The Crash

Chapter 28

It's winter now, the trees and ground dusted with a blanket of lightly packed snow. It sounds and looks beautiful, but it's a miserable time here on the farm.

Just like there is no air conditioning in the summer, there is no heat in the winter. It's so cold the women are sleeping with layers of clothes. And they're still cold. I've literally been wearing my coat to bed, still waking up at night from the freezing air circulating around the dorm.

My bunk is against an outer wall, just like the one in admissions, so it's extra cold in my area. I can feel the frost seeping through the walls.

Going to the chow hall three times a day during the winter is even worse. We have to trek through inches of snow, the air stinging our faces and turning them bright red.

Some of the women have contraband scarves that they cover their faces with, but it's hit or miss whether a C.O. ends up taking it. It's not worth risking a write-up.

Even the chow hall is freezing. Everyone sits at the tables with their arms clenched to their sides, trying to inhale their food as fast as they can so they can get back to the dorms, which are slightly warmer, though barely.

A few girls got in trouble for making snow angels the other day. Who would have thought that was a rule?

What's crazy to me is that the runners still go out to the track as long as it's not snowing. I don't know how they stand it. I know their bodies warm up from jogging, but I know that cold air has to burn like hell on their skin. I can barely manage walking outside of my housing unit for five minutes, let alone twenty.

The weekends are the best times during the winter because we can cover up with our blankets. Mom sent me one of the fuzzy navy blue ones, so Cici and I cuddle up under it and watch Jack Frost on the movie channel

"Are you feeling any better?" She asks.

Am I feeling better? Honestly, I'm not really sure. I have so much going on, my head has been spinning. Now I have to decide whether to confront Sam, or keep going on like everything is perfectly fine. The second option seems a lot easier. It's not honest, though.

"I guess." I say, not really wanting to talk about it. "I'm just having trouble trying to associate any of these things with Sam. She's so sweet and caring, I can't think about her being any other way."

Cici gets out of bed to get in her lockbox. She pulls out an exclusive pair of fuzzy tie dye socks that she won at Bingo. Girls go crazy for Bingo night because you can win really cute items that you can't get here in prison any other way.

"That's the thing about people. They hide their true selves so that others will only see the good in them. It's human nature to want to present the best of ourselves."

There's no way that's what she's doing. I know her.

"I don't know about that, Cici. I've never seen even a hint of anger about Sam."

Cici shrugs. "Maybe she hasn't shown you every side of her."

How could that be? We've been dating for a little while now

My brow furrows slightly. "I feel like I would have seen it by now."

Wouldn't I have? I try to dismiss the questioning thought. I don't want to think about this anymore. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I just want to forget any of it's going on.

"Let's just forget about Sam for the night." I say, hoping Cici will respect my request.

Cici shrugs again. "Whatever you say, bunkie."

We lay there, together, as we finish watching the rest of the movie. My mind reels with all my different thoughts about Sam. It's exhausting.

"Well that was a pretty good movie." Cici states.

She's really never seen this before?

She pauses for a moment. "Hey, you want to go check JPay with me?"

JPay is an inmate messaging service. We have these highly-protected computers set up in the rec room which only run that specific program. It's a way for inmates to be able to correspond with people on the outs so they don't have to write and wait for letters. It's more like an email. It still takes a day or two for the messages to go through, but it's still a lot faster than waiting for the mail.

"Sure." I tell her.

We put our shoes on and go out to the rec room. It's really busy today since it's the weekend. Girls are playing games, cooking together, and some are even out here drawing or writing their pen pals.

The whole pen pal thing is weird to me. Girls write men in their institutions here in Illinois. Most of them end up believing they found their soul mate, dating them long-distance and from behind bars. I think the last type of person I would go seeking to date would be another felon. I guess I can't really talk, though, considering I'm dating Sam.

The JPay line is relatively short, surprisingly. We hop on the big, grey machines, and punch in our inmate numbers.

95560

They're almost like having a social security number in here. Speaking of which, I don't even remember mine. I'm so used to constantly reciting my number that I seem to have forgotten the one that belongs to me on the outs.

I click on the button that says mail, and wait for the screen to pop up. It usually takes a second to load. When it does, I see that I have two notifications. The first one is from Mom.

Hey Sweetie,

I've been thinking a lot about you. I attached some pictures of the day trip Gran and I took the other day. I figured you'd like to see them. I hope everything is still going well. I'm glad you're not getting wrapped up into all that trouble you tell me about regarding the other inmates. You've never lost your tendency to follow the rules, and I'm thankful for that.

Gran is doing okay. She had to see the doctor, though, because she's been seeing spots floating around in her vision. It turns out she has cataracts. She has surgery scheduled a few weeks from now. Say a quick prayer for her if you don't mind.

I'll try to message you some more updates later. Right now I have to go meet one of my friends for lunch at the new café down the street. Take care, and remember, I love you.

-Mom

It's good to hear Gran is finally getting her eyes taken care of. She's been complaining about them for a while. She's so stubborn, though. She's always making up one excuse or another for why she can't go to the doctor on any given day.

I click the button for the mail client again, opening up the second message.

Alex,

I know you got my letter. I'd highly appreciate it if you would respond. Stop avoiding me, I'm here for you. I still care about you, and I want to make sure you're okay. I'm sorry for snapping at you the way that I did, I was just jealous. I hope you forgive me.

-Tate

My stomach turns. I'm not sure how I feel about what Tate wrote. An apology doesn't excuse the way he acted and the things he wrote in his letter the last time. I decide not to write him back.

I grab Cici when she's done and we head back to our bunks, getting ready to walk to the chow hall for dinner.