GRINGA (94 page)

             
I slowly sink back into the seat and hang my head
as the v
oices around me
become
muted. Like I’m underwater. I feel myself slipping away.
Numbness envelopes me.
I welcome the numbness
;
natures crude bubble wrap.

I’m in a holding cell at the police station. I don’t remember how I got there.

 
             
The cell is small, harshly lit with a naked bulb swinging from the ceiling. Similar to the prison cells you see in Western movies. I’m lying on a narrow bunk in foetal position. Nearby, two Mexican prisons officers are sitting at a desk writing furiously. There’s food lying next to me, but I don’t eat. I’m really sleepy so I close my eyes again and draw the coarse, grey, prison-issue blanket over my head.

             
Someone is shaking me. I open my eyes and look into the face of a female police officer.

             
‘You have to eat
.
’

             
I glance at the food then draw the blanket over my head again. 

             
The officer wakes me up again. Behind her are Depp and Grey.

             
Still
in foetal position
, I
look
up
at them. 

             
Depp kneels on the floor and looks at me. We stare at each other in silence
for a few moments
. He swallows several times and shakes his head. After a while, he gently tucks my hair behind my ears.

             
‘Depp!’ Grey chides.

             
Depp quickly withdraws his hand and stands up. ‘We’ve got you an attorney,’ he says and motions to a man behind Grey. 

             
The attorney steps forward and introduces himself. ‘My name is Miguel Anthony.’

             
I nod and pull the blanket over my head.

             
Depp draws it back. ‘We need to talk about your defense, Payton.’

             
Reluctantly, I leave the blanket alone.

             
They talk between themselves and eventually leave. I’m relieved to see them go.

             
A few hours later, Depp, Grey and my attorney return, all sporting worried looks.

             
‘You’re a flight risk,’ my attorney says grimly. ‘Bail was denied. Sorry.’

             
‘Can I go back to sleep?’ 

             
Depp and my attorney exchange looks.

             
‘Yes, Senora,’ my attorney says. 

It’s my second day in prison. Depp, Grey and my attorney return. This time I’m forced to meet in an interview room which has a guard posted at the door. My numbness persists but I welcome it
– a handy coping mechanism when
you’re in prison.

             
Grey and my attorney discuss my case while I study the floor. 

             
I feel Depp’s eyes boring into me. I turn my head to look at him.

             
‘We’ve contacted the American Embassy on your behalf.’

             
I nod.

             
He leans towards me and whispers, ‘Do you need anything? ’

             
‘Diago
,
’
I mouth.
 

             
His head lolls.

             
I touch his bent head gently.

             
He looks at me and says, ‘Payton, I’m truly sorry. I am. I …if only … Damn! It wasn’t supposed to
…Christ!’ His shoulders sag.

             
Grey does not try to stop Depp from having a mini meltdown.

             
I touch his arm lightly and say, ‘It’s alright. It had to happen, Depp. It’s no one’s fault.’

             
‘You serious?’

             
‘Yes, Depp, he’s in a better place now.’

             
‘Wha …?’ Depp slowly straightens up and stares at me
.

             
Grey stiffens at my words. My attorney puts down his pen and starts to crack his knuckles. 

             
With a melancholy smile I say, ‘What? No reall
,
you guys, it couldn’t be helped, really. It’s gonna be okay.’ My voice is high and thin.

             
Grey slowly sinks back into his chair and peers at me, his eyes now slits. ‘Five to seven in a Mexican jail is serious, Payton,’ he says.

             
I dismiss his comment with a wave of my hand. ‘I’m Payton, remember? Nooothing affects me.’ Strangely, I’m not acting, I’m genuinely and freakingly blasé.

             
‘Really?’ Depp’s tone of voice could be interpreted as skeptical or cautious.

             
‘Yeah, Blake, of course. These things happen.’ I examine my nails and frown. ‘I need to get these done again.’

             
The three men in the room exchange nervous looks.

             
Grey’s phone rings. He stands up, moves into a corner of the room and answers it. After talking for a moment, he looks at me. ‘Payton,
Troy
’s here asking for you. You wanna see him?’

             
‘
Troy
?’ The name jolts me. ‘He’s here?’ I bite my
nails
and stare at the door.

             
‘Yeah. Wants to visit you. You okay with that?’

             
I nod.

             
A few moments later, the door creaks open and a guard enters, followed by
Troy
. His shoulders are hunched, his face is grim and I see concern in his bloodshot eyes.

             
At the sight of
Troy
, I slowly rise to my feet.

             
‘Gringa,’ he whispers, as he advances towards me. ‘Gringa ...’

             
The guard stops him.

             
‘
Troy
,’ I whimper, my hands flying to my mouth. ‘
Troy
...’ His eyes, his stooping shoulders, the way he moves – it’s like looking at my husband. ‘
Troy
...
Troy
…’

             
‘Gringa  ....’ He side-step the guard
to get to me
and this time, the guard lets him. He throws his arms around me.

             
‘I’m so sorry, Troy. I ... loved h
…h
im,’ I splutter into his
chest
. ‘I love
d
hi
m.
Troy
. I love
d
him
!
’

             
He crushes me to him and my shoulder suddenly feels wet.

             
‘He ... said I was worth it. I w ... was worth it,
Troy
. I’m so sorry. My h ...husband ...’ I sob so hard, my
whole body shakes and my
knees start to buckle. ‘Manual s …said I must s …stay …’

             
Depp hurries out of the room and returns with a prison nurse and two medics in tow.

             
They steer me to a chair and administer an injection into my arm.
Troy
holds my other hand to his chest and weeps.

             
‘It’s my fault,’ I sob as darkness descends over me. ‘I could have saved him
.
Diago
!
I want Diago
! Please! Please!’

I wake up in the infirmary. Everything is white, blinding, harsh. I’m strapped
to a gurney. I struggle to think – how did I get here? 

             
‘You’ve been here for two days,’ the nurse tells me as she hands me a small blue tablet. ‘But today, they’re taking you back to the holding cell.’

             
I
a
ccept the glass of water from her.  

             
Troy
and Depp visit me in the infirmary.
Troy
holds my hand, while Depp sits on a chair and studies me, a permanent frown on his face.

             
Because of the tranquilizers, I’m calm now, but my sadness lingers and tears silently seep out of me. ‘I’m sorry I’m such a mess,’ I say, as I brush away tears.

             
‘Don’t Payton,’ Depp says. ‘We prefer you this way. It’s healthier.’

             
I
fight to
hold back my tears as
Troy
discusses funeral arrangements. Knowing that I will not be able to attend Diago’s funeral brings a tsunami of tears.
He’s talking headstones, graves and coffins – how do I do this? How can I be strong?

             
They eventually leave and I cry myself to sleep. The thought of Diago being buried without me being present, the thought of never saying goodbye consumes me. The only thing that prevents me from screaming like a deranged woman is the medication they’re giving me.

             
The villagers send fruit
,
homemade cakes and biscuits for Gringa. The guards are nice to me and insist I eat. I thank the guards
and offer them
the delicious food
.
They sit on my bunk and eat everything, reminding me of Maria and Rosa.

             
I’m not sure when my trial is going to take place and frankly, I don’t care.

             
They haven’t moved me to a proper prison cell. I suspect it has something to do with Depp and Grey. They’re here all the time discussing my case and strategizing.