I set my phone on the dresser and let my head fall back as I close my eyes and thank the universe for Alex being ok. I'm left wondering if she intended for this to happen or if it was truly an accident. She mentioned doing something like this a while ago, but so much time has passed that I thought she'd dropped it. Knowing Alex, she found the perfect scheme to make it work, and now she's pleased with herself for just how well it turned out. The thing is, she really did get hurt. I hope she's being honest about her condition.

I do an Internet search about electrocutions and spend about 30 minutes learning more about tests and treatment. I'm mostly satisfied that she really is going to be ok, but I won't fully believe it until I see her with my own eyes tomorrow.

Then it hits me. Fuck. I've lost my visitation privileges. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maybe they'll understand; after all, Alex has been through the ringer. She spent a night in the medical unit for God's sake. I dial CO Eastman's number and leave a message, hoping he'll call back before I make the trek out there tomorrow. Alex is going to be furious if I can't see her, but I should also be furious with her for getting shocked. Why do we always seem to find ourselves in fucked up situations like this?

Next, I search the Smith College alumnae database to see if any of my former classmates live in the Columbus area with hopes that one of them is a lawyer. Turns out there are 32 Smithies here, and eight of them graduated within three years of me. I scan the list of names, hoping I know a few of them.

Bailey Schecter lives in Columbus? We were housemates my freshman year and did a summer Habitat for Humanity project between sophomore and junior years. I click on her name and read her profile. It doesn't list her profession, but I decide to e-mail her anyway.

I continue scrolling down the list and e-mail two other people who were tertiary friends but who might remember me. Hell, it's a start. Even if one of them isn't an attorney, perhaps they know someone who is. I'd much rather find an attorney on the outside than have Alex use a federally appointed one.

I quickly shower, and then head to Starbucks for the mid-day shift. I hope there comes a time when my schedule is more predictable, but for now, I show up when I'm told. I feel a little weight lifted off my shoulders as I take the bus to the university district, but I'm still worried about Alex's health and the fact that as of now, I can't see her tomorrow.

"Hey, Chapman," Zodiac greets me. "Any chance you could work the evening shift for Brandon?"

"Yeah, I think so." I put my stuff in my locker and grab an apron. "I might have to take a call later, but it won't be more than 10 minutes."

"You're a life saver, dude." He gives me a fist bump. "So, what did you think of Amber?"

This is the sixth time I've jumped in when a manager needs me to cover for someone. I must be getting some serious points for being a team player. Who knows—maybe they'll consider me for a promotion in the next few months? Assistant Manager Chapman has a nice ring to it.

On my first break of the day, I check my phone and see I have a few new e-mails. One is from Bailey Schecter:

Hi Piper,

It's great to hear from you! I still volunteer for Habitat for Humanity every fall, and I think of you every time I arrive at a site and pick up a hammer. Do you remember when neither of us knew how to even hit a nail on the head? Now I'm a foreman on most projects.

I'm not an attorney, but did you know Malika Marshall? (Her married name is Harris.) She graduated from Smith a year before us and is a corporate lawyer. She and I have lunch once a month, and I'm happy to give you her contact info. Speaking of lunch, let's get something on the calendar. I'd love to see you.

Take care,

Bailey

Malika, Malika, Malika…I try to place her. I enter her name into my phone's browser, and as soon as her photo appears, I recognize her. She went by Meeka back then, and not only did I know her, but we had at least one class together every semester until she graduated. In fact, I was with Meeka when she was admitted to Notre Dame Law School.

I shoot her a quick e-mail, copying and pasting most of what I wrote to Bailey. With any luck, she'd be willing to at least hear about Alex's case. Trouble is, if Bailey is correct about her law specialty, she's not going to be well suited to handle a criminal case.

Zodiac peaks around the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but we're getting slammed out there."

I tuck my phone in my back pocket and go to the front of the store.

After waiting on six customers in a row, it slows down again.

"What's up? You look kinda sad," he mentions.

"My wife is…" I decide against filling him in on the whole situation. "You wouldn't happen to know any attorneys, would you?" I lob out there without any real hope or conviction.

Zodiac runs water on the stainless steel filter. "You mean besides my mom?"

I turn to face him. "Your mom is an attorney?"

"Yeah," he responds. "One of them is anyway. My other mom owns a pottery studio. She's the one who got to pick my name when I was born. My lawyer mom got to choose my younger brother's name and chose Robert. How boring is that? Some people think my name is weird, but I dig it."

I stand there with my mouth hanging open positively stunned both by the fact that he has two moms and that one of them happens to be a lawyer.

"Anyway, if you ever want to make homemade vases or coffee mugs, I can hook you up," he goes on seemingly unaware of my paralyzed condition. "She does a lot of birthday parties and stuff where every guest gets to make their own pottery and paint it," he pauses. "When I said I could hook you up I meant I could probably get you a discount; it wouldn't be free or anything."

"Of course not." I try to appear calm, but I'm about to burst out of my skin at this turn of events. "What kind of law does your other mom practice?"

