In the next few days, Liz began to wonder just how deep of a hole she had dug herself into. It was beyond irritating. She had virtually no plan of action, not that she would ever admit it. To make matters worse, it seemed that everywhere she went Velma was there, lazily smiling and asking with false solicitousness if Liz had had any luck yet.
So far, she hadn't. She had taken to waving at the hunyak when they passed each other in the corridors, a gesture the other woman always responded to in kind, albeit not without giving Liz a confused look. Velma happened to witness such an exchange one afternoon and was merciless about it afterward. Ironically, it was her teasing that gave Liz an idea.
"I can tell you've really made progress," Velma said once, not bothering to hide the triumph in her voice. "Hey, maybe you'd have a chance if you paid her—she'll do anything for a few extra bucks, but you might get to find out where she draws the line."
And it occurred to Liz that Velma actually had a point.
"She wants a better lawyer," June, who always seemed to know these things, had proclaimed when the Hungarian inmate had returned crying the day before. "But she can only afford so much, see, and no one's willin' to let her have anything without payin' first. She's got Smitherson now and everyone knows what a dead fish he is. Hell, I'd cry too."
When she wasn't clutching her rosary and murmuring words nobody understood, the hunyak was doing anything she could that might gain her a little more money to put towards a new attorney. Most of the time, it involved laundry. Everyone hated it and, if they could, would willingly pay her to do it for them. So when Liz saw her going into laundry room, she put part one of her rather shaky strategy into play.
The first order of business was to make sure the two of them would have the room to themselves, something Liz neatly arranged by practically ambushing Annie, who was heading the same way, and offering to do the work for her. The blonde was suspicious at first, but it wasn't long before Liz convinced her it would be idiotic to pass up the offer, and she handed over her basket.
The second was to somehow strike up a conversation. That was the toughest part; the hunyak never really talked to anyone, there was no point. As the two of them worked side by side in the sweltering room, Liz debated over whether or not to speak up. If she did, there was no way of knowing how it would go over; the last thing she needed was to scare the girl away. But if not, she would end up doing Annie's laundry for no reason. To say nothing of Velma. The vaudevillian's smirking visage flashed through Liz's mind, making her grimace. Not a chance she was giving up now, not when she actually had a plan. Sort of, anyway. At that, Liz threw caution to the winds and did what she did best.
"So," she began, as if continuing an interrupted chat, "who'd you kill to get in here? Me, I offed my husband…" She played out the entire event with exaggerated motions and sound effects as the Hungarian prisoner looked on through downcast eyes. Hardly a stellar response, but hey, she hadn't turned away.
"And you?" she asked again when she was done, pointing and tilting her head.
"Not guilty."
Good, so at least the hunyak could more or less understand her. Liz tamped down the satisfaction she felt. "Go on," she signaled
The gesture provoked a rapid stream of Hungarian and hand motions, none of which Liz could make head or tail of. She shook her head and the hunyak tried again to explain, getting more and more frustrated as she went along. "Not guilty," she finally repeated vehemently, striking the wall with the flat of her hand and looking close to tears.
In a moment of uncharacteristic sympathy, Liz wondered what kind of hell the other woman was going through. Jail was tough enough when you spoke English, but having to go through everything and not have anyone understand a word you said... And if the girl really was innocent…
The hunyak had one hand pressed to her face and was starting to turn back to her pile of linens. "Hey," Liz said suddenly. "It's okay, I get it." Taking a step forward, she put an arm around the hunyak's waist. "Not guilty."
When the Hungarian didn't pull away, Liz moved a little closer and put her other arm around her. For a moment, nothing happened, and Liz stood there in the overpowering heat wondering if she'd just blown everything. Then there was a hand on her back and a head on her shoulder and any compassion Liz felt was immediately overpowered by a surge of triumph. Finally getting somewhere.
After that, they fell into the habit of working together. It was surprisingly easy to arrange it, but then, the hunyak's company wasn't exactly sought after. If nothing else, Liz was getting a crash course in Hungarian out of it, or at least in sign language—although if things went right, she impatiently hoped, that wouldn't be all that came out of it. But damned if she knew what to do next. It was difficult; she wasn't used to not having speech as an advantage.
She must have been doing something right. The next sign of progress came a couple days later when Liz was sweeping the corridor and the other woman came over to help. "Hey, hunyak," she said, and for some reason her tongue faltered over the words. Liz was pretty sure the other woman knew everyone called her by a sort of nickname but had no idea what it meant. Just as well, really. "Hunyak?" she repeated, shrugging inquisitively.
The woman understood. "Katalin," she said with a small smile, pushing back a lock of Liz's hair that had fallen free of its pins.
Liz practically jumped out of her skin at the other prisoner's touch. "Got it. Katalin."
As the other woman went to fetch a broom, Liz absentmindedly readjusted her hair, all the while studying Katalin in the mirror. She actually wasn't bad too look at, with wavy amber-colored hair that, like everyone's but Velma's, had acquired the dingy tones that came with prison life. Her face was melancholy, though that might also have come from prison. Still, it suited her, made her look a tragic figure in a play, which Liz figured was only fitting, both in and out of jail. Katalin had been a ballet dancer; Liz had gleaned that much from their sort-of conversations.
