Prison Nation (17 page)

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Authors: Jenni Merritt

BOOK: Prison Nation
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I stood, slinging the pack over my shoulder and tucking the envelope and box under one arm. I took a step toward her, my hand shaking as I held it out to her. She firmly gripped it a moment, watching me before offering one last warm smile. “Welcome to the Nation, citizen.”
The officer placed a hand on my back, softly pushing me toward the door at the other end of the room. My feet stumbled underneath me as I made my way over to it. The officer pulled the small hand held device out of her pocket, scanned my wrist, and waited for the beep. As soon as the small beep sounded, she swiped a card across a panel near the door.
The door buzzed once, then swung open.
Sunlight spilled in, crisp with the fresh morning air. I squinted as we stepped out, taking in the pale blue sky dotted with drifting white clouds. In front of me stretched a parking lot. No razor wire topped fences. No guards patrolling. Just a normal parking lot with a few scattered cars resting in the morning light.
The guard walked me around the corner. Beds of neatly trimmed flowers lined the walk, their buds opening with dew. I could almost taste the dew on my tongue, full of the morning sun. We walked until we got to a small covered area. The guard stopped, motioning to someone in the distance.
I could hear the rumble of an engine. Looking around, I saw an old truck making its way toward us. Its paint was chipped, rust splattered across its once bright yellow surface. I could see a large dent on one side, bending the metal in at a strange, striking angle.
The truck pulled in under the covered waiting area. Without a word, the officer pulled open the passenger door, nodding once at me. I tightened my grip on my small bag and took a step forward. Still squinting from the bright light, I looked into the cab.
There, sitting behind the wheel, fist held tightly to lips, was Oscar Ramos.
12
 

 

