Orange is the New Black: A New Life Chapter 17
Alex
After lunch on Saturday, a CO with a cart enters the block with a cart. He calls out names. Towards the end he calls me. The table where I have eaten lunch erupts with applause. I walk over. The CO hands me an opened Amazon box and drops an envelope, also opened, into said box.
"What'd you get?" Everyone asks when I return.
I place the box on the table next to Romano and remove the letter
"A love letter from Piper?"
"Can we see?" One of the methheads has the audacity to snatch at it and run away.
"Fuck off!" I turn just in time to keep it out of her hands.
I sit. Romano gives me a pat and smile. She writes in her small notebook, "How's she doing?"
"Have you called her yet?" asks Diaz. She sits on my other side.
I answer Diaz, "Not yet. Piper's at work until two." I turn to Romano. "As of last night, she's doing fine."
"Is she coming to visit?" asks Murphy. She's playing gin with Boo, Jones, Romero, and DeMarco.
"At one. Gives her a chance to sleep in or study."
"Yeah, bet she has a lot of homework," says DeMarco. "Makes me proud. Our Piper in law school. What'd she write?"
Anything to cut the boredom, especially since no one in the family received any mail. I read what I deem is suitable for public consumption, "Hi Alex. I'm home from class now. It was sooooo good to talk to you." I am quiet and read what follows, which expresses reflections and observations she's had about herself since my breakup with her, about us, and me; all of this I deem too personal.
"You got awfully silent," says Murphy.
"What gives, Vause?" Boo complains about censorship.
I keep reading.
"Something wrong, chica?"
I clear my throat and swallow. "No, it's personal." I hide the page behind a second page.
"But that's the best part," Boo tosses her cards onto the table. Apparently no one is keeping score.
Jones picks up the cards and shuffles. "That's your right," she tells me.
"Was it sex?" asks Boo. "Did she make your heart go thumpity-thump-thump?"
No, it didn't I want to say, but Diaz interrupts and points at a drawing on the second page.
I don't have to read her caption to know what it is. "Piper's apartment," I say. She was right, definitely small.
"How many bedrooms?"
"One," I reply. "One bath, across a hall, kitchen, and living room."
"Standard," Diaz nods.
"Where?" asks Jones.
"Somewhere downtown near the stadiums and her job."
"Any amenities?"
"There's a small gym in the building. Piper uses the treadmill."
"I remember how she liked to run when we were at camp," says Jones.
"Had us running too when she ran that panty business of hers," laughs DeMarco.
"Yes," I say to Jones' comment. I stare at the apartment and try to imagine using some of the descriptions Piper gave me over the phone. I think of her there doing homework, fixing coffee or a meal for herself, watching Netflix on her computer, taking a shower. I wish I could be there with her.
Norma shows me another little note, "Hard not being with her."
"Yeah," I give her a little grin.
Diaz picks up the box and peeks inside. "Books," she makes a bleech noise with her mouth. "Good for you though. You like to read."
I take the box and produce two used hardback novels. I read the titles: Nicola Griffith's Hild, I like the warrior woman on the cover, and Postmortem by Patricia Daniels Cornwell.
"Patricia Cornwell, the library at Alderson had several of her mysteries," says Jones. "This one," she points at the cover, "says it introduces Kay Scarpetta. She's the coroner. You'll love her niece," she hands the book back to me. "Can I borrow it when you're done? Alderson didn't have the first volume."
"Sure," I say.
"How 'bout me," adds Boo. "The niece must be queer."
"What's that green one? That's a lot of pages," asks Murphy.
I thumb through it. "And small print."
"You'll need glasses that work for that one," says Diaz.
"That means," I put the letter inside Hild and Hild and Postmortem in the Amazon box., "I start with Cornwell. "I'll see you guys later." I leave the table and take my new belongings up to my cell. The letter goes into my drawer under my bunk. Hild goes on the desk. I hop up on my bunk, back to the wall, and read.
The clock on the wall shows it's two-thirty when I come down the stairs with my book. I want to take a break for a while, my eyes bother me and I have the start of a headache. From the top of the stairs I notice all four phones are in use. Of course. No one was on the phones when Piper was working, but now. Be patient, I tell myself. She might not even be home yet. Luck is a lady. A black woman of medium height and weight comes around from the back. I move quickly and head over to the back of the phone bank. Yes, it is empty. I place the book under my armpit and punch in Piper's number. It rings five, six, seven, it goes to voicemail. On my end the call terminates. Maybe she's not home yet, I tell myself. When I leave another woman takes my place.
