Eighty and Out (23 page)

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed and became louder as two prison guards approached Kristen’s cell. When the door swung open she cried out, “Nooooo! Leave me alone!”

“We can’t have you screaming at the top of your lungs,” one of the guards said. “You wanna cause a riot?”

“I want to be left alone!” Kristen shouted. “Go away!”

Clearly tired of her antics, the larger of the two corrections officers lurched forward and grabbed hold of her. Kristen thrashed around and wouldn’t cooperate so the second guard wrestled her to the ground and cuffed her.

“Let me go!” Kristen screamed. “I want to go home!”

“That ain’t gonna happen anytime soon. Get up. Let’s go!” the guard said as she yanked her.

Kristen was small but stubborn as a bull when she wanted to be, and she continued fighting them. She had to be dragged against her will.

Once at the infirmary the nurse on duty stuck a needle into Kristen’s arm, and soon her deep sobs and shudders were quieted. After she fell asleep, the guards removed her cuffs and dimmed the lights.

Kristen’s dreams were montage-like that evening, a jumble of childhood memories popping up in no particular order.

One was of the time she was a tree in the school play, doing her part to stand very still as the other cast members danced around her. Holiday music filled the air, and her eyes searched the audience for her parents, but didn’t find them.

Another was of the day she came home from school with an “A” on her book report, anxious to share the news. When she walked in she found her parents fighting; her mom screaming with slurred words and her dad storming off, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

The dreams were a subconscious trip down memory lane, where Kristen was reminded of how she wanted nothing more than to be noticed by her parents—to be loved by them—and having grown up never hearing the words spoken to her.

She woke to the sound of paper shuffling. She rolled onto her side and saw Megan.

Kristen rubbed her eyes. Her head throbbed like a jackhammer was pounding it from the inside. “Hi,” she said in a groggy tone.

“Good morning,” Megan replied. “I took the liberty of bringing breakfast in case you’re hungry.”

Kristen sat up, noticing her body felt sore all over. “Thank you.”

Kristen felt oddly comfortable around Megan. Maybe because she treated her like a human being, or like a patient at a high-priced therapist’s office. In Megan’s care, things seemed civilized, unlike the rest of the place.

“Heard you had a rough night,” Megan said.

Kristen stared at the floor, wanting to do anything but talk about what had happened. She took a bite of food. “You could say that,” she replied, while rubbing her head.

“Do you have a headache right now?”

“Do I ever.”

“Let me get you something to help take care of it.” Megan rose and reached into a nearby cabinet and handed Kristen two aspirin. “Probably best to eat a bit more first. They can be hard on the stomach.”

Kristen made eye contact with Megan. “Thanks.”

As Kristen munched on her tasteless prison breakfast and took a sip of black coffee, Megan busied herself with paperwork. Kristen knew her routine. She waited for you to speak first. Megan never pushed the conversation.

Exhausted, Kristen laid back down. “I got a letter from Jeremy,” she eventually said.

Megan nodded, a pragmatic expression on her face. “I see. That must have been a surprise. I know how much you hoped to hear from him.”

Kristen sighed. “Be careful what you wish for, right? Isn’t that the saying?”

“It is. So why don’t you tell me about the letter.”

Kristen crossed her hands on top of her abdomen and stared at the ceiling tile. “He read me the riot act. He didn’t hold back on anything he was feeling. For a guy who’s bad at writing letters he hit a home run on this one.”

“He’s finally talking to you. That was what you said you wanted.”

“Yeah. But not like this. He told me how angry he still is, even after all these years, and that I ruined their lives.”

Megan nodded, and looked to be waiting for Kristen to continue.

Kristen spoke the words she already knew were true. “I mean, I know I ruined their lives. I know I screwed up bad, but I had hoped with time they might come around.”

“They meaning Jeremy?”

“Jeremy, or the kids, somebody. I haven’t had a visitor since I’ve been here. Crack dealer low-lifes and prostitutes get visitors here, but I don’t. No one writes either.”

“What about Jeremy’s sister-in-law Olivia. I thought she wrote you?” Megan asked.

Kristen sighed. “Yes, she writes. And for that I’m grateful, of course, but I mean my family. I don’t get birthday cards, Christmas cards, nothing. It’s like I don’t exist.”

