Title: The Marriage of Tobias Beecher II
Author: P’al Kwai
November 27, 2003, Thanksgiving Day
Staring down at his meal tray, Tobias Beecher notes that prison management staff had ordered turkey (pressed), mashed potatoes (flaked), and cranberry sauce for the evening’s dinner. It must be their way of saying Happy Thanksgiving. Taking a bite, his initial reaction is to spit it out, but figures Miguel Alvarez and Alonzo Torquemada, who are sitting across from him, wouldn’t appreciate having spittle, mashed potatoes, and pieces of pressed turkey sprayed in their direction.
“It’s not a big thing,” Torquemada speaks quietly, so the prisoners around him can’t hear.
“Naw.” Chris Keller demolishes his food in a few bites. “Don’t care to be involved in the tit trade.” He glances briefly at Torquemada before giving Toby a nudge. “You gonna finish that?” He points to the pressed turkey.
“It’s all yours.” Toby sighs and pushes his entire tray toward Keller, trying to repress the images of past Thanksgivings, spent with family and children.
“Thanks, baby.” Chris leans over to whisper and smile in his ear.
“Do this for me,” Torquemada says with urgency. “And you have my word that the Latinos will. . . .” His eyes cut to Beecher. “Protect him.”
“Yeah.” Chris’ grin says it all, ‘bullshit.’ “Like the Latinos are going to follow a fag like you.” He spits out fag in a derogatory tone, which is interesting since Keller himself practices homosexual acts almost every night. “And besides. . . .” He puts an arm around Toby. “I already take good care of him without you spics.”
“Chris.” Now it’s Toby’s turn to give Keller a nudge. He hates the fact that Chris uses every opportunity to put his hands on him, and usually in a very public way. “You’ve had help from both O’Reily and. . . .” He glances over at Alvarez. “Miguel.”
“It’s alright, bro. Doesn’t matter to me who does whom what favor; I still have your back covered,” Alvarez states in a soft voice, before giving Torquemada a telling look. Obviously, the two are not in total agreement.
“Thanks,” Beecher says thoroughly surprised. He’s not sure why Alvarez has been, and continues to be loyal to him.
“So why the fuck are we even having this conversation?” Chris asks with disgust, as he stands up. “Come on, Tobe.” He caresses the back of Beecher’s neck, signaling him that dinner is over.
Getting up stiffly, Toby is remained that, although healed, his spine will never quite be the same. The walk to Em City is done at a slow pace, as Toby still finds moving his legs takes great effort, and the faster he moves them, the more effort it takes.
“You feeling okay, cos you didn’t eat dinner.” Chris stays glued to his side, watching and processing his every move, his every gesture.
“I’m all right.” Toby shrugs, not wanting to bring up the fact that it’s Thanksgiving, and that Thanksgiving is spent with family.
“You missing your kids, Tobe?”
The question has Toby stopping in his tracks for a second. Keller’s perception catches him off guard.
“After all it’s the holiday.” Chris opens the door of their pod and waits for Toby to shuffle in. Stepping in, the pod door closes slowly behind him. He doesn’t need an answer to his question, Toby’s demeanor says it all. “You never should have signed your parental rights away. You could be looking forward to a visit from your kids now, since they’re out of school until Monday.”
It’s the same old quarrel he’s had with Keller numerous times before, but it never stops him. Arguing is one of his forms of entertainment.
“Do we have to go over this again?” Toby flops down on his bunk with a sigh. Lying flat, stretching his back out is such a relief. “It’s better for all involved. Besides, even if I hadn’t terminated my parental rights, no one in my family nor Gen’s family would bring the kids here to visit. Not after. . . .” He stops, not wanting to voice the nightmares of his brother, stabbed by James Robson, and his father, murdered by Franklin Winthrop.
“Yeah.” Chris sits down in the pod’s only chair, his eyes never leaving Beecher.
Despite living almost 24/7 with Keller for the past eight months, Toby still can’t get used to the man’s penetrating stare. It feels like he can see through his skull and read every thought, every feeling he has.
“You know that’s one motherfucker, I never took care of.”