I walk back to our table. The card game's broken up. The family's dispersed to who-knows-where. Diaz and Montoya are at the table behind talking with their new friends. My travel buddies rubberneck as I pass. "Next time," say Diaz.
I sit at the "family" table and read my book. I check the time and the phones. It's well past three. All of the phones remain busy. I place the bookmark I made with Piper's floorplan where I've stopped. My eyes need a rest. I rise from my seat and saunter towards the phones. Currently, our block is unlocked so I walk into the hall, turn around, and walk back in. I repeat this lap two more times. On the third loop, I head down the hall to the television room. I step in. A few of the tougher looking white gals are watching a hockey game. I turn around and walk back to Block D. Entering, I find a vacant phone. I rush over and place my call. This time the phone only rings six times before the voicemail starts. Where is Piper? I go back to the table and resume reading. Five minutes later every phone is taken.
Looking around I find other women looking up every now and then at the phones. Women come in, including my "family" . The women are wearing jackets powdered with flecks of snow. I pay them little attention. I only have eyes for the phones and my book. Romano and DeMarco sit down first. Norma hands me a note, "Waiting for the phone?"
"Yeah," I grunt.
Jones sits next to me and Boo across from her. Others slowly join the table: Murphy, Soso and Sankey, Abdullah and Watson, who rarely sit with us.
"What gives?" Boo asks the last two. They have been hanging with some black women.
"Hey, all are welcome," says Jones.
"Yeah, we are the Litchfield table," grins DeMarco.
Abdullah answers Boo, "Looking for some calm." Abdullah is the only Muslim I know of in our block.
"Yeah, there's some kind of war thing brewing between some girls who identify as crips and some of the other black girls," adds Watson.
Abdullah continues, "As it turns out, we were hanging out with the others. Out the yard a scuffle nearly broke out."
"We don't want any of that shit," Watson gazes at us. "I've started an online college program. I'm getting my act together for when I am released."
"Me, too," says Sankey. "I need to be able to take care of my daughter and get her away from all the white nationalist shit that ruined my life. I want her with me, not my ex's bitch. I'm her mother." Her eyes turn to Soso.
"Anyone else doin' that online college?" asks Jones with an encouraging tone.
"I am," Soso says. "Sankey and I were talking about it. What I thought was important when I went to Litchfield wasn't. I want to do something meaningful, like Piper," she says. Her eyes touch me when she says this.
I don't know what to say so I nod.
A group of women roll the food carts in. It's four-thirty, and the phones are still busy. If anyone hangs up and leaves a phone, I'm going to take her place, I tell myself. I don't care that I'm hungry. One glance at tonight's cuisine tamps it down. A woman hangs up and another woman standing nearby-I didn't notice her-takes her place.
"Be a lawyer?" Jones asks Soso.
"Having a difficult time getting a phone?" asks Murphy. She stands with the rest of the family and heads for the line forming at the carts.
"I think so," Soso replies.
"Yeah," I answer Murphy and those listening. I set my book on the table and join the family on line. I stretch out my back and angle myself toward the phones. I take a tray and some coffee back to our table. As soon as I sit down with my tray a phone opens up. "Can you watch my stuff?" I ask and head for the opening.
"For this slop. No way," Boo's voice follows me.
I grab the receiver, the dial tone plays, and I punch in Piper's number. For a third time, the phone goes to voicemail." I want to cry. With a sniff, I hold myself together and walk back to the table.
"How many times is that? " asks Boo.
"Three," I mutter.
"Do you think she's found someone-"
"Boo, so help me shut the fuck up!" I snarl.
"We all know what happens with you guys," she laughs.
"Boo!" Jones stares across the table at her. To me she says gently, "Something probably came up. A friend came over."
"Piper doesn't have any friends," I say more harshly than I should. "At least not yet. She goes to work. She goes to school. She comes home."
"It's Saturday," says Sosa.
"Maybe she's hurt and in emergency?" Murphy quips. My stare shifts. "Or something like that. I mean, it's icy outside and with the snow starting to fall again."
Yes, that could be true.
Jones must read the concern showing on my face. "Vause, I don't think Gina means to worry you."
