Insiders (13 page)

‘Ya' really need to talk to him?' she asked. Jennifer nodded, not that it would do any good. ‘Come on,' Movita said and walked to the front of the line.

Jennifer followed her. ‘'Scuze me, Pearl,' Movita said to the short Latina woman standing there waiting to be the
next one at the telephone. ‘Do ya' mind if the debutante uses the phone next? Would ya' give up yer place to her as a special favor to me?'

Pearl looked from Movita to Jennifer, then back to Movita. ‘Okay,' she said, ‘for you, Mo.' She gave Movita a nod and a look passed between them that Jennifer couldn't read. Pearl walked away and Movita motioned for Jennifer to take her place.

‘Hey, wait a minute,' said the old crone with a long gray braid who was standing next in line. Movita raised her hand, extending her fingers out.

‘Don't you talk at me, Helen,' Movita said. ‘We have a situation here. Ya' had one person in front of ya' a minute ago and ya' got one person in front of ya' now. What's your beef?' Helen began to talk but Movita raised her hand again. ‘Helen, don't mouth me. Ya' like to take advantage, but ya' know you've been in situations yourself. Hush now.'

And the woman did. Just like that. Jennifer waited a moment to thank Movita, but she didn't get a chance to because the woman on the phone in front of her hung up. Jennifer didn't waste a second and ran to the waiting receiver.

I haven't seen my daughters for five years. I know I'm their mother, and I guess they know I'm their mother, but what kind of mother is that? … Thinking about it makes me feel dead inside.

A prisoner at the Federal Reformatory for Women in Alderson, West Virginia. Kathryn Watterson,
Women in Prison

Even before ‘the incident', I'd have to say that the Warden and I have an interesting kinda relationship. Without ever saying a word ‘bout it, we help each other. She's a stickler for details and likes to do everything by the book, but she can't be blamed for that. Probably how she got the job. Anyway, she does things for me and I do things for her. It's good for me to have this, not jus' because of the benefits for me and the crew, but also ‘cause it keeps me busy and gives me somethin' to think about. The thing I most hate is to have empty time to remember the past and think ‘bout the future.

Anyway, the Warden hinted very strongly that she wanted me to take Jennifer Spencer into our crew. ‘Movita,' she says, ‘you can help that girl.' At first I think, fuck! I should help a rich white girl? What the fuck ever for? But
then I'm thinkin' further that maybe she has a point. I'm no hardass mean bitch and Jennifer would probably help the crew as much as we'd help her. She's got a lot of money in the canteen – the fund for prisoners who wanted to buy extra food instead of having cafeteria crap. Of course, even so, I knew I'd have trouble with Cher. Soon as I brought the subject up I did.

It was visitor's day again, and as usual we were all tense as could be, especially Cher.

‘Why the hell should we take
her
in?' Cher said, as I knew she would. ‘She ain't done nothin' for us ‘cept sharin' some toothpaste!' She was rubbin' red pencil on her fingernails, which I thought was ridiculous.

‘That's gonna come off soon as you wash,' I said to her. ‘Why you doin' it?'

‘It's somethin' to do,' Cher said.

‘Well, it don't even look good,' I told her, though I didn't blame her. Any stupid thing that passes the time here is worth doin'. Theresa puts together those same jigsaw puzzles and then, when she's finished, she just breaks them down and starts over. Would drive me crazy, but I don't judge her. ‘Well, I say we'll benefit from Spencer bein' in crew and that's a good enough reason. It ain't no crime for her to be rich, Cher. You would be if you could.'

‘Damn right I would,' Cher answered, holding out her hands. She was trying to admire them, but she couldn't do it. ‘Fuck. I gotta wash this shit off.'

‘Anyway,' I continued, ‘it wouldn't hurt us to have her come over, check her out some more.'

‘I checked her in,' Cher said, ‘and I'm not interested.'

I looked at Cher, compellin' her to look back. ‘Don't matter if you're interested or not,' I said to her, ‘Spencer's
in. I've asked Suki to bring her on over this morning.' Cher just shrugged, but I knew she was pissed.

