The Pickle Jar

Mickey Moves In

The medical exam, it turned out, was not Mickey's last stop before her introduction to Green Block. Mickey was not sure if Officer Angel was yanking her chain, metaphorically and literally; or if she was just forgetful. Regardless, the last stop was not exactly as unpleasant as most of the others.

The supply room was lined with shelves, all stocked with uniforms, sheets, blankets, and what appeared to be some sort of exercise mats. Officer Cortez, who had witnessed Mickey's cavity search earlier, was there, as were two old women.

Officer Cortez greeted Officer Angel, and Mickey by association only, with a yawn. The old women, who it took Mickey a moment to realize were dressed exactly like her, did not look up from the cart full of blankets they were folding and shelving.

"Late night Cortez?"

"I was out at that taco joint, Tequila Mockingbird."

"Oh really? How was it?"

"I love it! The ahi tacos are to die for." Mickey couldn't keep herself from interjecting.

Officer Cortez's eyes went wide, and it was like she was looking at Mickey for the first time. "I don't think I was talking to you prisoner. Now pipe down."

Mickey gulped.

"Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, they've got pretty good food, a good beer selection too, and this little trivia game."

Mickey refrained from asking Officer Cortez if she lost to Las Cuatras Amigas; then she remembered that without her, Val, Brigid, and Tori were only Las Tres Amigas; and she wanted to cry.

"Alice, Darlene, the newbie here needs her welcome package. She's a large."

"yes, ma'am," the older women answered in unison, then immediately left off folding blankets to pull an assortment of goods from the shelves.

Mickey shivered, wondering if she would someday be that obedient.

Officer Angel removed the cuffs from Mickey's wrists.

Alice and Darlene, Mickey still wasn't sure which was which, piled a mat, a sheet, a blanket, and an extra uniform at her feet. Mickey noted wryly that there was still no sign of bra, panties, shoes, or socks in the pile.

"Alright Mickey, grab you bedding and clothes. Looks like you're going to make it in time for chow."

Peeking around the bundle of bedding and clothes, Mickey followed Officer Angel through a series of heavy security doors. Every time one closed behind her, Mickey jumped and her heart sank a little lower.

The first thing Mickey noticed about Green Block was that it was hot. The massive room was obviously not air conditioned like the parts of the jail she had just visited. It was also full of women of all ages, colors, shapes, and sizes. They were all dressed the same though—orange top, orange and white pants, bare feet—and Mickey was one of them now. The room, Green Block, was divided into cubicles, too many for Mickey to readily count, but the women who resided there were lining up against the far wall.

"Alright Mickey, I'm turning you over to Officer Bell. She'll get you oriented, and if you're cooperative, she might even get you to the cafeteria in time to get some chow."

Mickey had to shift her bundle of bedding and clothes to see the diminutive, brunette officer who had earlier taken her mugshot.

"Mickey Pickle, I'm officer Bell," the young woman introduced herself with a smile and wave. "Anyway, follow me. You're in Pod Seventeen. Pod Seventeen was, as it turned out, one of eighty cubicles filling Green Block. It was on the far right, and close to the back of the room.

"Here we are, Pod Seventeen," Officer Bell offered with a sweep of her hand and a weak smile. "I know it's not much to look at, but I'm sure you will spruce it up a bit while you are here.

Pod Seventeen, like the others, consisted of a low concrete wall that came up to about the level of Mickey's breasts. There were no bars, which Mickey found comforting; but there was also no door, leaving Mickey to wonder how she would keep her personal items safe from her new neighbors.

There were two beds in the pod. One was neatly made. The other was just a metal frame. "Okay Mickey, go ahead and make your bed."

"Uh, there's no mattress."

"Silly, you're carrying it."

Mickey immediately felt like the biggest idiot ever. What she had taken for an exercise mat since first seeing it, was obviously her mattress. Her neck and back ached just thinking about sleeping on it. She missed her home—and her bed—more than ever.

Mickey unrolled the sad excuse for a mattress onto the metal frame. The paper-thin sheet and slightly

thicker, scratchy blanket just covered the mattress.

"Is there supposed to be a pillow?" Mickey asked, eyes big and sad.

Officer Bell shook her head. "Most of the inmates use the blanket as a pillow, especially in this heat; but as soon as you wake up, that's at six by the way, the first thing you have to do is make your bed, exactly like you just did. Then you can shower and line up for breakfast."

"Kind of like they're lining up now?"

"Exactly. Once you're in line, there'll be a head count and roll call, then you can eat. You have to finish breakfast and be back in here by six forty-five to line up for work assignments. Meals here aren't very leisurely, I'm afraid."

"When you're lining up for meals and yard time, it's done alphabetically for the whole block. When you're lining up for work assignments and specialized classes, it's done by sub-group. I know this all sounds complicated, but you'll catch on quickly enough. You seem pretty smart, and I'll be here to help you. I'm your PO by the way."

"PO, what's that?"

"Oh, Personal Officer. I'm supposed to help you make the transition to life as an inmate, kind of like we're doing now. If you have any questions or concerns, any problems, you can come to me with them. Like I was saying, you have been assigned to Community Work Squad B or Chain Gang B, so you'll line up over there for work assignments." Officer Bell stood on tiptoes and pointed to the far corner of the room. "That's actually pretty cool. In some ways, you'll get more time outside of this place than I do. I mean it sucks that you have to sleep here, but... I'm rambling. I do that sometimes."

"Me too," Mickey offered with a nervous laugh.

"Most days you'll be back from your work assignment by three or four pm. You'll eat sack lunch on those days. If your work assignment runs late, you'll get a sack dinner too, but usually you'll line up here for chow at five pm. After that you can grab some time on the yard. After that, from seven pm to 9 pm, you have specialized classes. Your judge mandated AA for you, that's on Tuesdays; and it looks like medical has recommended Anger Management for you, that's on Mondays. Funny, you don't seem particularly angry."

"I'm not. I'm not an alcoholic either. Do I have to attend these? Are there other things I can do during that time?"

"Yeah, unfortunately you do, but that leaves you the rest of the week to pick up some classes that might be of more interest. I run a book club on Thursdays, for example."

"Really?" Happiness was audible in the question. "What do you like to read?"

"Yes, really; and I like sci-fi, fantasy, and horror mostly, but I also read some classics and some non-fiction."

"Really? I love the classics, like Pride and Prejudice."

"Yes! So, I'll be looking for you at book club on Thursday evenings. That'll be a good time to catch up on how things are going for you too."

"Okay, we're almost done talking about schedule. You have to be back here in Green Block by nine pm. There'll be another head count and roll call, then lights out is at midnight. After lights out, you should not be out of your pod. Got it?

"Got it," Mickey answered with a hopeful smile. "And thank you."

"Just doing my job, inmate." Given Officer Bell's friendly tone, Mickey didn't even mind being referred to as inmate. "Come on, let's get you in line. You've had a crazy day, and I am sure you're starved."