“Who?” Toby finally turns his head to meet Keller's eyes, and is not surprised to see the intensity reflected in them. He's is a man of passions.
“That cunt, Robson.”
Toby shrugs; he hasn’t given Robson a thought in ages. “He’s sitting in the aids unit, no longer a big, tough Aryan. He’s a nobody now.”
“Right.” In one smooth move, Chris is out of the chair, kneeling on the floor beside Toby. “So you’re saying, I should forgive and forget the little fag?”
“Ye-ah.” Toby is again taken back by Keller’s use of the term fag. “What is it with you insulting people by calling them fag? Isn’t that what we are?”
“No, babe.” Chris picks up Toby’s hand and kisses it. “We’re not fags; we’re the real deal.”
**
November 28, 2003
Sitting at a table in Em City, book open, Toby has not turned a page in the last half hour. He doesn’t see the printed pages in front of him, instead he remembers years past on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Fighting crowds at the shopping malls, buying toys for the kids, and arguing with Gen over what they were going to buy their respective fathers for Christmas, and afterward, coming home to leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner.
Raised voices bring him back to the present. Most of Em City residents are plopped in front of the television, watching whatever drivel the C.O.s are allowing that day. Sitting off to the side, Keller has himself strategically placed, so he can see both the TV and Beecher. Next to him is O’Reily and they’re having yet another argument, whether it be if puppets have dicks, or what bra size Ms. Sally is.
“Tobias? Tobias Beecher?”
Turning to his left, Toby is speechless, as a familiar face from his past walks up to him. “Jesus! Robert? Robert Edders?” An old classmate from his law school days at Harvard. “What the hell?” He stands up to greet his old friend with a hug. Studying Edders, he sees a newcomer to Oswald State Correctional Facility. “What are you doing here?”
“Corporate fraud, obstruction of justice.” Edders shrugs. “I was a big fish in a big corporation, thought we were above the law. They sent me here as an example to others.”
“Sorry to hear that. So who do they put you with?” Toby can’t help but scan Em City’s residents, hoping for his old friend’s sake that it isn’t the worst of the worst.
“Um. . . .” Edders points to clean-cut young man across the room. “Him. Name’s Jeffrey Karn.”
Oh, yes.” Beecher nods. It’s no one he knows, but Karn is a member of the Christian group, full of himself but non-violent. Letting out a sigh of relief for Edders, he knows that his friend won’t be getting fucked up the ass his first night in Oz.
“So.” Edders touches Beecher’s arm, while motioning for them to sit. “I had heard that you were serving time here. What was it, hit and run?”
“Driving while intoxicated, and vehicular manslaughter.” Toby sits down and gives Edders a half-smile. The depressive holiday is looking a little cheerier with a new friend.
“And you’ve been here for how. . . ?”
“Toby!” It’s no surprise to Beecher to see Keller striding toward them. He had seen him watching them like a hawk.
“Chris, this is an old friend of mine from Harvard. . . .”
“Let’s go.” Chris never lets Toby finish, as he grabs him by the arm and begins dragging him toward their pod.
“Chris!” Toby tries to pull away, but Keller is strong, too strong for him. “Chris!” he spits out in anger, as he is literally thrown into their pod. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Stay away from him, Tobe,” Chris warns, his expression icy and hostile.
“Or what?” After months of being in too much pain to care, Toby has finally found his combative side. “He’s an old friend I haven’t seen in years. He’s no threat to you; I wasn’t planning to fuck him.”
“Fuck him, yeah,” Chris repeats Toby’s words with a humorless grin, as he paces a few steps. “That’s good because you know what happened to the last guys you fucked.”
“Jesus!” More anger surges through Toby, but the dangerous glint in Keller’s eyes remind him just who he is dealing with, a jealous lover, who has no compunction of eliminating the competition. Sighing, he counts to ten silently, while his peripheral vision notes that most of Em City’s residents are looking over at their pod. The drama of Chris Keller and Tobias Beecher is certainly more interesting than anything on TV. Crawling into the bottom bunk, he finds it better than nothing as a hiding place from all the prying eyes.
