‘Even if I help, there’s not much I can do,’ she protested. ‘I mean, I worked in the private sector. I have no government contacts and I’m not sure my lawyer …’ She paused yet again. ‘Well, Hudson, Van Schaank has close contacts with the governor but …’
‘We don’t know how or what we’re trying to do yet,’ I told her. ‘And it isn’t all your responsibility. I’ve already spoken to my sons and once they get back to the U.S. and hear about this they’ll be willing to help. You know that they have … connections, and power. They may even add an air of respectability to the endeavor.’
‘That depends,’ Jennifer said.
I was offended. There were those who accused my boys of playing fast and loose but Jennifer Spencer was in no position to throw stones at glass houses. ‘Why not? Aren’t you being very negative?’ I asked, trying not to get upset.
‘No. It’s just that there’s very little we or they can do. Look, I’ll ask my contacts to find out all they can about JRU and I’ll see if there’s anything … shady or questionable about them. If we’re lucky the CEO, Tarrington, is a declared Satan worshipper and the public will rise up and make it a political hot potato. But that’s a long shot.’ She turned to the door, as if to leave.
I sighed, the way I used to sigh at my students when I wanted more from them. I can be so manipulative, I thought as she turned around. But it was as much for her good as mine.
‘Jennifer – may I call you Jennifer?’ She nodded. ‘Aren’t you being incredibly selfish? Didn’t Movita tell you what kind of changes JRU will impose? Doesn’t the idea of what they’re going to do scare you?’
Before the girl could respond I heard the heavy footsteps of Officer Byrd coming down the hall. ‘Shhh,’ I whispered, and put my index finger up to my lips. ‘He’s trouble.’ Then I quickly sandwiched the papers in between two boxes of books that had to be reshelved.
‘How’s the book business today, ladies?’ Byrd asked as he stepped into the little room. Neither of us responded to him. ‘I think it’s time for a little spring cleaning in here don’t you?’ he asked as he started reaching for a book and then dropped it on the floor. ‘Oops,’ he said and continued down the wall pulling out books and dropping them on the floor. He often liked to come in and toss part of the library, just for fun. I was used to it by now, but Jennifer froze in horror.
I gave Jennifer the look that meant ‘stay in your position’. Karl Byrd had an attitude and arrogance about him to the point of being repulsive. He went around the room disrupting everything from books to magazines to chairs. I eyed Jennifer when he got close to the boxes that hid the JRU papers. He took both hands and caressed the top of the box and looked right at the scared girl but she didn’t look away from him. Then he moved his hands away from the box and went to the edges of a table and felt the underside of the wood. Jennifer tried not to show anxiety because, like a dog, Byrd could always smell fear. He ran his hands down two legs of the table and knocked it and its contents onto the floor. ‘I guess you ladies have some cleaning up to do in here,’ he said with a sneer.
Once he was gone, we both sighed in relief. ‘That was a little too close for comfort,’ I said.
‘He’s such a jerk,’ Jennifer said. ‘And if one thing is going to happen with this transition with JRU it had better be that he’s removed from this facility. But none of this can be done single-handedly. It’s obvious that the public wants prisons to cost nothing and warehouse monsters. I’m just one person. I can’t change that.’
‘Look, you won’t be doing this all on your own. Responsibility will be divided. And I think the main thing you have to remember is that if JRU gets a hold on this place, gets a hold on us … well, we’ll all wish we were down in the SHU. It’s going to be much worse being up here.’
‘Listen, I’ll ask my sources on the Street about JRU. I’ll try to think of anything I can but I …’ she trailed off, but I thought she was weakening and I pressed on.
‘That’s all I ask. We can get you reassigned to be my assistant here in the library. And you can use the time to do research. I’ll give you whatever help I can,’ I volunteered.
‘All right,’ she sighed, but I felt like dancing. Well, dancing as much as my arthritis would allow. Still, I managed to conceal my elation.
‘So, first – if you can stand it – reread that proposal and give me your notes,’ Jennifer told me. ‘Anything about the prison that is incorrect, unlikely, or unlawful.’
