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H E R
As the inaugural night descended over quarantine, Carl and I laid out our blankets and pillows along the aged linoleum tiles in the dimly lit hallway, just outside the cramped main office where Beth and the children had already succumbed to slumber.
The boy insisted it was because he wanted to be out in the open so if his father called for him, he could go without disturbing anyone. But I became suspicious of his reasoning when he asked me to stay in the hall with him. He said he was only offering because he heard they were going to make me sleep next to the four year old bed wetter, so I took the opportunity.
We lay there, two lone figures, our breaths mingling with the stillness of the night, our hearts beating like two drums in the dark. I was almost too acutely aware of his presence, it was an odd thing, resting near the boy like this.
I stole glances at him from the corner of my eye, watching as he lay there motionless. The rise and fall of his chest was steady, almost that of true repose.
But sleep eluded me, the night pressing in unrelenting, unforgiving. In that moment, I felt more alone than I had ever felt before. The horrors of the day always seemed to come back with a vengeance when the world fell dark. And as my stomach churned with anxiety, I squeezed my eyes shut tight, praying for the dawn to come and chase away the shadows that haunted me.
Then something gripped me, lacing its fingers with mine.
I looked down at my hand to find it linked with Carl's.
His skin felt nice against mine. Although, it was neither soft nor smooth but rough and callousy. One-hundred percent completely Carl. I didn't expect anything less. And I gripped his hand like a vice, hanging on for dear life, fully accepting his small gesture of friendship.
Because in that moment, Carl was all I had.
How I envied him. For his caring father who planted vegetables with him. For his sweet baby sister who he doted over. Did he know how lucky he was? Or did he dwell on the loss of his mother too heavily? And he had the whole damn prison at his fingertips, full of connections and bonds of loyalty. An seemingly endless amount of arms to catch him if he ever were to fall.
The fact that I had lost my entire family in less than two years, from the day my mother never came home or to how they found my dad's body but not my brother's, was something I tried not to dwindle on. Or the word orphan as it terrified me. However, that was the truth of the story. My family was dead. I was alone. I was an orphan.
