Copyright © 2006, 2007 Roger W. Harrington. All rights reserved. 

"You’re not looking well, son."

Leonard raised his head from his attack on his steak. It was the first decent food he had tasted in a long time. "I’m okay, Mom. It’s just that I have to be careful with the money, these days." He winced, as he chewed on a piece of porterhouse.

"That tooth still bothering you? You should get it seen to."

"It’s not so bad. Besides, I can’t afford to go to a dentist on my pay."

"You’d be able to if you got a decent job," his father contributed.

"That’s it, Dad, the decent jobs are all taken. Besides, I’d need a lot more education to get one of them. Can I have some more potatoes, Mom?"

"Help yourself, dear."

Leonard reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes and measured a generous helping onto his plate.

"You’ve got your high school diploma," his father said, "what more do you need?"

"A lot more these days, Dad. For some jobs you practically have to have a degree; or at least two years of college."

"So get a degree. You were top of your graduating class in high school. It shouldn’t be a problem for you."

"Do you know what it costs to get a degree, Dad? I just couldn’t afford it."

"You got a scholarship from the high school for fast tracking, didn’t you?"

"It wouldn’t pay my first three months in university, Dad. Tuition is sky high, and then there’s the cost of room and board. Most university students are tens of thousands in debt when they first start work."

"That’s a part of life, son," his father said, helping himself to some more peas. "I can tell you, it’ll be a long time before your mother and I pay off the mortgage on this house. Everyone gets used to being in debt."

"Not me."

"We could help you, son," his mother offered. "We have some money put aside."

Leonard’s father scowled into his peas.

"No, Mom, like Dad said when I left, I have to make my own way and I’ll do it, you’ll see. I just have to figure out how."

His father had the last word.

"Whatever you do, my boy, make sure you find something with good prospects for advancement and a good medical plan. And make sure you can afford to eat three times a day."

***

The interviewer stared curiously at him and Leonard felt uncomfortable. It had been four years since he had decided on a course of action and now his goal was almost within sight. How could he convince this man and his two companions that they held his entire future in their hands? But then, they probably knew.

"I know it’s an unusual request, but I think I’ve earned it," he told them.

The interviewer looked down at the file in front of him and began leafing through the pages. He said nothing. Finally, he looked up. "Your record is spotless," he agreed. "You were eighteen when you first came. That makes you, technically, a minor. The rules apply there, you understand?"

"I was counting on it, sir," Leonard replied. He bent his head to adjust his new glasses.

"Yes, I think you were," the interviewer observed.

"Clean bill of health from the doctor… that dental problem fixed up?"

"Yes, sir, it’s fine now."

"Three years of university, with honours standing…a number of commendations…but this request of yours," he shook his head, "I don’t know."

"I admit it’s unusual, sir, but the bar exam is this fall… " He could think of nothing further to add.

"And I’m sure you’ll pass it. You’ve worked hard," the interviewer said. He paused again.

Leonard waited.

"We will need some time on this, Leonard." The interviewer said finally. "Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting outside while we discuss it. After all, this is the first time we have been asked by a prison inmate to reject the possibility of parole."