With several years in prison under her belt, Red had long ago learned to appreciate the value of being tired. Being tired meant that she had kept busy, finding tasks to keep her mind and body working and make the time pass more quickly. Nothing was slower than a watched clock and though her life had developed into little more than a frustrating waiting game, Red refused to let it define her. Though she had ultimately lost everything, Red had always been adamant about finding a way to give purpose to her days and meaning to the years she had been on the inside. It was how she survived.
Therefore, as she trudged into the kitchen and switched on the lights before the sun had even begun to rise, Red wasn't resentful at all about the almost entirely sleepless night she had just endured. Her back was acting up after an uncomfortable night sitting on the cold linoleum bathroom floor and the bright fluorescent bulbing hurt her sleepy eyes, but even now, Red didn't mind always being the first person to wake up in the camp. She actually preferred it that way.
Being head of the kitchen was much more than a prison job assignment-it had been a lifeline. While most other inmates grumbled about their work and bemoaned the indignity of only earning ten cents an hour, Red had always revered her plum gig. People generally weren't going to mess with the person responsible for preparing their food, and having a staff of her own to command in the kitchen had been useful in more ways than one over the years. Red was a respected woman in the camp, by prisoners and guards alike. While she certainly enjoyed the authority that came with her position, she was also generally fair in her dealings. Nonetheless, Red had worked hard to assert herself as a force to be reckoned with.
Her kitchen was run like a tight ship but it was a pleasant place to be. As Red walked around unlocking the pantry, drawers, and the door to her office with the set of keys she'd been entrusted with, she couldn't help but feel just a slight pang for home and what had once been familiar.
Usually she tried not to think too much about what was going on beyond the prison walls, but the events that had kept her awake all last night were weighing heavily down upon her. Red was mostly pretty good about keeping her mind centered on where she was and the fact that her life was in here now. She had seen countless times what happened to other women who were unable to adjust and let go of what was. Their regrets and grief ultimately drove them insane and they were never the same again. Red knew that prison had changed her dramatically from the woman she used to be, but she felt she had evolved with her dignity still intact. That was not something many other prisoners could claim.
Red always worked out the menus a week in advance. She was responsible for providing three meals a day and it was a task she took tremendous pride in. Though she didn't have much to work with in terms of ingredients, she made up for it in passion. Their protein might be the skimmings that nobody else wanted and the produce, which was ironically supplied by the vendor Red had been involved with on the outside, was never the quality she would have insisted upon for her own family-run market. However, she made the best of what she had and people were generally satisfied. And if they weren't, they knew better than to complain out loud.
This mornings breakfast was to be toast, scrambled eggs, orange slices, and slices of ham. Red's staff would be along shortly to help her prepare the meal and then serve it but she always preferred to begin the shift alone. Privacy was incredibly lacking in the fishbowl of prison society but Red found ways to get in her time alone each day. Before anyone else showed up for work, Red had scrambled enough eggs for the entire camp into two large mixing bowls and had placed the bread, oranges, and ham at their stations for three other workers to prepare. Everything was set up for the other women to jump into their tasks immediately upon entry, and Red still had time to sit down in her office chair and drink her coffee in peace before anyone was expected.
Red's back was to the door when she heard some shuffling feet and felt the presence of somebody standing behind her. She took another sip of coffee from her mug and then turned her swivel chair around, expecting to see Norma or Claudette there. They were usually the first to arrive after herself. However, the person in the door was the same pale faced girl with the wild mane of curly locks that had been drenched with sweat mere hours prior. The girl looked too shaky to be standing and the dried stains on the front of her orange jumpsuit told Red that she hadn't even bothered to change out of her uniform before unwisely venturing out of bed.
"What are you doing here?" Red asked, a slight frown etching her face as she set her mug of coffee down on the desk.
The girl shifted awkwardly on the balls of her feet and shrugged, her eyes immediately averting to the ground. Red's expression immediately softened. It was terrifying enough for anyone to arrive in prison for the first time. It had to be only worse to be forced into the full throttles of withdrawal almost immediately, cut off from the supplier she'd been using in the real world. The worst seemed to be behind her now though, and hopefully she wouldn't be tempted to sniff around for the drugs marketed inside. Though Red knew very few were strong enough to resist the urge.
"Have a seat," Red said more gently, gesturing towards the hard backed chair across from her. "You aren't looking too steady on your feet."
"I'm okay," came the mumbled reply.
"I'm not sure I believe that," Red said in disbelief. "But you do a little better, I suppose. Did you manage to get any sleep after I left?"
"Some," she shrugged. "And I've got orientation…"
"Not until ten," Red reminded her. "Plenty of time for a rest first. Unless you think you might be able to keep something down now? Maybe some dry toast…"
"Sure."
"Wait here," Red said, with an affirmative nod. She picked up her coffee mug and carried it over to the sinks, leaving the new girl sitting hunched over in her seat.
