by Holt, Leah
The adrenaline started to fade and my thoughts became clear. If he told anyone at all about this I could lose my job! God, no, I could be arrested!
I sat at my desk as the weight of what had just happened began to crush me.
Fuck. Fuck! Why did I do that? My head fell onto my arms across the desktop. I was shocked with my behavior and lack of control. I just screwed a prisoner. What the hell did I do? What came over me?
This is horrible.
I slept with a killer.
My mind began to run in circles. A whirlwind of emotions flooded my body. I'd just jeopardized my career, my reputation. The depth of what had occurred was unimaginable.
At least there was no evidence.
Wait.
Evidence?
My head shot up, hair flying over my eyes. We didn't have any protection! Oh fuck! There was no condom, he could have an STD for all I know!
Fuck, wait, what if I get...
Pregnant.
The reality of the situation began to sink in fast. My heart pounded, not from excitement, but from fear. I was sick to my stomach over my actions. My breathing became heavy and irregular, I wanted to cry. The repercussions of what had just happened were too much to process.
I wondered what Owen was feeling. Did he have the same thoughts, same regrets?
This is bad. This could be really, really bad. I sat up in my chair, my hands clenching my desk in shock.
Maybe he won't say anything, and maybe I won't get a disease or... or knocked up.
I need to calm down. Take a deep breath.
Owen wasn't going to say anything. Somehow, as I sat there and mulled it over, I just knew it. He wasn't the sort, he was silent about his past as it was. As far as people knowing what we'd done, I was safe, but...
But what if I get pregnant?
What if?
***
That moment stayed with me for the next week.
I relived it daily in every thought. The week seemed to be a blur after our encounter, I walked around the prison on eggshells.
Every interaction I had with the warden pushed my stomach into my throat. I anticipated him saying something to me about it, or just plain firing me. I breathed a sigh of relief after each and every meeting with him when nothing occurred.
By the following Friday my nervous behavior around him had faded some, our conversations flowed easier for me. The fear of my illicit sexual experience being brought to his attention had started to trail off.
Before I knew it, it was time for Owen's hearing. The day of his possible release was here. It was a huge event, something I'd been waiting for for weeks.
Of course, my alarm decided to not go off.
What the hell! Why today of all days?
Every light on my way to the court house seemed to be against me. I sat at the latest red light, trying to apply mascara in my small visor mirror. Come on! Come on! Turn green already! I'm the only car at the light, why is it still red?
I had to get to this hearing, I wanted to be there to support Owen. I'd turned in my report the day before and really hoped it would help to free him. I wanted to see him get his second chance at life. He made a mistake, but I truly felt he had changed as a person.
The tires on my small sedan kicked up snow and dirt from the pavement as I finally pulled into the parking lot. I tore my bag from the passenger seat, jumping out of the car.
The large granite building seemed football fields away. My senses heightened as I reached the mass of stone steps that led to two sheer glass doors. It seemed no matter how fast my feet were going the double doors were out of reach.
Barely reaching the top, I spotted Warden Lynch as he exited. “Warden, sorry I'm late. I...”
“The hearing is over, Ms. Laroche, everyone is gone now. You really need to be more attentive to the time.”
My heart stopped, knees locking up. “What do you mean it's over? I thought it was set to start at nine-thirty? It's only ten of, it can't be done already.”
“I'm sorry, but it is.” He continued down the steps, whistling a tune I wasn't familiar with.
“Well what happened? Where is Owen?” I needed an answer. I had to know if he was set free or sent back to serve the rest of his days behind steel barred doors.
“He's gone. One lucky fellow I tell you. One lucky fellow.” He twirled a set of keys over his finger while the song he hummed merged into his last word.
I stood motionless as the warden walked past me. I expected to be happy and excited for Owen's new found freedom. Instead, deflation and disappointment took over.
I didn't get to see him. I missed my last chance to see Owen.
That moment to see his face when they told him he could leave was gone. What did he look like when he realized the cuffs and imprisonment that had been his life for years, was no more?
I don't know if I'll ever get to see him again.
I wondered where he would go, what he would do now. I wished I hadn't missed my chance to tell him good luck and congratulations.
The chance to get one last wink in my direction was over.
Chapter Eight
Charlie
Two months later
The key wouldn't open the deadbolt to the front door. I stood outside, shivering, jostling it from side to side. Damn thing. I can't keep doing this everyday. Open all ready!
The sound of a soft whimper filled my ears. “Hold on Biscuit, I'm coming.”
I was frustrated with the frozen lock and gave it one last turn to the left, then heard a 'click.' Finally. A heavy sigh of relief floated out as I opened the door, the warmth from inside heating my face instantly. It's time for a new lock.
I dropped my purse to the wood floor and bent down to greet Biscuit. I'd adopted the dog that had been hit. After no one claimed him from the pound I was compelled to take him in. He needed me, the poor little thing would have been put down if I hadn't taken him.
There was no way I could let that happen.
“Hey lady! It only took you fifteen minutes to get in today. That's a record!” Sara yelled from the kitchen.
