A Long Road to Redemption

Chapter 19

Even though her mattress was thin and hard in all the wrong places, it was probably the best Sidney had slept in a long time. The morning wake-up call happened at exactly 5:30 am. "You still alive up there?" came the weary voice of Jillian. "No matter how long I've done this, it still sucks," she complained.

"I'm alive," Sidney responded, "Believe it or not, I slept better than I have in a while."

"Don't get used to it. It can get loud around here sometimes at night. Oh, and hey, you need to go ahead and comb your hair and go to the bathroom. They do a count of us, and we have to be standing where we're easily seen."

"I can wait if you want to use the toilet first."

"Courtesy, you're already catching on."

About half an hour later, a guard came by with a clipboard, made his mark, and moved on. Jillian said, "Stick close when we go to breakfast and sit right in front of me if you can. Now, whatever you do, don't criticize the food, no matter what it's like. Also, don't ever whisper around here. It makes people think you're talking about them. Oh, and don't try to listen in or join in folk's conversations. If someone wants to talk to you, they'll say something directly to you. Got it?"

"I think so. Anything else?"

"Yes, about last night. Look, that was your freebie. You can't cry over everything here; it makes you look weak, and you already look scared to death, no offense."

"I am."

"Yeah, we all know that, but do your best not to show it. People heard you last night, but it's your first night, so it's to be expected, but it stops now. You're going to have to learn to be tougher. I'll help you, but I can't be with you all the time, so you've got to learn some things on your own. Basically, if you think what you do might get your ass kicked, don't do it."

"I think I got it. Should I introduce myself when we sit down?"

"No, usually someone will ask me who you are, which'll be your cue. You don't want to seem too anxious, but you don't want to come off like a snob, either. Try to say just enough, and don't add any details about why you're here."

The two were allowed to go to the cafeteria about thirty minutes later. They went through the line and sat near the end of one of the tables. Sidney noticed that the inmates tended to sit in groups by their race and affiliations within their race, usually gang affiliation, Jillian told her later. Breakfast consisted of a small bowl of cereal, juice, coffee, eggs, and a small biscuit. It reminded Sidney a lot of the lunches she had in school. It certainly wasn't the worst she'd ever eaten, but it was far from the best. She did her best to eat what was on her plate, but the thought of food was far from her mind.

"Ok, Sidney, listen," said Jillian. "After breakfast, you've got to go with me to my work assignment. Everyone here technically has a job, but there are too many here for everyone to do a job. We have to clean a section in our block all day. It won't take long, but we got to try and stretch it out best we can."

"What do we do once we finish?"

"Clean it again until they tell us we can stop."

"Sounds fun. Is that what I do from now on?"

"Well, maybe. Neither of us has been here long enough to build trust, so until then, we get the crap jobs. Oh, and the warden may want to talk with you at some point if you have a college degree or a certain job skill they might need. You go to college?"

"Yes, I graduated a couple of years ago with a business degree."

"Well, maybe you'll get lucky and get an office job here. It will probably be a while, so till then, we clean.

Prison life is very regimented, and every second of the day is scripted and planned exactly like the one before. After breakfast, they returned to the cellblock to bathe, brush their teeth, or care for any hygiene needs. Once that was complete, they began their work detail, and true to form, they had cleaned their area in about an hour and a half, so they started over. Lunch was a bologna sandwich, a small cup of beans, a scoop of canned fruit, and an orange-flavored drink.

The afternoon consisted of time in the cellblock, watching the communal television or reading and writing. At around 4, they were allowed in the prison yard until evening meal at 6:00 pm. That meal consisted of a piece of baked chicken, more beans and canned fruit, a flavored drink she thought was orange again, and a piece of vanilla cake. After the meal, they returned to the cellblock for their evening routine, almost exactly like the afternoon routine.

Jillian had left Sidney several times to interact with some of the other inmates. Most of the interactions were just small talk from women aged 18 to 60 and older. There was no stereotype she could identify in them. Some were like the people most would assume would be in prison. Others did not look the part at all of someone who should be in prison, more or less like herself. Surprisingly, after the initial fear of Jillian walking away passed, she began to feel a little confidence build in her. She was still scared, but she was starting to learn how to deal with it. About an hour before they had to return to their cells, Jillian came back.

"Hey, you making out ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, so far. It's easier than I thought it would be. Not that I think I'm just the life of the party or anything."

"Good," Jillian responded. "Come on, there's someone who's asked to see you. Her name is Jo, and she's pretty much the one who runs this block. There are three people you don't want to piss off. Kitchen personnel, commissary workers, and Jo."

The two walked a short distance to where Jo and a group of others were standing around. She was an African American with sharp facial features. She was in her late forties, and while she wore the same orange two-piece prison uniform, she looked slightly different than the others. She stood out, and Sidney could tell she demanded respect, and the others gave it to her. When she saw them, she said something and the others disappeared. "You must be the new girl," Jo said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I like to meet all the new arrivals as soon as I can. I'm Jo. Not ma'am, not sir, just Jo. What's your name?"

"I'm Sidney Lewis. Good to...."

"Let me explain a few things to you, Sidney Lewis. I run things here. You got a problem with one of these girls you two can't solve; you come to me before you throw hands. Someone takes your shit, you come to me. We don't talk to guards here, and we don't snitch no matter what you see. Some bitch stabs someone you didn't see shit. Got it?"

"Yes, ma...I mean Jo."

"That's good. You do your part; you keep your nose clean, and we'll get along fine. I run this block like a family, and the family takes care of its own. Cause trouble, and you'll deal with me. Get it?"

"Yes, Jo."

"See Jill, a fast learner. Do your part, and all this will eventually be over. Now come here." Jo embraced her as if she was a child. "That means you're in the family now, and you'll stay in it as long as you don't betray it." With a slight nod, they knew the conversation was over, so they returned to where they were.

"Told you don't mess with her. She's got nothing to lose because she's here forever, and she's not kidding when she says she runs this place."

"Do the guards know that?"

"Know it? Hell, they encourage it. Less for them to do."

"Does she know everyone here?"

"Most of them. I'll explain more after the lockdown. Which is in a few minutes."

Five minutes before nine, a guard announced lockdown and told them to return to their cells. Sidney stepped in and sat on her bunk. She reflected on the day and realized that most of her time was spent waiting for something to happen, which nothing did. She wouldn't call it boredom, but more than likely, she would see it that way in the coming days. Jillian and her made small talk that night but nothing overly insightful. More or less what they called girl talk in college. When the lights went out, she noticed how uncomfortable the mattress was. As she lay there, she thought, "One day down, only 11 years, 11 months, and 29 days left."