You see, the thing is, with the JRU people breathin' down our neck, and with the Warden concerned, havin' someone like Spencer on our side might be a real good thing. Plus, the thought struck me then that once Cher was gone, which wasn't very far away, crew'd just be me and Theresa and Suki. Lord Jesus, it was a good thing the Warden had the idea to bring Spencer in. I was gonna need somebody to talk to.

Cher was still sulkin' when Suki came in with Jennifer. Yeah, I thought as I looked her over, she sure does look like a rich white girl that ain't gonna fit in. But then she says, ‘Did you want to talk to me, Movita?' And then she smiled so nice and self-assured that I sorta figured that it might work out after all. Jennifer Spencer has a power attitude. And the Warden needs that right now. Maybe we can, between us, make it so this JRU thing ain't as bad as it could be.

‘Sure did,' I said, real casual-like. ‘I thought Suki and the rest of us could help get you all ready for visitor's day.'

Cher let out a disgusted little snort, but Suki just squealed she was so happy. ‘You can borrow my curlers, Jenny,' she said.

I'm not sure Jennifer Spencer really wanted our help, but she was goin' to get it. Maybe it was kinda like an initiation or somethin'. Anyway, I went over and got Theresa to come and help, and after a lot of laughin' and havin' a good time, our new crewmate was all ready to meet her visitor.

‘There. You look great now,' Suki told Spencer.

I damn near laughed out loud when that poor, little rich white girl picked up the mirror and looked at herself. She
didn't look great at all. She looked like a cheap whore. After Suki was finished, all that smooth and silky dark hair of hers was a frizzy old mop. But Spencer didn't say a word.

‘Great, huh?' Suki asked again.

‘Oh yeah,' she told Suki.

‘But that's not all,' Theresa said. ‘Look what I got for you.' She opened her palm to show her a chapstick, but Spencer just looked at her.

‘Open the cap,' Theresa said, but she pulled the cap off herself. Instead of the clear wax the stick was red. ‘Adobe Red,' Theresa told her. ‘Here,' she reached over and put it on her. ‘Want some for your cheeks?' she asked.

‘No. No, thanks.' Spencer stood up before Suki could get at her. I could tell that she didn't want to wipe the lipstick off right in front of Theresa, but I also knew she didn't want to wear it anymore either.

‘Gosh, I wish someone was coming to see me,' Suki said. ‘Even just a lawyer. Cher got some good-looking lawyers.'

‘He's not just my lawyer, he's my fiancé,' Jennifer said.

‘Oh, wow! Does he know about your boyfriend?' Suki asked her.

‘Lenny is not my boyfriend,' Jennifer told her, looking around at the rest of us kinda embarrassed.

‘Wait,' Suki said, ‘your accountant is not your boyfriend and your lawyer is your fiancé.' Then she shook her head. ‘And people say I'm stupid.'

We all laughed – even Cher. And Spencer laughed, too.

‘You need some mascara,' Suki said, looking at Jennifer.

‘I think Cher's got some,' Theresa said, all cagey-like.

‘How do
you
know?' Cher asked.

‘Because I saw that Diane from Unit C leaving today.
She was all dressed up, but she didn't have any makeup on. I figure you got to it before she got her effects back.'

Cher laughed in that evil way of hers, and then leaned over to pull a box out from beneath her bunk. ‘Stand back girls, it's my turn to help out our little debutante here.' The box was absolutely filled to overflowing with good makeup that Cher had swiped.

I just shook my head at her and said, ‘One of these days you're gonna be busted and you'll blow your parole stealing shit like that.'

But nobody paid no mind to what I said. I think everybody was more worried that Cher was gonna put Spencer's eye out with the mascara brush. But pretty soon we were all laughing again. It was already starting to feel like Jennifer was one of us.

I sit here day after day dealing with all of these wounds inside my head. The kinds of wounds that never heal.

