Only the Moon Watching

Chapter 29: Boys Cause Bellyaches

I don't look to see if the trustee is Steak. Shiv helps me stand and I put one hand on my mouth and run for the infirmary. (Garda Girdle is too distracted by the smell to yell at me for not having my hands in my waistband.)

"Oh my god!" Shiv asks, hurrying down the hall behind me. "Was that nerves?"
"Guess so," I manage to choke. "I'm not normally like this. My stomach's been dancing all morning."

"Maybe it's morning sickness?" says Shiv, "Your new relationship gestating – feelings growing... Maybe it's love?"
The nurse seems uninterested in the butterflies in my stomach, handing me a paper cup of TUMS and waving me off. I'm allowed to sit on a stained cot for ten minutes, and Shiv can stay with me, as long as we're quiet enough that we don't break the nurse's concentration. (She's doing a crossword puzzle on her phone.)

"You've already talked about the heavy stuff," Shiv reasons. "This is just the meet-cute, lock-eyes-across-the-room shit."

"What's 'a four letter word for adrenaline?'" The nurse mumbles to herself.

"Love!" hisses Shiv, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Or it could be fear," I whisper back. "Steak doesn't know what I look like – What if when our eyes lock, he looks disappointed? That's not me being down on myself, but, it's awkward isn't it? Having to meet someone when you aren't allowed a decent hairbrush? How do the rest of you guys manage?"

"Shhh!" The nurse hisses in our direction and Shiv and I lower our voices so they're barely audible over the sound of the nurse's fingers tapping her phone.
"Well Needler came in with her man, they were already living together, kid and everything," Shiv says, "So he must have known what she looks like on a bad day. And it's all bad days in here... Again, stupid of us to not pass the Bechdel test, but. It sucks not being able to get facials, and blow your hair out, and put a little effort into dating, doesn't it?"

"It sounds archaic when you have to," I agree, "but then you get locked in here and realize you want to, a bit. It's nice to feel put together when you're meeting someone you might be attracted to."

"You're looking less green," the nurse pipes in, squinting at me over the top of her phone. "You can head back to your cell if you feel ready."

Shiv helps me to my feet, just in case, and we thank the nurse and head on our way. My stomach still squirms every time I think of Steak or catch my reflection in a shiny surface (and notice that I'm still looking nervous and pale).

I'm normally not like this! And I don't mean – wearing crocs, in jail, infrequently conditioning my hair and moisturizing – I mean nervous. Giddy over a boy, worried our eyes will lock and he won't like what he sees...

People always say you're supposed to test a new relationship: travel together, get stranded on the side of the road, have a pregnancy scare. Prove to yourself and each other that there's a spark worth fighting for. That it's you and them against a problem when you fight, not you and your partner fighting each other... And what could be a better test that surviving incarceration together? We're at the mercy of the guards, our schedules, my bowels... How is that any different, really, from being stuck in jobs we hate or being slaves to our babies?

Jail could be a really good litmus test for the real world: who are we when life is terrible? And what kind of life could we build together now that we've faced real adversity?

"Something about this hallway is the Twilight Zone to you, isn't it?" asks Shiv. "Whenever we're here the lights start flickering and your eyes glaze over, you totally zone out. I half expect to turn the corner and see the twins from the Shining, or at least Grifta and Kristina Kelly – reunited."

She shivers and I laugh.

"The lights here are always flickering," I add. "But that's not because we're in a parallel dimension, it's just because maintenance is shit."

"Send that up the bowl," she suggests. "It can be the next excuse Steak uses to get down here and try to see you, since you missed today's m–"

Before she can say the words "meet-cute," the cafeteria doors open and I make eye contact with the most handsome guy I could ever imagine.