False Modesty

1. Cells

        The noises were overwhelming. I stood there in line, waiting my turn to meet any visitors I may have. The other prisoners ahead were deep in conversation with their relatives, or lawyers. I concentrated on shutting them out but it was just too much to bear. I distinctly recognized the sad sobs of Clarisse Venacova. Her cell was next to mine; I had to spend most of my time hearing her cry. She lost her temper one day and lashed out at her husband’s lover, now here she was dressed in orange from head to toe, what a pity.

“You can’t do this to me!” I heard one of the prisoners say as she backed away from the glass screen with the phone in her hand. The relatively young man on the other side who looked about her age whispered reassuring words into the phone as she took her seat once more. I couldn’t remember her story for being here. All I knew was she wasn’t the little girl growing up eating candy and playing with other children. The scar on her chin made that obvious but she usually covered it with her bright blue hair.

          The line moved forward as Janet came storming back into the hall after her meeting with her dad, who visited her every week. She stormed past me with her hands on her neck and her face hung low. Conversations with her never lasted long, most of the time it was of her complaining about life and how shitty it was for her. News flash: I don’t give a damn about your life. S         he got sent to jail for insulting a cop, punching his friend and spray painting the car. She got it easy unlike some of us.

“Caroline, you’re up. Terminal number five,” the guard told me while flipping through the papers in front her with my information on them, then adding something else to it in her perfect handwriting. I did as she said and make my way to terminal five, avoiding the stares from the other girls as I placed behind them. The guards watched me carefully, they think I’m the dangerous one, for the things they claimed I’ve done. I almost froze in place when I spotted the wavy black hair from behind the glass. Reluctantly, I pulled back the chair, not caring about the awfully loud screeching sound it caused. The person’s head jerked up at the sudden noise and brown eyes meet mine.

“Dad,” I said, my voice showed no emotion. I stared at the phone, then picked it up and brought it to my ear, he followed suit.

“Caroline,” he sounded relieve to find me physically unchanged, except for the chapped lips and the messed up hair and the devilish bags under my swollen eyes that desperately needed sleep.

“Can I help you?” I asked him. He stumbled for a minute answering.

“No…um…Yes…no. Um…How are holding up?”

“Oh perfect,” I replied sarcastically.

“Look, I’m so sorry this had to happen to you sweetie. I understand how you must feel.”

“Are you spending your days locked up behind bars? No, I didn’t think so. Why are you here dad, you never visited me until today.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I really am. I just want you to know that I’m here for you until all this is figured out. You didn’t mean to do it-”

“You think I did it?” I interrupted. My voice turned hard. I clenched my fist and shoved it inside my pocket, the other hand tightened around the phone in my hand.

“That’s not what I said,” a bead of sweat ran down the side of this face as he licked his dry lips. Then did it strike me.

“Wait, are you afraid of me?” I stared at him with disbelief. He wiped his forehead with the back of this hand before leaning on the glass in front of him.

“Caroline. I love you very much and I need for you to know that. I’m here now and I know it must have hurt when I didn’t visit, I’m sorry. I did not forget you, I wasn’t afraid of you; I just had to get my head together. Monty was supposed to come today, but I convinced him otherwise. Are we in the clear now?”