by Kim Cayer
“Oh, am I still having one?” I asked.
“It could flare up again. And I’d like to see if we can’t make this ulcer disappear,” the doctor concluded.
“I’VE got an ULCER?” I asked disbelievingly.
“You’re surprised?” the doctor questioned. “After what I’ve just been told?”
I guess I wasn’t. “How do I know when I’m better?” I asked.
“We’ll let you know,” Stavefield said. “Now, I’m going to assign you to the fourth floor. A word of advice though – the ladies you’ll be bunking with all have a criminal history. It would be wise not to form any close friendships. Keep your eyes open, stay alert, and you should be alright.”
“Thanks, doctor,” I said. Thanks for putting me at ease.
“Pegli, set her up on the fourth floor,” Dr. Stavefield called out to my guard. “Have a good night’s sleep, Alice.”
* * *
I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t because I’d just woken up two hours earlier from a 24-hour nap; I was nervous one of my fellow sleepers was hiding a machete under her mattress. I did have the option of checking myself out of the joint but I was even more scared of the City of New York. I started shaking again just at the thought.
Morning finally rolled around. Before anyone woke up, I used the washroom and freshened up. There were no guards around; probably on the change of shift.
I was just finishing taking a tinkle when I heard someone come into the stall next to me. “That you, Gravedigger?” a voice asked. Ice started running through my veins. What kind of human – a woman at that – would have a name like that? I pulled up my pants and ran out without washing my hands.
Everyone eventually woke up. I stayed in bed, not bothering to mingle. I was sneaking peeks at them but was terrified they’d catch me staring. So far I could see I was living with a motley crew. I’ve never seen so many scars on so few people, and all of them seemed to sport multiple tattoos.
A few of us stayed in bed. The girl in the bed next to me started crying. Bawling. Wailing. The guard walked up to the bed. “Dottie!” she threatened. “I’ll send you down to the mattress room…”
Dottie held it down to a slight whimper until the guard walked out of the room. She started up again until a fellow patient walked up to her. “SHADDAP!” she yelled. Dottie stopped. She was only moaning when the same inmate returned and gave her a chop to the head. I didn’t say a word about this brutality; I was just going to mind my own beeswax.
A loud bell went off. Everyone lined up. I was the only one left lying in bed. The guard walked up to me. She was at least 300 pounds in weight and all her buttons were bulging. Her breasts were flattened into a square box from her tight, Extra-Large uniform top. She looked like she was a boxer before becoming a security guard. Her only redeeming feature was a head of tightly permed black coils. “WHO are YOU?” she asked me. “The Queen of Sheba? You goin’ to lie in bed all day?”
“I’m new here,” I whispered.
“So? You eat like everyone else, dontcha? Get in line!” she yelled, prodding me then walking away. Waddling away. A large layer of blubber spilled out above and below her clearly defined bra-line. I didn’t think I was going to like her.
I got into the line-up and stood about four feet from the girl closest to me. She looked like a walking case of leprosy. Her neck, arms and ankles were oozing with pus-filled scabs. We were marched into the dining room.
Two ladies in grease-splattered aprons served us. Their every movement was automatic; I could see there was no asking for extra bacon. I was given a severely undercooked fried egg, two pieces of burnt-to-a-crisp bacon and a slice of unbuttered bread. White. I wondered if this diet was to be any more sensible than my usual fare. A cup of watered-down coffee came with the meal.
Since I was last in line, everyone had seated themselves before me. I took my tray and gave a quick circumspect look around the room. There was one empty table in the dead-center. Keeping my head down, I walked over to it. I had just sat down when I saw the security guard walking over to me. Now what had I done? Then I saw she was also carrying a breakfast tray. She took a seat at the opposite end of the table. I looked at her tray with envy. Three platefuls? And how’d she get her bread toasted?
Everyone finished eating in a matter of minutes. Still, we had to sit there for a full hour. I wished I had a book to read. I think we stayed that long so that our chunky guard could finish her meal. She got up one time and I thought, Good, back to our room. Instead, she came back with another trayful.
