Insiders (37 page)

I knew she was feeling sorry for me. I hate that. ‘I'm not sure I got a place to go,' I admitted.

‘Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that,' she said. ‘There's someone picking you up Outside and we're all going out for lunch. After that we'll take care of where you're all settling down.'

Well, I may be crazy but I ain't no dummy. I knew it'd be Jennifer Spencer waitin' out there for us. Still, it was the greatest feelin' in the world to come out into the actual Outside and see her standin' there. It was then that I knew it was for real.

And of all the amazin', outrageous things, she had come with a huge stretch limousine! Must have been six windows on each side. And when the driver opened the door, about fifty helium balloons poured out and up into the air.

‘Freedom!' Jennifer said.

This just started me cryin' all over again. I was so grateful that I couldn't even speak, so I just hugged Jennifer. Then that bitch Cher stepped out of the car! ‘You like her better than you like me?' she asked. I swear, I was bewildered, but I hugged that girl and let everyone else do the talkin'. Cher told me later that this was the only time she ever saw me bein' quiet.

Everybody climbed in the big car, even the Warden, and we drove away from Jennings. For a moment everybody was quiet as we pulled through the gate. I was waitin' for the Warden to say somethin' about Cher and Jennifer bein' in violation of their parole – they weren't supposed to be together. But ol' Gwen said nothin'. Me and Theresa looked out the tinted window, but Suki didn't ‘cause she was busy with Christina. After that I just looked at Jennifer. To me she was the best and most beautiful person in the world and I knew I'd never live a day without thinkin' of her and bein' more grateful than I could ever say. Didn't matter she was white. She was my sister. I don't think anyone can understand how it feels to be released. Even I don't understand it and it happened to me.

Jennifer couldn't get over how Christina had grown. She had to wake the child up to admire her. ‘She's gotten so big! Honestly, Suki, she's the cutest baby I've ever seen!' she said. ‘She's a big chubby doll!' She took out a box, all wrapped nice. ‘Here, I have something for her. Why don't you put it on her now?' I just loved that the box was
wrapped up beautiful and
not
rewrapped. I noticed right away.

Suki opened the box and inside was a little flowered dress with a sweater to match. She took off Christina's rompers and put on the new outfit. We were all just overcome by the beauty of the child. We began laughin' with pleasure, ‘cause smilin' and words were just not enough.

Then Jennifer told us what we were goin' to do. First we would have lunch, after which the Warden would have to go back to Jennings, and we would go into New York City. She said we could all stay at her apartment for the night and then the next day we would go home. She'd arranged for drivers. It was like a dream, I was thinkin', and I bent my head down so that I wouldn't faint again.

We went to lunch at some fancy restaurant, which I thought was the most beautiful place I'd ever been in, and I said so. I was also the only African American sittin' down, though there were several waiters and service people. I forgot how white the world Outside was. But I was so happy, nothin' could spoil it. But when I got the menu I kinda froze up. Too many choices. I felt my fingers tighten on the card. How to choose? What to eat, what to drink? It was way too much.

Jen saw my problem. ‘Let's all have the Cobb salad,' she suggested. I had no damn idea what the Cobb salad was, but I said sure, and to this day that blue crumbly cheese is the taste of freedom to me.

‘Missy, I'm gonna take you places that make this look like nothin'!' Cher said to me. But I shook my head. I don't think any place is ever gonna look so beautiful to me. Still Cher was full of fun, and she looked the bomb, and a lot younger than when she was in with us.

But the best came last. When we came out of the restaurant, there in the parkin' lot was another limo and out of it poured three of Theresa's sisters, Roger Camry, his mother, and then, one by one, my girls: Jamorah, Talitha, and Kiama, all dressed real nice.

‘Mama!' Jamorah cried, and ran across the tarmac, her arms open wide to give me the best hug of my life.

I suppose society is wonderfully delightful. To be in it is merely a bore. But to be out of it is simply a tragedy.

Oscar Wilde,
A Woman of No Importance

One by one they had become dear to my heart and one by one they left me. First Jennifer Spencer was paroled, then Miss Watson, Miss LaBianco and Suki Conrad along with dear little Christina – all were pardoned. I didn't resent their new freedom, but I did miss them. Of course, I was very busy in my new, expanded role as inmate coordinator. Dozens and dozens of women needed counseling, direction, a chance to share their grievances, and an intercessor. I filled the bill. And I wasn't abandoned by my friends because they were pardoned, so all of them were free to write and visit me, and they already had – and frequently.

I had begun to take my meals alone again, but the food was now so much better in the cafeteria that I frequently picked it up there and then brought it to my cell. It was a peaceful respite for me after dealing with people all day
long. But when I heard the rumor that Warden Harding was leaving, and then heard it confirmed by a CO, I felt a pain that pierced my heart. Two, or sometimes three, times a week we had been having tea and sharing gossip and inmate problems in her office. Now that would be denied me, too, and I felt deeply bereft. It wasn't that my days were empty – to the contrary, they were filled with interesting and useful activity. There were many young women I had already come to like, and with the clearly psychotic housed in their own wing, I was no longer troubled by the screaming, cursing, and bizarre behavior that could so often disrupt a meal, sleep, a class, or even a conversation. I had also come to have deep affection for Springtime, whom I worked with each morning in one of the new gardens. She rarely spoke, but her presence was soothing and I believe that somewhere in her troubled consciousness she felt the same about mine. Springtime had finally stopped trying to escape, and would have been outdoors, nursing her plants and flowers or in the new greenhouse with her seedlings twenty-four-seven, as they say here, had it been allowed.

