Then There Was You

by Melanie Dawn

  I sank another three-pointer over Toombs’s guarding hands.

  DeAndre pointed at him and covered his mouth, feigning shock. “Oh shit!” he teased, doubling over in laughter. “Toombs just got schooled by a girl!”

  Toombs grimaced, taking two long strides across the floor toward DeAndre. “What the hell did you just say, punk?” Clenching his fists by his side, his stony expression exuded bottled rage.

  Toombs was a big guy—a kid that no one dared to cross. Toombs was actually his last name. His first name was Shaun, but no one ever called him that. Toombs seemed to fit his personality better anyway—quiet and somber. He wasn’t the shy kind of quiet, but the dangerous kind. He even kinda freaked me out sometimes.

  “Hey, Toombs,” I said gently, trying to diffuse the ticking time bomb, “it’s okay. No big deal. He was just teasing. Right, DeAndre?” I looked at DeAndre pointedly, hoping he’d follow my lead.

  Fully aware of the consequences, but having learned early not to let guys bully him around, DeAndre ignored me and stood his ground against Toombs. “That’s right, asshole. I said you just got schooled by a girl.”

  Other boys began surrounding us. They knew a fight was about to break out, and a lot like the adult prison environment, certain boys created certain alliances. They protected each other like tight-knit gangs.

  “Come on, guys.” I tried another approach. “You don’t want segregation, do you?” Segregation was the worst kind of punishment in juvie. It was a ward where disorderly inmates were kept. They spent twenty-three hours a day, alone, in a small cell, with no interaction. It was maddening, and most guys who spent time in segregation vowed never to do anything that would send them back there again.

  But, Toombs’s anger had already passed the point of no return. His twitching jaw and flared nostrils were an indication that things were about to get ugly. I put my hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him down.

  “Shaun Toombs!” Officer Blevins’s voice boomed from across the room as he stalked toward us in authoritative fashion. “Stand down now!”

  “Don’t do it, Toombs,” I said soothingly, but it was too late.

  Toombs jerked from beneath my consoling touch, and swung his fist, narrowly missing me and hitting DeAndre square in the jaw.

  Suddenly, as if I were in the agitation cycle of a washing machine, I was being pushed and shoved and jerked around by all of the other guys, who had immediately jumped into the fight.

  Boys were throwing punches and spewing profanities, while I felt like I was caught in the middle of rioting mosh pit, getting jostled and stepped on like a rag doll.

  An elbow connected with my head and I tumbled to the ground. Intense pain immediately pulsated across my face. Stomping feet and kicking legs closed in around me. I couldn’t stand up. I was tangled in a sea of angry limbs. Out of nowhere, a set of hands grabbed me and pulled me to safety, away from the calamity.

  As soon as I was placed gently on the ground and out of harm’s way, I glanced up.

  Chris held me by my shoulders. “Oh my god, Mrs. Honeycutt, are you okay?” he asked. Concern filled his voice as he glanced angrily at the boys who’d caused my pain.

  My eye throbbed, and my head pounded. The metallic taste of blood was on my tongue.

  “Oh, shit. You’re bleeding,” Chris said, distraught, looking around for something to wipe the blood. Using the sleeve of his jumpsuit, he carefully dabbed the blood off my chin, careful not to cause me more pain.

  “I’m okay,” I assured him, swallowing back the blood that pooled in my mouth.

  Just then, what seemed like a battalion of guards rushed the scene and broke up the brawl, dragging disorderly inmates away in shackles.

  Officer Blevins rushed over to us. “Salem! Are you okay?” he asked, as he squatted beside us. Barry normally didn’t use my first name in front of the inmates, but in this case, he was my friend first.

  I nodded. “I’m fine. A little shook up, but I’m okay.” My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding in my chest.

  “I tried to get to you, but it was too late. Thanks for getting her out, Chris,” he said gratefully, patting him on the back.

  Chris nodded with a pale face, seemingly in shock. “She’s bleeding.”

  “She’ll be okay. I’ll take it from here, son,” Barry told him.

