Orange is the New Black: A New Life Chapter 9
Alex
The twenty women from my flight have been in a holding cell without any water or food for nine hours. We are crowded. I sit on the floor, but this time I have a wall to rest against. At midnight the fairy-god guards, who have been checking in the men from our flight and men from several buses, have come to grant our wishes. No, they are not bringing food or water. We are asked to stand and file from our cage. We head into Processing where we strip and go through another round of demeaning searches. Open the mouth, move tongue around, lift titties, turn around, squat, pull cheeks and cough. Now new granny panties, a bra, and a flaming orange jumpsuit. Midway through the process, The guards place us in a second cage so they can respond to fight or something somewhere. Now! At this hour? A few hours later, they return and finish processing us. We are tired. I am tired. It is 3 am and I have had little sleep. I ache everywhere. Old wounds that I thought were healing scream their displeasure. The CO opens the cell and I shuffle out with the other women. They give us a net bag and a second day of clothing, a blanket, a mattress, towel, a small bar of soap and a container of shampoo.
Free of shackles, we walk along a cream-colored hallway. The walls are cream, so is the floor and the ceiling. Doors leading to offices and the kitchen have the appearance of oak. A turn finds us at a stairway. We climb up three floors. One of the women trips. The nearest guard grabs her arm and sets her right. She is a small girl with an emaciated appearance. Her hair is stringy. She lacks the strength to carry her temporary new belongings. Another woman in line takes the bag from her and the line renews its ascent. We exit onto an open landing area A short hall takes us into a two-tiered cell block. The lights are on and all the doors are closed. The floor and walls are the same institutional cream. The stairs and railing leading to the second tier protecting the walkways are tan. Teal blue columns and frames surrounding the cell doors and a splash of color.
Loudly, not worrying about other residents, who are trying to find a bit of rest, the guards break us up into groups based on the tiers where we will be living. I climb to the second tier. Luckily, or unluckily, Diaz, who has grown subdued over our long day, shares my cell. Quietly, she removes her mattress and blanket and tosses them onto the lower bunk. She can have it. I pee, wash my hands, splash my face with water, and drink some water. I set up the top bunk while Diaz completes her ablutions. Diaz flops into the lower bunk and faces the wall. I climb to the top of my bunk and lay on my back. I fling an arm over my eyes and sigh.
I wake. As my eyes open I hear a cacophony of sound. The shatter of voices. Footsteps. A shout of anger. I realize I have my shoes on. Where am I, I wonder. Top bunk. I place my injured hand on the wall next to me and imagine Piper doing the same. I stare at the black mess along the knuckles and ring finger. I pull my hand close and hold it for comfort. Silent tears flow down my face. I wipe my face with my sleeve. Piper. I'm in this stupid metal bunk half-way cross the continent and she ... I told her to go ... she's probably asleep in bed with Zelda. Kissing Zelda. Having sex.
The door of my cell is open. Diaz steps into the cell. "Hey, Vause. You gotta be hungry. We ain't eaten in a long time."
No words were so true. When had I eaten last? I climb off the bed. "Yeah."
"You okay," she asks as we follow other girls down the hall into a common area. Like Max, a line has formed at a food cart.
"God, I hope it's edible."
Silently, I agree.
"You quiet."
We join the line. "Tired."
"Yeah. This been rough."
"I just want to get to Cleveland."
"Prison's prison. We could stay here."
"Yeah, but."
"Maybe your girl be looking for you?"
"Not after what I did."
"We all make mistakes. Like me with Daya. Maybe I don't tell her enough I love her and why I push her. I want to hope she knows why I strangled her. She can't bring her shit to her younger sisters and brother. I might have helped Cesar, but that's because I loved him. You gotta support your man, but I never wanted my kids involved. Now two involved."
"Perhaps, they have to learn their own lessons. My mom would be so ashamed of me. She worked so hard. "
"So what your mom say now?"
"She's dead."
"Maybe she found out." Diaz grabs her tray. "Would be nice if we could go back in time, like in the movies."
Diaz's remark strikes a cord. What if she did find out. What if that caused her stroke? No, I don't think so. My aunt would have rubbed that in my face. God,if I could go back in time? If I had never tried to meet my fucking dad, I would have never met Fahri. I would have never; yeah never. "Yeah," I say out loud. "It would be so nice," I grab my tray, "but it is what it is." We wander to a table.
"How do we do that?" Diaz sits with me. "We in here."
"I have no idea." I tuck into my scrambled eggs. They are cold.
"And you would have never met your girl."
"Oh, I think we might have met. In a way we were always destined to meet. To be together."
"So," she points at the phone cubicles, "give her a call."
"I don't know."
"What'cha got to lose? Apologize. I'd give anything to apologize to Daya, to get her to see reason, but there is no way to get a hold of her now."
"You could always write a letter."
Dias snorts, "She'd never read it."
"It couldn't hurt."
"I guess," she relies with a shrug.
"Let her know how you feel."
"I guess." She pauses and gazes at me. "Same for you. Call your girl. Write her. Let her know. I know you love her. You hurting 'cause you're not together. I see it all the time."
"I really hurt her."
"You didn't strangle her."
"No. I destroyed her heart."
I finish the food on my tray. "I think I'm going to take a shower." I return my tray to the caddy.
"Me, too." Diaz follows.
Funny how this journey has brought us together.
I walk over to the phones. They are aligned in a square partitioned by walls for privacy. Three are being used. One is empty. I stop and stare. A woman comes up behind me. "You making a call?"