Megan leaned forward and held Kristen’s gaze. “People deal with things that are painful in different ways. Some have odd coping mechanisms. I know it’s hard.”

“Jeremy asked why I write him. Doesn’t he get that I love him? Why else would I write? He’s my husband.”

Megan opened her mouth to speak but Kristen spoke first. “And am I supposed to stop writing my kids just because he’s angry? They’re my kids too!”

Nodding, Megan said, “That’s true. They are your kids, and it doesn’t sound like he asked you to stop writing them. I guess all you can do is continue to reach out to them and hope they respond one day.”

Feeling defeated, Kristen repeated the words. “One day,” then went silent. She had already been here for years and was required to do at least eighty-five percent of her sentence. She should’ve listened to the public defender when he told her she needed a better lawyer to take on the hotshot attorneys he was up against. He suggested she call her parents and ask them for help. They had money, but she’d rather die than rely on them.

Grand theft in the first degree. She’d been given more time than some murderers. And there was nothing she could do about it. She was guilty. Sure, some time could be knocked off here and there for good behavior, but when it came down to it she’d have to survive another decade in prison.

An eternity.

When Kristen looked up she noticed Megan seemed concerned. That was her job, wasn’t it?

“I guess I’ll keep writing. I have nothing left to lose.”

“Sounds like a plan. And in the meantime I’ll see you again soon.”

*****

Kristen slept the rest of the day. She was thankful to be alone for once, as her cellie had recently been released and she hadn’t yet been assigned a new one. Most of the women liked having a friend to chat with, someone to share their time with, but Kristen preferred solitude. In her life before, when friends and family gathered around, talking and telling stories, she would often disappear into herself. She would laugh and smile along with them, but it often seemed she was hovering around the edges of the conversation rather than interacting.

Olivia had rightly noted that they’d grown closer through their letters than they were in the almost two decades before her incarceration. Kristen was hard to get to know. It’s not that she had lived a boring life. There were lots of interesting things about Kristen worthy of conversation. Like having lived in another country as a child. But Kristen acted as if these things were no big deal, playing down the events most people would have enjoyed hearing about.

Not only did she prefer to not talk about herself, she didn’t often look others in the eye. Kristen had a tendency to look away while chatting, focusing her attention elsewhere. It happened enough to be noticeable. No one spoke to her about it, of course, but it contributed to the general sense of disconnection. She kept people at bay and they weren’t able to truly get close to her.

She hadn’t even been close to the man she’d had an affair with. He just was someone who gave her attention when her world was crumbling and made her feel nice for a little while. A brief escape from the unforgiving reality she knew was on its way.

He never knew she stole money. She told him she had her own business. And at the rate she dropped cash, it must have looked to be a successful one. He also never knew she had a family that cared about her. She’d given him the impression she and her husband didn’t sleep in the same room anymore, that they only stayed together for the kids. Since he was much younger than Kristen, and she was insistent about her desire for him, he fell for it. He was naïve and liked to party. He enjoyed drinking and didn’t get on her case about doing it. And he complimented her all the time.

It was true her marriage to Jeremy was strained. But that was mostly on her. Her boozing and lies pressed a wedge between them that ate away at any romance. She’d only had the affair to feel loved again, to be touched before they locked her away for God knew how long.

The worst part was he wasn’t very good in bed. She’d risked it all for a roll in the hay, and this was the thing Jeremy couldn’t get over. Because of her affair, he wouldn’t have anything more to do with her.

Kristen wished she could go back in time and at least undo that last mistake. Would she still have her family in her life if she hadn’t done that? Would they at least be visiting her? She didn’t know. She just knew her life sucked and she had no one to blame but herself.

That evening Kristen chose to skip dinner and eat in her cell, making a meal out of her meager stash from Canteen. She munched on Doritos and warm Sprite. The soda would’ve tasted better cold. Once again, she was amazed at how much she took for granted from before.

Life was like that, she decided, you never knew what you had until it was gone.

The next day at rec time Kristen sat alone on a bench. The women who usually hung out with her kept their distance. When someone freaked out and had to be hauled off to see Megan, it was like they had the plague for a while. No one wanted to go near that person for fear they’d catch the disease.

