by Dee Garcia
“Fuck it,” I grit, pushing out of the Wrangler and locking it behind me before I can convince myself to drive my depressed ass out of here.
It’s now or never.
Sliding my keys into my pocket, I hop up onto the sidewalk and make my way with heavy strides to the door. Feels like I’ve got two lead bricks tied to my feet, that’s how anxious I am about going in there. Technically, my impromptu visit shouldn’t be happening at all since you need to be on an inmate’s list of approved visitors, but working here ended up being good for something. Rodriguez got me in when I called him about it a few days back. I always feel like he kinda knew what was going on during my time here, and his willingness to help confirmed it. Well, he did, too, said he was glad it was me and not Mack, but him wanting to help was what did it first.
Pulling open the only door leading in, I step into the search box for the required pat down and search, and after being cleared, continue on to the check-in window not far away. The sign-in process is decently quick, even with the girl behind the glass watching me all throughout. I didn’t ever come up to the front much, but I don’t doubt she probably recognizes me. She doesn’t ask any questions that aren’t necessary by procedure, though, and once she’s got all of my information and provides me with a visitor sticker, she directs me to have a seat with the rest of people waiting for visiting hours to start.
Not twenty minutes later, a young female CO calls us all in and ushers us down a long, narrow hallway to the visitation room. My heart’s jammed in my throat, mouth drier than the fucking desert. I think what’s got me most nervous is the fact these visits aren’t behind a glass; they’re face-to-face. I’m gonna have to sit there, less than two feet away from her, and have to force myself not to touch her. Not that I think she’d want me to, but the urge isn’t going to be easy to tamp down.
One by one, the young CO makes her way through the list of visitors, directing each one to a different table. When I make it to the front of the line, she offers me a small smile before her eyes drop to the name on my visitor tag.
“Table nine,” she says, motioning for me to go inside.
The room isn’t exactly chaos, but it’s not deafeningly quiet either. There are families, men, women, each one of them eager to see their loved ones. I am, too, ‘cause I’ve missed Benni more than I thought could be possible, but these nerves, man—these nerves are bullshit. I hate feeling this way, hate the roiling of my gut and the irregular beat of my—
The door leading in from the inmate waiting area opens, and out comes Rodriguez. He scans the entire room, and when his gaze falls on me, he smiles knowingly before shifting his focus to the clipboard in his hands and calling them in one by one.
Benni’s one of the last, if not the last, as always. She seems genuinely surprised to have visitors, her face lit up with a beaming, beautiful smile until she sees me waiting for me, rather than her family. Her footing stalls, and for a fleeting moment, I almost think she’s going to turn back the way she came and refuse me, but she doesn’t. With tentative steps and those deep mocha irises pinning me in place, she strides over to the table and slides into the seat, tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear.
We don’t say anything for several minutes as we take each other in. I’m sure she’s wondering what the hell I’m doing here, and all I can seem to focus on is not reaching for her from across the cheap plastic surface separating us.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asks, arms folding across her chest.
There isn’t a set tone to her voice, but I feel the sadness. The anger. The confusion.
“I had to come see you,” I explain, leaning my elbows onto the table.
The roll of her eyes is like a sucker punch to the face. “How did you even get in here?”
“Had to pull some strings.” I’m glancing behind her at Rodriguez as I say this.
“With who?” She sounds dubious, dark brow arched pensively.
“Rodriguez.”
Benni’s eyes bulge, head jerking back slightly. “He knew?”
I nod. “He does now, for sure, but yeah, he had an inkling all along.”
“Wow…” She trails off, sneaking a peek at him from over her shoulder. When he smirks, she turns back toward me, cheeks an adorable shade of pink.
A small yet monstrously tense bout of silence falls between us then, eyes locked throughout. All I can wonder at that moment is what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. She can’t hate me too much if she’s still sitting here, right?
“So, how’ve you been?” I press, hands itching with the need to reach out for her.
Benni shrugs and circles a finger through the air. “Considering where I am, good, I guess.”
“At least that makes one of us.” I hadn’t meant to say it. The words just made it out of my mouth before my brain could process.
Either way, she doesn’t like it, and most importantly—doesn’t buy it. “What are you doing here, Andrés? Seriously.”
“I had to see you.”
“Why? You had no problem cutting me off and leaving without saying goodbye, right?” Sucker punch number two, or maybe this is more like a swift kick in the balls.
Whichever one it is, it fucking hurts because all her response has proven is that I hurt her. I’m cringing on the inside, yet miraculously manage to keep my cool. “I had to.”
“Why?” Her eyes narrow.
“Because I was heartbroken, too, okay? I still am. I miss you so much, Benni, you don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” She crosses her arms tighter, cocking her head aside. “Sounds like bullshit to me.”
“It’s not, I swear to you. I’m sorry.”
Scoffing a laugh through her nose, she looks out the window beside us. “Sure, you are.”
I can’t say I blame her for not believing me, but it doesn’t wound me any less, shooting me forward before I can stop myself. Pulling her arms apart, I grab her hands, squeezing them in the hope she’ll feel the verity of my words.