But it is a possibility, I tell myself. She could be hurt. What if her Starbucks was robbed? Could something have happened? An accident? Knowing our luck, especially her luck, something bad is going on. I spiral.
A hand lays on my arm. It's Romano. She shows me a note. "Piper will be fine."
"Yeah," says DeMarco. "Probably, something no one here has even thought of."
"Don't get so worked up," adds Jones.
I nod and eat some kind of stew with tiny bits of chicken. I find a pea, a few little potato chunks, a bit of diced carrot, and a couple of slices of mushroom. A roll and random pudding cup, mine is lime, finish the meal. I return my tray and wander towards the phones. All of them are busy. They remain that way until seven forty-five. Two open up at the same time. I race over and place the call. The phone rings and rings and rings. Voicemail. I hang up. I call again. Again it rings. Another voicemail. I call again and again the same result. Where is she? Why won't she answer? Where is her phone? She's avoiding me. Why is she avoiding me? Have I done something wrong? I return to the table, grab my book, and flee upstairs.
I haven't slept. I don't want to rise or shine. I tell Jones to leave me alone when she leaves for the showers. I repeat myself when she goes down for breakfast. I miss breakfast. I stare at the ceiling. I have to pee. I swing off the bed, pee, and swoop back up and return my gaze to the ceiling. I am tired, I close my eyes, but I don't fall asleep. Footsteps bring someone into my cell.
"Hey, blanca!" Diaz. Her voice is loud.
"Leave, Diaz!"" I roll away towards the wall.
"¡Saca tu trasero de la cama ahora!"
I turn back and meet her eyes, "I'm not Piper. I don't now the fuck what that means."
"It means, get your ass out of bed now!"
"Why?"
"Well for one thing your girl is coming. You remember her? You love her; she loves you. Yada Yada Ya-da," she says, her voice filled with sarcasm. "Stop moping about. Sure, she didn't answer the phone yesterday. I'd be pissed, too, but get up, get dressed and go down now and call her. Let her know how you feel and if it isn't meant for you to be together, she won't have to drive all the way down here to speak to your stinkin' ass. You can't spend your life hiding," Diaz leaves.
I flop back onto the mattress. Arms over my eyes, I fight against the tears and cry. I need to get up. Damn I hate this, letting my emotions win. I cry harder. I press my hands against my eyes and I will my tears to stop. Be strong, Vause. Control. No emotion. You can do this. I sniff and sit up. I slide off my mattress to the floor and take several squares of my priceless toilet paper and blow my nose. I blow again and throw the sorry mess into the toilet. I wipe my eyes with the hem of the prison-issued nightshirt. My emotional distress ebbs. I grab the blue shirt and pants I wore yesterday, dress, and go downstairs. Two of the phones are empty. I walk over and tap in Piper's number.
On the first ring, Piper answers with, "Yes, yes, yes, yes," before the recording starts. "Alex, I am so sorry," her words fly. "There's some kind of new flu bug. Causes vomiting and, well you know? Anyway, three missed the morning shift and two the afternoon shift. I made coffee from six to five. I had two short breaks and a shortened lunch and they didn't match with your calls. Then, Nicky called at seven-thirty. She was depressed and needed someone to talk to. Honey, I wanted to hang up on her, but I couldn't. I couldn't. Please don't be angry."
Now, I feel worse than stupid. "No," I reply. "I'm not angry." I lean against the wall and sniff.
"Babe, are you crying?"
"I thought you were angry with me? Avoiding my calls."
"Fuck no, Al. No way. I looked forward to being at home by two-thirty and talking to you, pending your phone availability, of course. No, Al. I love you. I love you so much. I live for our phone calls. It's our time, our special time."
"And you're still coming?"
"Yeah. I'm leaving at ... what time is it?"
I check the clock, "Eleven thirteen."
"I'm leaving in about ten minutes. We had some snow last night, so I'm giving myself enough time in case of accidents. Sweetie, you want me to come?" Piper asks tentatively.
"Yes. Please, yes. I need you."
"All I have to do is pee and grab my coat and stuff. I'm on my way."
"I love you, Piper."
"I love you, Al. To the moon and back."
I laugh a little. "Bye. Drive carefully."
"I will, Sweetie. Bye, Sweetie."
Neither of us hangs up the receiver. I can't. I don't want to. "You need to leave," I finally say after a long lull.
"I don't want to hang up first," she says.
"Okay. we'll do it together."
"Okay," she says softly.
"On three."