  Abruptly, Officer Harris stalked over and clamped handcuffs on Chris’s wrists, dragging him away.

  “Wait,” I called out. “He didn’t do anything.”

  “Sorry, Salem,” he apologized. “Everyone here must go to segregation until we can sort this mess out.”

  “How long?” I asked panicked, knowing how unhinged a person could become in solitary confinement.

  Officer Harris shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not been determined yet, but at least overnight. Maybe several days. Chief Sawyer will probably have to review the tapes.”

  “No!” I shouted. “I’m telling you. Chris didn’t do anything.” This is so unfair.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he apologized, pulling Chris toward the exit.

  Chris’s shoulder sank in defeat.

  “I’m sorry, Chris,” I called after him. “I’ll get you out, okay?”

  Chris simply nodded, hanging his head. He shuffled his feet as the officer escorted him across the scuffed floor of the rec room.

  “We have to get him out, Barry,” I pleaded. “He didn’t do anything.”

  Barry patted my shoulder. “I know, Salem. We will. I’ll do what I can.”

  Barry helped me to my feet and ushered me out the door. I walked into the ladies’ restroom and looked at myself in the mirror. As suspected, the bruising around my eye was already beginning to show. My gums had stopped bleeding, and thankfully it looked as though no damage had been done to my teeth.

  “Got yourself a nice little shiner,” Val pointed out, as she stepped out of the stall and saw my face in the mirror. “You need to let someone from the medical staff take a look at it.”

  “I will,” I told her. “I’m headed that way next.”

  In the meantime, I needed to put a bug in her ear about Toombs. “By the way,” I informed her, “Shaun Toombs needs some serious anger management intervention. He’s a ticking time bomb.”

  “I’m working on a referral. We should get him into a specialized psychologist soon.”

  “Thanks. He needs it,” I said, thankful that the process had already been started. It wasn’t the first time he’d snapped over something minor. He carried a major chip on his shoulder. I’d had him escorted from group therapy sessions a few times before when he was threatening some of the other guys. I wasn’t a psychologist, but I would’ve almost bet money on an Oppositional Defiant diagnosis.

  Val nodded as she rinsed her hands under the cold water. “Hopefully we can push the paperwork through and get him to see someone sooner than later.”

  “Thanks,” I said, pumping soap into my hand from the dispenser.

  Val finished drying her hands on a paper towel and left the bathroom. I stood there, rinsing the soap off and staring at my reflection. In some ways, I had failed Toombs. As his counselor, it was my job to help him on his road to reform, and at that point I saw none. In my training I had learned that no matter what you did, there would be some kids that you just couldn’t change. Knowing that lesson didn’t make the reality of it any easier. I was failing him, and there was a likely chance that Toombs would spend his entire life in and out of prison. Tears glossed my eyes. My heart broke for the boy inside Toombs that had been failed as child—by his parents, by his school, by society. What had happened to him to cause him to lose control of himself like that? Deep down, Toombs was a kid who just needed love—a kid who had been painfully neglected throughout his life. One black eye wasn’t going to cause me to give up on him. I left the bathroom feeling more determined than ever.

  Later that afternoon, I stood in Officer Blevins’s office.

  “A week?” I cried, slamming my palms on
his desk.

  “It’s the best I could do for Chris. Toombs got two weeks.”

  The boys would be delirious by the time they got out. “That’s too long, Barry! Even for Toombs, that’s too long. That’s two weeks of missed opportunities for counseling and for group therapy. There has to be another option.”

  Officer Blevins shrugged his shoulders apologetically, “Sorry, Salem. I don’t make the rules.”

  I glared at him. I didn’t want to be mad at him, and deep down I knew I wasn’t. I was mad at the system and was just taking my frustration out on him. Reining in my emotions, I folded my arms across my chest. “I know,” I huffed, marching out of his office.

  I made a beeline to the segregation ward and saw Officer Douglas staring at his computer, accessing live video surveillance from each boy’s room.

  He glanced up from the screen. “Oh, hey, Mrs. Honeycutt,” he greeted me. “Whoa. What happened to your eye?”