She had also gleaned, in a chat punctuated with "not guilty"s, that the girl was scared out of her wits about upcoming appeal. The topic came up again as they swept when Katalin, looking absolutely terrified, mimed tying a rope around her neck.
Liz hesitated before replying. The next step had to be executed carefully. If Velma caught her at it, she'd never live it down. Checking to make sure the dancer wasn't skulking around waiting to pounce, Liz pulled a few dollars out of her pocket. "Smitherson," she said, empathetically making a face. Then, holding out the bills: "Flynn?"
The Hungarian woman's eyes widened. "Flynn?" she repeated, pointing to the money and then to herself. If only by association, she knew what the name meant. She'd heard it mentioned in tones of awe and excitement, and had heard it called out in adoration when it's bearer came by the row to see a client. He was the one who had gotten Nancy off a few weeks ago, and everyone seemed positive he would get Velma off too. Katalin could only dream what it would be like having him, or anyone near as competent, on her case.
Nodding, Liz handed it to her. It wasn't all that much money, the gesture itself was probably more significant, but every little bit helped. It was enough to make the hunyak to throw her arms around Liz, which was all that mattered. Step three was a success. Katalin gratefully kissed her on the cheek and Liz revised that thought. More than a success. So what if it was a European custom, a kiss was a kiss.
Once released, Liz reached into her pocket again. Might as well go for broke, in a manner of speaking.
She handed a few more dollars to the awestruck woman and, when Katalin moved towards her again, took action. Lanky arms wrapped around the Hungarian, one finger tracing along the cords of her neck, ballerina-sinewy. Carefully but deliberately Liz backed her against the sink, knocking abandoned pins off the edge. She caught a glimpse of Katalin's face before kissing her and thought vaguely that she'd never seen anyone more mystified. But that thought and all others promptly evaporated when, for one incandescent moment, Katalin responded, tongue flickering out to meet the other's like a glimmer of light, one hand knotting in Liz's hair. Then two strong arms were shoving her away, two staccato syllables were tearing through the air.
"Uh-uh!"
Catching her balance, Liz plunged a hand into her pocket, but Katalin furiously shook her head. "Uh-uh!"
"Oh, Jesus, look, I know you're not a whore. Okay?" She held up the money again and was surprised to see Katalin looking more hurt than angered. "I'm just giving it to you as a friend, get it? Friend."
The other woman took a step forward, plucked the money from Liz's hand and glowered for a second, something Liz hadn't expected of her. And whatever she expected next, it definitely wasn't for Katalin to stuff the money back into Liz's pocket and pull her close for another kiss.
Not that she was about to complain or anything, a sentiment she demonstrated by lightly applying teeth to that delicate neck. Then everything swirled together in a kaleidoscope consisting of fervently whispered words that had neither beginning nor end, hairpins falling from Liz's lank hair like rain, fingers gathering handfuls of drab cloth, and dozens of other things that registered in vivid flashes of fire. Somewhere on the bridge between pleasure and disbelief one of them lifted a hand to work at the buttons running down the front of the other's dress, and from there it was impossible to distinguish anything other than the fire itself.
Aside from a mild interruption that occurred when Mona came in to wash her hands, Liz felt things went rather well.
They emerged as the others were lining up for dinner. Velma acknowledged Liz with a nod. "You saving up for my magazines?" she asked. "How ya doing, hunyak?" she added, noticing the other inmate.
Liz scowled and didn't even bother responding to the first remark. "Hey. You fucking call her Katalin or don't call her anything." And she put an arm around the Hungarian, who demurely reciprocated.
The warden shot her a reproving look for that, but the expression on Velma's face was more than worth it.
That night, when Mama came by with Velma, Liz beckoned the wardress aside and tugged a couple bills out of her garter. "How about you let Katalin stay in with me for a little while?" she asked, just loud enough for Velma to hear.
The look Mama gave her was inscrutable, but less than an hour later the hunyak was let in.
Not long afterward Velma took to alternately sulking and storming around, and Liz had a feeling she knew why. A little doll of a murderess had been brought in and, according to Mona, Mama had seemed pretty taken with her.
"Cigarettes? Just cigarettes? Dammit, Mama, that's it?" Velma was shrieking down the hall.
Liz went to gather her laundry, wearing a smirk that quickly faded from her face when Katalin crossed her path.
"Hey," she muttered, brushing past. Katalin reached to take her arm; Liz yanked it away.
The Hungarian followed her for a few yards before Liz spun in irritation. Mistaking the motion, Katalin essayed to kiss her cheek and started in surprise when Liz moved aside.
She began gibbering in bewilderment, reaching again for the other prisoner's arm. Liz turned and snapped at the other woman's perplexed face. "Just shove it. You know I can't understand a damn thing you say. Here." She slapped a bill into Katalin's beseeching hand. "For your lawyer fund."
As the serpentine words spilling from Katalin's mouth increased in speed and agitation, Liz turned back around. "See ya, hunyak," she said over her shoulder, and strode off towards Velma to gloat.