"Yeah."
"One. Two. Three." I force my hand to place the receiver in the cradle. Murmuring voices provide the ambient noise of the silence engulfing my soul. I wipe my face with my shirt and head back towards my cell.
"So?" Diaz stands next to Jones with her hands outspread.
I give her a nod and a thin smile and run upstairs. I grab my bath caddy, a towel, and head back down. Time for a shower. I want to look appealing for my wife.
My cell has no mirror. What is there to check? After my shower, I come back to my cell, brush my teeth, gargle-no sour breath for me-, and comb out my hair. I dry the ends with my towel and hang the towel over the end of my bunk. I put on clean clothes. There's nothing else. I don't even have mascara or lipstick. What does Piper see in me? I gather my nerves and head down to the common area. I have the Hild book. I walk over to our table. Diaz turns to me, "What did I tell you, Vause?"
"You were right," I admit. I walk around and sit where I have room on both sides. I glance at the clock. I have twenty minutes before visitation
No one speaks to me. They can read my face and posture. I want to be left alone. I open Hild, but I can't make out the words. They have no meaning. My mind rumbles and my surroundings blur in the haze of my anxiety. I can't wait to be with Piper, but what if our visit is a bust? My thoughts circle and wander through avenues of doubt and fear.
"Vause," a CO with a clipboard stands in the entrance of our block. Three women-a white woman in her fifties, black woman, who appears to be my age, and another black gal who is so young looking I think she could be in her teens-already stand at his side.
As I pass Jones she takes my arm, "Have a good visit."
"Say 'hi' from the rest of us," adds DeMarco.
I nod. Realizing I still have my book, I hand it to Jones. She takes it. "I finished reading Postmortem. It's on the table if you want to read it. You can all read it. Just get it back to me."
"Of course," Jones pats my arm.
Diaz shouts, "Don't fuck it up, chica!"
I flip Diaz off. She laughs and provides her friends Spanish commentary about my latest travails as I walk over to the CO. The guard leads us through the hallways towards the front to the visitation room. We make a stop for a search of our bodies and are reminded of the mandatory strip search after our visits. After the pat down performed by a mildly bored female officer, we go down a final hallway that opens into a cramped room. I am delighted when I find Cleveland's visitation is more like Litchfield camp than Max. There are no glass partitions, no phones. Eighteen small tables, each with a facing fold up chair, sit in a three by six grid. I can touch Piper. Kiss Piper. Hold Piper.
I walk in. I pause. Piper is looking down at her right hand. I spy it. She's wearing the large paperclip, my wedding ring. Chewing her lip. She turns the ring. Her face is soft, thoughtful. Her blonde hair touches her shoulders. She wears it parted in the middle. The right side is currently tucked behind her right ear revealing a simple gold teardrop stud. I remember it. I bought it for her the first time we were in Paris. She's wearing a red floral printed pintucked dress. Her makeup is light, a layer of pale pink coats her lips.
Hearing the room fill with detainee, Piper's head tilts up. Her gray blue eyes take hold of mine. My breath leaves me. I take a step. Piper stands and unconsciously performs a little two-step; her smile shatters my soul. Fuck! Why can't I control myself! A sob racks me. I take a step and by my next step, Piper has me in her embrace. She doesn't say anything. She simply hugs me; I pull her. She lets go long enough to kiss my lips then her embrace is even tighter. I hold her tighter and cry harder.
"All right. No more touching. That's enough." A CO announces from a desk close to where we came in.
"I don't want to let go," I mumble.
"I could live in your arms for the rest of my life," she says as we reluctantly become two once more. Piper's thumbs wipe my cheek. She kisses my mouth. She takes my hand and pulls me over to the table where we sit. It's when I sit I notice Piper's tears. She had been crying, too. Nothing new, Piper's always been more emotional, more high-strung.
"Me, too," I say. I look down.
"I love you, Alex. You look tired."
"I didn't sleep well last night," I say.
"And you're thinner."
"You know the food." I shrug.
"I do." She certainly does. "There's no cafeteria?"
"No. Carts like Max."
"Did you eat yesterday?"
"Breakfast, lunch."
"Today?" I shake my head "Alex, you have to eat, Sweetie."
"I will," I say. She gives me a stare. "I promise," I chuckle in my sarcastic way.
"Will you show me your side ... your hand?" she asks. I don't want to.
