Prison Nation

by Jenni Merritt

  Eddie plopped down next to Reed. In one hand he had his bowl, in the other a plate piled high with rolls. I could smell their fresh baked dough drifting through the air. Steam still rose off of their golden crusts.

  Seeing me eye the rolls, Reed picked one up and offered it to me. I smiled at him, taking it carefully from his hand and setting it on my lap. I was almost afraid to eat the food. It seemed too good. Too warm and delicious smelling.

  “Don’t get used to it,” Eddie said, his mouth already full. “Da rolls are usually cold.” He shoved another roll in his mouth, an audible groan of happiness escaping his lips as he shut his eyes and loudly chewed. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “And the carrots aren’t always available,” Reed added. “It’s been a good season on the other farms.”

  I nodded. I looked at the soup again. Stirring my spoon slowly, I watched the carrots and potatoes spin. “At least it isn’t apples.”

  Both of the men laughed. “What, not an apple fan?” Eddie asked.

  I shook my head and shrugged. “I never have been. Something about their texture. Or something.”

  “Bad luck,” Eddie said, obviously amused. Reed shot him a look, then let a chuckle escape his own lips as Eddie innocently batted his eyelashes in mock apology.

  “So Reed, any news on the new buyer?” Eddie asked.

  Reed shook his head. “Not much. Just some huge company or something. At least we have a buyer.” Reed scooped up a spoonful of soup, blowing on it for a moment. “I hear other farms are losing business. Being shut down. They are giving more of the work to the prisons now.”

  Reed and Eddie both glanced at me. I just looked back at them, unsure of what to say. Reed ate the spoonful of soup, thinking for a moment as he carefully swallowed. “Maria said she heard that the inmates are being assigned more jobs. Working longer hours for the same low pay. Soon, the only work most of us will be able to find will be behind those walls.”

  “Awesome,” Eddie sarcastically said, biting into another roll as he stared into the fire. “Before we know it, we will all be out of work.”

  “Or out of a country,” Reed quietly mumbled. He glanced at me and I quickly looked back to the fire. I could feel him watch a moment before he too looked away. Reed fell silent as Eddie started to jammer on about something random. Drifting out of the conversation, I looked down at the warm bowl in my hands.

  Lifting my spoon, I finally took a sip of the soup. It was thick and full of flavor, the warmth spreading over my tongue and down my dry throat. Shutting my eyes, I relished it, spooning in another mouthful. I could still feel the hot roll on my lap, but wanted to save it for later. After some time, I realized that Reed and Eddie had fallen quiet.

  Opening my eyes, I glanced in their direction. Reed was watching me, his face soft, his lips in a calm smile. I could see the firelight twinkle in his eyes. Beyond him Eddie had a huge grin on his freckled face, his red head nodding and his eye winking at me in exaggerated happiness.

  “Good isn’t it?” Eddie asked in a cheery voice.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It felt good to feel the laugh explode from my chest, my stomach tightening in the laughter that fell out of me in a gush. Reed’s smile grew. He took a bite of his roll, watching me a moment longer, then turned to face the fire.

  “Can I ask you something?” I asked, not sure which of the two I was questioning.

  Reed turned back to me. “Of course.” Eddie didn’t answer, oblivious to the two of us as he tore into another roll hungrily.

  “Why do people call this Prison Nation?”

  I could see the muscles in Reed’s jaw clench for a moment. He took in a deep breath, then looked back at the fire. “It must be hard for you. I mean, I saw the way you were looking at that tree. Just a tree. Was life hard? In there?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, it was... life.”

  Reed nodded. “You know that life. Life out here, it’s different. I’m pretty sure you went to school in there.” He glanced at me. I nodded. “Well, you will come to find out that what the Nation teaches is... missing some things.”

  “Missing?”

  Reed picked at the remains of his rolls, staring back into the fire. “There used to be a quote, an unwritten law that people followed before the Nation took over. ‘Guilty until proven innocent.’ It’s long gone now. We all live in the knowledge that most everything we do is now illegal, and wait for the day that someone decides to push that fact and throw us into the prison.”

