Jail Chronicles, Chapter Fourteen

Released.

I barely allow myself to believe it.  I know I still have to go back to G-pod, and pack my things.  They will be calling my name to bunk and junk.  I am not the only one going home that day, and I tell myself I can wait it out, and let everyone go first.

Once back in the pod, there is much celebration and I Told You So’s at the news I have been released.  I head straight to my cell and pack up everything I own.  A box full of papers, and the property I was issued.  It seems as if everyone else is leaving first. I finally beg Peggy “Please, I want to go home”

She calls my name and says the magical phrase, which is really silly, she knows I’m standing at the door packed.  I grab my things, walk up front and wait among the others as my papers are processed.  I am given my clothes and allowed to change into them.  I hand over my oranges, glad to be rid of them.  My clothes are loose on me now, and wrinkled and no longer appropriate, but there is not a trace of orange on them.

I am handed my paperwork, my purse, and escorted out to the lobby.  I am within feet of freedom.  Just beyond the double set of doors.  I stop on my way out to buy a soda and I walk out the door into the sunshine. 

I sit on the curb, drinking my soda, enjoying the sunshine, the caffeine and the freedom. I turn on my phone, and ignore all the messages.  I have just three phone calls I want to make. I dial his number. I don’t know if he’s at work, if he’s home, if he can come get me, or even if he’ll answer the phone, but I call, if for no other reason than to hear his voice.

I call Batman. 

Batman: Hey
Me: What are you doing?
Batman: I’m getting ready to leave..
Me: Where are you going?
Batman: Home.
Me: Would you come get me and take me home too?
Batman: Where are you?
Me: Free.
Batman: I’m on my way.

I am free, and going home.

.

 

Jail Chronicles, Chapter Twelve

Tuesdays are transport days.  The Federals all hope it’s their day to go.  Even if it only to a courthouse, and on to another jail, or even prison, it means outside, if only for a minute.  We have two that are sure they are on the list to leave. 

I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now why it is jails choose the middle of the night, or early early morning to transport people.  Whatever the reason it is almost always 4:30 AM, and this day was no different. 

The pod knew we could be losing two of our own this morning.  We all slept lightly, waiting to hear ‘bunk and junk’.  Their excitement to be leaving meant their departure was loud and heard by everyone. 

I watched them leave, saying a silent prayer for them, “Let them find friendly faces wherever they end up tonight. Let there be a bunk for them, and cellies who are nice enough. Let them find friendly faces.”

I guess I should have been more specific.  At 6:00 that night, the two who had left that morning were returned to us.  They had in fact met friendly faces where they had ended up that night. They would try again in the morning.

Jamie would tell us that apparently all this sitting around, sleeping all hours of the day, and eating a shit ton of junk food bought from commissary, had caught up to her.  Her clothes that she was wearing when she came in four months ago, no longer fit her.  They had to find some left behind sweat pants. 

Just another day in jail.