“Yeah, thanks for leaving me out there to freeze.” A light chuckle escaped me. “Can we get a new one? This one sucks.” I'd have bought one myself, but money was... tight. After my case with Owen had finished, the prison decided to let me go. Supposedly, they didn't need me anymore. Shock was the only feeling I'd had when the warden delivered the news to me.
He had called me into his office and said, “Ms. Laroche, I'm sorry to inform you but your time here is done. We appreciate the work you did and wish you luck on your next endeavor.” Lynch had his feet up on the desk and was eating pistachios. He spit the shells into a small bowl on the floor.
A true professional, I had thought.
There had been no remorse in his voice towards me, he delivered the information with no feelings. It was as if we had sat down to discuss what he should have for lunch.
My spirit completely sunk in that moment. I had moved up here thinking this prison was a permanent position.
Well, I was wrong.
He told me that I had only been brought on for that one case, that they didn't have the budget to support my salary, and that he would keep in me in mind for the future.
I knew the real motives behind my termination. I had disobeyed his orders, made him look like a fool to his crew and he certainly wasn't going to have that. I don't think he knew how to handle someone who didn't bend over backwards to kiss his ass.
I tried to be optimistic about moving on. It was hard, the economy was in a bit of a funk, jobs were scarce. I had put in five applications already to a few neighboring towns with no luck.
Thank god for Sara. If I didn't have her here I'd be boarding the next plane back to Louisiana.
I'm not ready to go home. I wanted to make this leap up north work, not be a failure on my resume.
Sara had offered to let me stay with her until I found another job. She had an extra room in her condo a
nd was more than willing to help me out. Without any income I couldn't afford to stay anywhere else.
Her place was small, but cozy. The flamboyant New York attitude she had could be seen all over the place. There were large fake trees placed in the living room on either side of the television. She couldn't be bothered having to take the time to water and maintain real ones.
The walls were full of replicas in fine art. From a Picasso in the entryway to a Warhol in living room. Sara loved the finer things in life. I was just grateful for her hospitality.
What a turn my life has taken. Going from being on top of the world to the bottom of the barrel. I don't know what I'm going to do. I feel lost for the first time in my life.
“So, how's the job hunt going? Any call backs yet?” The sound of her knife hitting the cutting board echoed through the hall.
“Ah, I put in a few applications today. So we'll have to see. Fingers crossed.” I picked up Biscuit and walked into the kitchen. It smelled amazing. Sara was a great therapist, and an even better cook.
The apartment was filled with the smell of homemade tomato sauce with meatballs. Being Italian, she made seven course meals every night. I was fairly certain I had gained ten pounds since I moved in a month ago.
“Can you get him away from the table, he's cute and all but I don't want his hair ending up in our dinner. I added enough spices already.” She let out her high pitched, raspy laugh while pointing at my new companion with her butcher knife.
“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” I leaned over and placed him on the tiles of the kitchen floor. “What are you making? It smells delicious, I'm starving.” I picked up a raw piece of potato and started munching on it.
“Really, Charlie? Raw potato? That's gross. You should at least let me cook it first.”
“What? It's good.”
“Have you always done that? Because honestly it's weird.”
I laughed and shook my head. “So what are you making already?”
“Well, we have salad, pasta with meatballs, compliments of my grandmother and her famous secret recipe. Don't ask me about what's in it, because I won't tell you. Garlic bread, and I decided to use up these potatoes, so homemade chips for later.”
I grabbed a second piece of potato and shoved it into my mouth. “Were they growing eyes and staring at you?”
“Basically. I can't believe you're eating them like that.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue, making a gag face. “So nasty, Charlie.”
“You should try it, it's pretty good.” My smile broadened and I grabbed a third.
Sara slapped my hand with the spoon she was about to stir the sauce with. “No more, you won't have room for dinner if you eat them all.”
Since I'd been living here our friendship had grown so much stronger. I'd debated several times telling her about Owen and what had happened, but was afraid to let her in on my secret. I didn't want to be judged or scolded. But, I needed advice.
He'd been on my mind, now more than ever.
I wonder where he is, what he's doing. Does he ever think about me?
After losing my job it seemed the world had crumbled around me. At this point how much worse could things get?
“Hey Sara, there's something I want to talk to you about.”
“Okay, shoot,” she said.
“Um, I don't know how to start, actually. It's hard to explain.” I don't have to tell her everything. I could leave out some details about it. Maybe sugar coat it a bit. Some advice would be better than no advice. And technically, he's not a convict anymore, or my patient. “Alright, so there was this guy that I was really really into...”
“Guy! You never mentioned a guy to me before! Do tell,” she said, resting her chin on her fist against the counter top.
I cringed at her enthusiasm. “I wasn't sure where it was going with him. But honestly, he's completely not the type of guy I would have ever pictured myself with.”
“Where did you meet him? Is he cute? I can't believe you didn't tell me about him.” She waved her spoon at me like a mother scolding her child.
“We met at work—”
“Work! Was he a guard? Some of those guards are so hot, with their uniforms and tight pants. Did you sleep with him?” Her eyes were large with curiosity. She loved to know the juicy information.
