The Journals of Bayliss

Free.

Dec. 8, 2006

Yesterday, Meldrick picked me up. He had the car running and the heat blasting. It’s a 2002 Chevy Impala. Not bad, but I said ‘perfect’. Meldrick had stopped by a couple of years before. He’d just shown up one day, being a cop has its pluses. The CO called me to the parlor. We got extra time. He told me he made Lieutenant, and that Frank was still teaching

Now Lewis picks me up. In my dreams, it was supposed to be Frank. But I don’t control shit, that’s clear now. All of this was out of my control from day one.

I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. Just Lousy. He was all zen. We touched hands, and that was it.

After five years I’m out. A slap on the wrist for manslaughter. I served it full with no parole. Some people in the system, the same people who let Ryland off, saw me as a hero. Like I cleaned up their mess. It helped with my sentencing for sure - there was plenty of guilt to go around back then. If they could have seen what was in my heart…

Lousy’s got 15 to go. I got teary. It’s ok, he said, you made it now. Lousy’s the one who corrected me back when I thought the only way I could do time was to not feel shit. He said that’s impossible. He said, in here, out there, you feel shit all the time - the good thing is it’s just feelings. Get up, sit, make your bed, do your work, eat, endure, sit, go to sleep. Don’t kick yourself and everything you are to the curb just because of this.

Lousy is a good man.

Meldrick said we’re going to Mike’s. I didn’t ask why, it was just good to be on the outside, good to be in a car. It was relaxing - there’s a word I haven’t written in a while. We were driving, tires churning up the slush. Windshield wipers furiously swiping. Free. Grateful. Talking about whatever without looking over my shoulder.

We got to Mike’s who’s living in an apartment in Federal Hill now. And there’s my Jeep out front with Hildy attached. Everything I owned but hadn’t seen in years, was packed in that old Arrow Heartline, just like I’d left it. Fly rods too. Mike’s still handsome, doing the PI thing, and pretty successful. He’s stopped drinking anything more than beer. He still has his boat but spends more time in Federal Hill. I sensed some tension between him and Lewis. I wanted to say to them, who cares anymore?

We had McDs and Natty Bohs which were frosty and fine as fuck, and shot shit about stuff. Mostly the squad and how they all got reassigned, retired or fucked off elsewhere. Do I miss them? Some. That’s all over now. It’s a new life - it has been for years and yesterday, when I walked out those doors, at MICH? I knew it. Thank the damn Buddha.

Dec 20, 2006

Since I got out I’ve been laying low at Mike’s, taking care of things that accumulated after 5 years, and amazed at the changes in the world in just that time.

I passed my drivers test, which Meldrick and Mikey fast tracked. Good to still have some clout in the system. Mike will send it to Tony. I finished up repairs on Hildy, said goodbye to Mike, and scrammed. That might be something I’ve got to watch since I got out - this unusual itchiness now, an impatience, that hasn’t been there for a long time.

I was so tired after just a couple hours of driving, that I pulled over and grabbed what became a long deep sleep. Felt good considering my bunk at MCIH.

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I had that dream again. I thought maybe they had stopped. I don’t know what they mean if it means anything - maybe something is gone, or, there’s something I can’t fix. Lousy would say all of life is a dream, but I don’t buy that yet, if I ever will.

Dec. 21, 2006

Got a late start.

The day wasn’t without its highlights. I drove through all that West V greenery along I-70. The Jeep was chugging, so I pulled off the road. Grabbed all the boxes from inside Hildy, found a quiet spot, poured fuel on them, and let it all go. All my shit, any memories I had left. It was just stuff, and I do not need to negotiate with it. I had a little regret as I drove away, I remembered about a couple of family photos, but I didn’t turn back. In the rearview mirror, I watched it all going up in flames. Old Gautama would have been proud. I felt lighter and it’s like I’m on my true path now.

I stopped for coffee after I passed by an accident. A big hauler laid a whooping on a Mazda. There were a couple of cops, a lump of flesh covered up, and a meat wagon. Cops were smiling, it’s always the same, even in the boonies. When I exited the little cafe with my mug filled, I saw a couple of creekers, heads nodding off, next to a dumpster. Weird especially out here. Maybe, like Mikey said, the Hillbilly Heroin is creeping out from B. Then, I saw a missing person notice tacked on a community board, then another on a telephone pole. Don’t be fooled by all the beauty out here, they seem to say - there’s a ton of misery to go around. Funny thing is I don’t feel much about that. Good or bad. Lousy said, things will become neutral. I guess my five years of just sitting is collecting on its promises.

Lousy also told me to write every single day, which I will once I get to Flat Hill, my ancestral home as they say. No idea what will happen and I’m not looking for anything special. It’s the one place outside B where I still have people and maybe the one place where I can untie this final knot.

Even at Hagerstown, with all that time I had alone - something is still fucking with me.