Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(19)
“Just wanted a break,” I mumbled, as I rushed to grab serving spoons as the other inmates were already lining up at the counter. The smells of the kitchen, especially the vats of grease, had me choke back a gag.
The girls in the kitchen could be a little rough on newcomers, but with Ellen and Jackie’s protection, I had integrated with few problems. I had suggested Cynthia take my place in the library and, with Susan’s agreement and recommendation, she was reassigned. Cynthia had thanked me profusely.
“Hmph,” Ellen groused, glaring at me. “Well, listening to you try to hide your tears at night, I’d say it was more than just needing a break.”
My eyes darted to her and her grumpy frown morphed to a sad smile. “Honey, it’s okay. Whatever stole your joy can’t be any worse than whatever stole your freedom.”
Dishing out the lunch as the inmates shuffled along the food line, I thought, Oh, yes it is. I’ll soon have my freedom back, but my heart will still be broken.
“You only have one more month here, and we need to start your transition program,” Susan said, her sharp eyes on me, causing me to keep looking down at my hands. It was hard to hold her gaze when I saw questions in it. Questions I didn’t know how to answer.
“What do I need to do?” I asked, working to keep my voice steady, the thought of leaving the prison sending both excitement and fear coursing through me.
“You will need to report to a parole officer for six months afterward. Have you considered employment or will you continue being a full-time student?”
“I think I can get my job back at the restaurant I was working in. I had a little money saved up, so I should be able to find a room to rent or maybe an efficiency. And I’ll keep working on my degree.”
Silence descended over us and I wondered what else she wanted to talk about. She had a small window in her office and my gaze wandered to the stream of sunshine coming through. It wasn’t much, but it illuminated her office in a warmth that was lacking in all of the other, closed-off rooms.
“Molly?”
I jumped at hearing my name, not knowing how much time I had allowed my thoughts to wander. “I’m sorry,” I apologized.
Chuckling, she shook her head. “You don’t need to be sorry…but I do want to talk about what happened last month.”
I started to make a denial, but knew it was pointless. What does it matter now? Clearing my throat, I said, “I decided to come clean and tell Bro—um, Sergeant Molina about my situation. But before he got my letter where I explained my situation, he discovered that I was here.”
“And…” she prodded, her brow wrinkled in concern.
“And he wasn’t too happy. Assumed I was trying to scam him. Accused me of duplicity. Anyway, he no longer wanted to have any contact with me. So…um…I guess that’s about it.” Adopting what I hoped was a serene expression, I held her gaze. I attempted a smile but abandoned it, knowing it resembled more of a grimace.
“Oh, Molly, that’s hardly all,” she said gently.
I opened and closed my mouth for a moment, uncertain what she meant or how to respond. Finally, choosing to say nothing, I clamped my lips tightly together.
“You left the library assignment asking to be sent to kitchen duty. And, according to Ms. Purdue, you haven’t checked out a book in over five weeks. You also stopped your Corrlinks account so you haven’t had a chance to see if he reconsidered his position after he got your letter.”
“He was pretty definite about his position,” I said, unfiltered irritation sparking my words. “Hanging around the library, checking each day to see if he wrote back would be even more…heartbreaking.”
Not giving up, Susan continued, “I have also heard from our post office clerk here that you have received three letters that you have rejected and have sent back. I think that would indicate he wants to make amends.”
Dropping my head, I should have known she would investigate my rapid change in behavior, but I had no idea she knew my secrets. Well, some of them. Battling the tears threatening to fall, I looked back up to her face, determination filling my mind.
“Let’s be honest, Susan. You told me months ago that I made a decision and had to live with the repercussions. You’re right. I did and I do.” Seeing that she wanted more from me, I continued, “He’s a hero who saves lives every day. I’m a nobody. An inmate. He’s got a future ahead of him that doesn’t include someone with the albatross of a criminal conviction around their neck. We were never going to be more than pen-pals. That’s it. No friendship. No relationship. Nothing.”
Panting, chest heaving, blinking furiously to keep the threatening tears at bay, I watched the sliver of sunshine beaming down on a corner of her desk. Shaking my head with the frustration of it all, I blurted, “All I tried to do was save my sister. And I’d do it all over again if I could. I never meant for Sam to fall the way he did and die when he hit his head.” Choking on a sob, I barely whispered, “I just had to get him off her.”
Dropping my chin to my chest, I clasped my hand over my mouth, trying to hold it all in. And failed.
Susan hurried over, her arms wrapping around my shaking shoulders, pulling me into her comfort. With shushes cooing in my ear, I cried the pent-up tears I had held in for a year. Tears for the loss of my sister and her innocence. For the loss of our mother. For the loss of my heart. For the loss of my freedom.