There was an aura of awkwardness in the air that made Red especially surprised that the new inmate appeared to have sought her out again. Newbies detoxing on the bathroom floor were hardly an uncommon occurrence, and though most of the other prisoners would probably be inclined to walk away, Red never was really able to. Especially from the young ones. So damaged and lost, they belonged to somebody and Red always wondered what had driven them down such a treacherous road. So she did what she could for them and in return was either awarded their loyalty or had to watch them turn back to drugs as soon as the opportunity to score arose.
Last night had been different though. Suffice it to say it had disturbed Red and emotionally pulled on her heartstrings when usually she was so adept at remaining unattached. As she'd sat on the floor with a sick stranger trembling in her arms, long after she'd sent Norma to get some sleep, Red had felt like she was holding somebody she knew although she was certain they had never met before.
"What's your name?" Red asked gently, setting a plastic plate with a single piece of toast and a mug of tea down on the desk.
"Nichols," came the gruff reply, as the girl lifted her head up off the binder Red used to write out the meal schedules in.
"And your first name?"
"Nicky," she rolled her eyes.
"Nicky Nichols," Red repeated, the corners of her mouth tugging as she sat back down at her desk.
"Yeah, my mother's a twit," Nicky replied. "I think she thought she was being clever…"
"It's cute," Red assured her, motioning to the tea and toast.
"Try some...it shouldn't be too hard on your stomach and it would be good if you could keep something down."
"I think I'm done throwing up," Nicky said. She picked up the piece of toast and took a tiny nibble of the crust. Then she set it down and picked up the cup of tea.
"Have you spoken to your mother since you got here?" Red asked, as she watched Nicky take another small bite of toast. "She must be worried about you…"
"Nah, she doesn't care," Nicky shook her head. "She said she'd come visit this weekend but I'll be surprised if she actually shows. She doesn't think I'll be able to stay clean."
"Hmm…" Red compressed her lips. "Do you think you can?"
"Can what?" Nicky asked, after she swallowed the toast in her mouth. "Stay clean? I want to...I hope so…"
"I hope so too," Red said sternly, folding her arms on top of the desk. "You're so young. You have a whole life waiting for you when you get out of here."
"I'm not that young," Nicky replied, ripping off a piece of toast. "And so far I've just demonstrated a gift for fucking everything up…"
"We all know something about that, honey, or else we wouldn't be in here," Red reminded her. "How old are you anyway?"
"Twenty-eight."
"The same age as my son," Red said automatically, and as soon as the words were off her tongue she regretted them. An image of Vasily, her youngest child, clouded her mind and Red was incapable of pushing it back.
It was always this way when it happened. And it was why Red generally went to such great lengths to not think about the family out in the world she was separated from. It was hard enough when they visited and then had to say goodbye. After all these years she should be used to it but it had never gotten easier, it had only begun to seem normal.
"You have a son?" Nicky confirmed, though she she didn't look at all surprised. "I figured. You seem like a mom…"
"I have three sons," Red said softly. "Vasily, he's my youngest, you remind me of him a little. He was always clingy with me when he wasn't feeling well…"
At that Nicky blushed. The redness that appeared in her cheeks was especially noticeable on her pale and sallow skin. She still looked very unhealthy, although it pleased Red to see that she had eaten a few bites of toast and drank about half the tea.
"I'm sorry about that…" Nicky muttered, picking at the toast on her plate just to have something to do with her hands. "That's really why I came to see you...I'm not usually like that…."
"You don't have to be sorry," Red said. Her blue eyes were shining across the desk at the girl, while Nicky's brown eyes stared determinedly down at her lap.
She understood now that Nicky was embarrassed. You weren't supposed to display weakness in a prison setting and the tough-girl facade that Nicky had entered the camp with had immediately evaporated as soon as Red had rubbed her back and offered some soothing words. Red hadn't even been certain Nicky was aware enough of her surroundings to process what was happening, but the way she had thrown herself into Red's arms surprising them both, had made Red unwilling to just leave once Norma had returned with a cup of water and she'd finished helping Nicky to clean up as best she could.
"I'm so scared," the desperate confession that Nicky had uttered before clinging to Red for dear life. Nobody had ever needed Red in such a way, not since she'd been home and mothering her boys, cuddling and cosleeping with them for much longer than her husband thought she should have. Though, Red was incredibly thankful to have done that now.
Just as she'd never have turned her back on her sons when they'd needed her, Red was incapable of walking away from Nicky last night. She'd hugged her back, holding the shaking and crying girl close and deriving just as much comfort from the embrace as she felt she was reciprocating. The last time someone had clung to her like that her sons had still been young and she'd been telling them that she was going to be locked away for a very long time…
Red hadn't been able to keep from breaking her sons' hearts or leaving them, but she was able to stay with Nicky last night. Giving her sips of water, wiping her face, and holding her hair back when she got sick. Taking care of Nicky had been healing for both of them in a way, although it had also made cracks in Red's unfeeling armour and forced her to confront the full magnitude of the loss she had been harbouring her entire sentence.
