Dying to Live

Chapter 29 - Gallows Humour

I drag my chain double-speed down the corridors towards the interview room. It's the day after sentencing and they've allowed me to have a visitor. I know it's Marty, who else could it be? Please God, let it be Marty.

A guard pushes the door open. Shit, it's Mookjai. I'm shoved into the room and see that he's not alone, Marty is with him. He crosses the room with two giant steps, Marty not Mookjai; Mr Mookjai's diminutive frame doesn't do giant steps. A good solid man hug encases me in a warmth which reminds me of my mother; I feel the love, but in a manly way, of course.

"Mate, I can't fucking believe it. Jeez."

"I know. I'm so frightened. I thought I'd been here long enough to get used to the idea but that's not the way it works. Since I heard the sentence I haven't been able to eat, think or sleep. I'm a mess and it's only going to get worse."

"The wait is part of the punishment," says Mookjai. "They want to give you time to properly regret what you've done."

"Shut the fuck up," says Marty. He turns to me. "Where did you find this wee shit? He isn't helping much, is he?"

"I've done my best," says the little man. "I didn't have much to work with, you know. Well, apart from the four kilos of pure cocaine."

"Three point eight kilos, let's not make it sound worse than it is."

"You haven't lost your sense of humour, mate."

"I'm serious, let's not give anyone the idea that I had more coke than they charged me with."

"What are they going to do, hang you twice?"

It only takes Marty a split second to realise just how insensitive that remark was.

"I'm sorry, Dave, this is not the time for gallows humour."

"They don't call it gallows humour here," I say trying to make Marty feel a little better. "In here, they call it jab humour which means there's a point to the jokes. And it's more humane, but not quite as funny." I was going to add something about never leaving the punchline dangling but I thought that was a bit much.

Marty relaxes a bit. I can see he's relieved that I hadn't reacted badly to his misplaced humour but he can't see just how much I appreciate seeing him. My best friend is here in my time of dire need.

"Sorry again. As you well know, I do talk shite when I'm nervous."

"You don't have to be nervous to talk shite, you seem to have a natural ability."

We all have a little chuckle while we settle round the small wooden table. Except for Mr Mookjai, he doesn't do chuckling.

"So how long have you got before they, ahmmm, do it?" asks Marty.

"I don't know," I say. "Apparently the longer they make me wait for my execution, the more they're punishing me. Giving me time to reflect on the true severity of my crime and all that."

"So the biggest punishment would be deferring your execution forever?" says Marty, taking the logic one step too far. "That's bizarre."

"It's the thought of what's to come. I really am scared about dying, even though it's meant to be painless."

"Hanging is painless?" says Marty. "That's good to know."

"Lethal injection. Remember he told you that," says Mookjai.

"Shit, that's even worse. I mean, you never did like needles, did you? I remember how you freaked when you had to get a tetanus shot."

"Your diplomatic and empathetic skills haven't improved much over the years, have they?"