Ring Ring!
The most annoying sound in the world was that god awful bell. It rang during the early morning as the wake up call, at every meal, even once for the allotted hour of outdoor activity times. It didn't help that outside was just a concrete floor with a few choked scraggly weeds poking through the cracks.
I have stayed at the Waldorf Astoria, dined on the finest caviar, and rubbed elbows with the richest people in the world. Now look at me.
Claire Meade, bedecked in an unflattering bright orange jumpsuit patiently sat… chained to her chair.
The bell that rang was an announcement that it was visitation time. She thought fondly of her two children. Alexis was always wary when she came but Daniel tried to come whenever he could. Two, how lovely that sounded, she thought with pride. She grimaced thinking of her situation, how her life had become so altered. You never miss something until it's taken away from you, and goodness knows how much "the man" took from her.
The guard entered with a sneer. Oh how the prison workers loved looking at the celebrity cast down to earth, Claire scoffed. Look at the high and mighty Claire Meade fallen from her pedestal.
Well at least experienced heaven!
She had seen her goals, seized them, and took action at the threat of destruction, namely a blond floozy honing in on her husband. That action, of course, led her here…sitting in an ugly orange jumpsuit, chained to a chair.
Who she saw with the guard surprised her.
"You!" she could only stutter. God, the stupid girl actually reduced her ability to speak properly.
The young woman gave an uneasy smile. "Hello, Mrs. Meade."
Giving her the most imperious stare, Claire glanced at her and then at her oversized cluttered bag. A strange assortment of items inside met her eyes.
"Fine, do what you have to do," she huffed and sat back in her chair…which she was still chained to.
The young woman's hair swished slightly as she dug through her enormous bag, pulling bits of odds and ends before alighting on what she needed to find. Claire stared in amazement, impatience, and a little bit of awe in how that woman managed to find anything in that monstrosity. She caught the eye of the watchful prison guard as her visitor circled around her.
Probably making sure I'm not trying to break out. How can I when I'm in a jumpsuit that practically screams LOOK AT ME and, oh yeah, I'm still chained to this chair. Meanwhile this woman is circling me and trying to make small talk! I'll show her!
"What do you do, if the love of your life is gone?"
Straight forward, blunt…that ought to shut her up. There's nothing like an awkward silence to end an unwanted visit.
Claire Meade expected a gasp, stuttering, and a quick exit. What met her question nearly floored her.
"You mourn, you weep, you throw things… then you pick yourself up and move on."
Claire looked up, actual astonishment written all over her face. She glanced in the (most likely) two way mirror. Still behind her, the girl's face was down, intent on studying the actions of her hands.
Scorn, pity, embarrassment…no, none of those emotions were present.
"He was a cheat, a liar, and wanted nothing more to do with the children than to mold them into his own image," Claire continued.
"Yet he was the love of your life. You said it yourself, and now he's gone to a place where you can't follow."
Claire was silent at this statement. She had never thought of it like that before. It seemed like Bradford was always on his extended business trips, like he was during most of their marriage, but now he was truly gone, forever. A single tear dropped from her eye. She didn't bother to wipe it away. She was tired of being strong and unemotional. In front of her snooty friends she had iron armor: impenetrable to feeling, scorn, or empathy. What was it about this woman who could find the hidden cracks in her armor so easily?
The woman circled again and bent down so that she was eye to eye with Claire and put warm hands on the side of Claire's blonde head.
"You have Alexis and Daniel. Children make it so much easier to deal with the pain."
Alex, her firstborn, when Claire had heard her child was alive it was as if a new life had been given to her. Daniel, however, he was her baby no matter how old he was. She frowned slightly. His insecurity problems had stemmed from the fawning both she and Bradford had on Alex. Daniel never knew that even though Alex was the heir, he was her son. Never as cutthroat as his father, always more caring, especially in recent days…Daniel…
"You would know the most about that, wouldn't you?" She paused with a realization. "He didn't send you, did he?"
Dark, slim, long fingers fluttered through her blond bangs and backed away with satisfaction.
"No, I came on my own. No one knows I'm here." She turned and reached for the items she had taken out since the beginning of the visit.
She came here on her own? The former magazine mogul watched the dark haired girl pack up her bag
"You understand, don't you?" Claire's voice neared desperation. This closeness, this comprehension and acceptance without a hidden desire like the rest of the trollops in the fashion world was a breath of fresh air to an imprisoned person.
Which I am.
"All families experience loss, no matter what their status in life."
This girl was not merely parroting a sympathy card. She really knew. Her simple statement spoke volumes: Claire Meade was not alone in her grief. She glanced up to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a little too tall but somehow the new haircut made her jumpsuit not so garish and she could barely feel the weight of her chains. Her heart, too, felt lighter.
Claire nodded her approval and the girl gave a million watt grin in happiness.
"Daniel or my family doesn't know I'm here, Mrs. Meade. And they won't find out." She crossed her heart with a long brightly colored fingernail.
Claire Meade, wealthy widow and former owner of a multimillion dollar business glanced at the Latina girl from Queens. Both had loved and lost but one woman could still smile while the other had not dared to. She tried a small smile now. Surprisingly it did not hurt like she had expected it to. Who knew that this girl, the last person she'd ever thought to see would give her so much comfort?
"Thank you, Miss Suarez." She meant it, from the bottom of her broken, but now mending, heart. She hoped the other girl understood.
She did. "Please, Mrs. Meade," she said with that same ecstatic grin. "Call me Hilda." The beautician was then escorted out by the guard and another prison worker entered to walk Claire back to her cell
A new haircut, a new look on life…
Ring ring!
Even that bell didn't seem so bad anymore.