Orange is the New Black: A New Life Chapter 11

Alex

It's been a week. I'm reading my eighth book. I've finished four Koontz books, provided on request, a Sherlock Holmes mystery, The Davinci Code, Dolores Claiborne, and now I am half-way through Silence of the Lambs. I go back to the common area, slowing down as I pass the phones. I look. Two are empty. I look at the clock. It's two. Piper's probably at work. Piper's doing this. Piper's doing that. She doesn't want or need me to call, so I don't. I want to call. I need to call. I continue on and find an empty seat, which are few. More vacationers have come in the last few days. At four it's time for the count, so I return to my cell and stand by my bunk. Diaz joins me. A CO walks in a few minutes later with a clicker.

"You call your girl yet?" asks Diaz when the CO leaves.

"No," I answer.

"Why not?"

"She's working."

"Yesterday was Sunday. What was your excuse?"

"The phones were busy all weekend."

"You could'a got in line. I did even though Cesar didn't take my call. He never does. He knows I'm mad at him for workin' with Daya and helping her get Christina in the business. On Sunday, I even tried Hopper, but since he got fired for humpin' me in the closet, though we been livin' together on the outside, I think he's got his own racket goin' or he's hooked up with Cesar. Christina's livin' with him."

"I climb up on my bed. I want Diaz to leave me alone.

"Don't give up. I ain't ever gonna give up, even if that means turnin' all them fucks in. I gotta get my kids out. So don't you give up, chica. You want somethin' you gotta get off your ass."

She walks out. I open to where I left off. I like Clarice Starling. Tough. She should be a dyke. I lose myself in the narrative. I see women passing by. The conversation centers on food.I mark my place and jump off the bed and step out my door. A couple of female inmates, supervised by the every-present guards, have set up the trolleys with trays of food. A second cart has a large container of coffee and another of hot water. I would love to have a COke. Not the coke I once put up my nose, but the one with caffeine and a high sugar content. When I get out of here, I'm going to go to town and feast, a gooey cheese burger and fries from Shake Shake, Coq au Vin from Chez Jacques, and a huge tomahawk steak with asparagus and decadent mac and cheese from The Grill. All the same day, and a bottle of merlot. Good God, the thought makes my mouth water. I could swoon. The tray I pull out from the serving cart does not.

Diaz motions for me to come and sit with her and her friends. I do. The women are nice and they put up with my sour disposition. The tray has a chicken leg with limp, soggy skin, a glob of mashed potatoes, a few corn kernels in milky water, a hard dinner roll that should be soft, and for dessert a pudding cup. I pick at the tasteless chicken and potatoes. The corn tastes like it from a can. I force myself to eat. I am hungry. I open the sealed lid of the pudding cup. It has the texture of pudding, but I don't recognize the flavor. It's supposed to be chocolate. . That's another thing I want when I get out. I want a big bowl of chocolate mousse with raspberries and strawberries drizzled with chocolate sauce and finished off with real fresh whip cream and mint leaves. Down, Vause. I shiver.

I put away my tray. Next stop, my cell. I brush my teeth. I grab my book and head back down to the lower level. Again, I join Diaz and her friends.

"Hey," Diaz stops me as I sit. "You gonna call?"

"Maybe later," I say.

"You're lyin' Pinocchio. I see your snoz growin'"

"Diaz, leave me alone. Enough. I fucked her over. She doesn't want me."

"Fuck you! You ain't tried. You ain't tried, puta." With that she returns to attention to her friends and their conversations. I don't need to know any Spanish to know they are asking Diaz about me. Diaz must be obliging because she starts speaking in a rapid manner. The other women nod and point to me.

I think about leaving and going back up to my cell. I really want to be left alone, but I feel my head spiraling into the gray clouds of depression. Out here the lights are brighter. The sounds of conversation, laughter, and I think I hear singing–it's someone's birthday–filtering through the block, should help, but my mood is sinking lower. . My birthday is months away and I have no desire to celebrate it ever again. Why bother? My life's a fucking disaster. What's there to celebrate? I give up and leave. I climb the stairs to the second tier and my cell. I swing up to my bed and open my book.

I put the book back onto my lap before I finish a half dozen pages. I listen. I focus on nothing. I feel so fucking alone. Empty. So fucking empty. Maybe I should ask for sad pills. They only make me sleepy and here, I can't trade them for anything, like mascara. In-transit holdover, that's me, I don't have commissary privileges. Besides, if I bought something, like more soap or shampoo, I'd probably leave the next day and I'd just have to leave it behind. A waste.

I slide off the bed with my book and start walking. First back up to the commons. I take a quick look at the phones. They're all being used. Good. I have an excuse. I go to an area with a television. The inmates are watching a stupid reality program with women yelling at one another. What is it about watching stupid women yelling at one another? I pivot out and walk to the end of the hall. I walk in the opposite direction. There's nothing. The offices are closed. I walk back. I go in the showers. I do

"Inmate!" A burly CO appears.

I pivot back like a private and stare at him. I almost say, "Yes, Sarge," but hold my tongue.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking."

"Why?"

"I'm bored."

"Too bad. Commons, TV Room, or your cell. Take a pick."

Shaking my head, I head back to the commons. "Fuck, can't even take a walk."

"Walk tomorrow, outside."

"Yes, Sarge." This time I say it.

