Ricardo’s Chance to Make Things Right in Life

His love for her made all the difference

Jean Davis
8 min readMar 20


Photo by Cameron Stow on Unsplash

Ricardo had sat in the same prison cell four years. His life seemed as though it was over before it got started.

His mom died while he was in prison, and they took him to the funeral in handcuffs. His dad died of alcohol poisoning alone, and he had no idea where his two sisters were. He turned twenty-one in a few days and had no future for himself. "This life is only for the ones with family, and it looks like I have none," he told his cellmate. “At least you know who your parents were."

"Hey Ricardo, pack your stuff. You go to your new home, The Rehab place.” the guards chuckled.

They knew Ricardo would have a hard time there too. They were required to put in three applications for jobs a week there, see their parole officer once a week, and have a strict curfew.

"Yeah, I got you!! Anything better than Jackson."

Ricardo gave his cellmate his reading materials and toiletries as he left.

"Man, thanks. I’ll see you on the outside soon."

"Okay, Sam, keep your nose clean!!"

Ricardo got to the rehab facility, and a massive man with tattoos and a beard met him at the door.

“Hey, I am Nick, the head of this house. You are in apartment 9.

Rules: Keep the apartment clean. You have three other roomies. Take turns with chores and laundry.

Respect their privacy.

No drugs or alcohol, no girls. In by 10 pm.

Put in three applications a week, and when you get a job, you are to pay forty percent rent, forty percent you save, and live on twenty percent.

You take turns cooking and cleaning in the main hall every day. That is how you feed yourself. You make yourself lunch to take to work.

Any questions?” “What about visitors?” “Visitation is on Sundays; after a month, you can visit them on the weekend. You must be home by 6pm for a drug test on Sunday night.”

It was Monday morning, and Ricardo was up early. "I will not get a job after being in prison for four years. I have never worked and have…



Jean Davis

Never too late to pursue your dreams after 60, which I did. I am a freelance writer. I love to write about real life situations and travel.