“You know, Beech,”Chris swings their pod’s chair close to the bed, and falls down into it. “I’m a Catholic, and we, Catholics don’t believe in divorce.”
Toby can only roll his eyes, wondering what line of thought Keller is following this time. “Chris, you’ve been divorced four times.”
“Yeah.” Now Chris' smile is all charm and charisma. “Those marriages were of the legal kind, but I did not take a vow before God.”
“Uh huh.” Toby still has no idea what Keller is talking about.
“But with you.” Chris points a finger at him. “With you, I took a vow before God.”
“You what?” Toby’s face immediately registers his shock. He can’t hide it. Marriage vows. Hadn’t he thought about them again and again during his many months of recovery? “A vow before God?” he stammers out. “Just what the fuck are you talking about?”
Chris smirks as he leans in closer. “I took a vow when I was told you had awaken from your coma, a marriage vow.”
“A marriage vow.” Toby tries to feign a casual laugh but fails miserably. “It takes two to make a marriage.”
“Yeah, it does, doesn‘t it?” Chris stares unflinchingly at Beecher. “So what’s your answer? Going to make an honest man out of me?”
“I-I. . . .” Toby squirms uncomfortably. Hadn’t he already made his vows to Keller? “This is ridiculous,” he finally whispers out. Despite Keller’s care of him these many months, he still can’t completely trust the man. He never likes to display all of his cards, never wants to show any emotional vulnerability. “Gay marriages aren’t legal.”
“Fuck legal,” Chris snarls out. “I’m talking about a vow before the Almighty, promising to love, honor, and obey. Ah yes, obey. That one will be quite a challenge for someone as bullheaded as you. We’ll have to work on that.”
“Ha, ha.” Toby gives Keller an I’m-not-amused look. “And does that obey thing apply to you too? Do you have to obey me?”
“Of course,” Chris answers. “That is, when you’re right, And you’re not right about. . . .” He stands up and walks to door. “About your friend there. What’s his name?”
“Robert Edders, and all he is. . . .”
“Is dangerous,” Chris interrupts.
“He was convicted of corporate fraud and obstruction of justice,” Toby says in disbelief. “How does that equal dangerous?”
“An old school chum suddenly appears in Oz. Bullshit. It’s some kind of set-up.”
“You are a paranoid fuck.” Toby can only shake his head again, as he lies back down.
“I’m a player, Tobe.” Arms folded across his chest, Chris continues to stare out at Robert Edders. “And a player can always spot another player.”
**
As soon as the lights go out in Em City, Toby isn’t surprised to hear Keller jump down from the top bunk. It’s almost a nightly occurrence. Lying on his left side, facing the glass wall, he’s still feeling miffed about Chris high-handed behavior regarding Robert Edders. An arm and a leg snake around him, and a breath of warm air hits his ear.
“Chris, I’m not. . . .”
“What?”
Toby catches a flash of white teeth, as he’s rolled over onto his back.
“Too tired to do your wifely duties? Got a headache? Or is it your time of the month?”
“Motherfucker!” Keller’s teasing incenses him. Since when has he been delegated to being the woman? He struggles, but Keller just pins him harder into the bed.
“Toby, Toby,” he placates, as he runs his tongue up the side of Beecher’s face and grinds his groin downward. “I do so love you, and I do promise to love, honor, and yes, obey.”
Chris' words stop Toby in mid-struggle. They’re said with such sincerity, such honesty, that he can’t help but be touched. No one in his family, including his late wife have loved him with such passion.
“Kiss me.” The directive was a whisper against his lips. He can’t ignore it.
Always the aggressor, Keller mashes their mouths together, breaths mingling, tongues touching. When the kiss finally ends, Toby gulps for air, as he feels his boxes being pulled off his body. Wet kisses made their way down his body, as he waits and anticipates. He’s desperate for contact, any contact on his rapidly growing organ.
“Chris,” he manages to pant out. His voice no longer has a tone of annoyance, only lust and want.
“Ask for it baby,” Chris teases some more, as he blows air into Beecher’s pubic hair.