"Please, Sweetie. I know you've told me you're doing better, but please. I've been so worried. I need to examine it, make sure you're healing. Please."
I pull up my shirt. The bruising is not as large. That area has turned yellow with some brown. She reaches over and gently touches the darkest purple on my ribs.
"No touching," snaps the CO.
Ire paints Piper's face. "Fucker," she mumbles. She pulls her hand back. I lay my wounded hand on the table. She doesn't touch it. It's still swollen. The purpling has ebbed leaving only a couple of isles of dark discoloration is a sea of yellow and pink cream. I flex it for her so she can see it bends, a little. "I think some bones might have been broken," I tell her, "but it is much better. It was triple what it is now and-"
Anger flares her eyes, "I should have put that bitch down." She cradles the hand.
"Piper, don't go crazy." She raises her eyes so they meet mine. "Baby, it's healing. It's healing."
"She hurt you," she wipes her eyes with a hand. "What if you played the piano or guitar?"
I can't help but laugh. "Piper."
At first her face droops. I've hurt her, insulted her concern. Slowly, realizing what she said, a small smile smooths and brightens her expression; she laughs a little, too.
I add, "Piper, I'm glad you didn't. If you had, you wouldn't be with me now and I am so glad that you are. After the way I treated you and I don't know why, but I am so happy you still love me." I want to hug her now.
"I'm happy you still love me, too. I'm so sorry about yesterday. The double shift came from out of the blue. No one had gotten sick yet at our store, but then it struck."
"Or perhaps, too many hangovers. After all, the night before was Friday. Hey, I understand and I understand about Nicky, too. She was very teary when I told her I was leaving. I can't call her, but I could write?"
"Next time you call, I can give you her prison ID and address, that's if you don't have it."
"I don't. I wasn't allowed to take anything with me."
"She might like to hear from some of the others. They were part of the family, too."
"Yes, they were." My eyes focus on Piper. Piper grows quiet and a slow smile illuminates her face. "You are beautiful. I've missed you."
Piper reaches for my hand and quickly pulls back. "I want to touch you so bad."
I move my healthy hand so it is barely an inch from hers. "I wish there was a closet."
"Yes," she says. Surreptitiously, her index finger hovers over mine. Electricity. It is so amazing the ripple that shoots from her through me.
Simultaneously our index fingers interlock. We smile. Our eyes lock and they stay that way. My thumb caresses her hand. I could spend the rest of our visit like this. I can't love her the way I want right now; this will have to do.
"No touching!" The CO walks over.
We release our grips. "Sorry," Piper smiles. "It's been a long time since I've seen my wife."
"I understand," he says, "but I have to enforce the rules so it is fair for everyone. You'll have a little more time when you say goodbye."
"Thank you," she says with an undertone of saccharine sarcasm.
"You still have it," I give her an I-know-what-you-meant-sneer."
"Hey!" She chuckles. "That wasn't old Piper. I meant it. He spoke cordially."
"So far, at least those I've seen in D Block, they have been human."
"That's a good way to put it."
"I got your letter yesterday and the books," I tell her.
"I hope you like them?"
"I do. I finished the Cornwell late last night."
"Without your glasses?"
"If I hold the book close enough. I stop when my eyes get tired."
"There are more in the series. Would you like me to find those, too? Used they're not that expensive."
"Yeah, but Piper, don't spend all your money on me."
She ignores the remark. "I saw a flier in the annex about on-line college."
"Piper, I have no money. No Piper, don't give me that look. The books are already too much and besides, I don't even know what I want to do when I get out of here."
"Alex, find courses that you find interesting. Work on the general ed requirements. Start with a class or two. You enjoy reading. Take an English class."
"I don't want to read what someone tells me to read."
"You were good at business, logistics-"
"Oh yeah, I can see that on my resume. Handled the distribution of heroin and illegal money over international borders skirting customs. No, I don't want to go into business.
"You could study psychology, history, art-"
I laugh. "Piper, I can't draw."
She laughs. "I know. So skip art. But Alex, use your time better than how I used mine. When I went in, I vowed to make myself better and you know how that ended up."
"So you took a couple of detours. "
"I did things that could have added years to my sentence."
"Maybe we'd be in here together."
"Or Madison would have shanked me during kickball."
"Nah. Those girls were having fun. The fight never happened and Madison lost any credibility she had left. I would have never been tempted by McCullough."
"Carol, Hellman, McCullough, drugs," Piper shakes her head.