  “But you get your trial. You can fight any charge. Not everyone goes to prison,” I insisted.

  Reed took in another deep breath. “You can fight all you want, Millie. But once they get it in their heads that you are guilty, that is it. It’s all just words after that. We are all already guilty.” Reed looked back at the fire. “That’s why people call it Prison Nation. We are all already locked up.”

  He picked more at his roll, tossing the bits into the fire. It sputtered as the crumbs burned, casting up small sparks that danced in the night sky. He finally glanced down, realizing he had thrown all that had been left of his roll into the fire. I could see his lips tighten.

  I looked at my roll, then held it out to him. Reed looked at it a moment, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “You haven’t even tried it yet. You should. They aren’t nearly this good cold.”

  “I’m full.” Reed raised his eyebrows at me, obviously not believing my lie. “Really. That was a lot of soup. In Spokane we were rarely given that much.”

  “There wasn’t much in that bowl,” Reed glanced at the bowl in my lap. “You still have some.”

  I followed his gaze. I hadn’t realized I still had soup to finish. My stomach growled again, followed by a pang of pain from being stretched. “Meals in the prison have been getting smaller. I didn’t even realize it, until recently. I guess my stomach just shrank, or something.” I looked back at Reed and shrugged.

  Reed pressed his lips together in thought. Reaching out, he softly took the roll from me. I could feel his fingertips brush mine gently. Gripping the roll in his hands, he tore it in half, then passed one half back to me.

  “You still need to try it. It’s good.” With that, he took a bite of his half. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his free arm wrapped around them as he leaned forward against his legs.

  I took a bite of the roll. It almost seemed to melt in my mouth, the light hint of butter teasing my tongue. It really was good. I chewed slowly, trying to not show how badly I wanted to devour the half of roll in my hands. From the way Reed watched me, I knew he would give the other half back if I let on how good it really was.

  “Did you leave anyone, Millie?”

  I stared into the fire, swallowing the last bit of roll. “My mother. And father.”

  “Any friends?”

  I thought of Orrin. My mind drifted to the small piece of sea glass that was nestled safely in my drawer. Then I thought of Jude, his smile through the slit at the bottom of the door, the music that he would let me fall asleep to echoing in my mind. I looked at Reed and nodded.

  “Do you miss them?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know?” Reed asked.

  I sighed, lowering my eyes to the trampled grass under my feet. “You try to not make too strong of ties, in there. People are always coming and going. Most of the time, you never know who they truly are. Some are murderers, some druggies, some petty thieves. You end up making friendships just long enough to make it to the next day, you know?”

  “But do you miss them?”

  “I don’t know,” I said softly. I thought for a moment, remembering the few people I had left behind. “I guess I do.”

  Reed watched me a moment, then softly asked, “And your parents?”

  I stared at the grass, trying to bore holes into the earth with my eyes. “I don’t think I will miss them.” The sudden hardness of my voice caused Reed to stare back at the fire. I felt bad fo
r how it had come out. But it was true.

  We sat in silence. Eddie had disappeared at some point during our conversation. I could hear his laughter echoing in the night. “What about your parents?” I finally asked into the silence.

  Reed didn’t look at me. “They’re gone,” he said, barely audible above the hiss of the fire and the chatter of the other diners.

  I shivered. Though the fire was warm against my feet, the rest of my body had grown cold in the night chill. Reed looked over at me. He watched a moment, thoughts crossing his eyes. Then he sighed and offered me a gentle smile.

  “You look cold,” he said. “And pretty tired. I bet it’s been a long day for you. Come on, I’ll take you to your quarters.”

  He stood and offered me his hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. We left the gathering, the heat of the fire disappearing as we stepped into the cold of the night. I started to shiver more. Reed offered me another smile, then put an arm casually around me. I could feel the warmth of his body press against me.