  “Oh, I just got caught up in that little fight in the gym.”

  Officer Douglas nodded his head. “Oh, yeah, Officer Blevins was telling me about that. I didn’t realize you were caught up in it though. Sorry to hear that. How can I help you today?”

  “I need to see Chris King,” I said coldly.

  Officer Douglas shook his head. “Sorry. No can do. Chief Sawyer’s orders. The boys are on twenty-four hour lockdown right now. Come back tomorrow.”

  I knew he was just doing his job, but I couldn’t help feeling frustrated. “Dammit,” I hissed under my breath. Whirling around, I stomped out of his office and with a strong look of determination, I called over my shoulder, “You bet your ass I will.” The echoes of my heels, as they clicked down the hallway, pounded in my already throbbing head.

  Graham questioned my black eye when he got home that evening. I explained it away, claiming a mishap. I guess technically it was an accident because I don’t think any of the guys meant to elbow me in the face. I was just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Officer Blevins vowed that a fight like that wouldn’t happen again. He’d promised to pull extra guards during rec time to help maintain order until things settled down, or until Toombs got transferred. Graham spent the evening questioning the validity of my story, but by the time we went to bed that night I felt sure I’d convinced him that it was a just stroke of misfortune.

  “Holy shit!” Chris cried when I slid open the tiny window of his segregation door the next day. He rushed over to the window, his face inches away from the slot. Stunned, he sputtered, “Mrs. Honeycutt… your eye!” Then, he furrowed his brow with disgust. “I can’t believe those guys did that to you.”

  “It looks a lot worse than it feels,” I assured him.

  He grimaced. “Damn, it looks painful.”

  “It is a little, but I’m okay.” I smiled, attempting to curb his low-boiling rage.

  His voice was low with repressed fury as he grumbled, “I swear, when I find out who did that to you—”

  “You’ll do nothing,” I interrupted, “because if you do, you’ll land yourself right back in this place. What’s done is done. It’s been handled.” I stared at him through the small sliding window that was barely large enough for a cafeteria tray. I could see his eyes, narrowed with constricted pupils—an indication of the intensity of his anger. “How are you doing in there otherwise?”

  He reached up, gripping his head and tugging at his hair with frustration. “I’m about to lose my fucking mind,” he groaned, glancing around at the barren, white cement block walls.

  “I know. I’m working on getting you out sooner.”

  “Thanks. I can’t take the silence. My mind is going crazy in here. I’m about to lose my shit.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, sympathetically. A week was way too long for these kids who already have a tendency to remain on edge.

  “I feel lost in here, but seeing you helps.” Creases formed in the corners of his eyes as he smiled.

  I smiled back. “I’m glad I can help.”

  “Me too,” he said wistfully. “You have no idea how much.”

  I remembered the mornings that I fought to climb out of my bed, to climb out of the dark recesses of my depression, and to put one foot in front of the other to get through each day. Just last night I’d been up four times with Alexis. I could barely hold my eyes open on my way to work that morning before my coffee kicked in, but I knew the minute I walked through the door, my world would brighten because these kids would breathe life into me, not suck it out.

  “Yeah, I do have an idea…” I admitted.

  We stared at each other. Chris’s dark eyes penetrated mine, and it seemed as if in that moment he understood me.

  “I’m going to get you out,” I said earnestly.

  “Pinky swear?” he pleaded, resorting to the ultimate promise from his childhood with desperation in his voice.

  “I pinky swear.” Sticking my tiny finger through the slot, Chris wrapped his own finger around mine. A pulse of determination shot through my body the minute he touched me. Come hell or high water, I will be getting him out.

  “Thank you, Mrs. H,” he whispered, hopeful.

  I walked away knowing that we connected in that moment, bonding on the same level. He was a lost and broken teenager who just needed someone to understand him—to really hear him. I was a hollow shell of a person who just needed a beacon of hope, a possibility for something positive. Together we complemented each other’s needs.