I
had never been in a vehicle before. My fingers gripped the worn handle on the door, nails digging into the soft plastic. My whole body bounced up and down as the truck pulled out of the lot and onto the worn road beyond.
The outside world was amazing. I had stood outside before, as near to the fence as I dared. I would stand and look at the world outside the fence, trying to forget the men up on the walks who always watched with guns held tight, making sure I didn’t attempt an escape. Beyond the prison’s fence, there was nothing else. Just a rolling expanse of tall grass. It would sway in the light breeze, always dried and crisp in the ever heated air. For miles I could see the waves of grass, only interrupted occasionally by a lone, shriveled tree.
As we drove down the road, the grass rising on either side, I felt sick. I turned my head, looking out the dusty window to my right. The prison was huge. I had always known it was large, but seeing it now from the outside took my breath away. It stretched away on either side, disappearing with the grass into the horizon. Spokane had no beginning, and no end.
I felt strange, knowing that hidden somewhere inside those dark rising walls and razor wire topped fences were the people I had known my entire life. They were at work, or sleeping in cells, or standing alone in the yard watching the grass bend and sway. My eyes suddenly stung, unexpected tears trying hard to find their way out.
I pulled my eyes away from the prison, turning in my seat to face forward again.
Oscar glanced over to me, both of his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. “Buckle up,” he said, his accent so strong I could barely understand his words.
“
What?” I asked, confused.
“
Buckle up. Uh, there.” He pointed to a strap hanging at my right, then to a small metal buckle down by my left hip. I reached and grabbed the strap, pulling it across my body and toward the buckle. Glancing up at him, I raised my eyebrows in question. Oscar nodded.
I pushed the buckles together until they let out a light click. The strap tightened against me, pulling me firmly against the seat. I stared at the buckle a moment. I didn’t like the feel of the strap confining me, pulling me tight into the worn seat. My lap was full with my box, bag, and envelope carefully balanced on top and I struggled to keep it all together as the truck bounced down the road. Glancing over to Oscar, I shoved the envelope of money into the bag, cinched it tightly shut then wrapped one arm securely around the small pile.
The car rumbled loudly down the road. Small buildings started to appear. Paint chipped off of their wooden walls, the windows boarded tightly shut against the empty air. Soon they grew closer together, their worn paint becoming nicer looking and their windows gradually opening. Glass panes shone in the sunlight, curtains on the inside masking whatever lay beyond. I saw people walking down the street along a thin concrete walk, casually talking or glancing into shops.
My eyes burned as I refused to blink. I felt the fear of the rumbling truck disappear with amazement at the life that now appeared before my eyes. Small children gripped parent’s hands, tugging and laughing. A store passed, toys propped carefully in its clean window. An old man sitting on a wooden chair outside a shop raised his hand and waved.
Oscar nodded to him, passing without a pause. We soon were out of the small strip of buildings, turning onto a dirt road. The truck bounced haphazardly as it hit the deep potholes that were scattered everywhere. I felt my stomach churning with nausea. Focusing my eyes out of the dusty windshield, I worked hard to bite it back as I dug my nails harder into the plastic handle.
Ahead of us rose a tall building. In the distance, just beyond the building, were perfectly matching smaller buildings, neatly lined and carefully painted. Oscar pulled up in front of the large building and turned the truck off. Its engine sputtered once, then went silent. He glanced at me a moment, then pushed open his door and climbed out.
I figured he wanted me to do the same. My legs shook as I climbed out. I threw the pack over my shoulder, then wrapped my arms tightly around the small box and hurried to catch up to Oscar, who was already making his way down a cobble lined path.
We passed the large building. I gazed up at it, taking in its tall white walls and neatly cleaned windows lined with white lace curtains. The front door was a bright red, an apple neatly carved into its wooden surface.
Oscar made his way to the smaller buildings around back. People ambled by, their clothing dusty but neat. A few sat in the entrances to the buildings, casually talking as they ate food or whittled at pieces of wood. Oscar nodded to people as they passed, occasionally mumbling something I couldn’t understand.
We finally reached one of the small buildings. Oscar stopped, pulled out a paper from his shirt pocket and glanced at it. Nodding to himself, he looked back at me and motioned me forward.
I stepped up to the small building. “This is your… uh… living space,” Oscar said, obviously searching for words in his thick accent.
A woman walked out. Her skin was the same golden tone as Oscar’s, her dark hair pulled into a single loose braid that hung down her back. She seemed to be only a few years older than me, her face still young and vibrant. Seeing Oscar, she let a bright white smile spread on her suntanned face.
“
Hola Oscar,” she said, leaning against the open doorway.
“
Hola Maria,” he answered quickly. “Este es Millie. La chica nueva.” Maria looked over at me, then nodded and smiled at Oscar again.
“
Hola Millie,” she said, still smiling. Her teeth seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.
“
