‘Yeah,’ Jennifer answered. ‘Yeah,’ she said again, ‘I think I am.’
‘Then you shall be pardoned,’ Theresa concluded – and then, like the Pope, she actually blessed Jennifer with the sign of the cross. ‘Now go, my child, and sin no more.’
‘That’s why you got paid the big bucks,’ Jennifer laughed. ‘You really are good at this shit. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Well,’ Theresa demurred, ‘you know what they say about modesty, don’t you? They say modesty is the art of letting other people find out for themselves just how wonderful you are. That’s what they say about modesty.’
‘I’ll remember that, Theresa,’ Jennifer said. ‘You are pretty wonderful.’
‘You are, too, honey,’ Theresa replied. ‘You are, too.’
That afternoon, when the time finally came for Jennifer’s parole hearing to begin, she was not surprised to discover that everything that Theresa had told her was absolutely true. It all had to start with Jennifer forgiving herself.
As she walked down the hall, she smiled. She couldn’t believe that she was about to go to a major meeting without first spending several hours deciding what to wear. Never in her life had she ever gone before any kind of board meeting without her hair styled and her makeup done. But she couldn’t do any ‘homework’ for this meeting, and she hadn’t prepared one single thing to say. Two years ago she would’ve never forgiven herself for being so badly prepared, but today she knew that she had to forgive herself for having been so mistakenly prepared in the past. The Jennifer Spencer that stepped into that parole board hearing had forgiven herself for being herself. She could only hope that Theresa was right, and that others would be willing to forgive her, too.
‘I’ve never given a more heartfelt and forceful recommendation for parole in my life,’ Gwen Harding said. She was waiting outside the meeting room to take Jennifer in. ‘And it wasn’t easy for me, Jennifer,’ she said, wiping away a tear. ‘If I could have my way, you’d never leave here. I don’t know how I’ll do it all without you.’
There wasn’t time for Jennifer to reply to Gwen’s words. The bailiff opened the door and instructed her to ‘appear before the Westchester County Board of Parole’. Gwen reached out and took Jennifer’s hand between hers and gave it a squeeze. ‘Good luck, Jenny,’ she sniffed. ‘Good luck.’
There were five of them. Three men and two women. They all looked so severe as they sat perched behind the long wooden table. They were all dressed in various pastels and plaids, and before each of them was a high stack of papers. The older of the two women gave Jennifer an encouraging smile, but the other remained quite grim and said, ‘Have a seat, Ms Spencer.’ The three men all cleared their throats in unison, then one of them asked, ‘Are you ready to begin?’
‘I am,’ Jennifer said quietly as she sat in the chair in the middle of the room.
The proceeding began just as everyone said that it would. There was a painful retelling of her crime, her arrest, her trial, and her conviction, and when it was over Jennifer was asked if what she had just heard was complete and accurate. She nodded and said that it was. Her record of incarceration came next: her work record, her time in the SHU, the various reports that Byrd had written up – it was all there. And again, she was asked if the record was complete and accurate, and again Jennifer nodded and said that it was. Jennifer’s mouth was so dry that her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth and all she could think about were the five pitchers of ice water that were on the table where the board members sat. ‘May I have something to drink?’ she asked them.
The youngest of the men stood and brought her a glass. Jennifer thanked him for it, drank deeply, and then held the glass in her lap, waiting for the hearing to continue.
‘Warden Harding just presented a glowing review of you, Ms Spencer,’ the older woman said. ‘She assures us that you have been a most cooperative visitor here, and that in her mind, you are both remorseful for your crimes and fully rehabilitated. Would you agree with that assessment?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Jennifer replied. ‘I would agree.’
‘Do you have anything to add to that?’ the other woman asked.
Jennifer was unsure as to what she should say. She hadn’t heard Gwen’s review, so she didn’t know whether something had to be added or not. ‘I – uh,’ she hesitated. ‘I’m not sure what Gwen – I mean, I’m not sure what Warden Harding told you,’ Jennifer said, ‘so I’m not sure what to say.’
