by Susanne Beck
"Jesus," I breathed, beyond incensed at the insensitivity of the warden. "I thought you said he was fair!"
"He is fair, Angel. I’m a murderer, remember. The Black Widow. He didn’t want to have the taxpayers up in arms over my rehabilitation." She shrugged. "Just the way of the world."
I sat up straight on the couch, seeing red. "It shouldn’t be, damnit! Everyone deserves the right to be treated like a human being!"
Throwing back her head, Corinne laughed. "There’s that fire I’ve been waiting for!"
"It’s not funny, Corinne," I replied indignantly.
"Of course it is, Angel! It’s wonderful! Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear your blazing tones of righteous indignation? I swear, that’s what kept me going through all this."
Still angry, I crossed my arms, flinching away as she reached up to pinch my cheek, something she knew I detested with a passion, and so, of course, did at every available opportunity.
I couldn’t stay angry with her for long, though, and with a final scowl, I relaxed back against the couch once again, grabbing my mug and downing the rest of my tea as I waited for her to continue, resolving not to give her still more fodder by losing my temper again.
"In any event," she finally relented, "I found myself back in the Bog much worse for the wear. I only thank the goddess that I’m right handed and could still do some things for myself, else I likely would have thought up a way to get myself killed just to end the indignities." She smiled to take the sting from her words. "Critter was a great deal of help to me, as were Pony and Sonny and some of the others. They spent long hours trying to encourage me, in their own special ways, to follow the exercise plan the doctors had managed to slip into my bag when I left the hospital, but I’m afraid I was quite cross with them all. Like I said before, there didn’t seem to be much point in it."
"So what happened?" I asked, looking at a woman who was as far from a crippled invalid as I could possibly imagine.
She grinned. "Ah, at last, an easy question. One day, while I was in the library feeling quite sorry for myself, Pony came in and without so much as a ‘how-do-you-do’, promptly wheeled me into the common room, one of the few places to escape the wrath of the warden’s redecoration scheme. She parked me in front of the television and turned the volume up full-bore, as if I’d gone deaf as well as paralyzed."
"Well?" I asked when she paused. I looked over at Ice who, though she appeared engrossed in her reading, I could tell was listening as intently as I was.
"It was the local news and a reporter was standing in front of the governor’s mansion. In back of her were all these people shouting and waving banners. Most of the banners said ‘Free Corinne’ or ‘Prisoners are Humans Too’ and other slogans of that nature. I was quite stunned, as I’m sure you’d suppose."
I just nodded, keeping to myself the fact that, were I in her position, I’d most probably be a good deal more than ‘stunned’ to see people protesting on my behalf no matter what the reasons.
"When the view switched back to the reporter," Corinne continued, "I saw a very familiar face standing next to her."
"Who?"
"A certain lawyer we all know and love."
"Donita?" I was shocked, and yet I wasn’t. Somewhere deep inside, I knew Donita had an important part to play.
"The very same."
"I didn’t know she was your lawyer."
"Either did I." This was said with a significant glance in Ice’s direction, who, prudently, I thought, chose to keep her nose buried in her book.
When she saw that my partner wasn’t going to raise to the bait, she turned her attention back on me. "She played the part of the virtuous well, standing on her soapbox and explaining my condition in the bleakest terms possible, describing how I’d been denied, in her terms, even the most basic of health care; how I sat paralyzed in my wheelchair, unable to tend to even the most basic of my needs, at the mercy of uncaring guards and prisoners. She was so good that even I found myself feeling some small sympathy for this woman behind bars; a woman, I thought, not very much like me at all."
She stretched a bit, then settled back against the couch once again, draining the last dregs of her tea from the mug and setting it down on the end table. I kept silent, rapt with attention in her tale. "She also put forth more salient, less emotional, points. Like how I was the oldest female inmate in the nation. How I had already served almost twice the prison time that the average male offender with an equal or greater sentence served before release. How, with my current disability, I would be unable to speak for myself when the time for my next parole hearing came." Corinne smiled fondly. "She put her points forth so well that I think that, if a petition for my immediate release had been there right then, even the reporter would have dropped her microphone to sign it."
"I don’t doubt that for a minute. Donita’s very ...passionate ...about her work."
"And about other things as well, if memory serves," Corinne shot back, eyeing Ice yet again.
This time, the collected works of Elliot lowered and blue eyes glittered with a look that would have fused metal. I think even my fillings felt the assault.
Unrepentant, Corinne simply stared right back over the tops of her glasses, her lips curved in a smile that was evil incarnate. Though the heat in the room seemed to rise several degrees, I shivered, as if a goose had toddled across my grave and decided to build a nest there.
"Can we get back to the story please?" I finally interjected to stop the battle of wills which was quickly escalating into a full-scale war, even without a word being said on either side.
"Fine," Corinne finally replied, turning to me and folding her hands primly on her lap.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"When the spot was over and the news moved on to more worthy issues, the television was turned off and I was wheeled back into the library by three Amazons with passions of their own. Once there, I was locked into place, and then told in no uncertain terms that if so many total strangers were willing to fight for me, I’d damn well better start fighting for myself. Or else. The ‘else’ part of the equation, of course, wasn’t spelled out, but I was led to believe that the consequences of my refusal would be very dire indeed."
