The Release

Seven years on the inside passed much slower than they must have in the world… He felt like an alien, visiting a new planet. Style and practices had changed enough that he felt completely out of place, and he knew that even if society was still exactly the same, he still would. He was a different man, now – inside and out, but his outside would affect a great deal of how he was received. Tats and scars were on his person. He had chosen a bad path and did things that he could never take back. Now, he had to face the world and wonder if it could ever accept him, after everything that he had done – senseless hate crimes and acts of racism.

Finding work after being released on parole would not be simple, he already knew that much. But, he also knew that his appearance would have deterred most people from hiring him, before he even ever made it to the point of applying. There was little that he could do about his appearance, though. He had his hair shaven on one side of his head and long, on the other. No hair grew properly on the shaved side, because of a fight that resulted in a hug scar across his scalp and the side of his face. He could shave all of the blonde locks off, but then – that would amplify his past and accentuate the tattoos. Currently, he didn't have the money to buy something to wear to cover them up.

When Sam passed a newsstand, he noticed the black couple at it staring at him in disgust and anger. He had been getting the same looks all day and really wished he had some shelter from his own appearance. He stopped at the newsstand and sorted through his change, to buy a classifieds list. The man behind the counter sold him one, but did not say anything to him. Even when he offered, "Thank you, Sir. Have a good day." The man just stared at him, as though wondering if this was some kind of test, some kind of trick to provoke him? Sam sighed and continued on his way, with his paper.

The shop had been slow all day, so she took this time to try to get some things out of storage and out onto the shelves. It was tedious without any help, but her last assistant had to relocate with a military husband. She heard the window chimes of the front door sound and called out sweetly, "I'll be with you in just a moment!" She reached out around her, to be sure that she replaced the box that she had on the floor back to its spot on the shelf before leaving the stock room.

The woman made herself visible, with a beaming smile and a loud, but gentle voice that asked, "How can I help you, today?" Sam frowned. She was black. He expected her to gasp, or freeze dead in her tracks and kick him out. He didn't want to give her the chance, even though her smile appeared to not be going anywhere.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Miss," he said and turned to leave.

"You haven't even told me what you need, yet," she said, cheerily. "Trust me, you aren't a bother. What can I do for you?" He turned again and stared at her. The smile was something else. It was genuine, kind and warm… not the forced thing that someone nervous tried to put on when he was so close that they were afraid to offend him by not doing so.

"I was going to apply for the handyman/assistant/odd jobs position that you placed in the classifieds; but, I won't waste your time…"

"You're hired!" She said excitedly. "When can you start?" Sam folded his arms, annoyed. Was she kidding? She seemed serious, but she had not even glanced at him, once. She kept her eyes focused on everything BUT him. Clearly it made her uncomfortable to even have to be in the same room as him. "I understand if you can't start today…"

"Miss, look… I've had a rough past few days. I know that I don't deserve your kindness, but please, don't toy with me. I've barely eaten all week. I know how I look to you and I expected from the moment that you saw me to reject me. I understand. But, just, please, don't treat it like a game," he asked, sternly.

"I haven't seen you, yet," she answered, with a serious expression.

"Yes, I've noticed that you won't look at me. I understand," he said.

"I actually don't think that you do, Sir," she said. "May I see you?" She asked and reached towards his face, with her eyes pointed at his chest. Sam leaned closely towards her face and tried to gather her attention with his eyes… she's blind! He realized. She quickly touched his face and began to run her hands all over it. She laughed and backed away to clap her hands. "I love that realization face. The way lips just drop when you sighted ones realize – goodness gracious, she ain't like us."

"I… I just…" He sighed and asked, "Is there anyone here that can help you make decisions in these types of things – like reviewing applicants, and things like that?" She bit her lip as he talked and he could see that he was upsetting her by asking this, but as soon as he finished talking, she smiled again and called out to someone.

"Clusterfrak!" She yelled, "KissyKissyBangBang, you might as well come, too!" Two dogs came running as she called out to them. One of them was a very serious looking German shepherd, whom she touched and said, "This is my guard dog, Clusterfrak." Then she reached for the handle of an Akita and said, "And this is Kissy, my seeing-eye dog. They are damned good judges of character. They don't mind you."

"They can't tell you how I look," he said. While he would love a job, he did not want to cause her any trouble. Hell, she had enough. She was blind, for crying out loud!

She sighed and told him, "I thought we settled that. Come here, let me see you, again. For real, this time." Now, she touched his face, slower, more attentively. Sam sighed. He had not been touched by a woman in seven years, and her hands were softer than he remembered a woman's touch even being. He was tense, worried that he might pass out if she kept this up. She observed, "I'm making you nervous. You don't like to be touched. I'm sorry. It won't take me too long." She thoughtfully ran her hands over his hair and said, "You need to wash this. In fact, your skin feels like you could use a washing. What's your name?"

"Sam," he replied, the effort to resist the smell of her fragrance beating the hell out of him.

"Are you homeless, Sam?" she asked, as her hands moved towards his ears. He simply nodded his head. "Yes, you have that feel. I can help you out, Sam. Don't worry. I'm not going to judge you." She touched his neck and asked, "What's on your tattoo?"

He frowned and dropped his eyes in shame. "I have several… most of them aren't good."

"Did you get them in prison?" She asked. He stiffened, significantly and when he looked at her, she was smiling, sympathetically.

"Not all of them. I got some before, and some while I was inside." Somehow, it was easier to answer her than it had been to interact with anyone else. She couldn't see him, but this was like eye contact, only more involved. It was like she could see him in a way that no one else could. But, maybe that was just because her mind didn't associate images with people. She probably had never even had contact with something, someone like him.

He felt her tracing the designs of his ink and saw her smile sadly. "This is a swastika." When she removed her hands, he felt suddenly empty. He wanted her touching him again. "No wonder you were worried about me giving you a job." Her face quickly regained its cheer and she clapped her hands together, once. "Come on, we have to do something about this appearance of yours that you're so self-conscious about." She grabbed his hand with one of hers and walked him to the door. "Purse, Kissy." The dog came to her, carrying a bag in her mouth and she put it on her arm and held on to the guide as she kept Sam's hand in her other hand. "I'll feed you first. There's no need to give you a makeover on an empty stomach." He hesitated to walk and she laughed and said, "If it makes you feel any better – I'll take everything out of your first check."

"You… still want me to work for you?" He asked. "Even knowing about… my past?"

She smiled, and faced his general direction, though her brown eyes moved from side to side and focused on no part of him. "Sam, you are going to have to learn that not everyone judges people by the way that they look. Some of us see people differently." Now, she pulled his hand and said, "Food, first. Then we go shopping for clothes and toiletries. You can wash up and get changed here and I have a spare room for you to sleep in. Try any funny business and Cluster's gonna eat you alive." She smiled and crinkled her nose.

"Thank you…" he realized that he had no idea what her name was.

"Mercedes," she said gently, "and don't even mention it." She pulled him outside and began walking in the direction of the shops she frequented, talking animatedly about general things. He simply stared at her. Perhaps he would have the opportunity to have a second chance.