‘Already done,’ I smiled at her and pulled my notes from inside my copy of Waiting – a rather slow-moving but excellent novel by Ha Jin.
‘Fine,’ she said, and took them, folded them as carefully as a kite and put them in her uniform. ‘I’ll look for irregularities in the financing or management of JRU, and for unrealistic projections in their business plans.’
‘Good,’ I said, and watched her leave. I sat there after she was gone, stunned for a moment. I was experiencing a kind of pleasure I hadn’t felt in years. It was excitement. And even the tiniest bit of hope. I didn’t know what, exactly, I was hoping for, but it felt good.
26
Cher McInnery
I don’t want the cheese, I just want to get out of the trap.
Latin American proverb
‘Okay. My chicken is served,’ Theresa told the crew. For a Yankee the girl knew how to make her chicken. Cher felt her mouth water, but she sat down to dinner with resentment. She knew something was up but wasn’t sure what it was. That bothered her. Movita had been busy, and Frances had been delivering a lot of kites along with ice. Cher had heard that the debutante wasn’t going to work in the laundry no more. Cher knew Movita was a private person, but when something was on, she let Cher in. Not this time, though.
Cher didn’t like to be dependent on no one. In fact, she felt it was best not to get too close to no one. But she had never had a friend like Movita. She had never had no black friend at all, and she had never known a woman who was as on top of things, smart, and resourceful as Movita was. The thing about her was that she was like Cher, but she wasn’t like Cher. She was like Cher because Movita was smart, tricky, realistic, and funny as hell. But she wasn’t like Cher because she didn’t just use her smarts for herself – she was always figuring out a scam or a way to involve or help other people. Of course, the crew came first. Movita tried to keep peace among everyone. Unlike Cher, she was willing to make an extra effort to make things better for someone else. At first Cher had thought she did it to get power over people, or to get something else back. But time and observation had taught her that Movita was also a natural leader. She couldn’t help straightening things out for other people. It was her way. Sometimes Cher admired it, and sometimes it was big goddamn pain in her ass.
Like her, Movita was secretive – she was one of the two or three women in the whole damn prison that could keep something to herself. But though Cher had trusted Movita to keep a few secrets of her own, she didn’t like it when something was afoot and she was left out. She also didn’t like it that it seemed Movita was trusting the debutante with some kind of secret that she was keeping Cher out of.
What do I care, Cher tried to tell herself as she helped herself to the largest piece of the fried chicken. I’m out of here. But she looked over at the debutante and then over at Movita. It irked her. Before the plate was passed on she took another piece of the chicken. What the fuck. Theresa raised her eyebrows but Cher paid no attention.
‘Have some coleslaw,’ Suki said, passing her the bowl. ‘We have plenty of that.’
Back in Arkansas, Cher’s mama used to say, ‘Girlchild, we shoulda spelt your name S-H-A-R-E, ‘cuz you are absolutely obsessed with that word.’ And Mama had been right. As one of nine hungry children in a poor white trash family, Cher learned very early that survival depended on learning to share, doing your share, and getting your share.
Now Cher ignored Suki’s hidden admonition. Like Suki knew jack shit about anything. ‘The only thing we had plenty of when
I was growin’ up was work,’ Cher told the crew. ‘And if you didn’t do your share of the work, you didn’t get your share of the food. It was just that damn simple.’ Everyone had filled their plates and had begun eating. Nobody spoke, so Cher continued. ’‘Ceptin for my baby brother Ellis.’ Cher shook her head and took another bite of the chicken. ‘Mama spoilt him somethin’ awful. She was too damn old by then to have another kid, and little Ellis was so pathetic and weak that she made sure he never had to lift a finger his whole life. And, ‘cuz I was the oldest, I was supposed to do his share of the work and share my share of the food.’ She laughed, but she hadn’t laughed then. And nobody laughed now. It pissed her off. She looked over at Jennifer Spencer, so sweet, so damn demure. ‘Jesus Christ, I used to think I had two names,’ Cher said. ‘Alls the time my mama would be shoutin’ at me: Share, Cher! Share, Cher! Share, Cher! I got damn sick of it then, and I’m damn sick of it now!’