"She's a general practice attorney, so she doesn't really specialize in one thing. She had this case a couple months ago where she was defending a man who got beat up by his wife. You don't hear about that situation very often." He fills a cannister with whole milk. "She can't talk about cases before or while the trial is happening because of privacy and stuff, but she usually fills us in afterwards."

"My wife was electrocuted in prison yesterday and needs an attorney," I say as evenly as possible, trying to hide my enthusiasm. "Do you think I could talk to your mom about that?"

He turns to me. "Holy shit, is she ok?"

"She's fine," I state. "Does your mom live in Ohio?"

"Yeah, they live in Granville, which is like 45 minutes from here," he replies. "I could walk to Denison University growing up, but I didn't want to go to such a small college."

"Any chance you could ask your mom if she'd be willing to talk with me?"

He pulls out his cell phone. "For sure."

A few people walk into the store.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

I go through the motions of making three coffee drinks, but my mind is whirling at this potential opportunity. If Zodiac, of all people, can help Alex out of this situation, it'll be a fucking miracle.

"You gonna wake up or what?"

"What?" My eyes flutter open to see Teeny hovering above me. "What time is it?"

"It's dinner time," she replies. "What's left of it anyway. If you want to eat, you better hustle. They about to shut things down."

I sit up and wince at the pain in my ankle. I glance at my hands, which is more of a dull, burning pain. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Pretty much all day," she says. "You need help getting down there?"

I rub my eyes. "Yeah, thanks."

Teeny hands me the crutches. "I ain't never been on these things."

"I have." I reach for them. "A long time ago." I take a few steps and realize it hurts my hands to press on the handles. "I don't know how I'm supposed to make this work."

"I should get a guard." She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. "Maybe they could get you a wheelchair or bring the food to you." Teeny turns towards the hallway. "Better yet, maybe they'll let me bring you a plate instead of hauling yo ass all the way there."

I'm rarely one who accepts help, but I can't see another way around this predicament. "That would be super helpful."

She disappears, and I'm left standing there like a gimp.

"Hey, Simpson," one of the guard calls. "You have authorization to help this inmate out?"

Two of them appear outside of my cell and have a conversation with Teeny standing nearby.

"Well?" I ask impatiently. "It's not like I'm faking it."

"Yeah, ok." Simpson nods. "Inmate 499081, you can get a plate for her. I'll escort you."

Finally some humanity, I think.

I'm dying to call Piper, but I don't know how I'm going to make it to the phone nook if I can't even walk to the cafeteria, which is half that distance. Maybe if I start right after I eat, I can make it within 15 minutes.

"Here you go…" Teeny enters the cell with a tray of food. "I never paid much attention to what you drink for dinner, but I don't know anybody who don't like chocolate milk."

"Thank you." I smile. "Really, I mean it."

She points to the food. "I don't know if you gonna be thanking me when you taste the tuna casserole."

I glance at the brown blob in the center of the plate. "That's what this is supposed to be?"

"Yeah," she chuckles. "I'm late for board game night and there ain't no way that bitch Daria is gonna beat me at Sorry this week!" She pauses at the entryway, then spins around. "Just leave the tray here, and I'll bring it back before light's out."

"Ok, have fun." I dig into the tuna casserole and blanch at how flavorless it is. I have no idea when the last time I ate was, so despite the lackluster flavor, I eat every bite, including the stale peanut butter cookie on the side.

"Knock knock," comes a voice from just outside my cell.

"Yes?"

"I'm Nurse Lopez; I have your meds." She hands me a tiny paper cup with two pills. "Can you state your badge number please?"

I say the number out loud.

"Take these just before bedtime," she instructs. "The on-call nurse tomorrow morning will bring you more before breakfast."

"Tylenol?"

She nods. "How's the pain?"

I stare at my throbbing foot. "My ankle is killing me."

"Keep it elevated as much as you can." She props my pillow at the other end of the bed. "Let me see if I can get another one of these."

"That would be great," I reply, then I think of something. "I'm supposed to be on a very important phone call right now. Because of the burns on my hands, it's hard for me to use crutches. Is there any way you could wheel me down to the phone nook?"

"Hmm…I'd have to check with my supervisor." She turns to walk away. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

It's worth a shot. I hobble over to the shelf and stick my empty food tray on it, then move to the only chair in the cell. I don't sit in it much—I feel like it's Teeny's since she was here first. But maybe I could elevate my ankle if I prop it onto the lowest shelf that acts more like a desk. That's better.

If I don't call Piper tonight, she's probably going to let her mind race in thinking about worst case scenarios. Even if we can only talk for two minutes, it'll be enough to appease her. Plus, I want to hear her voice.

"Good news." The nurse rolls a wheelchair in. "Plus I got you this."

"What is it?"

"It's a foam block they use for physical therapy, but it's better than a pillow to keep that foot propped up." She puts it on my bed. "I hope that works."

I sit in the wheelchair, feeling pretty fucking lame. "Thank you."