Kristen didn’t mind. She enjoyed the solitude outside too, inhaling the fresh air, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. It reminded her of family trips to the beach; Ryan and Toby collecting shells and building sandcastles, the sound of pelicans chirping in the distance. She loved listening to the ocean surf while watching the white, puffy clouds drift overhead on their slow-motion journey through the heavens.

“Bitch, I said don’t touch me,” Lupe yelled.

Kristen squinted to see what was going on, lifting her hand to her forehead to block the sun.

Jess mouthed back. “I ain’t touchin’ you. I’m picking up my basketball and accidentally bumped you.”

Lupe, a young, attractive Mexican girl wasn’t to be messed with. Not because she was the toughest, but because she had clout. Her body was tattooed with gang symbols and her locker was filled with goodies from Canteen. She was a drug dealer on the outside and had no patience for Jess’ personality quirks.

“I’ll let you bump into me on accident, but you best be keeping your lesbian hands to yourself,” Lupe added.

Jess picked up her ball and gave Lupe a hard look, then spit on the ground before walking away. She looked pissed, but probably knew there was nothing she could do about it. She might be a tough girl who looked like a guy, but her only crime on the outside was beating another woman within an inch of her life because she found her in bed with her girlfriend. A domestic dispute gone bad.

Compared to Lupe she was peanuts. And she knew it.

“Ladies. I think you better take it easy,” one of the officers said.

The physical distance between Jess and Lupe grew as they dispersed, but the air between them remained thick with dislike. It surprised Kristen they’d never actually gotten into a fight, because she had gotten into one with Jess shortly after her arrival. She remembered it all too well.

After being sentenced and transferred, Kristen was petrified. Her time in the local jail was scary enough. That had been a musty place with cockroaches the size of salt shakers. To make matters worse, they flew! The walls had shit smeared on them. For the life of her, Kristen couldn’t figure out how that had happened. All she wanted was to go home. She had a beautiful three-bedroom townhome with a screened in porch and in-ground swimming pool. She’d cried to Jeremy on the phone to help her, but he couldn’t. She found it ironic that despite all the money she’d stolen, they didn’t have enough money to hire a decent attorney. Her parents, who had the means, didn’t offer to help.

Kristen quickly learned to exercise and build the muscles on her one hundred and ten pound frame. Looking like a model was great in the real world, not so good behind bars. She’d heard the phrase “gay for the stay” and made a decision that was not happening to her. She’d die first. The first year of pushups, running and sit-ups paid off. When she arrived at the women’s prison to serve the rest of her sentence, trouble was waiting for her.

Right off the bat Jess had gotten the idea Kristen was going to be hers. She’d even beaten the crap out of another girl who thought she had dibs. But to Jess’ surprise, Kristen wasn’t having any of it. Her repeated flirtations had fallen on deaf ears, until one day Jess decided to get aggressive and just take what she wanted.

Jess jumped Kristen from behind and in an instant was on top of her. She held her arms down and began salaciously licking her neck. “That’s what you been missing baby,” Jess whispered in her ear.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Kristen, and like a Barbie doll with superpowers she threw Jess off her and leapt back to her feet. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me! Do you understand? I will kill you.”

Jess stood with her jaw hanging open. Kristen figured because she’d only committed a white-collar crime, Jess had pegged her as a pushover. Instead, she learned that Kristen had spunk. Jess looked more than a little self-conscious after she’d been so dramatically rejected.

“Why you gotta be so serious. I was just playing,” she said.

Terrified, but not letting it show, Kristen continued to stare her down in silence. Her resolution was made firm as Jess turned and finally walked away. The others regarded the newcomer, and Kristen could see something change in their eyes. It was like she’d attained a new level of respect.

She was one of them now.

*****

Kristen watched the current episode with interest. She didn’t particularly advocate violence or enjoy fighting, but if she was honest with herself, she’d have liked nothing more than to see Lupe knock Jess flat on her ass.

