The Fifth Circle

by Tricia Drammeh

  “What’s going on?”

  “I got my own apartment,” she said. “I think you should move in with me.”

  “What about the baby?” I asked.

  “He’ll have to get his own place. No, seriously, Alex. I’ll help with the baby. If you move in now, you’ll already be settled and you can start classes in January. We’ll work out our schedule so I can help you with childcare.”

  Oh, God. Childcare. Every time I even thought about that, I shuddered. The expense, the packing up bottles and diapers every day…”

  “I don’t know. I thought I’d go to Saint Louis Community College for a couple of years until the baby is a little older.”

  “You really want to stay in Saint Edmunds where everyone will stare at you and think about what happened? You might not care if people whisper behind your back, but what about your kid?”

  “Mom said she might sell the house and move to Cape with Aunt Becky.”

  “Mom says a lot of things. She won’t sell until the house is practically foreclosed on. She never makes major decisions—she never learned how.”

  “She says…”

  “Alex, don’t be mom. Don’t waste your life away. If you sit around Saint Edmunds waiting for things to get better, you’ll never do anything with your life. Come to Columbia with me.”

  The most significant event of my life was the day I decided to move to Columbia…

  Ever since the day of my Senior English final, I continued to try out this phrase in my mind. It was sort of like auditioning new ideas before I acted on them. The notion never really took root, so I told Claire I’d think about it after the baby was born. She sounded pissed off when she hung up.

  Why did Claire think she could tell everyone else what to do? Why couldn’t she understand I was pregnant and limited in what I could do? I couldn’t get a job, or go to college, or lead a normal life. My life was on hold until the baby was born and after that, I would still be limited. She wasn’t pregnant, so she had no clue. Mom understood. She pampered me and took care of me and felt sorry for me. She didn’t expect me to do anything—not right now.

  Amanda knew how hard it was to be pregnant. She said I wouldn’t really feel like working after the baby was born, and with childcare expenses being so high, it wasn’t even worth getting a job.

  Claire just didn’t get it, but it wasn’t her fault. She’d never been in my position. I thought about calling her and trying to patch things up, but I was too tired. Too tired to think about the promise I’d made to Susan, or to worry about Sean, or to think about that fact that I’d made the initial steps toward condemning myself to a nothing life.

  ***

  “Thank you so much for doing this,” Susan said when I met her outside the jail.

  My mom had no idea where I was. She thought I went to hang out with Amanda. “I’m happy to do it. I should have come before, but I….I don’t know. I’m just glad I’m here now.”

  Susan showed me where to go and how to check in. We waited in a room with a bunch of other visitors before the corrections officer finally led us to a long corridor. It was just like on TV—a long, screened divider separated the visitors from the incarcerated. We took our assigned booth and waited for Sean.

  When I caught my first glimpse of him, I began to shake all over. I could see his mouth moving, but couldn’t hear what he said. His face spread into a huge smile as he slid behind his chair. We picked up the receiver of the two-way phone at the same time.

  “Oh my God, Alex, I’m so glad to see you. I was so afraid you’d change your mind.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come before.”

  “It’s okay. Mom, thank you for bringing her. Thank you, thank you.”

  Susan just smiled.

  “How are you feeling, Alex? How’s the baby? Did you go to the doctor?”

  “We’re both fine. I got on Medicaid, so yeah, I went to the doctor. I’m driving now.”

  “Really?” His face clouded over for a second, but it quickly smoothed over when he said, “That’s good. I guess you’ll need to drive the baby around and stuff. God, I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.” I missed the old Sean—the Sean I’d been friends with.

  “Did Mom tell you what the lawyer said? That I might be getting out in seven years?” I nodded and he continued. “Will you wait for me? I still want us to be together.”

  I hesitated for just a moment before answering. Would I wait for Sean? My life was already on hold because of the baby. Did waiting mean sitting in my house with my mom for seven years? Or, did he just want me to avoid other men until he could reclaim me? No one would want me anyways. I was damaged goods—the daughter of a child molester, girlfriend of a killer, an all-around loser.

  “I’ll wait,” I promised. Seven years was a long time—too long to really be able to wrap my mind around.

  “So, what have you been doing?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Just staying home. My mom said I didn’t have to work or anything until after the baby is born.” I chose not to tell him about taking my finals, or meeting Amanda, or Claire’s offer to let me move in with her. Nor did I mention the possible move to Cape Girardeau. He already had enough to worry about.

  “Good. You need your rest.” He seemed satisfied by my inactivity. His eyes scanned me and settled on my hand. “Where’s your ring?”

  “My hands are swollen—from the pregnancy. It’s normal,” I stammered, hoping he’d believe me. I hadn’t even considered wearing it. My answer seemed to satisfy Sean, because his expression relaxed.

  Sean, his mother, and I chatted until it was time for us to leave. I promised Sean I’d come back to see him and he told me he loved me. It felt like a weight had fallen off my shoulders. Visiting him wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it would be. I’d continue to visit when I could, and once he was transferred to a regular prison, Susan and I would make the trip to see him.