“Please,” Toby pleads, back arched.
His cock is totally engulfed in a warm wetness that has him bucking and begging for more. Eyes closing, he reaches down to grab Keller’s head. At that moment nothing matters, not Edders, not Thanksgiving, not his children.
Hands push his legs apart, and soon fingers are stroking his anal ring. The pleasure is so powerful, he can hardly stand it. “God, oh, God,” he groans, as suddenly a finger is inside him, rubbing and massaging. “Jesus!” His body jerks, as he feels his orgasm sweeps through him, leaving him gasping for breath, as his inner self shouts I do, I do.
The finger in him withdraws and is soon replaced by a hard cock. The burn of being stretched is familiar, but Toby knows that it will soon pass. Short thrusts become long, driving strokes, and within minutes the two find their rhythm, as their bodies move together.
Keller’s hard stomach rubs against Toby, and soon he’s rigid again. Wrapping his arms around the man above him, he feels the sting and the pinch of sharp teeth on his neck. Tomorrow he’ll be covered in bruises.
Keller starts to move faster, as he feels the tight heat surrounding him. All he can think about is the need to possess the man beneath him. Pressing himself into the hilt, he feels Toby buck and groan from a second orgasm. Spasms around his cock push him over the edge as well, as he empties himself with a moan.
**
December 2, 2003
Sitting in front of the computer in Sister Pete’s office, Toby listlessly plunks away at the keyboard. He can’t help but see Edders hopeful, and then disappointed face, when he deliberately walked away from him on the few occasions their paths crossed over the weekend. He wonders how is old friend is adjusting to life in Oz.
“You okay, Toby?” Sister Pete peers over at him in concern.
“Wha-, yeah, oh yeah.” He gives a little jump, then twists around in his chair. “Just thinking.” He pauses, and then decides to open up the subject that has been nagging him for days now. Pete, have you met a new prisoner named Robert Edders?”
“No.” Pete puts the file down she had been studying. “But I believe. . . .” She roots around in a stack of manila folders. “Yes, here he is. Edders, Robert, entered Oz November 28, 2003. I need to make an appointment with him. Just haven’t gotten to it because of the holiday.”
“He’s an old college buddy of mine. He was placed in Oz, and Friday he and I had a chat.”
“Really?” Pete takes off her glasses and looks at Toby with interest. “Must feel nice to have an old friend here.”
“Yes, yes it is.” Toby looks down at the floor a moment, before turning back to the computer screen. He questions why his perspective is so different when Keller’s cock isn’t in him.
“And?” Pete knows there’s more.
“And, and,” Toby hesitates. He already knows Sister’s Pete’s views on Keller, her disapproval, her judgment. What good would it do to bring up the latest disagreement? “And I was just hoping you’d give him support?”
“Don’t I always?” She stares at him suspiciously.
“Of. . . .”
Thankfully Toby is cut off by a guard giving a hard rap on Pete’s door. He doesn’t wait for permission to enter, as he opens the door and roughly pushes a handcuffed prisoner into her office.
The guard is Len Lopresti, a cruel, brutal man. “Attempted suicide, but fortunately we caught him before he could do much damage.” He points to the bandage on the prisoner’s left wrist.
“Thank-you, officer.” Pete is polite, but cool. “I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Beecher.” Lopresti turns to Toby. He can’t pass up a chance to taunt. “How’s your daddy doing? I’m saving him a spot in death row, cause I know it’s just a matter of time.”
“Fuck you.” Beecher can’t help himself. Lopresti is a first class bastard.
“Listen, Beech.” Lopresti points his guard’s stick at him. “One of these days, like I said, Keller will be back on death row, and without his protection, I’m thinking you. . . .“ He makes a cutting motion across his throat.”
The sound of sirens ends any further discussion, as a voice transmits over Lopresti’s radio. “Yeah, I got it,” he answers back. “Lock-down. There’s a fight in the gym. Beecher!” he steps over and hauls Toby out of his chair. “Get your ass back to Em City, now!”