"Red?" a thick accent to rival Red's own called. In an instant a formidable woman entered the small office. She had a white apron on and a colourful bandana covering her hair. She looked very cross, as her eyebrows rose in surprise at realizing that Red had company.
"Morning, Claudette," Red said comfortably. "This is Nicky Nichols. Nicky, this is Miss. Claudette…"
The older woman nodded her head in Nicky's direction briefly but did not say anything more. Nicky had heard rumours about her from some of the other girls the other day when she'd arrived. Not that it really mattered, but having Red introduce them seemed to remove some of the edge. Nicky was glad to have a connection to her.
"Could you get the girls started on breakfast this morning without me?" Red asked.
"No problem," Miss. Claudette replied.
"I'm just going to escort her back to her bunk," Red said, as she slowly got to her feet. "Come, Nicky."
Nicky didn't need to be told twice. She gathered up her plate and mug and followed behind Red out of the office and into the main kitchen, where Red took her dishes and set them in the sink for her.
"You can try to get a little more sleep before orientation," Red explained, leading the way down the hall and into the room newcomers were assigned while they waited for space in the dorm. Miss. Rosa and Anita, the two permanent residents of this ward had already left and the room was otherwise vacated, although the hall was loud with noise and chatter as the women hurried to the showers before breakfast.
"It will quiet down in a few minutes and I'll come back to make sure you don't oversleep."
"Okay," Nicky agreed, although she realized that she hadn't been given much choice in the matter. She didn't mind though. If anything, she was enjoying it. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had made her feel so looked after and safe.
"Do you have another shirt?" Red asked, tugging at the sleeve of Nicky's orange scrub. She wrinkled her nose. Nicky had been wearing that since she'd come in the other day and it showed, especially after a night of vomiting in a grimy bathroom.
"No, they haven't given us any yet," Nicky replied, looking down to examine what had Red so disturbed.
"They probably will at orientation today," Red told her. "In the meantime, you can borrow a top from me. It will be a little big on you but at least it will be clean."
Thanks," Nicky said. She crawled up onto the top bunk situated above Miss. Rosa that she had been given. Pulling off the orange scrub top, she leaned over the edge to set it on top of her locker. Then, in just her thermal whites, she lay down on her stomach. As soon as her head rested on the thin pillow she realized how completely exhausted she was.
"I'll bring you a fresh shirt when I come back to check on you," Red said, and Nicky nodded her understanding. Her eyes were already beginning to shut.
"Are you going back to the kitchen?" Nicky asked, stifling a yawn.
"Yes, I have to…" Red replied.
"I feel bad you can't go back to bed too," Nicky told her. "You didn't get any sleep last night because of me…"
Red shook her head and her lips molded into a gentle smile.
"I don't mind," she said, reached up a hand to stroke Nicky's hair out of her face. Her thumb reached back to stroke over Nicky's cheek gently. "You can come to me for anything."
And in Red's heart of hearts she knew she was speaking the truth. Although she barely knew this girl she already could tell she cared deeply for her. She watched Nicky breath out an exhale of relief as she wriggled on her top bunk with her eyes firmly closed. Red stroked another wayward strand of hair behind Nicky's ear and then reached for the blankets folded at the foot of the bed and covered her with them.
It was hard to tear herself away and even more challenging to appear nonchalant as she walked back into the kitchen to see how breakfast was coming along. Her oldest friend in the camp, Norma, could tell something had changed as soon as their eyes met. Norma didn't speak but her eyes always told a story that Red was quite adept at understanding. Norma had witnessed part of her friend's interactions with Nicky last night and could tell how strongly affected she was by it..
"I'm alright," Red whispered, shrugging off the hand that Norma had placed on her arm.
Red pursed her lips as Norma gave her a look of disbelief before picking up the cutting board she had just sliced the oranges onto and siding them into the serving tray.
"I just...I feel like a mother again," Red confessed quietly.
She blinked rapidly and this time didn't shake Norma off when she briefly squeezed her shoulder. It was the truest way Red could think to verbally express what she was feeling at the moment. The side of her that Red had kept locked away since she'd been taken from her sons, arguably the best part of herself, seemed to be coming back into fruition. It didn't make sense but Red already knew that she loved Nicky and would do anything to keep her safe and sober.
It was a realization that both hurt and brightened Red. It made her miss her sons and long for them in ways she had trained herself not to. Yet, it also felt like she was getting a piece of herself back. It was bittersweet but mostly Red felt rejuvenated as she bustled around the kitchen and tried to complete everything quickly so she could go back and see her girl. The daughter she'd never realized she needed.