Free Shame by Alan Russell Page B

some things between us we needed to discuss.”
    His father kept rubbing his newly shaved head. He was nervous, acting much like an uncomfortable father faced with telling his son the facts of life. Or death.
    “We all have regrets, son. We all do things we wish we hadn’t. Sometimes that’s all it seems like life is, one regret after another.”
    He tried to smile for Caleb again but gave it up. “You can’t always look back. It’s not healthy. You have to look ahead. You understand what I’m getting at?”
    Ever so slightly, Caleb nodded.
    “I haven’t been much of a father,” he said. “I know you felt shortchanged.”
    Caleb didn’t respond. Since his father’s arrest he had learned to be guarded, to keep his expression blank and give little or nothing away. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening.
    “Lots of things about my life I wish I could change. I have a list of regrets, but even at your young age I suspect you’ve done things you wish you hadn’t.”
    They looked at each other, and his father found something to nod at once more.
    “They say a leopard can’t change his spots. I’ve always had lots of spots, Gray. I couldn’t change them, though Lord knows I tried.”
    He knew his father wanted him to talk, but Caleb couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He was still afraid.
    “I wish I could leave you something besides regrets, son. I wish I could tell you everything’s going to be all right, but I don’t want to give you any false hopes. Someday you might have a son, and you might have better things to tell him than I’ve had to tell you. My daddy never told me much either. About the only thing he ever impressed upon me was that when I had a firstborn boy, it was my obligation to name him Gray.
    “You’re a son of the South, boy. That’s how you got your name. That’s how I got it. That’s how your granddad got it, and your great-granddad. I told you about your great-great-granddad Caleb. That’s where you got your middle name. Caleb hated Yankees through and through. He killed plenty in the War Between the States, but that was the kind of killing that makes a man a hero. They say ol’ Caleb came home with half an arm and one leg, but that didn’t stop him from having a passel of kids.He named his oldest boy Gray. We all did. The Gray and the Blue, you understand?
    “Your name’s the family legacy, son, such as it is.”
    The lights overhead started flickering again. “Old goddamn Sparky,” his father whispered.
    The large guard, the one called Sarge, looked at his watch and announced, “Time’s up,” but there was some leeway built into his pronouncement.
    His father stopped noticing the lights. “There are so many things I wanted to tell you, Gray,” he said, “so many things I wanted to explain. But we don’t need to explain anything to one another. What happened previously is past, you understand? Water under the bridge. It doesn’t do any good to get all caught up with things we should have done, and things we shouldn’t have done. You taking any of this in?”
    Caleb offered a nod.
    “You’re going to be the man in the family now,” he said. “You’re going to have to look after your mama.”
    His father shook his head and sighed. “I’ve been a bad father, but I was a worse husband. I wasn’t home much, and when I was I always managed to set your mama to crying. But that’s nothing you don’t already know.”
    “Time’s up, inmate,” Sarge said.
    Sarge’s second pronouncement was made with a little more conviction, but Caleb’s father didn’t look at Sarge or acknowledge his words in any way. Instead, he stared off into the distance as if he could see through the prison walls. Sighing, he turned back to Caleb, then shook his head.
    “It won’t be easy for you,” he said.
    His father’s sad tone struck Caleb much more than the words. Caleb already knew it wouldn’t be easy.
    “Crazy world, son. You look for answers, and sometimes