‘What would you like to say?’ the older woman asked.
Jennifer thought for a moment. What would she like to say? She didn’t really know. All she knew was that she just wanted to be released on parole. So that is what she said. ‘I’d like to be granted parole, ma’am,’ was her answer. ‘That’s all I really have to say.’
The older woman and the handsome young water-bearer chuckled softly. He was the next one to ask her a question. ‘And why do you believe you should be granted that parole?’ he asked with a smile.
‘Because there’s nothing left for me to do here,’ Jennifer answered without thinking.
The members of the board seemed to be dumbstruck with her answer. The older man poured himself a glass of water, while the other one shuffled his papers. The kind old woman smiled and leaned back in her chair, but the younger one leaned forward in hers and studied Jennifer’s face. This time, it was the very severe middle-aged man who spoke up.
‘Do you believe that you were sent to this facility to do mission work, Ms Spencer?’ he snapped at her.
‘Excuse me?’ Jennifer asked, looking at him. He might’ve been Donald Michaels’s brother. There was that same smug, self-satisfied and all-knowing smirk on his face.
‘Do you know why you were sent here?’ he wanted to know.
‘Yes sir, I do know,’ Jennifer answered. ‘You have read my records, we have agreed that they are accurate. There is no question of why I was sent here. It was my understanding that today was going to be about why it was time for me to leave.’
‘Please, Ms Spencer,’ the older woman counseled. ‘Do not jeopardize your freedom by responding so harshly.’
‘That’s right, young lady,’ the older man echoed. ‘It is our responsibility to determine whether or not your behavior warrants parole. It is not in your best interest to behave badly, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes,’ Jennifer replied, ‘I do agree.’
‘Then would you like to reconsider your answer to my question?’ the young man asked her.
Jennifer blushed. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t remember what your question was.’
The Donald Michaels clone and the snippy younger woman both let a snort of disgust, while the older woman just shook her head in despair. But now the old guy was almost chuckling, and the young man smiled broadly as he repeated his question. ‘Why do you believe you should be granted parole, Ms Spencer?’ he asked. ‘Why do you think you should be released from this prison?’
‘It’s not a prison,’ the young woman snapped. ‘It’s a correctional facility.’
Jennifer let out an involuntary chuckle.
‘Did you find something amusing, Ms Spencer?’ the woman asked.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jennifer answered. ‘But you see, it doesn’t matter what you call this place. We used to call it a prison, or the pen, or the clink. Now we call it a correctional facility. I guess it’s the difference between believing in punishment and believing in rehabilitation. I don’t know.’ Jennifer stopped. She fully expected to be silenced at any moment, but it appeared as if she had their undivided attention. She continued. ‘I do know that when you’re on the Inside, the difference is between feeling like you’ve been thrown away like a useless piece of trash, or feeling like you’re being recycled into something that resembles a “law abiding and productive member of society”. But whatever you on the Outside call it, when you’re locked up on the Inside, it all feels pretty hopeless – and not just for us inmates, but for the warden and the staff as well.’
‘Why hopeless, Ms Spencer?’ the old gent asked.
‘Because rehabilitation is damned hard work when you don’t have the tools you need to do it. You can’t rehabilitate in a place that’s set up to punish. You’re going to have to decide if you want to punish us or rehabilitate us – or even both. But just be honest about it.’
The snorting man snorted again. ‘Thank you for that advice, Ms Spencer.’ He smirked. ‘I’m sure everyone here will value your wise words on honesty.’ The bastard was almost dripping with irony.
‘Well, you know what they say about honesty, don’t you?’ Jennifer asked. ‘They say that honesty is the best policy. That’s what they say about honesty. And honesty is the new policy here at Jennings. I can tell you quite honestly that I was guilty as charged. And I can tell you quite honestly that I have been severely punished. And I can also tell you that I am quite honestly rehabilitated. This “pinstripe mama” will never wear Armani again.’ Jennifer was standing by now.
‘Did you know that we can pay a nurse a full month’s salary with what it cost to buy just one Armani suit?’ she continued. The man only glared in response.