Sara had a good heart, great intentions, but her addiction to gossip drove me crazy. She was the person who had the subscription to every tabloid magazine. She knew everything about peoples' personal lives, from politicians to the clerk at the local grocery store. Who, by the way, I now knew slept with the manager for a larger discount in the store.
I knew more about the lives of those around us than they probably knew about themselves.
My eyes rolled from her bombardment of questions. “Anyway, I'm just having a hard time. He is constantly on my mind. I've debated possibly trying to find him. But I don't know, maybe I shouldn't. He's not exactly the dating type.”
“You avoided my question. Did you sleep with him?” Sara placed her hands on her hips, eyes glaring at me for an answer.
“Yes,” I muttered out. I couldn't bring my gaze to hers. I fixed them upon Biscuit who was so elegantly cleaning himself in the corner.
“So, you slept with this guy and haven't heard from him in a while? Sounds to me like he just used you. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I wouldn't be wondering about an asshole like that.”
“It didn't happen exactly like that. I don't feel used.” I grabbed an uncooked piece of spaghetti.
“You better not be thinking about eating that raw, too! What are you, pregnant?” She laughed and turned to tend to her sauce.
Pregnant? The question made me stand straighter. No. No way. I had my period last month. It was much lighter than usual and didn't last as long as it typically would, but I still had it. There was a lot of stress lately. I assumed that contributed to my abnormal cycle.
My eyes peered down at the spaghetti I had begun to eat. Why am I eating this? I don't remember ever wanting to eat raw pasta. I ate weird things occasionally, but still...
No, it's not possible.
It'd been two months since I had sex with Owen.
Silence filled the kitchen, Sara glanced my way. “Look, I'm sorry. It's just that I've been there before. Don't let it get to you, there is always someone else. He probably isn't worth it, especially if he hasn't called you.” Her voice was sincere and her eyes full of concern. “He must have been good in the sack for you to still be thinking about him.”
“It's not that, it's just he had been in a hard spot, now I'm in one, too. I guess I'm just curious about where he is now and what he's done with himself.” Nausea began to fill my stomach, I had the sudden urge to throw up. I tried to take a deep breath and suppress the feeling.
What is going on with me? Where is this coming from?
“You alright, Charlie?” she asked.
“Yeah, I'm fine. I just feel sick all of a sudden.”
“Maybe it was the raw potatoes you just stuffed your face with. I would want to puke, too.” Her face mimicked vomiting.
“Ha. Ha. Funny,” I said.
Something is wrong, though. And I have felt different recently. I've been emotional, eating strange things, but couldn't that be from the stress of job hunting?
The cold nose of my dog against my ankle broke my train of thought. I leaned down and pet him on his head, quickly he flopped over so I could scratch his belly. His tongue hung freely from his mouth while his leg beat up and down.
“You're such a good dog, my little guy.”
“You better wash your hands after that, dinner is almost ready.”
“Yes, mom,” I said as we both giggled. I made my way down the hall towards the bathroom. Another wave of unease hit me, making my tongue tingle. Oh no. I knew this sensation.
Holding my stomach, I swayed towards the door. As the bathroom grew closer so did my urge to throw up. I couldn't push it away. I'm going to puke. What t
he hell? I must be getting sick, caught some type of bug. Before I could fathom another thought my face was buried in the toilet.
“Charlie! You alright?” The sound of feet came thudding down the hall.
Gripping the edge of the toilet, I groaned. “Yeah, I must have caught a bug or something. I'm just going to go lay down for a bit.”
“You sure you're not pregnant? I've never seen you this color before.”
My eyebrows arched in disbelief to her question. “No, Sara, I'm not pregnant.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “Alright, I'll let you know when dinner is done and if you're feeling better, come eat. Otherwise get some rest. Hopefully it's just a twenty-four hour thing.”
I shook my head yes and made my way to my bed. I flopped down on the mattress, feeling more nauseous than I could ever remember.
This is awful. My stomach is turning and I don't know why. I closed my eyes, hoping the spinning feeling would go away. A hand rested on my belly, the other across my forehead.
What if I am pregnant? A heaviness engulfed my chest. Panic started to set in.
No, I can't be. Stop it, Charlie. You're not pregnant. I could hear my heart pounding out of fear. What would I do? I didn't have a job or a stable home, and no clue about kids. The thought of carrying a child and raising it alone scared me.
I could always move home. I'm sure my family would be there for me. Gritting my jaw, I took a slow inhale of air. I'm not pregnant. I can't think like this, I'm getting all worked up for no reason. This is crazy.
My eyes opened to the brightness of light. Sleep had taken over while I laid in bed resting. My arms stretched up and it felt good. Biscuit rested at the foot of my bed as he always did.
As I looked at him I thought back to how lucky he was to be alive. It was great for me to have him and know he was safe.
I wish I knew if Owen was safe.
Suddenly Biscuit lifted his head, his ears leaning forward. A soft knock resounded against my door. He knew someone was there before they made themselves known. A quiet bark released under his breath.