“I am, Benni. I’m so fucking sorry. There was so much going on at that time, I had to do it. We were risking too much—me with a possible arrest if they found out about us and you with early release. I’m guessing that’s off the table now after the phone, huh?”
Her gaze drops to our hands as she replies, “Actually, no. I’m still on track. Got five months left.”
“What?” I squeeze her again. “How?”
“When I told Judge why I had the phone, it hit close to home for him. His older brother, apparently, did the same thing when he was in prison. Their mom was terminally ill, and they couldn’t afford the charge rate per phone call, much less the money it would’ve taken to go visit him. He was on the other side of the country.”
Oh, wow.
“That’s...crazy…” At the stunned lilt of my voice, she meets my stare anew and nods, lighting the flame of hope as she squeezes me back.
“I know, but I’m hella thankful for it; otherwise, I’d be looking at another year with higher deportation stakes.”
I’d almost forgotten she’s an illegal alien. “Is that still up in the air?”
Benni shakes her head. “As long as I stick to the guidelines once I’m on parole, no. I’ll be required to have some form of documentation moving forward, though.”
“I can help you,” I blurt, stupidly I should add ‘cause she’s looking at me like I’m nuts.
“Help me with what?”
“Getting your citizenship. I helped my mom study when she was getting hers.” And it’s true, I did. I helped her, and then we helped dad together. This was just a few years back, too. I was already a CO at the time.
“That’s sweet of you, but—”
“I can get you a job, too.” Remember when I mentioned my heart had other plans that I didn’t know about? Well, here it is in all its lovesick glory. I’m supposed to be here for closure, not finding a dozen different ways I can help her once she’s free.
&n
bsp; “How?” she questions, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s actually a little curious.
“I'm the property manager at the complex I’m living in now. I could use another bi-lingual leasing consultant.”
Closure, you idiot. Closure. Stop making a fool of yourself.
“Where are you living now? Did you move?”
“Mmhmm. I went back to Miami.”
“Why?”
I hitch a shoulder. “Once I quit, there wasn’t any point in me being here.”
Benni looks at me with this face and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, carving a teeny smile on my lips. “What?”
“Nothing,” she shakes her head, “I’m just still…”
“Still what?” I hedge, my mind almost blowing through my head as she laces our fingers together.
“I still can’t believe you’re sitting here right now.”
This.
This right here. Having her close, feeling her touch—I’ve missed this so damn much. It takes an immense amount of self-control not to flip the table and pull her into my arms.
“I told you, I had to come see you. I’ve been missing you, tearing myself up about how everything went down and how you were probably hurting. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Benni, I swear it.”
And then she really blows my mind when she follows that with, “I’ve missed you too…”
“You have?”
She nods, that plump lip caught between her teeth again, taunting the hell out of me. “Every day.”
Silence. Only this time, there’s nothing tense about it. My chest feels like it’s going to explode, a full, megawatt smile splitting my face in two.
She’s missed me too.
“Will you let me wait for you then?” Ballsy as fuck, I know, but I couldn’t hold back. The minute she said those four little words, I threw closure out the proverbial window and opened up the doorway of endless possibilities.
“Andrés, c’mon...don’t be nuts,” is what she tries throwing at me, but I’m not having it.
Not when we’ve gotten this far.
Not when I didn’t think we could’ve gotten this far.
“How is it nuts? You’re getting out in five months, baby. Five. Release day will be here before you know it,” I toss back, bringing her hands up to my lips.
She’s silent for a beat, regarding me with a keen eye. More still when I set a kiss to her knuckles.
“For the record,” she starts, cheeks heating all over again. “I like bebé better.”
“So, does that mean I finally get to have you?” Please, God, do not play with my emotions right now.
Feels like I’m on cloud-fucking-nine, and she hasn’t even given me a firm answer yet.
“We’ll see what happens over the next few months. A lot can change.”
“Nothing,” I pull her closer, close enough that I can almost taste the sweetness of her lips, “And I mean nothing is going to change. If I have to come back here every weekend to prove it to you, I will. I wanted you then, and I still want you now—for me, and only me.”
Pulling her hands free from my grip, she takes my face in her hands and sets a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’m pretty sure you’ve had me all along.”
♫ It’s All Right - Sam Cooke
Five months later: Release day
If you had asked me a year ago whether or not I’d be walking out of here early, I would’ve told you no. I was more than positive I’d be serving my full, seven-year sentence when it felt like everything I did to work toward early release was never enough. But then it finally happened—I got my wish, what I’d worked so hard for, and it was during the same time Andrés came into my life. I’d never been one who believed in the saying, “Everything happens for a reason,” but I do now—because it’s true.
Everything happens for a fucking reason.
Ángel, my arrest, being in prison, Andrés—all of it was with reason, and while a lot of it was beyond unpleasant, they were life lessons that helped me grow into the woman who’s getting to walk free today.
Today.
CO Walker already informed me he’d be taking me down to discharge in half an hour.
