Turtle Dove: A Lesbian Romance

by Marian Stack

  As she walked into the room she was so relieved that the visitor wasn’t Blair that she almost began to cry aloud. However uncontrolled tears had begun to build in her eyes as she was escorted over to the steal table with the non-moveable four round seat that were attached to the base in a criss-cross fashion that were void of any kind of back support or seat cushion for comfort.

  Overwhelmed with relief that her friend was visibly unharmed, the well-seasoned and high ranking officer of the law reached for her friend and then with great strength gave her a huge bear-hug greeting, that literally lifted Turtle off her feet leaving them to dangle above the ground, knowing full well that everything she was doing was completely against regulation, but cared little for that.

  “There will be none of that.” The guarding officer proclaimed as she immediately rushed over to the pair and with great agility pushed Turtle shoulders downwards forcing Turtle to abruptly sit on the hard seat.

  “And there will be none of that.” Margo responded as quickly to the real threat. But sadly she had forgotten one thing. She had purposely chosen not to wear her uniform, so that there would be no repercussions towards her friend while in the custody of this detention centre, whose reputation for fairness always seemed to be up for debate.

  “And just what are you going to do about it.” The officer grabbed hold of her baton and showed clear intent of using it.

  “Margo, it’s ok.” Turtle whispered as she reached for the shirt sleeve of her friend who clearly was ready for a defensive jousting match.

  After the officer left Turtle seated securely at the table, she then with great purpose turned and walked over to the doorway entrance and took her sentry position which was directly in front of the door.

  After she sat, and offered an apologetic smile she stared straight into Turtle’s eyes and stated, “I’m doing everything I can to get you out of here and back to my jail, but someone much higher up the chain of command is clogging the evidence trail. I can’t seem to get a straight answer from anyone. I’ve been up all night trying to get an answer as to why you have not been properly charged.” And then with wanting in her voice, “You have to contact Miss…”

  “No. And please don’t ask that of me again. We have ended that. This is my mess. Not hers.”

  The sadness in her voice nearly broke the Chief’s heart as she could tell by the strain in her voice, buried heartbreak was literally destroying her friend.

  “Ok. I will promise, for now, but if there’s anything she can do to get you out of this situation, don’t expect me not to call. You don’t belong here.” She spoke with such conviction that Turtle’s intelligence yielded to the possibility that having someone with greater authority may come in handy but for now she remained in her belief.

  “But I do.” The words came out so softly that the Chief asked for them to be repeated.

  “What… Turtle sweetie, that’s not possible.”

  “We don’t have much time so I need you to listen, and then you can come to your own conclusion, because truth-be-told some of the details still remain a bit foggy to me.” And then after inhaling a huge lung filling breath she began to tell her version of the events the night of the fire beginning with the introduction of the lost woman in the wilderness. She purposely decided to keep the beginning part of their night out of the story because she didn’t have the strength of heart to tell her friend everything and also because she didn’t feel the beginning was that important, that part was now only hers to remember and relive.

  “…but Margo when I was being somewhat questioned they told me I was being charged with the murder of two escapees, but we only ever saw and fought with one. Last night was the first time I heard about the other woman’s death. I think that’s where you have to begin your search for me. Who is the other woman? And where is her body now?”

  “…and what am I supposed to tell Susan and Sky and everyone else that is asking about you and wanting to visit?

  “Tell them that I miss them, and that I will be seeing them as soon as possible. And Margo please keep them informed as to what is happening, and I know I’m asking a lot regarding my every growing favour list, but you have to promise me no contacting Miss Foster and make sure that everyone understands this for me and how important this is…please Margo…please.”

  “Times up.” The officer announced without moving from her sentry station.

  The friends were so deep into their conversation that the two words that were forced into the air startled both seated women.

  Getting in a last word. “Do you need anything? Well of course you do. I mean anything from my next visit that will of course be tomorrow or the next day depending on what I discover. Oh…did I mention that I brought a duffle bag full of your personal civilian clothing. My experience…if you remain in that orange jumpsuit…well it’s like a beacon for trouble. It marks you as a new arrival.

  “Ok.” The guard yelled as she approached and took swift charge of her responsibility by grabbing hold of Turtle’s arm, “You have to leave…now!”

  Once again the Chief took offence to the rough handling of her gentle friend. “This treatment is unnecessary. But yes I will leave.”

  “Tell Susan and Sky that I’m okay and can hardly wait to see them.” She happily stated. “And Margo, please make sure that Rain is doing okay over these next several weeks. This will be a hard time for her, she’s still so young.” She rapidly completed all that she wanted to say before she was not so unceremoniously removed from the visiting room.

  With the heart wrenching visit over Margo remained standing in the middle of the quiet angry room continuing to stare at the door her dear sweet friend just disappeared through knowing full well the dangerous world she just stepped into and that this place would test every skill she possessed.