Finally, she burped out loud and looked at a pocket watch attached to her utility belt. Leaning her head back, with a projection worthy of a theatre gig, she hollered, “LINE UP!”
I stood up quickly to let her know I wasn’t royalty, but managed to stall getting into the line-up. Once again I was last in line, behind the third-world refugee. She was scratching a scab off her throat.
We bypassed our living quarters. We were simply led into the hall and into an open room. There were a few couches, a television set, games on shelves. Everyone stood in a line facing a door though. I peeked out from my position and saw the guard open the door and look up. “Well, it’s only drizzling. You’re goin’ out today.” We all filed out the door and down a rickety set of iron steps to a big yard. There was a wall dividing the property in half. I could make out men shouting on the other side.
The guard followed me down the steps. I got to the bottom and heard her grunt. I turned around and saw she’d managed to squeeze herself into a sitting position on the stairwell. “GO PLAY!” she commanded. I wandered off to an unoccupied corner of the dividing wall.
I was standing there when out of nowhere I heard a male voice. “That you, Gravedigger?” Somehow it was coming from the wall. A folded piece of paper waved at me and I saw there was a chink in the wall. Two tough-looking babes started walking towards me so I decided to pay a visit to the empty space under the stairwell.
I surveyed the scene. There were a few loners like myself, a few exercisers, a few huddlers. Suddenly there was a loud booming and I glanced above. The security guard was walking back upstairs and I thought she was going to fall through. Obviously she didn‘t know I was under the stairwell as she let a fart rip.
As soon as the door slammed behind her, there was a mass exodus to the far corner of the yard – my initial hanging-out area. I felt a rise of excitement in the air. I almost had the urge to walk over and see what the hullabaloo was about. Before I took my first step, I heard the door above me open and I froze. Obviously the guard would notice the crowd in the corner.
But, where there was none a second ago, now a fight was in progress between the two girls I’d seen walk over to me earlier. The other dozen girls had formed a circle and were egging them on.
CRASH! CRASH! This time I did run out from under the stairwell as the guard came lumbering down. The fight had broken up by the time she got there, and nobody was saying anything. I turned around to go back under the steps but two gals had taken my place and were grabbing a quick smooch.
I walked around, my eyes pointed at the ground. I saw the Scab Girl sprawled on the ground, her back against the wall. No one seemed to be bothering her so I struck the same pose a few feet away. I was getting sleepy now and was glad when our Sarah Bernhardt-contender hollered, “LINE UP!”
Back into the cafeteria we went. I was amazed at how hungry I’d gotten doing nothing. The same cooks now doled out a spoonful of…chili? Stew? Chunky Soup? It rather looked like pig slop. For fruit, we had a choice – bruised apple or black banana. I passed.
I was headed back to the empty table when that fat guard just bristled past me. I guess she wanted to sit there too. I didn’t want to make it look like I was joining her so I simply sat in the empty chair I had been pushed into. The table was filled with inmates but I ignored them all. I was really quite enthralled with my meal. In one bite, I had a big chunk of pork fat. In the next was a piece of pasta. The next had a bone.
Thankfully, we were led back into our cot-filled room. I headed directly for my bed. Although I was yawning over and over, I still didn’t go to sleep. I trusted these girls less when they were awake, never mind asleep. I still didn’t speak to anyone. Call me a snob but I was following doctor’s orders. The girl next to me – Dottie – started her sobbing again and was repeatedly told to shut up. At least she was keeping me awake.
A nurse walked into the room and the guard yelled her favorite order. Most of the institution’s patrons lined up but I noticed a few remained where they were. I decided I would too. The guard rushed up to me so I scrambled out of bed. I was almost in line when she reached out and shoved me the last couple feet. “I don’t know who you are but…” She didn’t continue her threat. But what? If I don’t behave, I’ll go to the mattress room? Big deal. I rather liked it there, what I recall of it. This guard was really starting to get on my nerves.