Um. Hi.” I knew that they were speaking Spanish. There were gangs of inmates who only spoke Spanish in the prison. I had always avoided them. They would watch me with slitted eyes every time I had to pass, murmuring even more strange words in their language I could never understand. Standing here now, in front of Maria and Oscar, I found myself wishing they would speak English. Not knowing what they were saying as they stood watching me sent my stomach into knots.
“
¿Dónde este Reed?” Oscar asked Maria.
Maria shrugged. Oscar sighed, glancing over at me again. I could tell he wanted to pass me on to someone else and be done with the job of my escort. His hands clenched into fists, one twitching as he fought it from rising to his lips.
“
¿Te da miedo la bonita chica nueva?” Maria asked, her lips curling into a smile at the corners.
Oscar glanced at me, his fingers twitching again as they fought to rub against to his lips. “Uh, Maria… No sé…”
Maria sighed and took a step forward.
“
Go on Oscar. I got her.” Oscar glanced to Maria, then back to me. Maria shooed at him with her hands. “Si, Oscar. Ándale.”
Oscar nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. Turning to me, he nodded again, then took off to the large building. Maria motioned me forward. Wrapping my arms tighter around my small box, I stepped up the small building, following her inside. She carelessly swished her hips as she walked down the narrow hall, her tight shirt showing off her figure underneath.
“
Don’t mind Oscar,” she called behind her. Her voice was hinted with the same accent, though not nearly as thick as Oscar’s. “He is always nervous when new ones move in. We have had trouble, in the past you know. But you won’t be trouble, I can tell.” She stopped and smiled at me, tapping her head. “I can see you are a good girl.”
I nodded. Something about Maria made me like her. I didn’t know if it was her smile, or the how she so comfortably spoke to me. There was something there though.
“
Okay, this is your room.”
She pushed open a curtain. Inside rested a small bed, blankets folded neatly on its padded mattress. It barely stood off the ground, propped up on a few thick boards. A small table with a single drawer sat wedged in next to the bed, an old lamp sitting on its rough surface. At the other end of the bed stood a small set of drawers. Aside from that, the room was empty. Everything was crowded close together, the only remaining floor space barely big enough to spin on. Everything in the room seemed to be embraced in the deep brown of the wooden walls.
“
It isn’t much,” Maria said, watching me take in the room. “But hey, it is home, sí?”
Maria couldn’t see the relief that was flowing through me. I scanned the room again, taking in the one thing that made a smile finally creep across my face. There was no bunk. No other bed. I had never slept in a room all to myself in my life. It seemed too good to be true.
Walking in, I set my box and bag on the bed. “No, it’s perfect,” I said softly.
“
Okay. Well, unpack then come ouside. Sí?”
I nodded.
Maria turned to leave. Before she could duck through the curtain, I stopped her. “What did you ask him? Oscar.” Maria turned and looked at me, a smile still on her full lips. “Out there… I was just curious.”
“
Don’t know much Español, huh?” Maria leaned against the doorway, her smile easy and welcoming. “I asked him if he was afraid of the pretty new girl.”
“
Oh.” I looked away, staring at her feet instead of her laughing smile. “Is he?”
Maria laughed. “Millie, don’t worry. Oscar is afraid of everything. Even his own shadow.” I glanced back up at her. She winked playfully, pushing her body away from the door frame. “Just relax. Everyone is loco at first. We get used to it though. Most of the time. See you outside, chica.”
Maria watched a moment longer, then turned and left. As soon as she disappeared through the curtain, I dumped out the contents of my small bag onto the bed and set to work sifting through them. Picking up the sock that held my sea glass, I paused a moment. I could feel the lump of the glass in the toe. I wanted to look at it again. To roll it between my fingers and try to hear the soft waves that had created it years before.
Sighing, I grabbed the envelope of cash and pushed it into the sock on top of the glass. Rolling the top of the sock shut tightly, I gathered my used clothes and walked over to the small dresser. I carefully laid out my clothing in the first drawer, making sure it was folded neatly and organized.
I walked back to my bed and ripped the top of the box open, then pulled out the new set of clothing. The shirt was a dark blue, the pants a light khaki covered in pockets. I stared at them a moment, my fingers trailing over the new fabric that almost seemed to crunch under my touch, then carefully folded them and laid them in their place in the open dresser drawer. I gathered up the extra socks and underwear and toiletries and tucked them all away too, then pushed the drawer shut.
All that was left on the bed now was my notebook and the empty cardboard box. I fiddled with the box a moment, then finally found a way to collapse it. Not knowing what to do with it, I kicked it under my bed. The cardboard scraped across the wood floor, then fell silent as it found its place in the shadows and dust.
I walked over to the head of the bed and finally let myself sit. The springs in the bed bounced back at me. I could feel them under my body, jabbing and poking, but it didn’t matter. The bed felt like complete luxury. I took in a deep breath, letting my eyes scan the tiny room once more.
My room.
Without pausing to flip through the ratty pages, I slipped my notebook into the drawer on the bedside table, then rose and walked out of the room. The hallway was narrow, barely big enough for two people to stand side by side. I could see Maria leaning in the doorway, and made my way to her.

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