‘That’s why I think I should be granted parole,’ Jennifer said. ‘Because I came in here wearing Armani and I thought that made me invincible. I was wrong. I’d trade all the Armanis in the world for a full-time medical staff. I’d sell every silk Kirman I could find if I could have the money for educational programs. My shoe budget alone could keep all of Unit C well fed and healthy. That’s why I think I should be granted parole. Because now I know the difference between right and wrong – and between Armani mamas who can read a balance sheet and the real mamas who just want to be able to read to their children. No, sir, I wasn’t sent here on a mission. I was sent here to be punished. But I lucked out. The missionaries were waiting for me when I got here.’
Jennifer collapsed into her chair. She couldn’t believe that she had lost control. She’d never get out of Jennings now. Never. She lifted her hands to her face and began to sob uncontrollably. Theresa would be so disappointed in her.
And then – she heard clapping. Just the slow, rhythmic sound of one hand slapping against another. And then she heard some more. And soon it became applause. She braved a look between her fingers. Her handsome young water-bearer was on his feet applauding! The old woman rose to her feet as well – and then, so did the old gent. They were applauding her and smiling. And even the snippy one was smiling, too. But Donald’s look-alike wasn’t pleased. No, not at all. As the others stood and smiled, he angrily swept up the pile of papers before him, threw them into his briefcase and slammed it shut in disgust. Grim-faced, he glared at Jennifer. But she didn’t mind. She couldn’t please them all – and you know what they say about pleasing all of the people all of the time?
Theresa was going to be so proud.
46
Gwen Harding
Times change, and we change with them too.
Anonymous Latin translated by John Owen in Epigram
Gwendolyn Harding sat in her office, looking out the window at the blue sky and smiling at her own thoughts. She’d just heard that Officer Roger Camry had given Suki Conrad an engagement ring.
It was crazy, she knew, but she felt maternal pride. She had no children of her own and, as prison warden, she had always felt that she was running a home. Suki was as close to a daughter as she’d ever have. This was a good thing. She had no regrets.
The fact that Suki had been incarcerated because she’d let some man get her into trouble made the situation even more poignant. The girl deserved a break and hopefully she was getting one.
‘I think Camry’s okay,’ Gwen said to Movita, who sat at a desk working a little distance from her.
‘Unfortunate that the baby is that bastard Byrd’s,’ Movita replied.
‘Look, Movita, I know how difficult the whole situation was, but Byrd’s gone and Suki really loves this baby!’
‘I know, but it still doesn’t make the whole thing right.’
The Warden looked at Movita with concern. ‘I’m hoping he loves her. I don’t want her to marry him if he doesn’t!’
Movita grinned. ‘I’m sure you don’t have to worry about that, Warden. He’s a good man.’
Warden Harding reached for Suki’s file and began to browse through it. The girl was actually twenty-four. And of course she was a mother twice over. Camry seemed caring – no – besotted with her. The warden had done little about their ‘misdemeanor’. If she’d been so blind as to not know about Conrad’s rape or pregnancy, she could close her eyes to their innocent love. Let there be one happy story to come out of Jennings. Love is such a powerful force that even the head of a prison can’t control it.
What the Warden was interested in now was the wedding and the happily ever after. Deep down, she knew that Movita was of the same mind as she was. Between the two of them and with the help of the ‘crew’, they could give Suki a nice wedding, even if it had to take place within prison walls, and keep it low-key. But the Warden thought she’d first have another talk with Roger Camry. Gwen had him come to see her in the office. The young man looked a little shamefaced when he arrived. ‘I think it’s time to stop looking guilty, Roger,’ Gwen said to him. ‘You’re soon going to be a married man with a daughter.’
He turned a shade pinker and Warden Harding decided he would probably make Suki a decent husband. He was no cavalier but he was no rogue either.
‘So let’s get down to business,’ she continued. For a moment she wondered if he was as clueless as Suki. ‘You’re going to need a best man.’
Roger beamed. ‘My best friend, Barry White.’