  After a short amount of time had passed and after witnessing the disrespectful treatment of one her closest friends being treated like a common criminal she couldn’t seem to find a good reason to leave the room, so she unwillingly and slowly sat back onto the round cold steal seat fighting with the emotional stress of feeling that if she left it would be as if she was deserting her friend in need. For the first time in many years Margo didn’t know what to do. She, of all people, didn’t know how to fix this.

  As she looked around the vacant industrial looking room, listening to her professional internal senses, feeling the eerie feeling regarding the many heart wrenching stories that had been cried out in this room of despair and helplessness, that always offered the same ending, one person is carted off like a bag of trash while the other one remained standing alone and disheartened. And then as if she was hit with a mind altering emotion Margo adjusted her shoulder and straightened her sweater and corrected her gloomy thoughts to setting her mind to action. She was getting her friend out of this nightmare one way or the other.

  As they walked back to the detention living quarters, she was a little surprised at how fast her melancholy mood starting tearing through her sensitive nervous system.

  And then as she re-entered the gathering place she immediately noticed that everyone was looking in her direction, and then her thought went directly to the advice that her friend had expressed… “That orange jumpsuit is a beacon for trouble.”

  And with those words ringing in her thoughts she quickly climbed the stairs to her cell in anticipation and then jumped at the sight of the duffel bag that was resting just inside the cell. Assuming the belongings were hers she dug into the noticeable ruffled items in the bag, and then with determined movement she directly wiggled out of the jumpsuit and changed into a pair of jeans and a cotton light grey V-neck tee shirt.

  Because her mind was elsewhere she took very little notice that her cellmate was missing as she walked out onto the walkway. It was only then that she noticed that many of the women were missing and that there were only four women, mopping and cleaning the space rather than the dozens that were all staring at her the night before. Again with her naïve knowl
edge of this lifestyle she was unaware that many of the housed women in this block have regular jobs to complete as part of their incarceration responsibility.

  As she continued to day dream through the scene below, once again she was unaware of the fast approaching guard coming up the stairs, “Are you stupid or just deaf… when I call your number I expect an immediate response. Now come with me. You have been assigned to the kitchen detail.”

  “Please forgive me. I’m neither stupid nor deaf, just a little preoccupied. I will try to stay more in-tuned to this new way of life.”

  The guard was clearly taken aback by Turtles’ honesty and responded with one word, “Slippers.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You can’t work in a kitchen with slippers on, did you not bring other footwear?”

  “Oh…yes…continuing to learn.” She mumbled out and then turned towards the officer offering her normal easy smile that was not appreciated or returned.

  Noticing the unpleasant stare she immediately looked back into the duffle bag on the floor and gathered her running shoes.

  As they walked towards the kitchen area, Turtle was amazed at how big this building was and just how complicated all the corridors and passageways were, not to mention the constant fortified glass doors at either ends of each.

  As she entered the unmistakeable archaic working kitchen of the detention center with the piled on years of smells, of oils and grease filled her nostrils to the level of gaging.

  “Welcome to the dish pit.” The guard made a hand gesture to the older woman that was working the dishwashing machine to come forwards, plus continued her private chat, “Funny thing… we just happen to have an opening…this job once belong to a jail bird named Grace…but many here just called her Crazy G. I heard tell that you are the one that took her out.” And the guard leaned close, “I’d watch my back around here if I was you. You don’t look like much, so there will be many gals here that will want to test your strength…climb to the top so to speak. Grace was at the top for a few years and made a tonne of enemies. If I were you I’d figure out who to trust and who to beat down.”

  As this conversation was happening, the older woman thanks in part to her many years of incarceration knew her place and cautiously walked over to where they were standing and stood with her hands at her side in full attention. “And this here is Bee.” The officer pointed with her baton that was securely held in the showing hand. “She will show you the ropes. You are now our new pot and pan washer and garbage remover. Bee… teach her good, less for you to do.” The guard laughed as she walked away with her baton in her right hand gently slapping the palm of her left.

  As Bee silently sized-up her new helper, Turtle decided to remain quiet and wait for instructions. “You sure don’t look like a killer to me.” Bee broadcasted and then swiftly returned back to her duties, “well get to washing those pots and pans. They ain’t going to clean themselves.”

  Astounded by her immediate introduction to her new job, she looked around and noticed a horrible stained yellow rubber apron hanging on a hook next to the two large deep sinks that were filled to overflowing and assumed this was her new uniform, so with acceptance she flung the loop hole over her head, tied the apron string around her waist several times, and began her duties.

  Oddly enough she seemed pleased that the day was progressing without a lot of drama and was pleased with the manual labour aspect that would enable her to keep her mind active on other things. She was also equally surprised that the gruff woman Bee was quite the talker. To the point that she had trouble keeping up with everything the older woman had to say with the noise of the dishwasher and the constant messages that seemed to be announced though the static filled intercom system.

  “Well youngster it’s our turn to eat.” Bee announced as she shut off the noisy dishwasher, and tossed her overly large rubber gloves over the drying rack.

  “Food is rarely good but it’s better than eating out of a dumpster.” And with that educational statement she walked out of the dish room area and into the eating section. Turtle decided to follow somewhat excitedly to be off learning new areas of this foreign world.

