“Why, I—I think he is, yes.” The woman paused, frowning. She might have thought it was a kind of rudeness, to have even noticed that the new assistant professor was black. “He is a ‘new appointee’—the department has a special grant for ‘minority hires.’ Are you one of his students?”

“No. An old friend from high school.”

“Really! And where was that?”

“Port Oriskany. We were in the same math class.”

“You’re the same age? Really?”

The woman’s eyes moved over me, doubtfully. In my casual clothes, bare legs and bare feet in sandals, I did not look like a contemporary of Professor Jones.

In Tyrell Jones’s mailbox I left a note—Hello, Tyrell! Do you remember Violet Kerrigan from high school? My number here is—

Walking back across the campus with Brindle tugging at the leash I felt so suddenly happy, I was frightened for myself. I had placed a bet that could not fail to win. For if Tyrell Jones did not call me, that would probably be a good thing: I might seriously fall in love with him, or he with me, and one of us might be badly hurt, or both; or, if Tyrell did call me, and we saw each other, and began to be friends, or perhaps more than friends, this might in fact be the greatest good luck of both our lives, all the more precious for being shared.

“Maxed-Out”

THINK YOU SHOULD KNOW, VIOLET. LIONEL IS OUT.

Never granted parole. Served the full sentence. What’s called maxed-out.

News that should not have been surprising. News I’d been expecting.

News to make me swallow, hard. Groping for a place to sit, my knees have gone weak . . .

News that I am determined to interpret as good news.

BECAUSE MY BROTHER HAS MAXED-OUT, HE HAS NO OBLIGATION to see a parole officer. He has no obligation to report to anyone in authority, even a counselor or therapist. He has no obligation to avoid the company of other ex-convicts or what are called known felons. He has no obligation to live within a designated area, he is free to live anywhere he wishes without the surveillance of any state corrections authorities for he is no longer their responsibility.

If my brother is apprehended by police for drugs, carrying firearms, driving above the speed limit, causing a public disturbance—he will not be immediately shipped back to prison as he’d be if he were paroled for it’s crucial to understand, Lionel is not on parole. Lionel has maxed-out.

In an upbeat voice Katie has informed me of these matters. She has informed me that our brother Lionel has moved back to South Niagara. Staying with Mom and Dad in their new house until he can get a job, maybe then he’ll move out to a place of his own.

Thirteen years he’s been incarcerated! Thirteen years of life he has lost.

Imprisoned May 1992. Released May 2005.