We were moving ahead extremely slowly. When I got closer, I saw we were in a line-up for pills from the nurse. Well, why didn’t they tell me that in the first place? Why did I get that funny feeling whenever I saw pills? Weak brain circuit, I guess. The nurse would check the patient’s name, pop open a corresponding case and hand the woman some pills and a glass of water. After downing the pills, you next had to walk over to the guard, who would search your mouth. Well, if they were going to give me pills, I guess I’d have to take them.
I reached the nurse. “Your name?” she asked.
“Alice Kumplunkem,” I said. Hurry up, dearie.
She ran her finger down a list of names on the board she carried. “Oh, here you are! Yes, Dr. Stavefield recommends absolutely no medication. You needn’t get in line next time.”
I shot the guard a dirty look. She made me get in line, yet her face showed no remorse, the shit locker.
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Gilda,” the nurse said to the guard. “You get off soon, don’t you?”
“Two more hours,” Gilda the guard replied. “My kids are taking me out for supper tonight,” she bragged. I hoped they’d take her to a Chinese restaurant so she’d get hungry an hour later.
The guard shift change came and we got a very disinterested guard. I was so sleepy and bored. These girls, with the exception of the sap in the bed next to me, all seemed as sane as I. Playing cards, reading, sleeping, all quite non-violent. To stay awake, I tried to figure out who Gravedigger was.
The guard, Stanley, called supper. This was our third meal of the day, and already it was becoming routine. I got in line, eighth from the last, and marched to the cafeteria. We were given a vinegary coleslaw, a piece of meat loaf and a spoonful of Brussels sprouts. Dessert was the leftover fruit from lunch. I was ravenous again and this time I took an apple. I ate between the bruises.
Supper came to a close and I was wondering what was next in store. Our room again? It was too dark to go ‘play’ outside. I figured it would be TV time. Sure enough, our conga line ended up in the recreation room.
The couches were filled quickly so a few girls went into a cupboard and pulled out some folding chairs. I followed suit. When in Rome…A general circle was formed and everyone sat down for God knows what. I was seated mere inches from the tough-looking girl I’d seen up close in the yard. She wasn’t ugly or anything; she just looked like she’d be able to handle herself in a back alley alone at dark. She looked like a two-bit hooker. Her hair was quite nice though. Somehow she managed to have it looking quite vampy although I’d seen no curling irons or hairspray anywhere in the institution.
Dr. Stavefield entered the room. “Hello, everyone,” he greeted us. “How are you all?” There were a few mumbled responses. My “Fine” came out loud and clear. “Yes, has everyone met Alice?” the doctor asked. Yeah, right, doc, I’m going to go around handing out my business card, after what you told me. No, I hadn’t met ANYONE. Again, a few mumbled replies. “Well,” the doctor continued, “who feels like talking tonight? Anyone got anything to get off their chests?” No one spoke. “Alice?” No!
I didn’t want to speak! I shook my head. “Gravedigger?” the doctor asked.
All heads swiveled towards me. Was I Gravedigger after all? Why?? Then I saw their eyes were focused on the gal next to me, the tough one. “I got nothing to say,” she said.
“Why don’t you start off our session until everyone feels comfortable enough to talk?” the doctor suggested.
“Why can’t Alice start?” Gravedigger asked. I cringed; I wanted no friction between her and I.
“Because this is Alice’s first night with our group. She has a right to be shy. I’m sure you remember your first visit with us,” the doctor had her recall.
“I remember what I DID to have to come here,” Gravedigger chose to remember. “That fucking bitch…”
“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” the doctor asked.
“Hey! You asked me to talk and this is what I now feel like talking about!” Gravedigger retorted. “I don’t know why I have to spend more than three years in this place!”
“Gravedigger, you were on parole from prison for your first slice and dice job,” the doctor calmly said. “You committed another violent crime while on parole so it became quite obvious you were a sick person. Now, you’ve made a lot of headway while you’ve been here and your case will be studied in the new year. If all goes well, you’ll be released. Who’d like to speak next?”