  The memory of Carl’s body pressing hard against mine made me suddenly stumble. Reed held out a hand, grabbing my arm to brace me. I could feel Carl’s grip on my arm, tight and lethal. I tore my arm away in sudden defense.

  Reed pulled his arms away from me, holding them palm out near his head. I felt horrible. He was just trying to be kind, and I had literally just pushed him away. I stared at him a moment, then turned and started walking again, my pace quicker than before. We walked the rest of the way in silence. I wanted to apologize, to explain to him why I had suddenly treated him as if his touch had burned me. But the thought of explaining Carl to him sealed my lips shut.

  We stopped in front of my quarters. Reed turned to face me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. My mind raced, trying to think of something to say. The hurt on his face that he was trying to mask drove me crazy. Our eyes met, watching each other in the near dark a moment before I tore mine away to look at the door.

  “Thanks,” I said simply.

  I could hear Reed shuffle his feet. “Yeah, no problem.”

  I stepped up to the door, cracking it open. “Hey Millie?” Reed asked. I turned back to look at him. Reed was looking up at me. I could barely see his face, but I knew his eyes were searching for mine.

  “Yeah?” I asked, my voice barely cracking out.

  I could hear his mouth open, then shut again. “Sleep well.”

  With that, he turned and walked away. I could hear his footsteps as he disappeared in the night, heading back to the fire glowing in the distance. Biting my lip, I tried to focus on him, but he was gone. With a sigh, I pushed open the door and ducked inside.

  | | |

  The bed was soft. I didn’t mind that springs poked at my back and legs and that certain spots sagged into hidden holes. Every time I turned or moved the bed would creak loudly. Then I would have to spend time finding a comfortable spot again amidst the springs. None of that bothered me. The fact that I couldn’t feel hard concrete flat against my body was all that mattered.

  Regardless of the new bed, I couldn’t sleep. I lay flat on my back, the blankets pulled tight around me, and stared out the small window above my bed. I had tried to open it earlier, wanting to breathe in the cool night air. Regardless of how hard I pushed, the thick layers of paint gluing the window shut didn’t even crack.

  I could see a small square of sky. Stars twinkled in the black. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. In my life I had only seen the stars a small handful of times. Each time consisted of mandatory searches and emergency drills that marched us out into the exercise yard to wait in the night. I never had a chance to stop and stare. Tonight, I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.

  Three small, blinking lights passed across the stars. I knew it was an airplane. I had read about them, heard other inmates talk about them. Watching the lights, I couldn’t bring myself to believe there were people, miles above the surface, flying past. I could barely handle the ride in Oscar’s truck.

  Tears stung my eyes. I didn’t know they were falling until I felt the warm streak trailing down my cheek. I felt so out of place. So confused. Everything around me was normal to the people who still sat outside around the warm fire. They didn’t even look twice at the trees or the fire, or the stars.

  I had seen how they had watched me out of the corners of their eyes. They were unsure of me. I was the strange new worker, just released from prison. Even though I had never committed a crime, I felt dirty. I felt less than them.

  Reed didn’t look at me that way though. I don’t know why, but he had gone out of his way to make me feel normal. I felt oddly safe with him. Every time he left my side during the day, I felt cold and insecure until he reappeared and offered me his easy smile. It was a feeling I wasn’t used to. A feeling I wasn’t sure I wanted.

  The horrible memory of the flash of pain in Reed’s eyes as I shoved him away made my stomach knot up. I hated how I had caused that look. More than that though, I hated Carl. The memories of him still hung at the edges of my mind, the pain in my arms and back flaring as the memories fought to take me over. I angrily wiped at the tears that had started to trickle down my cheek. Fog teased my vision.

  “I think he likes you.”

  Startled, I sat up and looked over at the doorway. Maria leaned against it, her arms folded across her as she leaned against the old wood.

  “What? Who…”

  Maria smiled. “Can I?” She nodded to the bed.

