Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(2)
Like every room in this facility, it was cinderblock but her office was painted a pale green. I remember reading that green was supposed to be soothing. I wondered if the colors had been specifically chosen to create peaceful moods or if she were just trying to replicate the outdoors.
The smell of the room was floral and my gaze found the air freshener sitting next to the potted plant. Working in this facility, I assumed she would do anything to try to make this room seem less like a prison.
Susan was of indeterminate age to me, but the family photo on the shelf behind her showed possible adult children, and also grandchildren. Her blonde hair, slightly streaked with gray, was cut in a stylish bob. But what I noticed the most were her eyes—they didn’t look at me in a cold glare as I expected. Instead, when she smiled, her blue eyes felt warm.
Sitting up primly in my not-too-uncomfortable chair, I nervously clasped my hands together in my lap, waiting to see why I was called to this meeting while Susan’s gaze was on the file opened in front of her.
Finally looking up, she smiled as she slid her glasses off her face in an upward motion, using them to push her hair back like a headband, and said, “I know you have had several meetings this week and I’m sure your head is filled with everything you are learning and expected to do.”
She was right—I had met with security, including guards, been given an extensive list of rules, met with the prison chaplain, met with the prison doctor…and now the social worker. Nodding politely, I simply said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Her gaze never wavered and I wondered if she were trying to figure me out. I wanted to scream, Lady, I’m just what you see…a scared-shitless woman who’s so in over my head, I’m drowning. Trying to smile but knowing it fell flat, I said nothing, waiting until she spoke.
“I see you are in here for the involuntary manslaughter of your step-father.”
With the facts laid out in front of her, there was no reason to respond. Keeping my expression as blank as I possibly could, I swallowed deeply, forcing my gaze to stay on her face.
“I also see that you have a fifteen-year-old sister, now in foster care.”
I winced, unable to control the gesture, and I knew from the way her gaze raked over my face that she noticed.
She continued, “There’s usually a story behind a case like this. While I cannot undo what’s been done, you are court-ordered to attend counseling while you are here. Both individual and group sessions.”
Nodding, I repeated my standard response, “Yes, ma’am.”
“This is not part of a punishment, Molly, but to assure that you understand what you did that caused you to be here. And that you will be able to leave here in ten months, psychologically whole and ready to integrate back into society.”
What she didn’t know is I knew exactly why I did what I did. And that there was no reason to fear my re-integration back into society. Sam was dead. No one else had to fear me.
“You will also need to choose an area to work in while you are here and to choose a community service project to perform.”
For the first time since entering her office, I perked up. Licking my lips, I asked, “What kind of job?”
She sat, staring at me for a long minute before speaking again. “Usually women are assigned to the laundry, kitchen, things like that. But for you…” she cocked her head to the side, her sharp eyes pinned on me as though peering deeply inside. “I’m recommending the library.”
The library? Unable to hold back my smile, I let out a rush of breath. I would have accepted any job to stave off boredom, but somehow she picked perfectly. “Really? I love books. Thank you!”
She met my smile with one of her own. “I thought you did. You’ll need to report to the library tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp for your assignment.”
“You mentioned a community service project?” I asked, not having any idea what would be expected.
“You’ll come up with something, I’m sure,” she replied. Closing my file, she said, “Your first counseling session will be next week. I’ll have it on the schedule outside my office.”
Dismissed, I stood and, with a last thanks, walked back to my room, my sneakers making no noise on the shiny, waxed floors. Keeping my head down, I made it back without incident. The ever-present fear of prison fights or mistreatment by guards still fueled my imaginings. So far I had seen none of those, now wondering how truthfully TV shows portrayed the life inside these walls.
Breathing a sigh of relief when I entered my cell, I sat on my bed for a few minutes, relishing the quiet. While the security here at this facility was much less than I had feared, the ever-present cameras, guards, and locked doors were a frequent reminder of what I had given away.
“Molly, here’s another box for you to go through.”
I looked at the growing stack of boxes and grimaced at the other inmate. It had not taken long for Greta to figure out that I did what I was told and worked my full hours in the library, seemingly giving her an out to dump her work on me. But, to be honest, I liked the work so I kept my mouth shut. And God knows I don’t want any trouble!
“Sure, no problem,” I grumbled, noticing her victorious smile.
Lifting the heavy box of books, I grunted as they dropped to the floor, making a louder crash than I had hoped for. Looking up, I saw the librarian hustling over.