"Do you want a shot? I can put you in the SHU for the duration of your stay.?"

I turn back. "Sorry. I'll behave," I punch back my sarcasm. Fuck this place!

I am back in the commons. One of the phones is empty. I pause.

I can't do it. Not again.

I go back to my cell.

More days pass. They move at a snail's pace. I finish the tale Hannibal and Clarice. Tomorrow, I 'll see if I can get my hands on something to cheer me up, like The Diary of Anne Frank. I haven't read it since high school and when we were in Amsterdam, Piper and I toured the house where she and her family had stayed hidden away. Even though I gave Piper a hard time about going, I was moved. Human beings had stayed hidden from the Nazis death machine for such a long time. D-Day had been just around the corner and she could have been saved.

Diaz has given up on me. She gives me the "you know what you need to do" look, but we haven't spoken about the phone for days. Count will be in an hour and then dinner. Last night we had more chicken legs. Mine was only half cooked and so I couldn't eat it. I didn't want salmonella poisoning. Who knows what it will be tonight?

I've been in the commons almost all day. After lunch I went outside. The yard was nothing more than a concrete slab. The sides of two wings walled in the sides. A masonry wall about twenty feet high blocked the ends and any view. Everything was in shadow, no sun. It was cold, but the fresh air felt good. I walked a little, but decided that being warm was a better option. I went back inside.

I stop at the TV room. Someone has Ellen de Generes on so I stop and watch. I am too antsy and don't care for any Kardasian so I don't stay until the end of the show. I've finished Anne Frank's story and picked up another biography. This time something a little less sad. Eleanore Roosevelt. A queer woman, how is that going to be depressing. At over five hundred pages, it should definitely kill time. I'm going back to my cell and get it off my bed. I haven't read anything in two hours. We have an hour before count.

I am in the middle of a chapter when count is called. I slide off my bed. Still reading, I wait.

"Hey, why you always reading?" Diaz takes her place next to me.

"It's what I do," I answer. "I read. In the past I trafficked heroin, partied, fucked Piper, and read. Now, I read."

"Still want to sell heroin?"

"Hell, no. That stuff fucks people up. No. Never again."

"Party?"

"No. Not really."

"Fuck your girl?"

I hesitate. "I knew it. After dinner, I'm dragging your ass."

"Diaz, give it up."

"You in here moping."

"I'm reading."

"I say you're moping."

When count ends, Diaz snatches my book and tosses it up on the bunk. "Come on," she drags me out to the commons to stand in line. Her friends come around and she starts chatting. Before I know it, the conversation turns to me and they follow as DIaz herds me towards the phones.

"Hey. This is my life. It's private, not public," I am angry, but so far controlling it.

"Well, it's public now, chica, and we," she motions to include her friends, "are going to help."

"Yeah, we see you with your books, reading, staying away from everyone," says Melanie Montoya. She has bright green hair. She dyed it on a dare from her son.

"That's moping," says Olivia. This one's hair sports a bit of blue at the end of her long black going gray hair. "We take care of that."

The trio shepherd me to the phones. They talk. "My daughter never listens. She's gay and I point out these really cute girls to her."

"Is her girl cute?" Melanie points to me.

"She's tall and white. What do I know? Oh, she read, too."

"Well, that's perfect."

"She's also a little crazy. One time," and Diaz takes off relating stories about Piper's illegal panty business. The way she tells it and some of the inaccuracies about what happened makes me chuckle. "See you miss her. You need her. This way," Diaz tugs my sleeve. In truth, I find their antics kind of funny and maybe this is what I need. I need this push, something to rip me from my funk. Maybe this time, it will work. Piper will answer. No one is any of the phones. "Go on."

I walk to a phone hidden from most of the block. I take a breath and step up. Receiver in hand, I punch in the number. The line rings. It rings again and again. It rings a fourth time and then a fifth time. The voice mail engages. I hang up.

"Espara!" Melanie yells. "I hear a yes. Just as you hung up."

"Me, too," agrees Diaz.

"It's no use." I try to walk away.

"Come on. Try again," they encourage.

I have tears in my eyes. "Leave me alone," I push by.

Diaz grabs my arm. "You know what chica? Eres una cobarde. You know what that means? She doesn't wait for me to respond. "That means you're a coward. A fuckin' coward." She yells at me louder.

I want to run, but don't as I make my hasty retreat to my bunk. I climb into my bed and turn to the wall.

The next morning, right after breakfast, Diaz and I are ordered to get our things. We are off on another leg of our odyssey.

I wish I had called again.

I am a coward.

Piper

I am in the bathroom. On the John. My phone is on the table in the living room where I dropped it when I arrived home from school. I have the toilet paper in my hand and am about to finish up when I hear the phone ring. I am still peeing and the stream does not want to come out any faster, but I can't stop it and I want to stop. Meanwhile, the phone rings again and then again.

Finally the pee stops and I wipe, stand, and pull my jeans back up. I don't even wash my hands and I run to the living room.

I pick up the phone, open the app, and hear the recording. "Oklahoma City FTC …"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes."

The phone clicks dead the second I answer it.

Crying, I collapse into the chair next to the table. "Baby, call me back," I say to the phone, hoping by doing so the phone will ring again. It does and for a moment, I am elated. Then I see, it's my mom.

(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.)