Bonnie Foreshaw, inmate. Andi Rierden,
The Farm

Jennifer raced back to her cell to take a look in the mirror. Tom would be arriving for visitor's day any minute. Did she look all right? What a ridiculous question to even ask. How could she look all right in this shapeless jumpsuit, with her frizzy hair, Adobe Red lipstick, and enough mascara to pass as a raccoon? Tom would take one look at her and think: white trash. But it had been fun to be part of that crew. Even so, she rubbed the cheap lipstick roughly off her lips with the palm of her hand. How could Tom, with his prep school upbringing and his country club expectations, possibly look at her and love what he saw?

But he
did
love her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to think positively. Tom loved her and despite the ridiculous warning she'd gotten from Lenny, Tom and Donald Michaels would do everything in their power to get
her out of this dump as soon as possible. He'd make her a lady again, and his wife.

Jennifer got to the visitor's room just as an officer called out, ‘Brainard, Jackson, LaBianco, and Spencer. Visitors.' Jennifer raced inside just a step behind Theresa. She craned her neck for a first glimpse of Tom's distinguished widow's peak. Once again she was instantly overwhelmed by the noise, the smells, and the confusion.

‘I made you the best chicken potpie!' a woman shrieked, attacking Theresa and enveloping her in a bear hug.

A wave of cheap Wal-Mart perfume washed over Jennifer, almost making her pass out. She pushed by Theresa – and the potpie specialist who must have been her sister, Thelma – and made her way to the center of the room to look for Tom. Everywhere little kids were hanging from their mothers' necks, while grown women tried to shout the latest news over their heads. There were absolutely no men – unless you counted the odious Officer Byrd, standing in one of the corners surveying the crowd. Two female correction officers were on the other side. Where was Tom?

Just then from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a blue Brooks Brothers suit hanging off broad shoulders. Jennifer rushed across the room and threw her arms around Tom.

‘Oh, Tom. Oh …' she blurted out. Was it true? Was he finally there with her? This couldn't be another dream, could it? If so, please God, don't let me wake up.

‘Jennifer, sweetheart, let me look at you,' Tom said, detaching himself from her and looking her over with concern. Jennifer could feel his eyes on her frizzy mop. She reached up to tame it as best she could.

‘It kills me to see you like this, honey,' Tom said. ‘But
you look …
healthy,
at least. Are they feeding you okay?'

‘Oh, who cares about that, Tom? What's going on? When are you getting me out of here!'

‘It's all being worked out,' Tom told her.

He reached out and took her hand. It felt so good to have contact with him. Jennifer wished she could kiss him over and over and over again. She wished they could be anywhere except in this miserable room. But most of all she wished they could talk about love and weddings and the future. Jennifer didn't want to talk about the law.

‘We know the judge on this one,' Tom said as they sat down at the table, ‘and he's not at all keen on holding up the governor's latest fad legislation, so –'

Jennifer cut him off. ‘So, no jury trial. A summary judgment and he'll find me innocent, right? And I'll be let out of here?'

‘Well …' Tom picked up her hand and held it in both of his.

‘Well, what?' she asked.

‘It's not that simple. The DA's office is being … difficult.'

‘Difficult?' Jennifer asked. Her heart fluttered in her chest. ‘Tom, you don't know what it's like here. I can't …' She stopped because she knew that if she went on she'd collapse. She took a deep breath. How could she explain to him how bad it was?

‘Look, we feel confident that the judge will go our way this time,' Tom assured her.

Jennifer wasn't convinced.

‘Well, what are you going to do to make sure of it, Tom? You've
got
to get me out of here!' Jennifer heard herself beginning to sound a little hysterical.

‘Stay calm, sweetie.' He looked at her. ‘That's the most important thing right now. Just keep calm and quiet – the model prisoner. Stay ladylike and let us do the dirty work for you.'

She tried to smile. ‘Tom, you can't be ladylike here.'

‘Oh, babe.' Tom leaned forward across the table and lowered his voice. ‘You know Donald's behind you all the way on this one. Do you know the resources he's thrown behind you on this?' She shook her head. ‘It's not just Howard McBane. Christ, half of Swithmore, McBane are billing their time to you. You know that Donald won't take no for an answer. So sit tight, and you'll be in the catbird seat when this is all over.'

Jennifer looked at him intently, trying to believe that it would all work out in the end. ‘How much longer will it take?' she said finally.

