his sister mumbled. “I can’t believe you called me to tell me that.”

Yeah, fuck.

He’d gotten the extra call this week just to do that for Rose. Or rather, hoping she wasn’t as angry this time, would pick up his call, and let him talk to her. Last time, she just raged while he stayed quiet and let her. It was the least he could do for the hell he bet she was going through.

“Like I’d forget,” Renzo said, shifting from one foot to the other. “Did you do anything today, or—”

“Went to see Diego,” Rose said, her voice thick with an emotion he couldn’t place. “The couple fostering him are really nice—they live in Queens, so it’s a bit of a ways for me to go, but he likes seeing me. Keeps asking about you.”

Damn.

That hurt.

It wasn’t Rose’s fault.

He didn’t blame her.

“And her,” Rose added softer. “He asks about—”

“Don’t,” Renzo said quickly.

Rose sucked in a hard breath, and then said, “I watch the news, you know. Keep up on what’s happening. It’s all about you. Nothing ever gets said about … well, you know. What’s going to happen now, Ren? Do you know that Ma’s been around, too? She visits Diego, and they know she’s messed up, so they haven’t released him to her custody. But she’s trying. Swears she’s gonna get clean; she even tried to say she has a lawyer working on it.”

Renzo’s throat felt far too tight. Almost enough to keep him from speaking, but he knew better than to shut up. His time was running out for this call; he was only allowed ten minutes, and sometimes less depending on the guard’s patience. He couldn’t afford to keep quiet when he needed Rose to really hear him right now.