Bent not Broken (340 page)

“I need to see Chris King,” I said coldly.

Officer Douglas shook his head. “Sorry. No can do. Chief Sawyer’s orders. The boys are on twenty-four hour lockdown right now. Come back tomorrow.”

I knew he was just doing his job, but I couldn’t help feeling frustrated. “Dammit,” I hissed under my breath. Whirling around, I stomped out of his office and with a strong look of determination, I called over my shoulder, “You bet your ass I will.” The echoes of my heels, as they clicked down the hallway, pounded in my already throbbing head.

****

Graham questioned my black eye when he got home that evening. I explained it away, claiming a mishap. I guess technically it
was
an accident because I don’t think any of the guys meant to elbow me in the face. I was just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Officer Blevins vowed that a fight like that wouldn’t happen again. He’d promised to pull extra guards during rec time to help maintain order until things settled down, or until Toombs got transferred. Graham spent the evening questioning the validity of my story, but by the time we went to bed that night I felt sure I’d convinced him that it was a just stroke of misfortune.

****

“Holy shit!” Chris cried when I slid open the tiny window of his segregation door the next day. He rushed over to the window, his face inches away from the slot. Stunned, he sputtered, “Mrs. Honeycutt…your eye!” Then, he furrowed his brow with disgust. “I can’t believe those guys did that to you.”

“It looks a lot worse than it feels,” I assured him.

He grimaced. “Damn, it looks painful.”

“It is a little, but I’m okay.” I smiled, attempting to curb his low-boiling rage.

His voice was low with repressed fury as he grumbled, “I swear, when I find out who did that to you—”

“You’ll do nothing,” I interrupted, “because if you do, you’ll land yourself right back in this place. What’s done is done. It’s been handled.” I stared at him through the small sliding window that was barely large enough for a cafeteria tray. I could see his eyes, narrowed with constricted pupils—an indication of the intensity of his anger. “How are you doing in there otherwise?”

He reached up, gripping his head and tugging at his hair with frustration. “I’m about to lose my fucking mind,” he groaned, glancing around at the barren, white cement block walls.

“I know. I’m working on getting you out sooner.”

“Thanks. I can’t take the silence. My mind is going crazy in here. I’m about to lose my shit.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, sympathetically. A week was way too long for these kids who already have a tendency to remain on edge.

“I feel lost in here, but seeing you helps.” Creases formed in the corners of his eyes as he smiled.

I smiled back. “I’m glad I can help.”

“Me too,” he said wistfully. “You have no idea how much.”

I remembered the mornings that I fought to climb out of my bed, to climb out of the dark recesses of my depression, and to put one foot in front of the other to get through each day. Just last night I’d been up four times with Alexis. I could barely hold my eyes open on my way to work that morning before my coffee kicked in, but I knew the minute I walked through the door, my world would brighten because these kids would breathe life into me, not suck it out.

“Yeah, I do have an idea…” I admitted.

We stared at each other. Chris’s dark eyes penetrated mine, and it seemed as if in that moment he understood me.

“I’m going to get you out,” I said earnestly.

“Pinky swear?” he pleaded, resorting to the ultimate promise from his childhood with desperation in his voice.

“I pinky swear.” Sticking my tiny finger through the slot, Chris wrapped his own finger around mine. A pulse of determination shot through my body the minute he touched me.
Come hell or high water, I will be getting him out.

“Thank you, Mrs. H,” he whispered, hopeful.

I walked away knowing that we connected in that moment, bonding on the same level. He was a lost and broken teenager who just needed someone to understand him—to really hear him. I was a hollow shell of a person who just needed a beacon of hope, a possibility for something positive. Together we complemented each other’s needs.

****

The grocery store was packed that afternoon. Every aisle felt like a maze of carts. It had been a long day and I just wanted to get in, get out, and be done with it. Alexis slept peacefully in her car seat in the big basket of the cart, which meant I’d only have enough room for a few items. I zipped through the aisles as fast as I could, grabbing things off the shelves from my list.

I was quickly comparing Nutrition Facts on the back of two different cans of soup when Alexis’s blood curdling scream startled me. I promptly dropped the can, landing it directly on my pinky toe.