A girl timidly put up her hand. “I know Pussie is spreading germs,” she said, looking over at the Scab Girl, who I guess was called Pussie. Not like the cat but like the stuff that oozes out of sores.
“Now, Katrina, you know your tendency to over-exaggerate everything,” Dr. Stavefield said. I don’t know about that one, Doc. I tended to agree with Katrina.
“Where can I get some drugs….?” Pussie wanted to know.
“Pus…uh, Florence, you are getting drugs – a low form of methadone,” Stavefield said. What? Why her and not me? “There is no possible way for you to stick a needle into yourself. Not only are the needles under lock and key, but the scar tissue over your veins is too thick for them.”
“I KNOOOWW she’s spreading germs!” Katrina whined.
“Katrina,” the doctor sternly said. “There ARE germs everywhere, but they aren’t going to kill you. Are you going to kill Pussie like you killed your baby?”
“There’s germs in bath water!” Katrina declared.
“That didn’t mean you had to pour three gallons of bleach into the water,” the doctor grimly said. “Didn’t you know those fumes would asphyxiate her?” I don’t think Katrina was the doc’s favorite. I was going to stay clear of Katrina though, or else take at least three showers a day for her benefit. I found out later that was where the germophobic spent most of her time.
“You shouldn’t kill people by asphyxiation,” one girl stated. “You should throw a hair dryer into the bath, like I did. Twice. Then they jump!”
“No way!” another angrily yelled. “Not like that! Just shoot them! Plain and simple! Watch ‘em die, them cocksuckers! MOTHERFUCKERS! I’ll kill ya all! FUCKING FREAKS! I’ll shoot ya in the fucking face, you…”
“Linda!” Dr. Stavefield shouted. “Enough!” Linda shut up but still glowered.
“I wanna get fucked,” a voice said from the couch.
“Rebecca, you’re close to getting out of here,” the doctor said. “Let’s not have any talk like that from you.”
“I WANNA GET FUCKED!” Rebecca repeated. Well, so what, Rebecca? So did I but I wasn’t making a big production out of it.
“Shut up, Rebecca,” Gravedigger warned. I wondered why.
“You must fight your nymphomania,” the doctor urged. “If you
continue to prostitute yourself and then hold your tricks as sexual hostages, you will only end up back here.”
Rebecca pouted and massaged herself. We all pretended to ignore her but it was making me sick.
“Well, this was a good session,” the doctor said. “Enjoy your free time and I’ll see you tomorrow.” The doctor up and left.
Our guard turned on the TV and pulled a chair up to the set. I decided to watch some tube myself and was never so aware of all the sex and violence on TV these days. It perturbed me that most of the inmates seemed to also be watching. I couldn’t stay awake any longer and was starting to nod off when the guard stood up and turned off the set.
“Ten o’clock. Let’s go,” he said in a monotone.
“I didn’t get my methadone yet!” Pussie whined.
“You did too. At 3 p.m.,” our guard, Stanley, said. “You’re not conning me.”
“I’ll do ya,” Pussie offered.
“That’s why she’s here,” Gravedigger said to Rebecca. “She’ll do anything for a fix.”
“I’ll do ya for nothing!” Rebecca jumped in.
“No, thanks,” Stanley declined. “Come on, up to your room.”
We headed back for our dorm. Although I was deathly afraid of my fellow lunatics, I was also bone-tired. I left myself to their mercy.
* * *
And woke up alive. To pandemonium. Gravedigger was beating up on the crybaby in the bed next to me. “Shut up already! I can’t take this crying every day!” Smack to the eye. “If you don’t shut your trap, I’ll take a pair of scissors to ya!” Pow to the mouth. I don’t know if it was the threat or the last punch that helped, but Crybaby hid under her blankets and didn’t utter another sound.
“Gravedigger!” Katrina called out. “Guard’s coming!” Gravedigger and Katrina ran off towards the washroom.
My nerves were shot first thing in the morning. I was too nervous to get out of bed and go for a leak. And again, I was just starving! My desire for pills was subsiding as my craving for a substantial meal grew. I heard a whimper and glanced over at the next bed.