‘Good,’ she said.
Then Suki came in to talk about what she would like, which gave Gwen a chance to hold little Christina. ‘We want to give your mommy a nice wedding,’ she said to the infant, who stared at her, puzzled, and then started to cry.
‘I’d like to invite my family,’ Suki said, taking back the infant. ‘Would that be possible? How many can come?’
‘Make a list of them and bring it to me. We’ll invite as many as we can. Of course your mother will come.’ Suki nodded.
‘Sure my mom’ll come. She wants to come the night before.’
‘I was wondering what you’re going to do about a dress.’
Christina began to cry again and Suki opened her shirt to feed the little girl. ‘I have two cousins who got married this year and both of ‘em have dresses. They’re gonna send me pictures so I can decide.’
‘Real wedding dresses?’ the Warden asked.
Suki looked surprised. ‘Of course,’ she answered. ‘You can’t get married in no other kind of dress.’
‘Of course,’ the Warden answered, amazed for a moment at how the world outside functioned.
‘We’ll get a justice of the peace to do the ceremony. Is that fine with you?’
‘As long as he dresses proper and isn’t fat.’
The Warden was puzzled. ‘What do you mean “isn’t fat”?’
‘When my sister Doreen got married three years ago, the guy who did the wedding was so fat that everybody laughed. It practically spoiled the whole thing.’ She looked up at Gwen as little Christina nursed on, her tiny mouth moving confidently. ‘Doreen had a gorgeous gown. It was satin. But it turned yellow in a year so nobody else could wear it.’
The Warden looked down at the file on her desk. She knew Suki’s father was dead and that there was a brother a few years older than she was. But something told her not to mention him. He’d never visited her. ‘Have you thought about who you would like to give you away?’
Suki looked unhappy for the first time. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who should.’ She paused. ‘I’d ask Bobby but there’s no way he’d ever do it.’
‘Why not?’
‘He doesn’t like me.’
It was the first time the Warden had heard her say a negative thing about her family. Rather than probe, she looked down
at Christina.
‘Why don’t you take her back to your room and sit on your rocker,’ she said instead. ‘You’ll both be more comfortable.’
Suki smiled. ‘Okay.’ She took her breast out of the baby’s mouth gently, but the little girl frowned and whimpered.
‘Okay, quit fussin’,’ Suki said gently, kissing a chubby cheek. ‘I love you.’
What a sweet girl, Gwen thought. At that moment Warden Harding decided that she wanted to give Suki away at the wedding. She wouldn’t exactly offer, but she’d tell Movita the idea and maybe she could suggest it to Suki. Maybe Suki had someone else, maybe there was some uncle or other who she would want to walk her down the aisle, but she sincerely hoped it could be her to do it.
Once Warden Harding had granted permission for the wedding of Roger Camry and Suki Conrad, the crew decided to have a little ‘springtime’ party for Jennifer and have the ceremony at the same time. Low-key all the way. When the Warden gave her blessing to the affair, preparations began in earnest. Everyone who was going to attend had to have something to wear. And everyone wanted to give Suki something special. These are difficult tasks Outside, very difficult Inside a prison.
But the crew outdid themselves preparing for the event, and Movita and Jen came to the Warden with their plans.
‘We want to have it in the visitor’s room,’ they said.
‘Why not the cafeteria? Like the fashion show?’ the Warden suggested.
‘Since we can’t have any visitors here we don’t need that much space,’ Jen said. ‘I know how much Suki wanted her family here for this but maybe sometime later they can renew their vows.’ But in the end, there really was no place else.
So with the help of Theresa, Flora, Springtime, Maggie, and Mo the cafeteria was decorated again. Gwen smiled when she walked in, remembering the fashion show and how much the inmates had enjoyed it. But this little soiree was going to be a very mixed bag of emotions. Gwen was going to play mother to Christina while the ceremony took place. She would be teacher when it came time to organize the inmates for the gathering and then nurse when it came time to comfort the women when they said their good-byes to Jennifer Spencer.
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