“Shit!” The word flew out of my mouth as a knee-jerk reaction.

Several mothers glared at me, and pushed their children away from the scene.

Hopping around on one foot, I hobbled toward my cart where Alexis was writhing and wailing in her car seat. I found her pacifier and popped it into her mouth.

It wouldn’t work for long. Alexis hated her paci, and I’d left the diaper bag with her bottle in the car, knowing we’d only be in the store for a few short minutes.

“Shh.” I gently rocked her car seat.

Alexis sucked and grunted while I held the paci in her mouth with one hand and pushed the cart with the other, hobbling on my sore foot.

I knew I needed to get out of there. I could already feel my anxiety levels rising. My ears were burning and sweat beads were already forming on my forehead. I never noticed when other peoples’ kids were crying, but the minute Alexis began wailing, it felt like all eyes were on me.

I had too many items in my cart to put them all back, so I knew I had to get straight to a cashier before she started up again.

Standing in a line that felt like a mile long, I gently rocked the cart back and forth. Alexis squirmed, clearly unhappy. Suddenly, she spit the pacifier out of her mouth and startled everyone around us with another one of her ear piercing screams.

I quickly unbuckled the harness of her car seat and lifted her up, bouncing, shushing, and patting her on the bottom. It was useless; I’d been here before. There would be no calming her down.

I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead. Rationally, I knew there was no need to feel anxious. Everyone’s kids cried sometimes. Everyone had been in my shoes at some point in their lives, but that didn’t stop my stress level from rising.

“It’s okay, Alexis,” I cooed. “We’re almost done.”

She flailed in my arms, squalling. Pushing my cart forward a few inches, as if that would make the line move faster, I noticed a pair of blue eyes staring at me.

“Aren’t they just precious?” A little old lady smiled at me, graciously trying to ignore my glaring black eye.

No.
“Yes,” I said, returning the pleasantries.

“Is this your first?” she asked politely, paying no attention to my struggle.

I could barely hear her over Alexis shrieking in my ear. “Yes,” I said.
And last.

“Enjoy every minute because they grow up fast,” she said matter-of-factly.

I wanted to reach out and slap her, but then I immediately felt terrible for my violent thoughts. What was enjoyable about trying to shop with a screaming baby who just made you nearly break your toe with a can of soup? What was pleasurable about standing in a line, that won’t fucking move, with a hysterical baby in your arms while little old ladies told me to enjoy the moment?

“Thank you,” I deadpanned.

Right at that moment, Alexis gagged and choked on her spit up which landed directly on my shoulder and dripped a pretty little stream down my back.

This is the best moment yet.
My thoughts oozed with sarcasm.

I quickly used her blanket to wipe up the mess while the little old lady shook her head nostalgically. I wanted to smack her again, but this time I didn’t feel so bad about it.

“Sweet little angel,” she cooed at Alexis. “She just needed a little burp. All better now?” she asked with a sing-song voice, reaching out to let Alexis curl her hand around her wrinkled finger. Looking at me, she said, “I remember when mine were that little. I miss those days.”

I doubt I’ll ever miss these days
, I thought. “I bet.” Flashing a fake smile, I hoped I wasn’t coming across as manic. Then again, for her sake, maybe she’d see me as a threat and back off a little.

“Cherish every moment,” she insisted again.

Nope. No threat.

Alexis never let up. She cried while I struggled to unload the groceries onto the conveyer belt with one hand. She cried while I reloaded the cart with the bags. She cried while I swiped my card to pay. By the time I made it to my car, I was crying right along with her.

I sat a few extra minutes in the driver’s seat, leaning my head on the steering wheel. My nerves were shot. My hands trembled, and the tears wouldn’t stop. Alexis and I both sobbed all the way home.

Chapter Nine

SALEM

Weeks had passed without a hitch. I’d managed to get Chris out of segregation a day earlier than scheduled. He’d seemed a little more jovial since then. I’d hoped our countless sessions were helping him.

The day started out pretty much like any other day, except for the fact that I’d forgotten my lunch at home that morning and was forced to grab a tray from the cafeteria.