"So you told them to go to hell."
She grinned again. "Perhaps a bit more garbled than that, but essentially, yes. Even gave them directions if they were so inclined to take my suggestion."
Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but laugh. The strokes might have weakened Corinne’s body, but it was glaringly evident that her mind, as well as her spirit, were still very much intact. "Obviously you must have listened at some point, though," I observed, looking at her apparently intact body.
She shrugged. "There may be no fool like an old fool, but I do manage to come to my senses eventually."
T.S. Eliot snorted. Or at least his book did.
"That’s quite enough out of you, missy," Corinne said in the general direction of Ice, her nose lifted to quite a regal angle. "Don’t think that your lover here knows so much about you that she wouldn’t be surprised by some of the more sordid tales of you I have stored away."
Casting Corinne her most droll look, Ice closed her book, placed it back on the bookshelf, and stood, slowly stretching the kinks out of her body caused by a hard day’s work. I felt my mouth go dry at the sight, as it almost always did, even after so many years together.
Walking over to us, she placed a kiss on my forehead and one on Corinne’s proffered cheek, then threaded long fingers through her hair and shook it out before bidding us both a quiet goodnight.
After her long, lithe body disappeared up the stairs, Corinne and I let out twin sighs, as if we were a couple of school-girls who’d just seen the high school quarterback stroll by on campus.
I turned to look at her, swallowing against the dryness in my throat. "Tea?" I croaked.
"Tea," she returned.
* * *
We talked well into the
night. Corinne continued her tale, picking it up from where she left the Bog for the first time in forty five years.
"I was quite overwhelmed. You’ll remember that I was incarcerated sometime after the war. Things were different then. Simpler. Smaller. When I left prison, it didn’t only feel like I was entering a new country. It felt as if I was entering a new world. For a minute there, just a minute, I wanted to just forget everything and go back inside to a place I knew."
I found myself nodding in empathy, knowing exactly what she had gone through, having had the same reaction myself, though not on so grand a scale, to be sure. If five years had changed the outside world so much, how much more could nine times that many?
She then went on to explain where she’d gone once out of prison. Donita had offered to put her up. Her lover, a singer of some small renown, was out on tour and the house was more than large enough to accommodate them both for as long as Corinne felt the need to stay.
"I took her up on the offer. Though I made it clear that the arrangement wasn’t by far a permanent one. As temporary lodgings went, however, it was quite fine. I was up and walking by then, and the grounds were quite large, and secluded as well, so I built up my strength by taking long, solitary walks, still marveling in the freedom to do as I wished, when I wished."
I nodded in commiseration with that as well, remembering well my own first forays into a world without bars, without fences; a world whose only constrictions were the ones I myself placed upon it.
"Then one evening, shortly after my release, a quite delicious young man appeared quite unexpectedly on the doorstep." She grinned, touching her hair. "And me, without my makeup."
Laughing, I gently slapped her arm, then shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, various parts of my anatomy beginning to voice their displeasure over remaining dormant for such a long stretch of time.
As if taking a hint I wasn’t aware I was projecting, she sped up her story, quickly telling me that, though she initially had reservations about the handsome—and she made it a point to state that word quite a few times, as if I’d missed it the first time, and the second, and third—stranger, they were soon laid to rest by Donita’s apparently complete acceptance of the man.
And any doubts which might have been left to linger in her mind were irrevocably erased when he handed her an item he said came from a friend. Reaching into her purse, she then handed me the same item and I sat staring at it, stunned.
It was the picture of Ice and her family.
The only one she had.
"Who gave you this?" I asked, trailing a gentle finger over the forever-frozen figure of Ice as a child.
"He said his name was Andre."
My guess confirmed, I nodded, still looking at the picture in my hand. The very fact that it made it back to me safely showed me how much trust Ice had placed in both Andre and Corinne. I spared a second to wonder briefly just who Andre was to Ice, beyond a friend and contact. They had seemed comfortable with each other the one time I’d seen them together. Was he, like Donita, another lover? Ice had never mentioned a liking for what my father called ‘outdoor plumbing’, but then again, I’d never really asked, so I couldn’t be sure one way or the other.
That thought bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Showing once again her disquieting propensity to read my thoughts, Corinne clamped a gentle hand around my wrist. "Worry not, sweet Angel. Andre is a friend to Ice, nothing more."
Flushing at having been read so easily, I looked up at her. "How do you know?" It wasn’t asked in defense, but rather with curiosity.
She laughed lightly, squeezing my wrist. "Well, aside from the fact that he’s as gay as my old dad’s hatband, don’t you think Ice would have mentioned if anything more had gone on between them? After all, she was quite up front about her former relationship with your lawyer."
I smiled with more relief than perhaps I should have shown, but the revelation did make me feel better. I said as much to Corinne, who returned my smile knowingly. Then she returned to other matters.