  Amanda was right—visiting someone in jail was no big deal. In a way, it was sort of romantic—not the jail, but the situation. Sean killed my father to defend my honor, and I waited faithfully for his return while carrying our child inside me. When I gave birth, I would explain to our child how his father was a great hero, and how everything he did, he did for love.

  Chapter 30- Sean

  So much the anguish had her mind distorted

  (Canto XXX, line 21)

  Alex’s visit did more than lift my spirits—it helped me save face. When I told everyone she was coming, I could tell some of the assholes didn’t believe me. Now everyone knew I was telling the truth—I had a hot girl and she was pregnant with my baby.

  “Man, what’s a girl like that doin’ with a crazy motherfucker like you?” Ty’Reese asked, slapping me on the back.

  “We’ll see how long it lasts after they haul your ass to prison,” Kirk the killjoy said. “Girl like that ain’t gonna wait for you.”

  “Yeah she will. We’re having a baby,” I said.

  “She might have three more baby-daddy by the time you get out,” he said.

  I lunged toward him, but Ty’Reese held me back. “Don’t listen to that sorry-ass son of a bitch. He just jealous cause he ain’t never got nothing.”

  “Whatever,” I said, glaring at Kirk.

  “Man, don’t be starting shit, or you’ll end up in solitary and your girl ain’t gonna have no one to visit in two weeks.”

  “You’re right. My lawyer said I had to behave myself if I wanted to be up for parole in seven years.”

  “That’s right, Sean. That’s right.”

  Ty’Reese was the best friend I’d ever had, well besides Alex. Cole and I were friends, but only because of Tales of Andrometis. He barely even cared when I went to the mental hospital. When I freaked out over shit, he just checked out emotionally. Ty’Reese didn’t sugarcoat things—he told me the truth even if it pissed me off. No one ever did that before—not even my mom.

  My mom had always told me what I wanted to hear. She bo
wed to my anger and tried to give me whatever I wanted so I’d stop freaking out. The angrier I was, the more accommodating she became. She thought she was helping me, but she wasn’t. Even after the hospitalization, she still refused to set real limits. She took the computer out of my room, but only because the doctor told her to. When I asked her if I could have it back, she told me she didn’t want to have to explain to the doctor why she didn’t follow his rules.

  Alex never stood up to me either. In a way, that was a good thing. It meant she loved me and recognized my authority as her future husband. It also meant I could never be certain if she followed my lead because she agreed with me, or because she was afraid of me.

  Ty’Reese was cool. I was gonna miss him when I got transferred to prison. I’d miss my visits with Alex too. I made a mental note to ask my mom to move closer to the prison once I found out where I was being sent. I had to make sure Alex was close by because the physical distance might lead to an emotional distance between us. I couldn’t bear for that to happen.

  ***

  The next visitation day took an ugly turn. Alex showed up, so it started out okay. Then my mom had to open her big mouth.

  “I think Alex should start college after the baby is born. She’s too smart not to get an education.”

  “What about the baby?” I asked.

  “I can help her with the baby if she takes night classes. Her mom will help too, I’m sure.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to go,” I said, staring at Alex.

  “Um…” she stammered.

  “You should get your GED, honey. It will help you get a job when you get out.”

  Wait! Rewind. Who cares about a GED? What was all this about Alex going to college? Sure, in theory, it sounded great, but in reality, it meant Alex would be away from home meeting a bunch of college boys while I sat in prison and rotted away.

  “I don’t know about college,” I said. “A baby should be with his mother, not dumped with relatives.”

  “It would be the same if she’s working,” my mom said. “Either way, she’ll have to leave the baby with someone. I’m just offering to help.”

  Who said anything about working? Alex didn’t need to work. She could hang out with her mom until I got out of prison and could take care of her.

  “Alex, you should look into getting your GED so you can take some college classes,” my mom said.

  “Well, actually…” Alex started to say.

  “I don’t think she should do anything that causes her any stress. It’s bad for the baby. She can worry about getting a GED later. Right, Alex?”

  “Um…”

  Just like that, visiting hours were over. The day was ruined. I blamed my mom for messing up my visit with Alex. What if her stupid lecture about the value of an education planted a seed in Alex’s mind? She’d always been smart—too smart for her own good. Without me around to rein her in, who knew what she’d do?

  My previous elation at having Alex back in my life was gone. I could feel her slipping away from me. Just like our freshman year of high school when she started taking the advanced classes, I was left to make my own way with the ordinary kids. When she began to pull away from me to hang out with the choir nerds, she left me to make my own life in the perilous world of online games.

  She’d spun out of my reach again. I killed her father so she could have the freedom to live her life outside of his dark shadow. Now she could do anything she wanted while I sat in jail yearning for the girl who left me behind.

  Chapter 31- Alex

  As when the fog is vanishing away,

  Little by little doth the sight refigure

  (Canto XXXI, lines 34 & 35)

  “Alex, you have some mail,” my mom said when she came home from work. She shuffled into the kitchen and put her purse on the counter.

  “Thanks,” I said, closing the refrigerator and taking the small stack of letters. One was from Family Services. “Can you turn off the oven when the timer goes off? I need to sit down.”