"No," I shake my head. "Go ahead." I turn. A guard stares at me. I walk away.
Diaz joins me as I head back to my cell to fetch the little bar of soap, shampoo, and towel given to us when we arrived. She gets hers as well. "You almost called," she says.
"No flow." I say. Diaz stares at me like I've just spoken Greek. I laugh. "Money. Slang for money."
"Stupid, lame ass. Call collect. If your girl takes it then you know she's definitely into you and you can stop your moping about."
I laugh again.
"You think I'm funny."
"A little," I reply. "I love your directness."
"Well sure. You kids sometimes need a good smack up the side of the head to do what you know is right."
"Yeah," I chuckle. Inside, I know, the smack is not enough.
My hair is still wet, but I have combed it out and water no longer sluices down the long dark strands. I walk back out into the common area. I want to something to read. I also think and I look back over at the phone bank. The two I can see are occupied. I look around the room and spy several women crocheting, many are playing cards or a board game of some kind, and many are also reading. I walk up to the closest woman I spot with a book. I stop short and she looks up.
"Hi. I'm new."
"Yeah."
"Is there a library?" I indicate her book.
"No," she says and for a moment I think that will be all. She adds, "They bring a cart in everyday. After lunch."
"Thanks," I say. My eyes wander over to the phones. The two facing the common area are still occupied. I walk to the back. They're busy, too. Internally, I know I have sighed with relief. I go back to my cell. I spend the rest of the morning on my bunk staring at the wall.
Diaz wakes me when lunch comes. "You sleep sitting up. You gonna sleep all day?"
"Pretty much," I say. I yawn.
Lunch is a dry mystery meat, maybe bologna, sandwhich, a cup of strawberry yogurt, a hard small apple, and weak tepid coffee, or tea. An hour later, a white female inmate, probably in her forties, wheels a large cart filled with books into the block. A dozen or so women walk over to where the cart stops. I follow, letting everyone else go first. Some have books they've read. I inch my way forward and finally pier into the cart.
The cart has a variety of novels and some biographies. I spy a couple Harry Potter books, Stephen King, Dean Koontz. I enjoy King and Koontz, but this journey has been hell, a horror story all its own. I don't want to read Green Mile. I have seen enough death and I don't want anything as depressing as death row. Frankenstein, by Koontz. I read Shelley's original in high school. I liked it. The story of a monster, who really isn't. Misunderstood and unable to fit in. Maybe that's me. I wonder where Koontz might take the story. I take the book.
"Here," the woman at the cart sticks out a hand. She writes the name of the book on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard. She hands me the book. "ID." I show her my badge and she writes my name and ID number. "I come Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays," she says. "If you move on bring the book to processing when you check out."
"Thanks," I say.
Thumbing through the book I walk back to the tables in the common area. As I do so I look over at the phones. I angle to the two in back. One of them is empty. It's allure pulls me in and I obey. I reach for the receiver and pull back. Forcefully, my hand darts in, takes the receiver and I spend a few moments staring at it like it's a foreign object, totally alien. I hang up. I caress the receiver. Depression fills my vision with gray. With trembling hand, I take the receiver and punch in Piper's phone number. It rings. I want to celebrate. She didn't change her number. Elation falls away into emptiness as the call goes to voicemail, "Hi, this is Piper. I can't answer right now. Please leave a message." Beep. I hang up.
Trying not to betray any emotion, I pass Diaz, who has found a group of Latina women to speak with, and leave the common room. I go up to my cell. I grab the metal frame of my bunk so I don't collapse to the floor and sob. After a while, I pull myself up to my bunk and, facing the wall, lay down.
Diaz enters and walks over to me. "What happened?"
"Go away," I choke.
"No. Tell me what happened."
I roll over and look at her. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," she answers, "but I'm tired of all your moping. What did she say?"
"It went to voicemail." I sniff.
"Voicemail and you blubber like an idiot? What time was it?"
"After ten. I don't know."
"Ten here or there."
"There?"
"New York or wherever she lives."
"Brooklyn. With her brother in Brooklyn."
"Yeah a con. Gotta live with someone. Got that. What time's it there?
"I don't know. What's Oklahoma?"
"I don't know. That's science and geography shit. I know Puerto Rico and the burroughs. That's about it. So what time?"
"Maybe we're an hour back, so maybe eleven." I prop myself on my elbow.
"And what might she be doing at eleven?"
"She's probably at work. She works for Bill. Her dad. He can be a real prick."
"And so if she was working?"
"She might have her phone off."
"Now you got it ding dong." Diaz gives my head a gentle smack. "Get your butt out of bed. No sense crying all day. Come sit with me and my girls. I made friends. You speak Spanish?"
"No, that's Piper."
"Yeah, the white girl who speaks Spanish. Mendoza like to give Daya a hard time. White girl knows Spanish." Diaz laughs. "Come on out. Join the conversation or read. Your choice" She takes Frankenstein from the little wall-mounted table where I threw it. "I know you like books, I remember seeing you around the camp or when I go by C-Block. Always with a book. You and your girl. You read." She hands me the book. I hold the book, turning it to look at the spine. I hop off the bed. I wipe my face. I feel foolish as I follow Diaz back out to the common area.
(This is a work of fanfiction based on the Netflix series Orange is the New Black. The story begins at the point the series ended. I do not intend to make any money from this endeavor. If you make any comments, please do so. I enjoy relevant feedback and critiques. I apologize for any mistakes in any foreign language, especially my Spanish. Please let me know of the proper usage. I hope you enjoy the story. I plan to upload updates at least every week.)