Since the yard had been grassed and the young birch trees planted, recreation had been extended to an area all around the perimeter of the building. I no longer had to walk in circles, figuratively and literally. A whole team was working on landscaping what we called the ‘woods walk', a winding path all around the prison that would be visible from the guard towers (so no mischief could take place there) but would give the illusion of something approaching Arcadia to the walker. Already about a third of it was completed, and the azaleas, rhododendrons and plantings of annuals and perennials looked both natural and inviting.
Many of the inmates had become really interested in landscaping and nursery work as a career and I had made sure that Flora, who had inherited my job at the library, was collecting a significant selection of horticultural books and books on careers in the nursery and gardening fields. The perimeter walk was one of the new privileges at Jennings and it was so coveted that good behavior had certainly increased among the inmates to ensure their outdoor time.

The news, though, of Warden Harding's departure shocked and upset me in a way I simply wasn't prepared for. Of course, it was only a rumor, but I called her office and asked if I might come up to speak with her. The dull Miss Ringling had at last been replaced by a pleasant older woman named Ethel Schutz. No one, of course, could take Movita's place. But a new young woman named Tulip had been, at my suggestion, given a chance. Tulip put me on hold and came back on to tell me that I could come right up. That was a comfort, but when I got there I had to wait almost twenty minutes, and the phone calls and the faxes seemed to indicate that the rumor might be true. I could, of course, ask Tulip, because she did owe me a favor, but I didn't like to use that kind of ploy. I merely sat, my hands in my lap, and looked down at them.

They were the hands of an old woman. It was clear that they had done a lot of labor and the speckles on them showed that I was well past menopause. They were hands that had raised two boys, diapered and burped them, hands that had touched a man with passion, hands that had gestured and demonstrated and remonstrated to countless students, and they were hands that had killed a man. I stared and stared at them, going into an almost trancelike
state. Well, I thought, they were hands that would have to do without the warmth of a cup of tea with Warden Gwendolyn Harding.

When the intercom buzzed Mrs Schutz looked up and politely told me I could join the Warden. I walked into her office expecting the worst and prepared for it. ‘So,' I said, ‘is it true, Gwendolyn?' After years and years of calling one another by title, we had only recently gotten onto a first-name basis (although I was always careful not to use her first name in any setting but her office).

‘Yes, Margaret,' Gwendolyn said, smiling broadly. She seemed not to have the slightest regret that she was moving on. Well, I couldn't blame her.

I tried not to show my disappointment. ‘Congratulations,' I said, and smiled back at her.

‘You seem troubled, Margaret. Are you okay?' Gwendolyn asked, concerned.

‘I'll be all right. Really,' I tried to reassure both of us. ‘Do you know who'll be coming in to take over for you?'

‘Take over for me?' Gwendolyn asked. ‘What makes you think I need to be taken over? Haven't we been through that already?'

‘Well, if you're going to be Director of Corrections, I merely assumed that …'

‘That I was leaving? No. I made the agreement to take on the job only if I could use this office as my base.' Gwendolyn paused. ‘Oh, dear. If you think I'm leaving so does everybody else,' Gwendolyn shook her head, then leaned back in her chair. ‘I'm sorry if you've been worried about all of this, Margaret. But I'm not going anywhere. Yes, I've been given more responsibilities and a new title but I'm still going to be based here at Jennings. They'll have
to lease an administrative building nearby, but I thought that you might be very involved in that work.'

I instinctively hugged myself. Tears rose in my eyes. ‘Oh, thank heavens! You don't know how much that means. I … just don't think I could take any more change around here.'

‘Well, there will be changes, but they'll be good ones. Speaking of changes, did you get one of these?' Gwendolyn handed a white envelope to me.

I took it, struggled to pull out the enclosure, and glanced at it. It was an invitation to Jennifer Spencer's wedding. ‘No, I haven't gotten one, yet. I can't say I'm surprised, though. Lenny is a lovely man.'

‘But won't it be fun?' Gwendolyn asked.

Perhaps I was muddled over the reversals of the morning. All I know is I said, ‘She deserves every happiness. Still, it doesn't much matter since I can't go to it anyway.'

‘Actually, you will be able to go,' Gwendolyn said.

‘Gwendolyn, you can't let me leave the grounds to go to a wedding. She's not even a relative. I know things are different, but they're not
that
different.'

‘Have wedding, will travel,' Gwendolyn said, and chuckled. ‘Look at the invitation, Margaret. Former Inmate 71036 is coming here to be married!'

‘Here?' I asked. ‘Where? Where will it be?'