  “Sure honey. I told you not to worry about making dinner. You need your rest.”

  “I wasn’t on my feet long. I just threw together a casserole.”

  “Well, go sit down and I’ll finish up in here.”

  I ripped open the envelope as I entered the living room. My request for monetary assistance had been approved. Now I’d have some money of my own. Amanda said the State probably wouldn’t harass me about getting a job until the baby was at least a couple of years old because if I started working, they’d have to pay for childcare. It was cheaper to pay me to stay home.

  The next letter in the stack was from Saint Louis Community College. I didn’t open it. I’d worry about it once I decided to go to school and that wouldn’t be for a while. The final letter was from Saint Edmunds High School. Maybe it was my official transcript.

  I ripped open the envelope and a typed letter fell out. It was from Mr. Chalmers.

  Dear Alexandra,

  I haven’t received a response to any of the emails I’ve sent; therefore I decided to send a more traditional vehicle of correspondence. I hope you have enjoyed your summer and that you are busy making plans for your future. In case you’ve forgotten about your previous vow to change your life for the better, I’ve included a copy of your essay for your review.

  Please do not hesitate to contact me should you need a letter of reference for employment, or if you require assistance once your college classes begin.

  Sincerely,

  Edgar Chalmers

  I glanced at the copy of my essay with disdain. What was Mr. Chalmers’ problem? Was he a stalker? I hadn’t opened my emails—that’s why I hadn’t responded. Was it inconceivable that someone didn’t check their emails every day?

  I’d never pegged Mr. Chalmers as a creeper, but I was clear he had some issues. Maybe he was just lonely and didn’t have anyone to talk to. It probably wouldn’t hurt to send him a quick email later—I didn’t need to tell him that I’d altered my immediate plans, that I’d made the decision to stay home with my baby during his formative years. College could wait.

  After dinner, I made my way upstairs and logged on to my computer. Sure enough, several emails awaited—one for each week since I’d taken my finals. Each letter was nearly identical—a polite wish for my continued well-being followed by an inquiry about my current efforts to improve my life; an offer to help me should the need arise; an attachment of my essay.

  Bizarre, but thoughtful. It was nice of him to remember me. I doubted he made that sort of effort with all his graduating Seniors, but it was uncomfortable being reminded that I’d made promises to myself and quickly broken each one. It was as if he was holding me accountable. I owed him nothing. Or, maybe he was reminding me that I was accountable to myself, that breaking promises—even to me—was an act of dishonesty and cowardice.

  I hit the reply button and tried to compose a careful response. I didn’t want to admit that I’d done nothing, achieved nothing. The only thing I’d done was set up my life so that I could comfortably continue to do nothing for the next couple of years. Hardly an achievement.

  After twenty minutes of typing and deleting prospective responses, I shut down my computer and promised to work on the email later. Of course, I never kept the promises I made to myself, so why would that one be any different?

  ***

  “I’m thinking about taking some classes at the community college.” I helped Callie open her kiddie meal box while Amanda stared at me in confusion.

  The fast food restaurant was empty of everyone but the elderly and a few stay-at-home moms. Everyone else was either working or at school. Ever since school started back up a couple of weeks ago, I felt adrift. Somehow it was easier to do nothing during the summer because everyone else my age was doing nothing too—tanning, sleeping-in, partying. Now that most of my peers found activities to provide structure to their days, I felt like a loser.

  “Why do you want to go to college?” Amanda asked.


  “Well, I’ve always liked school. If I’m not working, I may as well do something.”

  “That’s cool, but don’t do it until they make you. If you do it too soon, they’ll expect you to either keep at it, or get a job.” Amanda never did anything without first thinking about how it would affect her benefits, or without considering how the State would view her actions.

  “Not now. I mean, classes have already started. In January,” I said. The baby inside me kicked forcefully. A girl. I’d found out a few weeks ago I was having a daughter.

  Callie dipped a chicken nugget in her apple-dipper sauce. Then, she shoved the whole thing in her mouth and washed the concoction down with a gulp of chocolate milk.

  “Okay, but that’s too soon. You can’t just start up something like that and then drop out. It looks bad.”

  I decided not to push the issue. It wasn’t worth the argument. What could I say? That I intended to finish what I started? I never had in the past. I didn’t trust myself to follow through on anything.

  A deluge of chocolate milk came rushing toward me. Grabbing a few napkins, I began cleaning up the sodden mess.

  “God dammit, Callie,” Amanda hissed.

  “Sawwy,” the toddler replied. “Ou’side?”

  “Go. Get out of here.”

  Callie struggled to push open the door leading to the playground. She scampered outside and immediately climbed the stairs to the gigantic slide.

  “So, Andrew might be moving back in,” Amanda said.

  “Really? How did that happen?”

  “I ran into him at a party. He was fucked up and I offered to drive him home. I drove him back to my apartment instead and…”

  “Wow.”

  “He says he’s gonna quit smoking weed and stuff. He says he wants to be a good father to Callie and the new baby.”

  “I hope it works out,” I said, doubtful that it actually would. I didn’t think it was a good omen that he was completely wasted when they hooked up again.