  I nodded, tucking my legs under me. Maria stepped over to the bed and sat down, the old springs squeaking as she settled into her spot.

  “Reed. I think he likes you. You can tell, with how he hovers.” Maria leaned back against the wall, smiling at how my eyebrows knitted together. “It’s a good thing, Millie. He is a good guy. Muy bien, sí?” With a light laugh she patted my leg.

  “Where are you from?” I quickly asked, suddenly wanting to change the topic away from Reed. I could still see his hurt eyes.

  “Me? Mexico. Mazatlan, but I was born in Guatemala.”

  “Mexico? But how did you −”

  “How am I in el Nation Grande?” Maria sighed, the smile never leaving her face. I found myself wondering if this woman knew how to frown. “Once or twice a year, the Nation just so happens to have security gaps along the Mexican wall. They say it is an accident, but during those times Transplants cross and find work inside the Nation, no problemo.”

  “Transplants?”

  “Sí. Refugees. Immigrants. Illegal aliens. You know?” Maria glanced at me, and I nodded. I still didn’t get it, but didn’t say anything. “We are Transplants. The Nation needs us workers to keep it going. With so many locked away the farms were dying out. And in my country… living is almost impossible. Since the Wall went up, Mexico has gone loco.”

  “So, you are illegal?”

  “Who isn’t?” Maria chuckled, patting my leg again lightly. “Sí, I am. Oscar too. And most every other Latino you see. The Nation will go around soon and gather a group up and send them back. As if they are sending a message. But a few weeks after that happens, there is always a lapse on the border and more are let back in. I have a brother and my parents still in Mazatlan. Last I heard, they are hoping to Transplant soon too.” Maria paused, as if she was about to say something else, then sighed and offered me a smile instead.

  It didn’t seem right to me. The Nation wouldn’t break its own laws. I fiddled with a loose string on my blanket, unsure of what to say.

  Maria’s voice came out soft. “When a body is dying, when it needs to be fixed but can’t fix itself, sometimes it needs a transplant to keep it going. We are the Transplants.” The room was quiet. I could hear Maria breathing, feel her eyes on me, but didn’t look up. Maria let out a light laugh, breaking the silence. “Muy loco, sí?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Loco.”

  Maria patted my leg again, then stood and walked to the doorway. The curtain parted as she ducked out, leaning just her hea
d back in. I looked up to see her smiling warmly at me. “Get some sleep, Millie. Buenos noche.”

  The curtain fell back into place, Maria’s smile disappearing into the shadows beyond. I laid my head back down on my pillow, my eyes searching the stars outside my small window. My mind felt thick and slow, full of too many new facts that I couldn’t process, that I didn’t want to accept.

  The fog rolled in. My mind welcomed it. It wrapped its arms around me, asking why I had chased it away. I embraced the release from my feelings as it clouded me and let me float away into silent dreams of beating hearts and sun-kissed apples.

  14

  Two weeks went by in a blur. When every day is the same, it becomes harder to keep track of time. Every morning I woke up to the hustle of the other women in my quarters throwing on their clothing and hurrying out the door, eager to pick their perch for the day of picking. To my dismay, I realized that most wore the same dark blue shirt and khaki pants that sat tucked away in my dresser drawer.

  Breakfast was always fast, usually a stuffed roll or a random fruit. Water jugs waited, lined carefully along benches and filled to the brim with cool hose water. Hands would snatch up the food and water, rarely pausing as they made their way to the Orchard.

  They never gave us apples.

  Then we would enter to Orchards, the paths between trees still masked in the leaves’ shadows as the morning sun struggled to rise on the distant horizon. The workers would find a basket, pick a tree, and spend the next few hours plucking apples. The Orchard fell into a rhythm of dropping apples, touched with the chime of casual chatter and hinted with the rustle of leaves always moving in the light breeze. As the day drew to a close, people would gather their baskets in tired arms and trudge back to the campfires, ready to eat amidst laughter and fall dead asleep on their worn beds.