‘Oh, under a month.'

‘You're sure?'

‘Trust me.'

Tom leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss on the forehead. Then he pulled out a pad. ‘Now tell me what you need,' he said gently. ‘And we'll make sure to get it to you right away.'

‘What I need,' Jennifer said, angry with his calm efficiency, ‘is some fresh air and for you to get me the hell out of here.'

Tom made a gesture of annoyance with his hand, and then sighed and started speaking slowly, as if talking to a child. ‘Okay. I got the point,' he told her. ‘You think I enjoy spending my Saturday morning like this? We've gone over this, Jennifer. What more do you need me to tell you?'

As Jennifer looked at him, she realized with a sudden
feeling of horror that Tom had changed. His eyes, his tone of voice, the way he kissed her on the forehead … ‘Do you still love me, Tom?' she asked abruptly. Something told her that she had to ask, that their emotional landscape had changed, but if the answer wasn't yes, she was certain her heart would stop beating.

Tom's lips tightened and he averted his eyes. ‘Yes, of course. But …'

Jennifer heard the three-letter word and knew that those three letters shook her world.

‘Jennifer, you know I care for you deeply. But, under the circumstances …' he stammered and began again. ‘You know my family – it would be very bad publicity for them if I was involved with … a convict and –'

‘Are you insane?' she asked. ‘Are you calling me a convict? If I hadn't agreed to do this it would be you and Donald in jail!'

‘Jennifer, that isn't even true,' Tom said, stiffening, ‘and as your attorney I advise you not to say it again.' He paused and looked down, his eyes narrowed. ‘I'm your lawyer. I think it's best if we consider our personal relationship over. When this has all blown over, I'm sure things can go back to normal, but for now it's not a good idea.'

Jennifer stared at him in disbelief. ‘What are you saying?'

‘I'm returning the engagement ring to the jeweler. I'll make a small statement to the press that we are no longer romantically involved – by mutual choice – but that I am still your close friend and that I will fight your case to the end.'

‘Taking back the ring?' she asked. As if the jewelry was at issue.

‘It's really for the best. You need to concentrate on your appeal – you don't need emotional complications –'

‘But Tom, this is when I need you the most!' Jennifer felt herself on the verge of tears. ‘I need your love, I need your support! You
can't
abandon me now!'

‘That's not the way I see it – as abandoning. I'm still your lawyer. And really, Jennifer, you need to think of me, too. My position, my reputation.'

‘Your reputation? I
made
your reputation. Without my high-powered deals, you would have been nothing. You were a nobody when I met you! And now you have the balls – or lack thereof – to leave me in the lurch? You're a lily-livered coward of a nobody!'

‘You're angry, now, so maybe I should just leave. But I'll be in touch soon to talk about your case. I really do care about you, Jennifer. Be that as it may,' he began in what Jennifer had already learned to call his lawyer voice.

‘I can't believe this is happening!' she interrupted. ‘If you break up with me now, Tom, I swear I –' Jennifer stopped suddenly. She realized she had nothing to threaten him with – she had no leverage at all. No matter what he did, she still needed him to fight her case – he was her only card. Even now, when he was treating her like the worst doormat, she could do nothing to fight back. She felt so helpless, she wanted to attack him, to claw at his face, or at her own, to fall onto the floor and kick and scream. Instead she froze and wished her heart would stop, but it wasn't as easy as that.

‘Jennifer, it might be hard to see this now but in the end everything will be okay. Don't worry,' he told her.

If she could have she would have laughed, but all she said was, ‘Nothing will ever be okay again.' And then she slapped him. Firmly and soundly, right across his face.

Tom lifted a hand to his cheek. ‘I'm sorry,' he said, as if that meant anything. As if saying that helped. He stood up and turned away. She watched him – his tall, graceful figure weaving through the hubbub of the room to the door.

He was gone. Just like that.

Jennifer thought she'd felt the lowest of the low in Observation and during her first meal in the cafeteria, but this was a new lowness of black despair, the kind that she'd never imagined could exist and that she wouldn't even wish on her worst enemy – who was now Tom.