‘Margaret, you'll have to go out to the shed.'

They hold a lot of weddings at men's prisons. I don't pretend to understand the phenomenon, but it's surprisingly common that a woman will correspond with a prisoner, become involved, and marry the criminal, even if he's guilty of a heinous crime. Perhaps, as my friend Gwendolyn
opined, it's because when your husband is in prison at least you always know where he is. I think the situation feeds into a woman's need for fantasy and ‘romance' – if he's not around underfoot, if you can see him only briefly, if the sex is rare or actually impossible and only imagined, a woman is capable of turning any frog into a mental prince. But weddings in women's prisons are virtually unheard of. And women love weddings. So, you can imagine the stir that the event made at Jennings.

The garden shed had been converted into a bower of flowers. White lilacs, roses, lisianthus, lilies, and ivy covered it. Seats had been put outside, with white ribbons streaming from them. Inmates had volunteered to work on a long white runner, hand hooked, that ran from the shed to the entrance of the yard. The wedding was truly beautiful. Jennifer looked radiant. Her dress was simple; a white swath of silk designed by Movita, covered with tulle that created a ghostlike effect as it shadowed the dress beneath. Jen also had what seemed like miles of tulle flowing from her simple headdress, and a wreath of flowers prepared by Springtime. Leonard – I was the only person who refused to call him that undignified name he was known by – looked very elegant in a simple black suit. I regretted, a bit, that it wasn't Bryce or Tyler Jennifer was marrying, so that she could actually become a member of my family – until I realized that neither of my boys was good husband material, and she was a member of my family anyway. I will never lose track of her or she of me.

Before the ceremony I had helped prepare the bride along with the other ‘girls', Movita, Suki, Theresa, and Cher. Jen had asked that I give her away and, as she had neither mother nor father, I was pleased to do it. I had spent years
serving
in loco parentis
, and I probably was more loco than parental at this point.

I was a little worried about misbehavior on the part of any of the inmates but I had two weeks to prepare them and I was delighted that their deportment was excellent. I have no idea what Leonard Benson's mother and aged father thought about the venue, but I could see that they were delighted with their new daughter-in-law.

I hadn't been to a wedding since my Tyler was married and that had been some fifteen years ago. And I couldn't attend any ceremonies for either of my boys anymore so this was definitely going to be an extra exciting time for me. The wedding march had started to play – the warden had brought in a CD player – and all the girls and I got in line and waited nervously for the right time to enter the yard. Theresa and Cher walked out first as the bridesmaids, then Movita as the maid of honor. The flower girl was Christina, who was accompanied by Suki for assistance. They were all stunning, dressed up in their lavender dresses, wearing real makeup, with their hair done beautifully. Once the girls had gotten twenty steps out – I had to try to keep count as they walked away – I gave Jennifer's arm a little squeeze and she smiled down at me through her veil. ‘Let's get outta here,' she said, and gently took my hand.

When we stepped out of the doorway and into the sunshine and fresh air I felt like it was the first time I had ever been outside. A sound, something between a sigh and a gasp, came from the many inmates and guests assembled. I felt rejuvenated. The colors of the maid of honor's and bridesmaids' dresses against the green of the lawn and trees was breathtaking. As we approached the pastor I squeezed Jennifer's arm again. I didn't want to let go of her at the end
of the white runner but I did. As I let go, Gwendolyn came up behind me and helped me to my seat. ‘Isn't she ravishing?' I asked.

‘Without a doubt,' Gwendolyn whispered.

The ceremony was emotional for everyone. Even the bulldaggers cried.

When the pastor pronounced the two of them man and wife, Leonard leaned forward and took Jennifer's face in his hands. I was right next to them and I had never noticed what lovely, long, strong fingers he had. He tilted her face toward him and the kiss that he gave her was as deep and long and passionate as I hoped their marriage would be. Jennifer colored, and the blush was one I remembered from the days when Riff was exciting in a good way. She was a wise and good girl, Jennifer Spencer Benson. She had picked her mate, a decision always fraught with the potential for catastrophe for a woman. She had picked her mate wisely. Leonard clearly cherished her and I had the strongest sense that he would continue to do so.

And when it came time for Jennifer to throw her bouquet, I must say it was the hungriest, most eager group that I had ever seen. Jennifer, with Lenny's help, stood up on a chair, closed her eyes, and threw her flowers. As the bouquet was released, arms shot up into the air as if the women were waiting for the delivery of packages from home. Several of them used basketball blocking moves. The bouquet suddenly disappeared from the air and the women were scrambling. I couldn't see who caught it and no one was holding it up in victory. Were they ripping it into pieces so they each got some? What were they doing?

Then I saw the bouquet come out of the crowd. Behind the flowers I saw a dark leathery face and loony bright eyes.
I was distracted for a moment by Jennifer, who was still standing up on the chair, and who had started to laugh and point. When I looked back to the group of inmates still collected, I spotted what Jennifer was laughing at. Behind the colorful flowers I saw Springtime with the biggest grin on her face, the recipient of the bridal bouquet.