"Donita excused herself, and I led Andre to the living-room, where we sat and shared tea as he talked, in a roundabout way, about my ‘getting away from it all’ and how nice certain parts of Canada were this time of year." She snorted. "For Eskimos, perhaps, but I didn’t debate the point with him. He had piqued my interest in a most pleasant way, and it wasn’t just the body he was hiding under those rugged clothes either."
She looked at me again, her eyes filled with sadness. "You see, I didn’t know where you had gone, Angel. For the first time in my life in the Bog, all my questions were met with silence. Andre was Ice’s contact with Donita, but under strict orders from the tall, dark and deadly one, he was forbidden to reveal any locations whatsoever. And that included yours."
"To keep her from knowing too much, right?" I guessed, well knowing how Ice’s mind worked in such instances. "Don’t ask, don’t tell?"
"Exactly. Even with lawyer-client privilege, Ice didn’t want to put Donita in a position untenable to her. I didn’t even know if she’d managed to find you after you’d been released, though I imagined she did. She loved you much too much to let you go so easily." She smiled sadly. "It was the fantasy of the two of you, striding off into the proverbial sunset together, that got me through many a depression-filled night in the Bog, Angel."
Turning my wrist, I grasped her hand in mine, gently stroking the smooth skin with the tips of my fingers. "I’m sorry you had to go through that, Corinne." Tears, those damnable emotional weathervanes, came to my eyes once again, and this time, I let them fall. "I thought about you all the time. Wondered how you were doing, what you were thinking. How you were coping. I missed you so much."
"The feeling is very mutual, Angel. There wasn’t a day that went by in that hell-bound place that I didn’t think of you and pray that you’d found your happiness." Lifting her free hand, she gently brushed away my tears, then cupped my cheek. Drawing her face to mine, she tenderly kissed my lips, then pulled away, a loving smile on her face. "You taught an old woman how to love again, Angel. And for that, you’ll always be in my heart."
Smiling back at her, I covered her hand with my own, nuzzling into her palm and enjoying the closeness, too long absent, between us.
After a moment, she pulled her hand away, laughing slightly. "Enough of this mutual admiration society, Angel, lest your lover find us kissing in the living-room like a couple of school-girls and decide my head would look best as a bookend."
I laughed. "Oh yeah. I can see that happening."
"You never know. It could. And I’d best not stick around to find out." She stretched. "I believe the rest of this story is best left for another day. It’s late and that wonderful bed is calling me."
"Don’t you dare, Corinne! You have to finish the story! You can’t leave me hanging like this!"
She threw that evil grin at me. "You must have me confused with someone else, Angel. I would never leave you hanging, my dear."
Ah, what wealth I would give to have a face that knew how to hide a blush. Since I didn’t, however, I resolved to bear her teasing by ignoring it. Verbally, at least.
Corinne laughed, charmed. "Not to worry, Angel. The story will still be here in the morning. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you tell me to, of course."
I pretended to think about that for a moment. Then grinned, standing and helping her to her feet. "Nah. I think we’ll keep you around for awhile." Wrapping her in a heartfelt hug, I kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Corinne. Thanks for the story. And thanks for being here. You’re one of the best Christmas presents I’ve ever had."
She wrapped me in her living and precious warmth for a long moment, then pulled away, a crooked smile on her face belying the suspicious brightness of her eyes. "Enough of this now, or the next thing you know, the Hallmark people will be pounding on our door and suing for copyright infringement."
"A fate worse than death," I agreed, kissing her once more on t
he cheek before she batted me away. "Goodnight, my friend."
"And a good night to you as well, sweetheart." Then she winked. "Don’t do anything I wouldn’t."
I felt my own evil grin surface. "Oh Corinne, I do things you’ve never even dreamed."
For one of the first times since I’d known her, I caught the great wordsmith speechless.
I basked in the moment.
Which, of course, ended fifty-nine seconds too soon.
She eyed me brazenly from head to toe, her gaze roaming intently over every inch of my body. A slow smile broke out over her face. "Oh, I don’t know about that, Angel. My dreams can be quite inventive."
Then like a general who leaves the battlefield after the last shot has been fired, assured of his easy victory, Corinne walked away, waving casually over her shoulder.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
It was good to have her home.
* * *
After placing the mugs in the kitchen to be dealt with later and conducting my nighttime ritual, I ascended the steps to the bedroom, stopping at the top to take in the picture of Ice, her body sculpted in fractured moonlight. She lay on her back, her hands clasped behind her head, and I could tell by the even rise and fall of her gloriously naked breasts that she wasn’t asleep.
Stripping off my own clothing quickly and quietly, I joined her on our bed, propping myself up on one elbow and gently stroking the bangs from her forehead. "Can’t sleep?"
"Just thinking," she burred in a low tone.
"’bout what?"
I didn’t really expect an answer, and so wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get one. Continuing to gently stroke her brow, I watched her eyes dart from one shadow to another on the ceiling, seeming to read them as a Turkish fortune-teller reads coffee grounds.
"Corinne alright?" she asked after a long moment.