  The grocery store was packed that afternoon. Every aisle felt like a maze of carts. It had been a long day and I just wanted to get in, get out, and be done with it. Alexis slept peacefully in her car seat in the big basket of the cart, which meant I’d only have enough room for a few items. I zipped through the aisles as fast as I could, grabbing things off the shelves from my list.

  I was quickly comparing Nutrition Facts on the back of two different cans of soup when Alexis’s blood curdling scream startled me. I promptly dropped the can, landing it directly on my pinky toe.

  “Shit!” The word flew out of my mouth as a knee-jerk reaction.

  Several mothers glared at me, and pushed their children away from the scene.

  Hopping around on one foot, I hobbled toward my cart where Alexis was writhing and wailing in her car seat. I found her pacifier and popped it into her mouth.

  It wouldn’t work for long. Alexis hated her paci, and I’d left the diaper bag with her bottle in the car, knowing we’d only be in the store for a few short minutes.

  “Shh.” I gently rocked her car seat.

  Alexis sucked and grunted while I held the paci in her mouth with one hand and pushed the cart with the other, hobbling on my sore foot.

  I knew I needed to get out of there. I could already feel my anxiety levels rising. My ears were burning and sweat beads were already forming on my forehead. I never noticed when other peoples’ kids were crying, but the minute Alexis began wailing, it felt like all eyes were on me.

  I had too many items in my cart to put them all back, so I knew I had to get straight to a cashier before she started up again.

  Standing in a line that felt like a mile long, I gently rocked the cart back and forth. Alexis squirmed, clearly unhappy. Suddenly, she spit the pacifier out of her mouth and startled everyone around us with another one of her ear piercing screams.

  I quickly unbuckled the harness of her car seat and lifted her up, bouncing, shushing, and patting her on the bottom. It was useless; I’d been here before. There would be no calming her down.

  I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead. Rationally, I knew there was no need to feel anxious. Everyone’s kids cried sometimes. Everyone had been in my shoes at some point in their lives, but that didn’t stop my stress level from rising.

  “It’s okay, Alexis,” I cooed. “We’re almost done.”

  She flailed in my arms, squalling. Pushing my cart forward a few inches, as if that would make the line move faster, I noticed a pair of blue eyes
staring at me.

  “Aren’t they just precious?” A little old lady smiled at me, graciously trying to ignore my glaring black eye.

  No. “Yes,” I said, returning the pleasantries.

  “Is this your first?” she asked politely, paying no attention to my struggle.

  I could barely hear her over Alexis shrieking in my ear. “Yes,” I said. And last.

  “Enjoy every minute because they grow up fast,” she said matter-of-factly.

  I wanted to reach out and slap her, but then I immediately felt terrible for my violent thoughts. What was enjoyable about trying to shop with a screaming baby who just made you nearly break your toe with a can of soup? What was pleasurable about standing in a line, that won’t fucking move, with a hysterical baby in your arms while little old ladies told me to enjoy the moment?

  “Thank you,” I deadpanned.

  Right at that moment, Alexis gagged and choked on her spit up which landed directly on my shoulder and dripped a pretty little stream down my back.

  This is the best moment yet. My thoughts oozed with sarcasm.

  I quickly used her blanket to wipe up the mess while the little old lady shook her head nostalgically. I wanted to smack her again, but this time I didn’t feel so bad about it.

  “Sweet little angel,” she cooed at Alexis. “She just needed a little burp. All better now?” she asked with a sing-song voice, reaching out to let Alexis curl her hand around her wrinkled finger. Looking at me, she said, “I remember when mine were that little. I miss those days.”

  I doubt I’ll ever miss these days, I thought. “I bet.” Flashing a fake smile, I hoped I wasn’t coming across as manic. Then again, for her sake, maybe she’d see me as a threat and back off a little.

  “Cherish every moment,” she insisted again.

  Nope. No threat.

  Alexis never let up. She cried while I struggled to unload the groceries onto the conveyer belt with one hand. She cried while I reloaded the cart with the bags. She cried while I swiped my card to pay. By the time I made it to my car, I was crying right along with her.