Penny called last night (part three)

Back to what happened at the PO office.

Like I said, I was thinking about trying to intervene on behalf of the yuppie guy digging his own grave, when somebody called me.

It wasn't my regular PO.

I followed him to his office. I didn't love my old PO. She was mean. But after all the time of me doing everything right, our appointments were quick. She wasn't an idiot either.

Walking behind this guy, I could tell he had a cheap toupee. It didn't match the color or the texture of the rest of his hair. He was old, like fifties or sixties even.

When I first saw him, I noticed he had a black mustache.

I wondered about how and why he was in this job. Maybe he used to be a cop and got in trouble. That's all I needed -- somebody on a power trip.

We got in his office. I sat next to his desk and held up my folder and stayed quiet.

Inside the folder, I had copies of my recent pay stubs, my grades from school, my receipts from all my court fees, and the paper I take to AA meetings and get signed.

It's all the evidence that shows I've been scared straight. No need to send me to prison. It would be a waste of money. If they let me stay out, I pay them.

The PO took the folder, looked inside for a moment, boredom and revulsion on his face.

He looked at me sidways, eyes half open, and said he wanted me to tell him what I was on probation for.

New POs always ask this. It's fucking degrading.

He has copies of my case file, and if he read it, he'd know everything.

Maybe he hates reading. Or maybe he wants to hear me repeat it so he could can infer stuff about me based on what I say. As in, do I sound remorseful? Am I defiant?

So I ran through my story:

Almost three years ago, in MacArthur, Texas, police arrested me and charged me with attempted distribution of a simulated controlled substance.

I was released on bond. I completed a 30-day drug treatment program, I go to AA meetings weekly, I work, I pay my fees, I'm enrolled in college.

I don't associate with anyone I knew from before my arrest.

Next I watched the PO dig out a binder from a file cabinet with my records. He looked up my crime. He said it's a felony, with a mandatory minimum two year sentence if convicted.

It was my first offense. The judge deferred my case. I'm not guilty and I'm not innocent. Instead, I'm under supervision. I've been under supervision for like two years now. I'll be under supervision for about another two years.

I already know this. I spent a day at the law library reading the ridiculous Texas laws, trying to figure out just how ruined my life was. As in, should I just kill myself?

I still don't have an answer for that. Well, actually, I do. The answer is "I probably should, but not just yet." Hell, I procrastinate everything else in my life, why not this?

Anyhow, the PO with the cheap toupee looked at me after reading my file. He started talking.

"We can revoke your deferment any time we want. You'd go to Huntsville for your sentence. You know anything about Huntsville?"

I heard rumors about Huntsville. But today, I just said, "no sir, I really don't. I'm trying to stay positive."

He went on. "I used to work corrections there. Lot of gang activity."

He leaned in close. "You don't look like the type that does so well in there. Guy like you, you'll be on the HIV wing before long."

I've been through this kind of shit before, when somebody tries to scare you. It fuckin sucks.

I whispered back, tracing the edges of the tile floor with my eyes. "I'm trying to stay focused on positive stuff."

He just stared, way too close to me, for a while. Then sat back and looked at my folder.

He looked at my address. Said that’s the faggot side of town. I remember him looking at me with disgust. He whispered "abomination" under his breath.

I tried to calm down. I stared at the parking lot through his dirty window.

He said he might call my boss and ask if I ever cause issues at work. He said he might come into my restaurant just to check it out.

I said "why, you looking to meet somebody?".

His eyes got real wide. I knew I fucked up. I said I was sorry. It just slipped out. He stood up and leaned over me.

I could already see in my head how I was going back to jail. I stared back at the floor tiles again.