Movita put down her cup hard. ‘What’n the hell you jabberin’ about?’ she wanted to know.
Cher indicated the whole table with her chin. ‘They think I didn’t share the chicken,’ Cher said sulkily.
‘Did anybody say that?’ Movita asked. ‘I didn’t hear it. And if you knew what people were thinking, you’d be worried about more serious stuff than that.’
‘You know what I always say?’ Theresa, the peacemaker, asked. ‘Enough is as good as a feast.’
‘This is a feast,’ the debutante said, like she hadn’t been eating in four star restaurants her whole damn life.
‘Yeah? What did you ever make for dinner but reservations?’ Cher asked.
Jennifer stood up. She looked through Cher as if she were invisible, which only pissed Cher off more than ever. ‘Thanks, Theresa,’ she said. ‘Great chicken. Sorry about the coleslaw. It wasn’t very good.’ She moved toward the cell doors and Cher wished they’d rack the gate and scrunch the skinny bitch. ‘I have to make a phone call,’ the deb said. ‘I’d better go now before the line gets too long.’
‘Oh, is that where our little Miss Armani is going?’ Cher countered. ‘Every time we get done eatin’ she’s outta here without doin’ one damn bit of the cleanup.’
‘She helped me make the supper,’ Theresa said. ‘She made the coleslaw. It’s a lot of messy work. And you know the rule: Whoever cooks don’t clean up.’
‘You call that sharin’?’ Cher snarled. ‘Nobody ate any of that crap she served up. Coleslaw! Just makes the cleanup all that messier. Can’t even get it to flush down the john.’ She looked at the bowl, still almost full. It was so vinegary it had made Cher wince. ‘Should make her eat it all.’
‘She said she’s got a phone call to make,’ Suki said as she stood to help Cher with the dishes. ‘I’m on with you for the cleanup, Cher. I don’t mind a little work.’
‘I don’t mind work either!’ Cher snapped back. ‘I know how to work and I don’t mind doin’ my share of the work if everyone else is doin’ her share of the work. That’s all I’m sayin’. You can bet your ass that she’s gonna stick around and do cleanup tomorrow night after I cook. And I’m gonna make one hell of a mess, too. You can count on that.’
Movita shook her head. ‘Girlfriend, you have been sputterin’ and spoutin’ about this now for the last fifteen minutes! Don’t you got nothin’ better to do? Like maybe practice talking about how well you’ve learned to live with others for your parole speech?’
Cher sat down again. Was that what this was all about? She was shut out because she was leavin’? Was that it? And Mo had picked the debutante to take her place. Cher got a real empty feeling under her breastbone and a pulling at the bottom of her stomach. She didn’t like those feelings.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I will.’ She got up and angrily slammed a kettle down onto the hot plate. Despite her ire, the fact was she liked these women. In all her travels – and Cher had crisscrossed the country more times than the lines on her palm – she’d never met anyone like Movita, and Theresa – for all her wacky optimism and stupid aphorisms – and Spencer – with her smarts – were women Cher would like to keep on knowing. But once paroled she was forbidden to see or speak to any prison inmates. She couldn’t even write to the crew without permission from her parole officer. That was cold.
And it was just as cold for the crew to replace her … and with Jennifer. Cher felt something unfamiliar, an unpleasant emotion. She was so self-assured, she generally felt so superior to the skanks and hos and marks around her that it was rare that she felt this annoying emotional tic, but she realized with a start that part of her dislike for the debutante was based on jealousy. From the day that girl had arrived in her Armani panties she had seemed an affront to Cher, and if she didn’t come right out and say, ‘I’m better than any poor white trash like you could ever hope to be,’ there was something in her posture and attitude that said it just as plain as speech. And there was no denying that Movita favored her. Cher was jealous of Jennifer. It wasn’t a nice feeling to have, but she supposed there was very little she could do about it. It was a pity that Movita felt that Jennifer was crew material, and it was clear she was planning to replace Cher with the debutante.
It wasn’t that Cher blamed Movita – hey, it would be as much as her parole was worth to even jot her a postcard once Cher was out, and she knew she wouldn’t think of Jennings or the other women. She could walk right by Theresa on the street and not notice her. But somehow Movita’s friendship really mattered. Movita had to take care of herself because she was doin’ a long stretch and Cher knew it but somehow seein’ herself replaced with the little debutante caused her a pang.