This is it. Thirty more minutes, and I’ll be walking out of those doors with Andrés, never once looking back again, only forward. To answer the obvious for you—yes, Andrés and I made it through the last five months. Between calls and bi-monthly visits, it was easy to fall into a new “routine” of sorts and build up an actual legal and legitimate relationship now that he’s no longer a CO. He made sure I had enough money in my account, too, so I could check in with Noely and Ma. I wish I had better news on that front, but as you probably know, cancer is an aggressive beast, and without the medication she needed, it’s pretty much eaten her alive. Her time is coming, and quite soon, unfortunately.
All the more reason to be thankful I’m getting out of here.
Even if it’s one last time, at least I’ll get to see her before she takes her final breath and finds peace on the other side.
Ambling into my cell for the last time, I take in the small space that’s been my home for the last almost five years. I’m by no means going to miss it, but this little box does hold some good memories, one of them being Lena. Running my hand along her old bunk, I sigh wistfully, refusing to let the emotional deluge bubbling just beneath the surface take over. It’s hard, though, ‘cause I’ll never get to see her again. They moved her to a different block after a two-week stay in Seg following our fight, and I haven’t seen much of her since, except for a few times in Chow Hall in which she wouldn’t even look at me. I’ve had several kites sent out to her with some of the C Block girls, too, but haven’t gotten a single reply, either. I guess being in the hole for two weeks finally made her hate me. Devastating, I know, but that’s the name of the game around here sometimes. Life goes on, and sometimes, although it may not be what we want, people move on too.
Selena aside, she’s not the only one who got moved. Koko was actually transferred to another prison altogether. Turns out, she did run her mouth, just not where I was concerned. Franca’s threat made it to Warden Kent’s ears, and when Kori expressed she truly feared for her life, he shipped her off to New York. Word through the blocks is Franca now has a lovely seat on death row, though I’m sure her crazy ass couldn’t care less. Lifers typically don’t. They’re going to die in here anyway, right?
“Knock, knock,” Mari’s soft voice has me spinning around in two seconds flat to find her at the threshold with Gia and Quinn right behind her. “You ready to get out of here, mami?”
I nod, but for some reason, seeing my girls stalking in here for the last time has me feeling a certain type of way. I’m not the only one, apparently. Mari’s lip quivers as she approaches, swallowing me in a bear hug.
“No empieces,” she chides. Don’t start. “Otherwise, I will, and no one wants to see that shit.”
Squeezing the life out of her, I bury my face in her shoulder and focus on breathing, but those damned tears spill free anyway, soaking into her uniform. “I’m gonna miss you, so fucking much.”
The woman like a mother to me, how could I not?
“Same.” She squeezes me harder. “But I don’t wanna see your ass back in here, okay? Never again.”
“Never again,” I agree, clamping my eyes shut.
When we pull apart, it’s not just me who’s caught in the emotional web. Mari has matching streams sliding down her full cheeks. So does Gia, and Quinn—poor girl is trying her damndest not to.
I wipe away the wetness clinging to my skin and clear my throat. “When I get my new phone, I’m gonna write all three of you with the number so you can put it on your contacts, and when you guys finally get out of here, I wanna see you.”
“We can have a prison fam reunion,” Gia adds, giving us all a good chuckle.
Cocking my head aside, I hold my arms out to her. “Oh, my little G Baby, come here.”
She swoops right in around
Mari, slamming into me and locking her arms around my neck. I squeeze her as hard as I did Mari. “Had you tried a little harder, I would’ve been gay for the stay.”
Her bi ass busts out laughing in my ear as she tightens her hold on me. “Prison reunion—you’re mine, bitch.”
Again, we all chuckle, wiping more tears while we’re at it. The moment Gia backs off, Quinn’s rushing me, her emotions finally besting her.
“Thank you for never judging me and for always having my back. I’ve always been the quiet one, the oddball, and you made me feel like I belonged from the get-go.”
Easing back slowly, I reach up and tuck her blonde hair behind her ear, lifting her cute little chin. “Next time these pendejas tell you that you’re quiet, you flip that pretty blonde hair of yours and tell them you’re selective, that you don’t associate with no basic-ass bitches, okay?”
Quinn nods, her bottom lip quivering as Gia and Mari’s sniffles resound in the background.
Knock, knock!
“Villanueva?” Walker’s voice suddenly booms from the doorway, snapping our heads in his direction. “Ready to go?”
Hell, yes, I am.
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
Those smile lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle as his lips split warmly, and he tips his head for me to follow. “C’mon then. Your ride is here.”
Andrés.
My heart speeds into overdrive with excitement, stomach flipping wildly.
This is it.
Pivoting back to face the girls, I give them each one last hug, a big, sloppy kiss to each of their cheeks, and then I’m out the door, falling in step alongside Walker through the block and waving my final goodbyes to the rest of the inmates as that annoying-ass buzzer meets my ears for the last and final time.
I’m definitely not going to miss that.
The walk to the front of the Annex doesn’t take long, but the discharge process feels like it lasts an eternity. I have to change out of my uniform and slip into the clothes I was arrested in, then fill out and sign several different papers before waiting to be called from the holding cell. In total, it turns out to be an hour-long process, but the moment I step through that final door into the lobby and see Andrés standing there patiently, time is irrelevant.
