The River Is Waiting

by Wally Lamb

“He was married, but he had a girlfriend on the side—a white woman who was a hanger-on with that Black Power group. Some judge’s daughter. Owned a sports car, and one night, when Lester

was driving it, they crashed into a bridge abutment.” “Did she die?” “No, but one of her arms got so mangled, they had to amputate.” “Was the accident what put Lester in a wheelchair?” “Nah, he’s only been using that for the past few years. I don’t think he got hurt much in the accident, but she got a pros...

Whether she divorces me or not, I’m still Maisie’s father. Emily can’t deny that.

PART THREE: A Simple Stone

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE August 2018 Day 367 of 1,095

But one year’s been served. I can’t lose sight of that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO September 2018 Day 409 of 1,095

Angel lets out a laugh. “Dang! Little fuckboy just bitch-slapped you, Ledbetter.” So much for my fatherly instincts. Now I feel like jacking up the little shit for embarrassing me. Guess I’m getting institutionalized.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE October 2018 Day 429 of 1,095

When I look down at the mess Piccardy made of Maisie’s drawings, a cartoon heron looks back up at me. Tell Emily I said hi.… Which one? The dead one or the one he didn’t kill?… I have half of a pad left and three or four pencil stubs. After the ruined drawings dry off, I’ll copy them. Improve on them, too. I’m not going to let Piccardy defeat me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR October–November 2018 Day 443 of 1,095

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE November 2018 Days 461–63 of 1,095

I tell him. “See if we get the same number.” When I’m done, I tell him my number is sixty-eight. “How many did you count?” But he hasn’t counted. When I follow his gaze, he’s just been watching that same mother hen and her chicks

from a few days ago. At least I think they’re the same ones. Why is he so drawn to them?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX November 2018 Day 469 of 1,095

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN November 2018 Day 476 of 1,095

Javier grabs the books he’s checked out. Shakes them and fans the pages. Mrs. M’s razor blade falls out of Eragon. Javi picks it up and hands the book back to Solomon. “She said to tell you you’re suspended from the library for the rest of this month. After that you’ll be on probation for three months. That means you can check out books, but you’re not allowed to stay and read. Or use the computer. Got it?” Solomon shrugs.

Now, studying Gowy’s painting, my sympathies are with Daedalus, powerless to save the boy. And as

the inventor of the wings, he realizes he’s the unintentional orchestrator of his son’s death.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT November 2018 Days 477–80 of 1,095 Hoo hoo hoo-hooo…

I’ve been incarcerated for a year and a half and in that time, I’ve waited for a visit or a letter from my father. Nothing.

When I get out of here in another year, I’ll probably be in the best physical shape of my life. And my anxiety level’s much more under control now, too. Some

“Look,” Manny says. I follow his gaze to the end of the corridor and there’s Solomon. He’s walking, zombielike, past his and Daugherty’s cell and heading toward me. As he comes closer, I see that his face is puffy on one side. He’s got a shiner. When he leans his forehead against my chest, I put my arm around him. “Rough, huh? You want to tell me about it?” His head moves side to side. “I might as well just kill myself,” he says.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE November 2018 Days 484–86 of 1,095

At lunchtime, Piccardy leaves Goolsby in charge and takes off over the hill toward the facility. Later, when we get back to work, I can see from my vantage point on the ladder that he’s coming not from the prison but from the woods. Anselmo’s with him and his voice is the one that

carries. “I thought you said this shit was mellow, but I’m fuckin’ baked, man. I gotta sit.” When he plops down on the grass, Piccardy sits, too. Whatever he just said makes the two of them giggle. I look down at

And before you decide to pursue this, think about the possible repercussions for both you and Clapp. You’re not in a position to fix this, no matter how justified you’d be for trying. And if Solomon’s just been on the receiving end of an ugly, traumatizing episode, do you want to set him up for more of the same?”

On my way back to our cell, Daugherty stops me. “Couple of the guards just came in and packed up Solomon’s stuff. Said he’s been transferred out of here, but they wouldn’t tell me where.” Hopefully, Counselor Jackson performed some kind of

CHAPTER THIRTY December 2018 Days 508–13 of 1,095

Too bad her needs don’t include driving down here to see her husband.

“But then again, why should I have input when I haven’t seen her since I got here?”

me? Not picking up the phone and accepting my call? We both lost him, not just you. And now I’m losing her, too, because you never let her see me. What’s that about, huh? Payback for the pain I’ve put

But I decide to risk being seen, being heard. “Warden? Sorry to interrupt, but can I speak with you about something?” The entourage stops.

“Stop right there, Inmate Ledbetter. I’m not having you litigate whatever problem you’re having with my officers. Let the grievance process take its course and consider it an opportunity for you to practice patience. And in the future, don’t interrupt me when you can see I’m busy with guests.”

Two days later, my complaint comes back to me in inmate mail. Stamped across it diagonally in red, it says “Dismissed.” The following day, my letter to the SPCA is slipped through the tray trap of our cell door. It’s been opened but there’s no postmark. Those fuckers! It never even left the compound. I pace, kick stuff, stop to look at the calendar. Tomorrow’s the twenty-fifth. Merry fucking Christmas!

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE March 2019 Day 600 of 1,095

confused. What’s he yelling about? I follow his pointing finger, but all I can see in the dim light is that it’s a snake. Jesus, is it a copperhead? Those things are poisonous. Climbing to the safety of

“I changed my mind about that,” he says. “You’re a pain in the ass, Corby, and I’m still sort of pissed at you, but we’re friends. I’m not going to bail on you now.” What he says brings tears to my eyes, which I try my best to hide from him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO August and September 2019 Days 734–79 of 1,095

approaching from behind. “No big surprise. That kid was more fucked-up than a soup sandwich.” I recognize the voice; it’s Piccardy. “Hey, Ledbetter. You hear the news about your little buddy?” I keep walking; I’m not taking the bait. “He hung himself.” I turn and

do what she says. Back in our cell, I’m relieved to find myself alone. I sit on my bunk, put my head down, and sob. Ten minutes later, I’m called up to the control desk. Jackson’s standing there, waiting. “False alarm,” she says. “It didn’t happen.” I stare at her

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE October 2019 Day 802 of 1,095

It’s Warden Rickerby’s idea to hold a reception to celebrate my artistic achievement, but the last thing I want is attention of any kind. I ask Mrs. Millman to explain this to the warden, but Rickerby’s opportunity

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR October 2019 Day 809 of 1,095 A week after the reception, I get

But it did happen. They raped me with a state-issued defensive weapon to punish me. Silence me. And they must have planned it ahead of time. Why else would Piccardy have shown up on his day off?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE October and November 2019 Days 818–31 of 1,095

Yeah, well, maybe if you’d brought her down here to see me, they wouldn’t be telling you she needs a shrink. Tell the truth, Emily. Isn’t keeping her from me

No matter what’s going to happen between Emily and me, I’ll fight her tooth and nail if she’s going to try to screw with my parental rights. I was a good dad before

You see what kind of a sick bastard prison’s turned me into, Emily? And half the time, you can’t be bothered to pick up the phone and accept the charges? You can’t manage more than a couple of letters a month, sometimes one a month? How long has it been since you visited? Two months. Right, Em? Eight weeks. Fifty-six days.

he’s going to get me that prescription, which, this time, I’ll be taking under controlled circumstances, not because I’m craving it. Thank God that obsession has left me. And I’m not really breaking the promise I made to Emily before I came here. Well, I am and I’m not. It’s just a port in the storm—a