"Have you ever been in love?"
It wasn't a strange question, but it wasn't one Mary Margaret Blanchard wanted to answer, not only because it made her unaccountably uncomfortable but also because it was past lights out, and chatting was prohibited.
"Ruby, please. It's past lights out. Chatting is prohibited," Mary Margaret whispered.
Ruby Lucas had been flopping around on the top bunk for the better part of an hour. She was often restless, especially at night. In fact, Mary Margaret sometimes counted how many times she switched positions as a way of lulling herself to sleep.
"It's a yes or a no," Ruby said.
"No."
"No as an answer, or no you're not talking to me?"
Mary Margaret considered this for a moment.
"Both," she said finally.
The room was silent.
"Ok," Ruby said. She shifted in her bunk again. "I know you'd get in trouble before I would-" Everyone knew that if anyone were busted for any infraction it would be Mary Margaret. Warden Mills seemed to have it out for her-and the spies in place to enforce it all day and all night. "I just didn't want to talk about this in front of everybody is all."
Mary Margaret considered again.
"Climb in with me so we can talk more quietly." She wouldn't have made this request of anyone but Ruby for several reasons: first, she trusted Ruby, and second, Ruby was the stealthiest person she'd ever met.
She thought briefly about why she trusted Ruby. They'd never had the "what're you in for" talk. Maybe that was exactly the reason why she trusted her: They didn't exactly know each other's demons and temptations and wrongs and rights. They knew each other's sympathetic smiles and favorite cafeteria meals, and that felt as good as anything could. Mary Margaret was scared that this current conversation was going to ruin what they had-this facade of innocent anonymity that made her feel halfway normal. Everyone in here seemed to know her from the papers. Ruby either didn't or pretended not to. That was a mercy.
Ruby silently snuggled in next to her. Mary Margaret didn't want to talk, and she didn't want to cuddle. But Ruby was her friend, and she had a duty.
"I was in love once," Ruby said almost inaudibly.
"And then you killed him, and now you're here," Mary Margaret thought to herself. She'd heard it a hundred times before, and she was beyond being heartsick about it. Instead of voicing her cynicism, Mary Margaret said,
"Was it nice?" And she had surprised herself with the question. She seemed to have surprised Ruby, as well, as she paused before she said,
"For a while."
"Tell me about the good times."
They looked at each other in the darkness and pretended to see each other 's earnest expressions but really just saw the heavy gloom that both separated them and kept them close.
"He was beautiful," Ruby said.
"That's nice." Mary Margaret hadn't known what to say, so she had said something trite. The only people she knew who were beautiful also happened to be terrible.
"It was." Ruby yawned, and her description of his shining eyes and hair turned to gibberish as she fell asleep.
Mary Margaret lay there in the blackness, uncomfortably warm with the other body nestled beside her. She wished she could feel safe and cozy instead. But she couldn't and she wouldn't. She fell asleep anyway.
xxxxx
"Lucas! Floor-scrubbing duty with Nolan! Blanchard, with me!" A surly guard yelled, yanking Mary Margaret bodily from the mild comfort of unconsciousness.
The other guard, Nolan, grimaced a little apologetically as she dragged Ruby with her, but this guard, whom everyone called-unironically-Mal, smiled as she swatted Mary Margaret on the rear, guiding her to the tiny lavatory in the corner.
"Comb that mess, and brush your teeth, sweetheart. You know Warden Mills likes to see you as clean as a dirty little thing like you can be."
Mal followed her and was close behind her as she said further,
"You know the regs, princess. Lucas is a hot number, but good girls sleep single. You wanna be a good girl, don't you?"
The words in her ear made her shiver. She had no desire to be a good girl or a bad girl. She didn't have any desires at all, at least none she had any right voicing, none that would be heard, none that made her feel human or right, none that she had even processed fully.
"Yes, ma'am," Mary Margaret said anyway because it was expected.
"I could probably sweep this under the rug for you…" Mal trailed off until there was just a tuft of air raising the hair on Mary Margaret's neck.
Mary Margaret spit out her toothpaste and smoothed her clothes.
"No, thank you, ma'am," she said, pretending not to understand the innuendo that would inevitably follow. "If one does the crime, one must do the time."
Mal pouted into the small, distorted mirror.
"Warden Mills will be happy to hear you feel that way."