She turned to face Movita. ‘And just why are you kissin’ her uppity white ass?’ she spat.
‘You ain’t go no idea about what she’s doin’!’ Movita spat back. Cher could see that Movita was about to say more, but she stopped abruptly, shut her mouth, and remained silent – avoiding Cher’s glare.
Something was up; Cher could always tell when a scam or a grift was going down – after all, she’d been grifting for twenty years – and something was definitely going down now. She narrowed her eyes and stared intently at her old friend Movita. The kettle water wasn’t heated enough to really clean but she didn’t care. She poured the lukewarm water into the plastic dishpan. ‘What’s going on here, Mo? What ain’t you tellin’ Cher? Huh?’
‘I’m just sayin’ we should cut Spencer some slack, that’s all,’ Movita said quietly, scraping the remains of the chicken bones and most of the coleslaw into the trash. ‘That’s alls I’m sayin’.’
Cher snorted. No one had ever cut any slack for Cher in her entire life. If there was one thing she had never gotten her share of, it was slack. And now she would be damned if some snotty little rich white girl from New York City was going to get all of that, too – especially from Movita, known by all to be tough as hell. It had taken Cher months to get hooked up with Movita. And now the deb was her new best friend?
Cher would never admit to fear anything, and she wasn’t afraid to get out but … Cher let the empty kettle fall to the floor with a clang and headed for the door. ‘I’ll cut that little bitch somethin’, and it won’t be any slack,’ she hissed. She shoved Suki out of her way. Cher heard Movita say something and follow her out of the cell, but she didn’t look back.
The pay telephone was at the far end of the rec room, and Jennifer stood hunched there with her back to the line of women waiting for the phone. She held the telephone receiver to her right ear with her shoulder, and with her left hand she was covering her other ear to cut out some of the noise from the blaring television set. With her right hand she was frantically making notes, stopping now and then to put up her palm to the impatient inmates.
That’s all Cher had to see. She crossed the room in less than four strides and without hesitation yanked the receiver from the startled Jennifer and slammed it back into its cradle on the phone. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Jennifer asked.
‘You need t
o learn how to share, Missy,’ Cher said to Jennifer.
‘I wasn’t finished and that was a very important call,’ the deb told her, then reached to pick up the receiver again. But Cher was having none of that and put her larger and stronger hand hard on top of Jennifer’s.
‘I wasn’t finished and that was a very important call,’ mocked Cher. She had mastered her impersonation of Jennifer, and her performance earned great guffaws of appreciative laughter from the rest of the women in the rec room. That is, from everyone except Movita, who had witnessed the whole confrontation and now came to the front of the group.
‘That’s enough, you two,’ Movita ordered. ‘Spencer’s got to finish her call.’
‘The hell she does,’ Cher shouted. ‘What’s so damned important that this little bitch gets to hog the phone?’
There were murmurs of assent from the other inmates.
‘I have business to take care of,’ Jennifer shouted in response.
‘Business?’ Cher spat incredulously, ‘What business do you have? Anyway,’ she taunted, ‘I thought you weren’t going to be here long.’
The rec room was dead silent and all eyes were on the three of them. Cher knew she’d broken the first rule of any crew – no fighting or dissing in front of outsiders, but she felt wild with loneliness, disappointment, and futility. ‘Both of you, shut your mouths,’ Movita said. She looked hard at Cher. ‘Gettin’ outta prison isn’t always somethin’ that’s good for a person, you know?’ Cher felt herself color. Lord Jesus, she hadn’t blushed since she was twelve years old. Movita motioned to the hall. ‘Come on over here with me,’ she told Cher. Then she turned to the deb and said, ‘Get on the end of the line and finish your call.’ She looked at the inmates gawking and waiting. ‘That all right, girls?’ she asked. The women in the line nodded. Jennifer walked to the end and Movita didn’t say anything more, except to turn to Linda, the first woman waiting to use the phone, and indicate with a nod of her head that it was her turn at the phone.
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