  Once settled at the bench style tables, “Can I ask you a question?” Turtle asked as she watched her teacher inhale a bowl of overly thickened corn soup.

  “You can ask but that don’t mean I’ll answer ya.”

  “Fair enough.” Then taking a deep breath and a relative small risk, “Who was the other escapee I was supposed to kill?”

  “You mean to tell me you don’t even know who you killed. Boy… that’s harsh.” Then looking up from her bowl of corn soup… “You killed a young childlike girl by the name of Angel. She was a sweet little thing that wasn’t too smart in the ways of inside life. She always needed protection and often sided with the wrong people. So you see little one…you killed the meanest and the sweetest all in one shot. So does that make you: good or just plain lucky?” She deliberated as she used the back of her right hand to wipe her mouth to remove plenty of lingering soup from her face and lips.

  Although she heard the words from the older woman her mind seemed to wonder towards her own bewilderment, “Something doesn’t seem just right.” Turtle softly spoke not realizing she was talking aloud.

  Bee leaned forwards, “What ya saying? You have to speak up…I’m old ya know.”

  The woman’s response to her quiet reflection made Turtle laugh out loud. “Sorry for my mumbling. I’m more used to living with fewer people around me. I promise to be more aware of what I’m saying, and my volume.”

  “My advice to you, watch your p’s and q’s. There are some mean bitches in here and you are a pretty looking sweet young thing.”

  If you don’t mind me asking…” she questioned as she rubbed the bottom of her soup bowl with a piece of white air-dried bread. “Who do you got for a cell mate?” She looked up from her bowl as she shovelled the whole piece of soggy bread into her mouth.

  “You know now that you have asked me that she never did…or should I say we never did exchange names. But I do know her number, 55567.” Turtle felt terrible that she never took the time to ask the woman’s name who had now clearly saved her from harm last evening.

  “Holly shit, you got Teresa-Jean as your cell mate. Well don’t expect any long conversation from that girl. WOW… That’s a lucky break for you. No one messes with number 55567. And by the way she hates her Christian name, better to call her T-five. Wow… T-five, what are the odds you getting her as your guard dog.” Bee mumbled as she stood and gathered her soup bowl and spoon, clearly showing Turtle that their break time was over as she shuffled back towards the duel set of swinging kitchen doors.

  Turtle quickly gathered up her half eaten bowl of cold corn soup and followed her instructor.

  Before she knew it, her time with the kitchen detail was over and she was informed to head back to her cell area by lining up along the wall to the inside of the yellow line that was a normal fixture to the grey flooring.

  “Arms at your sides number 99862.” The command rapidly followed a sharp and sudden pain to her left shoulder.”

  Remaining quiet she knew not to reach for her own shoulder offering it a gentle rub from the hurt.

  She climbed the stairs two at a time trying to contain her eagerness with regards to locating her cellmate in the hope that she had returned from her daily work so that she could properly introduce herself and maybe ask a few questions regarding the two women she apparently murdered.

  Tee began to understood that many of these women were in this facility because of past sins and that perhaps she will have to be accountable for taking the life of one human but she will not be satisfied with her situation until her team of friends help solve this dilemma, regarding the second.

  Disappointment filled her as she stood just inside the door frame and looked inside the cell to notice it remained empty of human life. She took a quick glance around the tiny but well organized cell and could not disc
over if she had been and gone, or had not returned at all. And then as she stood just inside the cell her body suddenly required a full body emotional stretch, and so as she performed a few well deserved stretches she discovered that her body also was in need of a good scrubbing.

  Now experience would have told her not to venture off towards the showering/bathing room outside the normal times but again her natural innocence allowed her to carry on with her wants completely clueless towards the possibility of any sort of a potential disastrous outcome.

  After placing all her clothing on the cold steal bench she walked over to the shower stall and immediately noticed, this time around, the limit switch on the lever, which sent her mind instantly back to her first shower and purposely, shook her head to remove the vivid memories. “Remember Miss Dove… you are going to remain strong and calm.” And as she fought against her willpower to revert back to fear, she was completely unaware that three other woman had entered the room, with very clear intentions of not bathing.

  “Yes… Assistant Chief Warden. I will keep an eye on this one. She doesn’t look like a killer if you ask me, and certainly not evil enough to take out Grace. Where did you have her working today, if you don’t mind me asking? I half expected her to already be with me in the laundry.” Teresa-Jean stated as she settled back into the chair.

  “What!!! You mean she wasn’t with you today.” Her words exploded into the air as she reached over the huge pile of papers on her desk and pressed a button on the Kleenex size box that clearly was an intercom system for the placement officer’s station. “Where did you place the new arrival that I specifically ordered placed in the laundry detail section?”

  “Kitchen… great.” Not wanting to sound too aggressive, for many reasons she coolly ordered, “I want this order re-written and place number 99862 back into the laundry starting tomorrow. Please complete this order yourself Sergeant, and yes I understand number 99862 arrival was unexpected. Please just do your best to relocate this inmate.”