I reach, but don't take Piper's hand. Noticing this, Piper studies our hands. She turns her gaze up to me. "Then I'm glad where we are now, Babe. We're both in Cincinnati. You don't have to drive three hours or rely on buses for visitation. You have an understanding boss who gives you Sunday's off for our visit. You're in fuckin' law school. Babe, I'm so proud of you."
Tears well up in her eyes. "I love you, Alex."
"And I love you." I peer at her winsome lure.
Her hand twitches and inches forward. It stops. We need to feel the contact of at least our hands. We need to hug. We need to kiss. Her head tilts and she smiles, "I have a job offer," she says. "It will give me the financial ability to pay for you to take classes, perhaps earn a degree by the time you get out. I can probably come up with the money for you to take a class or two this term."
"You're not going to let this college thing go are you?
"No," Piper says. "Getting employment when you leave prison is going to be hard enough. If you have a degree, that can only help."
"So tell me about this new job."
Piper adjusts herself in her chair as she tells me about Friday night's dinner, including videos of the riot and Piscatella, and Professor Überman's job offer. Except for the video's and Piper's reaction, Piper is lively and filled with animated joyfulness. She stops at one point, worried she might be too self-absorbed, especially when she relays the comments the professors have made about how well she has been doing. I tell her she isn't. She has a right to be proud. I ask questions about the job offer and she tells me what she can.
"They're going to fit work around my classes and they're going to pay me twenty dollars an hour. That's double what I'm making now. Sweetie, see? Find out what it costs. We can do this. We can do this for your future."
Even with Piper's enthusiasm and reassurance, I can't embrace the idea. "You mean college."
"Yes." Piper reaches out and stops herself. "I know it might seem scary." Oh, she is reading me. Has fear painted my expression? "Give it a try."
"Watson, Sankey, and Soso. Soso told us that you've inspired her to go to law school."
"Is she going now?"
"Finishing her degree. She dropped out when she was arrested."
"I wasn't very nice to her. I wish I had been."
"But she talked so much," I laugh.
"Nonstop. But Al, you can do it, college I mean. I believe in you and if you take the right classes, who knows, you might even enjoy it."
"Okay everyone!" Three COs have entered the room. "Visitation is over."
"No," Piper cries out. "No. Not yet."
"Piper," I grab her hand.
"Not yet."
I guide Piper up from her chair. She stands and I enfold her into my arms. "Hey, you'll call tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah."
"And we'll see each other next Sunday."
"I'll try for the one o'clock session again." She gazes down at the hand with the paperclip ring. She angles her body so no one can see what she's doing. She pulls the ring off and slips it onto the ring-finger of my healthy hand."
"No," I pull it off. I tuck it into her hand.
"What?" Shock emanates. "Don't you want to be married?"
"Yes, but I want it to be for real, not prison married." I push the ring back on the finger it was on. "I don't have an engagement ring. This is all I have. Marry me, Piper."
"Okay, time to go," a CO claps her hands.
Piper gathers me into her arms. Tears flow down her face. They stream down mine. "Yes, she says into my ear. Yes. I want to be your wife."
I pull her hard and hug her tightly.
"Come on ladies."
We kiss, deep and passionately.
"Enough!" A CO taps me on the shoulder and gives my sleeve a little tug.
"Please, just one more kiss," Piper pleads. "My wife has just asked me to marry her."
Fellow inmates and the visitors in the room applaud as once again I celebrate in the only way we can. One more deep kiss with eager searching tongues.
"Come on," the CO says politely.
I give Piper one more hug and a quick kiss. I walk sideways and keep my eye on my fiancé-wife as I follow the CO. Piper's eyes pool with tears. She blows me a kiss and waves.
"Drive safe," I call back to her.
"I will," she replies.
Another tug to my sleeve and I turn and follow a little quicker. A second guard steps behind me while the third guard ushers our visitor back out to their cars. I leave visitation. Now, it's time for my strip search.
THE END
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 enjoyed the story.
Yes, eventually there will be a sequel, Orange is the New Black: Home. I will post it on FanFiction. I also have other fanfictions, plus original work. All of my fiction has lesbian characters. I have an original novel, Destiny's Choice, almost ready to post. Obviously, it will not appear on this site. It, as well as all of my writing can be found at . I invite you to follow me there.
Once again, thank you for reading Orange is the New Black: A New Life. Take care.