Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(8)
Walking along the stark corridor to the cafeteria, I heard Ellen called out my name as she jogged up behind me.
“Hey girl, did you hear what happened?” Bouncing on her toes, hands flapping to her sides, she appeared ready to bust out the gossip, so I barely shook my head before she plunged right on.
“You know how Jocelyn’s been acting all weird and shitty lately?” she began, eyes darting around to see who might be listening.
“I just thought she was always like that,” I responded, thinking of our cellmate with the perpetually bad mood.
“Turns out, she’s been doing it with one of the guards, but suspected he was doing someone else as well.”
Eyes wide, I stared over at her as we walked slower so she could get all of her story out before we were with others in the cafeteria. I knew some of the women would have relationships with each other but had never seen a problem with a prisoner and a guard. “So what happened?”
“She went all crazy on the other prisoner, got taken down, then started screaming about him.”
“Oh, Lordy!”
“Yep! So as of right now, she’s gone,” Ellen finished, her eyes bright, pleased at her tale of excitement.
“Gone where?” I whispered, as though afraid to be overheard.
“Honey, the guard’ll be fired and Jocelyn’s ass will be sent to maximum. They don’t play around here with that shit.”
A few minutes later as we sat eating our dinner, I noticed the other prisoners deep in gossip in their respective groups. I guess any excitement here breaks up the monotony. Tonight’s meal was only sandwiches and chips, but the chance of scandal kept the grumbling to a minimum. I’m not sure a fancier meal would have even been noticed this evening.
As soon as my cellmates and I entered our cell again after dinner, Jocelyn’s possessions were already gone and her bed was stripped bare. That night as Ellen, Jackie, and I got ready for bed we wondered who Jocelyn’s replacement would be. I was worried. The three of use got along well and, more importantly, I was not afraid of them. A new cellmate? That unknown frightened me.
Ellen looked over and stated, “Don’t let ’em push you around. Remember, you’ll be the one with seniority now.”
Before I could question, Jackie spit out her toothpaste into the sink and agreed. “Hell yeah, darlin’. Whoever comes in will have to fit in with us.” Winking at me, she added, “You’re no longer the newbie here!”
An hour later, lying in bed as sleep once more appeared evasive, I rolled Jackie’s words over in my head. I’m no longer the newbie…in a prison. Somehow those words didn’t make me feel as good as I think she meant for them to.
“Are you about finished with those books?” Ms. Purdue asked, peering at me over her glasses.
Nodding, I glanced down at the large box and replied, “Yes, ma’am. Just making sure they’re packed well.”
I wasn’t certain but it almost seemed as though she smiled. It must be the books. While I didn’t kid myself into thinking she was smiling at me, I knew the idea of a book being taken care of would please her.
I had chosen the books with particular care this time, looking for ones that were not damaged, but putting every mystery I could get my hands on into the box. For each book, I found myself wondering if Brody would be the one to get his hands on them.
Wrapping the box with packing tape, I went to the computer to print out the address label. As soon as I sat down in the chair, I realized I had avoided the computer for a week, not wanting a reminder that I should write to the soldier. But I wanted to. The pull to have some communication outside these walls was strong. I don’t have to tell him who I am…or where I am…or what I’ve done.
My mind made up, I opened up my prison email and found his missive. Hitting reply, I began to type before I chickened out.
Chapter 4
(April – Brody)
Hitting the weight room behind the MWR, I spent an hour working out. It helped to keep me in shape, of course, but for me the mind-numbing repetitions kept me from thinking too hard about the last mission.
We’d gotten the call to the same outpost we’d been to earlier this week, but this time the IED had hit three men, one severely wounded. Unable to stabilize him, one of the crew continued to work on him while I turned my attention to the other one—I knew the last soldier was in the other bird and beyond my control.
After getting an IV in and administering pain meds, I had been able to assess and stabilize the chest injury on my patient as well as the broken scapula. Calling in the incoming report so the ground crew would be prepared, I moved back to the first victim.
Nothing. Fucking Hell. I shared a look with Jeff, the member of my crew, who’d been working on him and saw his hard expression. Just then, the bird landed and we slid the door open. I motioned for the ground crew to take the living patient first and then had the second group come and lift the fallen soldier.
I knew no one back home would probably ever be aware, but the dignity given to a fallen soldier never failed to take my breath away. There is a reverence that permeates every move that is made. I stood at attention as they solemnly carried the stretcher toward the hospital, my eyes never leaving them but in my peripheral vision I could see every soldier on the road stop and do the same.