Silence.
Was she gone? "Sandy, you still there?"
"Are you convicted yet?"
"I was afraid you'd hung up."
"The longest conversation with my brother in my entire life, and I should hang up?" Her voice had softened somewhat. "Do I wear glasses?"
"What?"
"Do I wear glasses, yes or no?"
"Glasses? Yes, ah no, I don't think so."
"I rest my case. You'd walk right past me on the street. Somehow, I have it in my mind that there are things you should just know about your sister. That's a stretch for you isn't it?"
"I'm sorry Sandy, but there are years between us. It's not like we were joined at the hip."
"But, I thought we were at least friends. Don't you get it? We were born friends. You just don't want to connect with me."
"When I get this behind me, I'm going to make it up to you. Can you forgive me?"
"Forgive you? How about I just forget you?"
He said nothing.
"I know you're in a deep hole down there, and I don't mean to minimize it." The irony of him being the one now in trouble didn't escape her; she realized she was being too tough. Nevertheless, it was unfair of him to ask. "I can't leave, Raymond. I've worked hard for this job. I'm not going to screw it up."
"You're right, don't screw up your job. Somehow I thought-."
Then sounding upbeat, she said quickly, "Hey Raymond, hope things turn out all right for you down there. Bye now, I'm gone."
"Wait! I know I've been a lousy brother and don't deserve your help, but there's no one else."
"I'll phone you at Christmas," she said.
The line went dead.
Ray sat on his bunk tossing the silent phone from hand to hand. He was tempted to smash it against the wall. What was wrong with him he wondered, how dare he ask her for anything? So she's out of it. Couldn't blame her.
Was there someone else he could call, someone he hadn't screwed up with his indifference? Certainly, no one down here, probably no one up in Philadelphia either. Sounded pathetic when he thought about it. He didn't think of himself as friendless. He was well liked by his co-workers and wasn't unsociable. It was just that he enjoyed his solitude and didn't spend much time thinking about friends. Friends just appeared in his life from time to time. They happened, he didn't seek them out.
He stared at the other bunk in the cell. The bulk of a smelly old man in rumpled clothes was lying there dead drunk, on his back snoring with his head hard against the wall. "Looks like you also could use a friend. I don't know anyone else in your damn town," Ray said aloud surprising himself. The man didn't stir.