“He needs to wait for Keller,” Pete immediately protests. That had been the deal, two days a week Beecher works for the Sister, but he is always escorted to and from her office by Chris.
“Fuck Keller.” Lopresti gives Beecher a shove toward door.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Toby raises his hands as if surrendering, while giving Pete a let’s-not-argue look. “I’m going. If Chris comes by. . . .” He doesn’t finish his thought as he opens the door; he knows Sister Pete understands. Exiting the office he glances about, checking the hallway to see if Keller is coming for him, but surprisingly the corridors are empty. Seeing Lopresti move toward the office door, he hurries away. Another confrontation with that particular CO is something to be avoided. Making a left, he works his way back to Em City, when a hand touches him from behind.
“Jesus!” Toby swings around swiftly, causing his back to spasm in protest. “Fuck!” He checks his heart, which is beating a mile a minute. “Bob, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” Edders says. “I was on work detail, when those fucking sirens went off, and then the guard told me to get my ass back to Em City.”
“Lock-down.” Toby clarifies, as the two resume walking. “I guess there was a fight in the gym, so now we all pay the price. Anyway, Bob, I want to apologize for my, my rudeness last weekend. You see,” he hesitates a moment. Explaining Keller is never easy. “My podmate is the jealous type, and the last thing you want is to have his jealousy directed at you.”
“Your podmate, Chris Keller, right? I heard about him.”
Toby smiles slightly. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything good.”
Edders shrugs. “It depends, but I do have a message for the both of you.”
Toby sees the shank a split second before it’s aimed at him. He automatically raises his hands in a defensive position but is only able to deflect the sharp steel. Biting pain numbs him, as the blade is buried in his right shoulder. Falling to the ground, he sees Edders’ face above, lips drawn back in a feral grin. More pain, as the shank is pulled roughly from his body. He tries to scream, as it’s stabbed into him again and again, then mercifully, he falls into the black pit of unconsciousness.
**
It’s the kindly concerned face of Dr. Gloria Nathan bending over him that is Toby’s first sight when he opens his eyes a couple hours later. “Jesus,” he mumbles softly. “You mean I’m not in heaven yet?”
Shaking her head, Dr. Nathan gives him a worried smile. “No, still here in Oz, unfortunately. “Now, Beecher, don’t,” she starts to say, just as Toby tries to sit up, “move.”
“Fuck!” He only manages to lift himself an inch off the pillow, before falling back down. The pain is intense and radiates from his shoulder down his entire spine.
“Beecher,” Dr. Nathan warns, as she pressing him down into the bed. “If you thrash around, you’ll reopen your wounds.” She realizes that Toby is not listening to her. Looking around, she spots O’Reily, who had been hovering near by. Because of the medical staff shortage, he has been allowed to stay in the infirmary despite the lockdown. “Ryan, help me out here.”
“Chris, where’s Chris?” Toby remembers Edder’s words about a message for both of them. He fears for Keller.
“Hey, buddy.” The wiry hands of O’Reily hold him down, while Dr. Nathan grabs a couple of restraints. “Take it easy.”
“Chris I need to talk to. . . .” Toby is cut-off by the entrance of Tim McManus.
“Beecher!” He strides toward the bed. “Who did this to you? Give me his name.”
“Chris, I want to speak to Chris,” is Toby’s answer as he now struggles against the restraints.
“Beecher,” McManus tries again, but Dr. Nathan interrupts.
“Bring Keller here. It will calm Beecher, and then perhaps you can talk to him.”
McManus sighs in acquiescence, as he pulls a two-way radio out of a back pocket of his jeans. “Sean, I need you to bring Keller here to the infirmary.”
Back in Em City, Sean Murphy looks over at Keller, who has been throwing a tantrum in his pod since lockdown. “Ahh, Tim,” he speaks into the radio on his shoulder. “I know our orders are to cut Keller some slack because of Beecher, but if we try and go into Keller’s pod right now, the only place we’ll be taking him is the hole.”
“I’ll go talk with him.” O’Reily immediately volunteers. Keller will listen to him before any hack.
“Go!” McManus waves a hand at him, and then signals the guard to allow O’Reily to leave.