We arrive at the phone banks, and there's a short line. "You don't have to wait, Nurse Lopez. I'm sure I can get someone to wheel me back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Truth is, I don't know anyone around here. Worst case scenario, I spend the night in the phone nook. Then again, they'd never allow that to happen.

I roll up to the next available phone and punch in Piper's number.

An inmate from Marysville Federal Penitentiary is calling. Do you accept the call?

"I do," she responds. "Alex, hi—how are you feeling? Are you out of the medical unit yet?"

"Hey, babe," I reply, closing my eyes and pretending she's right next to me. "I'm out of medical and back in my cell."

"Does your ankle hurt? What about your hands?"

"It all hurts." I stare at one bandaged hand. "My ankle more than my hands though. I must've twisted it pretty fucking bad."

"How high were you on the ladder?"

"I don't know…" I think about the incident for a moment. "Maybe on the second rung; it wasn't like I fell 10 feet or anything."

"Have they given you any pain meds?" she asks.

"I wish," I respond. "Because of my track record with drugs, all they can give me is extra strength Tylenol."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." I try not thinking about the pain. "Tell me about you. How was your day?"

"Don't get overly excited, but I might have a lead on a lawyer," she reports.

"Really? Who?"

"The boy I work with, Zodiac, told me one of his moms is a general practice attorney."

"Wait, go back…"

"To the part where Zodiac has two moms?"

"Yeah." I shake my head. "This is the first you've heard that little bit of information?"

"Yes," Piper replies. "I was as shocked as you are, but that's not the point—one of them is a lawyer."

This all sounds too good to be true. "Are you sure that frat boy isn't yanking your chain?"

"Maybe." I imagine her shrugging. "But I'm hoping to find out more tomorrow."

"That would be a miracle." And extremely coincidental.

"I know."

"I hope you're right; I think this whole electrocution thing has potential," I say. "More than we may know right now."

"I hope so," she responds. "Before I forget, Alex, you need to ask your CO for a next of kin form. If my name was in your file, I wouldn't be in this predicament."

I bring the phone closer to my mouth. "What predicament?"

"I did something I'm not proud of." She takes a deep breath. "And I won't be able to see you tomorrow."

My heart sinks. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I mouthed off to the guard yesterday when they wouldn't tell me why you couldn't see me during visitation."

Thank God that's what she did to make me 'not proud.' My mind went to a very dark place. Nevertheless, I'm still upset. "You what? They don't revoke visiting privileges unless you did something really fucking bad."

"Maybe it was a little more than mouthing off," she tries. "I was furious with her! She could've minimally told me you were alive, but she wouldn't say a damn thing!"

"Piper…"

"I expressed my feelings—my very strong feelings—and then she called the security guard who literally threw me out of the prison." She pauses. "I cut my knee."

"When you fell?"

I picture her nodding. "Yeah."

I release a long sigh. "So what does this mean?"

"They've revoked my rights to see you for a month," she mentions barely above a whisper.

"A month?" My eyebrows skyrocket. "Seriously, Piper!"

"I'm sorry. The whole reason I moved here was to be with you…" she pauses. "And when they wouldn't tell me if you were ok, I lost my shit."

"As you're prone to do," slips out of my mouth.

"I don't think you have any right to be indignant!" she yells. "You got yourself electrocuted!"

"That was different!"

"Like hell it was!" She takes a breath and I assume she's reminding herself to calm down. "I'm sorry, Alex. I lost my temper and overreacted. You would've done the same thing if our situations were reversed."

"No, I wouldn't have." I shake my head. "And don't pretend this is the first time you've blown up about something out of your control. Look where it's gotten us."

I picture her leaning forward and pinching the skin between her eyebrows. "I know."

"Now I can't see you for 30 fucking days…" I sigh. "Great."

"I'm going to talk to Zodiac's mom and see if she can do something—anything for us."

You have one minute left on this call.

"Fine," comes out harsher than I intended. "I have to go."

"I'm going to do everything I can to fix this—all of it."

"I hope so." With that, I hang up and hang my head.

There are many reasons why I love Piper, but her temper isn't one of them. She has always had trouble keeping a lid on her emotions, and it has gotten her in trouble time and time again. It's shocking that she hasn't learned her lesson after all these years.

"You done?" an inmate asks.

"Yeah." I roll away from the phone nook. "Can anyone bring me back to my cell?"

No one budges.

"Great." I wheel as far as the rec room and see Lakeisha and Teeny. I roll around the corner. "Hey."

"You got a wheelchair?" Teeny asks.

"Yeah." I glance at my feet. "Any chance one of you could wheel me back to my cell? It fucking kills my hands with every move."

"Can't you see?" Teeny gestures to the board. "We in the middle of a game!"

"Yes, I can see that." I look away. "I can wait until you're done."

"Good…Now where were we?"

Lakeisha hands her the dice. "Yo turn."

Author's Note: Can you imagine how much it bothers Alex to feel helpless? She'd be so pissy! No posts til Monday, but thanks again for reading and leaving notes.