Mary Margaret's heart clenched. Mal was toying with her, of course. Warden Mills was never pleased with anything Mary Margaret did, and she shouldn't have cared about pleasing her anyway.
They stood there, too close together, staring at each other's reflections.
"Well, go on, princess," Mal said. "Change your duds. Warden Mills doesn't want to smell whatever you and Lucas got up to last night."
Mary Margaret blushed.
"It wasn't like that, ma'am. It was chilly last night, and the blankets-"
"Oh so now you're going to read me the Riot Act about prison conditions? I'll just add stirring up rebellion to your infractions."
"Please, ma'am, I didn't mean-"
"Shut up, and disrobe."
Mary Margaret shut up and disrobed. Her undergarments were coarse and prison issue, but Mal eyed her the same as if they were silk.
xxxxx
"Sapphic activities?" Warden Mills let the words drip from her red mouth. Beauty products were contraband for the inmates, and Warden Mills taunted them all with her perfect makeup.
She stood and rounded her desk, and Mary Margaret couldn't help but take in the lay of her uniform. It was crisp, pressed, worn jauntily with a popped collar. She suspected this was against regulations, but who would presume to warden the warden? Her eyes flitted to where the warden's hands were clenching into fists in the pockets of her pencil skirt, calling attention to both her agitation and the tightness of the skirt. Mary Margaret shook herself out of it. She hated the way she felt when she looked at her-dirty and embarrassed and stupid.
Warden Mills narrowed her eyes.
"So you have nothing to say for yourself?"
"No-I-" Mary Margaret shifted her weight and tried not to focus her eyes on the triangle of flesh exposed by the warden's open collar. "There were no sapphic activities."
Warden Mills stepped closer with a menacing, low tone.
"You expect me to believe that a depraved little scoundrel like you didn't lure her cell mate into a bed of debauchery when you were caught red handed in that very same bed of debauchery?" Her tone had risen to almost a yell. It was much too loud for the small distance between them.
"Yes-I-It-"
"What lies are you trying to spit out, you little heathen? That you would never?"
"Yes," Mary Margaret said. The warden laughed a mean laugh.
"Do you think I'm blind, inmate?"
"Blind? I-" Mary Margaret's heart and mind raced simultaneously, anxiously. What was it that the warden saw?
"I've seen you. You may not think I know you," she punctuated with a pointy index finger to Mary Margaret's chest. "But I do."
"Ma'am?" The warden poked her again and laughed a mean, hard little laugh.
"You little fool. You don't even know it yourself."
Warden Mills didn't move an inch, but her tone became more pointed and somehow intimate,
"Those big green eyes of yours do a lot of looking at things they oughtn't be looking at."
Before Mary Margaret could even swallow down her apprehension, she realized her eyes had, at some point she hadn't been conscious of, drifted to the warden's lips. She did swallow then and as quickly as she could manage found the warden's eyes again, and those eyes held more mean laughter and a raised brow.
"So, Blanchard." Warden Mills smiled and leaned back on her desk. "What ought to be your punishment?"
"I-" She was suddenly aware of how stuffy it was in there, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. "I-I've done nothing to be punished for."
Warden Mills laughed. It was still mean, but now it was full and ringing.
"A funny thing for a convicted murderess to say."
"I suppose it is. But if you know me so well-"
Warden Mills stepped half a step closer and mostly whispered,
"Oh, I do."
They stood-too close, separated and drawn closer by an electricity neither could name-for a long beat. Finally Warden Mills smiled.
"You seem to enjoy cleaning, so floor scrubbing is out." She started to pace a slow, tight, counterclockwise circle around Mary Margaret's stiff frame. "And if I gave you the lash-" she paused, standing behind her, close enough that her gesticulating fingertips grazed her back. "-you'd probably enjoy that, too, you little reprobate." She rounded out the circle and was facing her again. "And solitary would be a reprieve from the rumors and gossip, which I know torture you." They stared at each other-a grimace, a smile. An idea seemed to hit Warden Mills. "My personal laundry." At Mary Margaret's confused look she added, "You'll get to see what you'll never have."
Suddenly Mary Margaret knew what Warden Mills had been hinting at, and she was almost as appalled as she was shamed.
"No-I-it's-"
"No wonder you were convicted, dear. You must've been quite tedious on the witness stand." She walked back to her desk, still smiling.
"You're dismissed, inmate."
Mary Margaret wished she'd gotten the chair.