Sprinting to Em City, O’Reily makes it there within minutes, and is greeted by hisses and banging of pod walls by the other prisoners. Why is he out free, while they’re all in lockdown? Skidding to a stop in front of Keller’s pod, he mouths the word Beecher, as he hears the electronic click of the lock.
“K-man.” Opening the door, he chuckles at the complete destruction Keller has wrought on his pod. “Calm down. Beecher’s in the infirmary and is asking for you.”
Fuck!” Keller throws a tube of toothpaste bottle against the wall. He throws it hard enough, so the tube splits and toothpaste runs down the glass wall. “I’ve been going crazy here, wondering where the fuck Toby is, and none of the fucks here. . . .” He motions at the guards at the command station. “Would tell me a fucking thing.”
“Well, settle down or you’re going to get thrown in the hole, and then how the hell you gonna help Beecher? Come on, McManus has given the okay for you to go to the infirmary.”
“Fuck yes!” Chris pushes past O’Reily out the door. “So what happened?” he asks, as he gives the finger to the inmate in the next pod, who had been shouting in protest that now, not only is O’Reily out walking around, but Keller too.
“Beecher got shanked, but he’s not telling who did it.”
“Shanked! Who the fuck is after him now?” Chris runs a hand through his short hair, thinking hard, as he walks faster. “I took care of the Aryans, so who’s left?”
O’Reily can only shrug; he has no answers, as he follows Keller through the swinging door to the infirmary.
“Keller!”
Both McManus and Dr. Nathan begin speaking at once.
“Keller, I want to know who did this to him.”
“He’s too agitated. If you can’t get him to calm down, I’m going to have to sedate him.”
Keller’s an expert at tuning out everything, when he chooses to. The only person, who is important to him at the moment is the man lying in bed, restraints on his arms, and bandages on his upper body that are now blood soaked.
“Toby,” he murmurs as he leans down and carefully puts his arms around Beecher. “Toby, he whispers in an ear. “What the fuck happened?”
“Edders.” The word is barely audible to Keller, even though his head is next to Beecher’s. “He sends a message to both of us.”
**
Staring out his pod door, Keller looks up across the way at O’Reily, who mouths the words, not there, and then shrugs exaggeratedly, signaling that he has no idea where Edders would be.
“Fuck!” he spits out the expletive.
“What’s the matter?” The words are slurred; as Beecher is conscious but drugged up.
“Edders isn’t in his pod. I asked O’Reily to check it out.” Walking over to the bunk, Chris kneels down and smoothes the hair off Toby’s forehead. “So how you doing?”
“It’s funny.” Toby pauses; speaking is hard work when you’re in pain. “I was stabbed what, four, five times in the shoulder, but it’s my fucking back that’s killing me.”
“Dr. Nathan says you probably gave it a good wrench when you fell. Now, rest, don’t talk anymore.” Chris continues to run his hand soothingly through Toby’s hair.
“I’m glad that Dr. Nathan agreed that I could come back here with you.” Ignoring Chris’ order, Toby rambles on. “I don’t feel safe otherwise.”
“Well, you’re safe now.” Chris lowers his voice to a whisper.
Despite his pain, Toby manages to turn his body slightly toward Keller. “You going to tell me now, I told you so?”
“Hmm.” Chris murmurs, as he pressed his mouth to Toby’s temple. “Maybe, when you’re feeling better; now, go to sleep.”
“Only if you lie here with me.”
“Toby,” Chris immediately protests. “You’re injured and. . . .”
“Come.” Toby raises a hand to tug on Chris’ tee shirt. “Lie with me and hold me, so I can’t move. Cause the pain’s even more of a bitch when I move.”
Standing up, Chris pulls off his clothes and then cautiously slides into the lower bunk. Arranging his body, he wraps himself around Toby. “Now go to sleep. Tomorrow, if you feel better, we can decide if you should talk to McManus or not.”
“’K.” Feeling like he’s wrapped in a cocoon, safe and secure, Toby closes his eyes and begins to drift off, repeating the words, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part, over and over to himself.
****