I made my way down the quiet corridor toward the dining room. The cafeteria was small compared to a typical high school. Three long tables stretched out across the room. Bench seats were attached to the tables. The floor was lined with cream colored tiles and the occasional out-of-place blue tile. You could hear the loud clanking of plastic trays and metal pans echoing down the hall. The food was mediocre, at best, but for some of these kids it was better than anything they ever got at home. Lunch was served promptly at noon every day.

“Great to see you, Mrs. Honeycutt,” Mrs. Collins greeted me with a smile. Bright blue eyes peered at me under the poofy hair net. Ruth Collins was by far my favorite cafeteria worker. She always loaded my tray with two freshly baked cookies instead of just one. The state would never pay to serve inmates delicious snacks, so Mrs. Collins always baked her own desserts at home and brought them with her to work, treating the staff to her baked goodies. She was always friendly and talkative, not only to me, but to the kids too. A lot of older adults in this facility seemed burned out. Not Ruth. She would laugh and cut up with the boys every day. Sometimes I thought she sneaked extra cookies on their trays too, but I never let on that I knew.

I grinned at her. “Thank you. It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Collins.”

“Here’s a little something extra for you today,” she whispered. Her bright, aged blue eyes danced with mischief. “I know cow patties are your favorite.” I loved cow patties, those delicious no-bake chocolate oatmeal cookies that resembled…well…cow patties.

“Thanks, Mrs. Collins,” I whispered covertly, excited to enjoy her homemade snack. “I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week.”

“I’ve gotta work this weekend, so it should be great!”

I chuckled inwardly. No one loved their job as much as Ruth did. I loved her attitude. These kids loved her too. I turned around and saw a few guys in the corner eyeing us. I put a finger to my lips, hinting to keep quiet. One boy nodded and took a bite of his cow patty with a wink.

“Mrs. Honeycutt,” Greg called from another table. “Come sit by us.”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed, waving me over as he started scooting down the bench. “We’ll make room.”

I shook my head regretfully. “Sorry boys. I can’t today. I have some paperwork to finish. Maybe next week sometime?”

I was flattered that these guys enjoyed our lunchtime conversations. I tried to eat lunch with them at least once a week. It was like another group therapy session, just like our pick-up basketball games. We would laugh and talk the whole meal. They’d tell me about their families, reminisce about what they missed back home, and muse over their hopes and dreams for the future. In those few short moments I’d forget the mess my life was in back home.

“How about next Monday?” Chris asked with a smile tugging at his lips, which melted my heart. Who could say no to those deep, brown eyes and that adorable dimple?

I nodded, returning a smile. “Maybe Monday.”

Greg fist pumped the air. “Yes!”

My face beamed with pride. I really grew to love these kids. While my job was to help them spread their wings and prepare them for their long flight in life, some part of me always dreaded seeing them leave. Some I would see again. Others I wouldn’t. It was like a game of roulette. Once those kids left Fairbanks, it was all up to them. Sometimes the weight of the world was on my shoulders when I watched them walk down the sidewalk away from the gates of juvie. I just hoped at the end of the day, I’d done justice to their time here at Fairbanks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Malik. He was sitting near Chris and Greg, but he hadn’t looked up from his tray since I’d been standing there. It looked as if he hadn’t touched a bite of his food either. I made a mental note to speak to him as soon as I could. Sitting several tables away, I saw Toombs. Toombs’s facial expression was flat. He slowly chewed his food, watching Malik. Malik was a big guy too, but nothing in comparison to Toombs. Malik was one of the toughest kids in juvie, but Toombs had a presence—one you feared. Toombs stared Malik down from across the room. Malik’s eyes never left his tray.
What’s that about?

****

I was filing some paperwork in my office when Chris walked in for his session.

“How are you doing today, Chris?” I asked, smiling as he stepped into my office and plopped down on my sofa.

The grave look on his face gave me my answer. I didn’t understand. He seemed okay at lunch. I wondered what happened.

“Not too good,” he sighed.

“Why? What’s up? Wanna talk about it?”