It wouldn’t happen like that though. Lupe didn’t like to get her hands dirty. She didn’t have to. There were plenty of inmates who didn’t have much, who enjoyed the “gifts” she’d bestow on them from Canteen. Big, strong, hungry women could be a wonderful asset. They’d strangle someone for a candy bar or can of soda.

Kristen liked Lupe. They hadn’t spoken much but she just had a way about her. She wouldn’t mind having someone like her as a friend and on her side.

A buzzer rang signaling it was time to go back in. Perhaps she’d get to watch them brawl another time.

That night Kristen thought about the past. The first time she stole it was just to cover a late car payment. She told herself she would pay it back. But she never did. Then it was Christmas and she hadn’t saved enough for gifts, so she took a little more. No one noticed, but she still convinced herself she’d pay everything back once she got caught up on bills.

During the holidays the owners weren’t as generous as they had been the prior year, but they still managed to take their annual vacation to Hawaii. Kristen was irked. They could easily afford to give her a larger bonus, but they didn’t. After that she decided she wouldn’t pay them back, and she continued to take more.

The rush of getting away with it made her feel alive. She’d been added to VIP lists at all her favorite stores at the mall and was treated with respect when she went shopping. The wine of the month club and trips to the spa for facials, Botox injections, and constant pampering were quickly adding up, and she had to create a second set of books to keep track of things.

She’d always enjoyed drinking, but now she was a connoisseur who ordered specialty wines and offered what she believed was particularly valuable feedback in return. Jeremy had expressed concern over how much she was consuming, but she assured him she had it under control. His concern conveniently abated after they bought the big screen TV he’d always wanted. How lucky she got a bonus and worked for such great employers he’d said.

Jeremy owned his own car detailing business and did the majority of the physical labor himself. Whenever he tried to hire someone to expand, customers would complain that they preferred his work to theirs. He was, after all, a perfectionist. So he kept his business small. When he came home he was exhausted. He was thankful that Kristen was so good with paperwork and bills and willing to handle the finances, because he didn’t like dealing with that stuff.

Kristen sat on her bunk and sighed. Jeremy was a good man. Not perfect. No one was, but he was good. He deserved to have been treated better.

After reaching for a sheet of notebook paper and a pen, she began writing him a letter.

Jeremy,

I wish I could go back in time knowing what I know now and change things. I would have done everything differently. I never meant to hurt you or the kids. You’re my life. But I know that’s what I’ve done. I can never fully express how sorry I am.

You were a good husband. I hope one day you will forgive me. I pray when I get out you will give me another chance. Even if it’s just to be your friend. We’ll be old then. I’ll be almost sixty and you’ll be sixty-five. The kids will be adults.

I’m sad I am missing out on their lives. Will you please ask them to write me? I’m still their mother.

Kristen

*****

The next afternoon Lakeisha was going through the outgoing mail and saw the letter. After reading it and getting it ready for delivery she wondered what would happen. It seemed unlikely she’d end up getting her wish, but when a person was locked up for as long as she was it was good to have something to hope for.

This got her thinking about her own life. She’d majored in English and hoped to get a job in book publishing, as an editor or proofreader. She had been willing to start at the bottom as an intern and work her way up, do whatever it took, but after graduation she didn’t have any luck. She was passed over for every position she applied to. Reading prison mail wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind when she envisioned a literary career, but the pay was decent and the benefits were good. And since she and her husband were trying to get pregnant, she figured it was as good a day job as any.

But there was one thing Lakeisha didn’t like about her job: when women who’d been released committed another crime and got sent back to prison. A surprising number, fifty percent of offenders, ended up back in the slammer. The lure of the old lifestyle, combined with the very unlikely chance of getting a job, prompted many convicted felons to do something illegal in order to survive. It was a vicious cycle that no one seemed to know how to fix.

And there was always the issue of not being comfortable back on the outside. For better or worse, fellow inmates became a prisoner’s new family after their original one moved on. They felt safer in the presence of other inmates, where they knew their place in the small tight-knit society. Lakeisha had heard more than a few stories about women purposely doing something wrong after release so they would be sent back. So they could go “home.”

She hated when that was the case. Lakeisha wished each one would leave empowered and start life anew, finding whatever it was they’d wanted to do or become and forging a path in that direction.

She hoped to never see any of them again.