Time Trials

by Lee, Terry

  The roommate pairing worked with only a few minor glitches. Allison and Regina’s personalities were as delightful as a five hundred pound man and a thong. Allison spoke her mind, as did Regina, only Regina’s personality had a bite. Allison could bite too, but soon realized Regina’s “ugh” comments were mostly just to make herself feel better. Unfortunately, taking the high road meant little to Regina, since it ran straight over the top of her head.

  Dena had to strong-arm Piper on occasion, like when the wild-child showed up late one night and waved a joint in front of the girls.

  Suzanne grabbed her throat. “Oh shit! Is that what I think it is?”

  “You got it.” Piper pulled a lighter from her back hip hugger pocket.

  “No!” The collective whole whispered as loud as they dared.

  “Suzanne, did you just say shit?” Frannie’s eyes rounded. She turned to Janie. “Did she just say shit?”

  Janie shook her head. “And that’s more shocking than marijuana being in our dorm room.”

  “You realize we could all be kicked out of school, don’t you?” Dena jumped off the bed, grabbed the joint, and pointed it back at Piper. “Not here. Ever. You hear me? Never in the dorm.” Fire flew from the slits of Dena’s eyes. “We’ll not have this discussion again.” But they did. A lot.

  To say that freshman year was fun would be an understatement. It was a pivotal developmental moment where they left home, made new friends, and embarked on navigating the maze which we know as life. An era they would reflect on many times with a certain amount of fondness for their naiveté and wide-eyed wonderment of something new.

  Chapter 8

  Allison – 1972

  Having Regina as a roommate remained tolerable as long as she didn’t have to spend too much awake time with the self-proclaimed beauty queen. She got along with Regina better than the other BAGs, mainly because she had the ability to mute Regina’s constant self-absorbed babbling. Being the same height had its advantages also. There was no intimidation of stature as she’d seen Regina try to pull with others. The two usually went their separate ways, but congregated for late night soirees with the other BAGs.

  With her sights still set on a criminal justice degree, by the second semester of her sophomore year Allison had landed a part-time job in the CJ department, which kept her in touch with the prison system. The Texas State Penitentiary in Huntsville, also known as the Walls unit, was constructed in the late 1840’s, and was the only prison in the eleven Confederate states still standing at the end of the Civil War. Mere blocks from the college campus, the main prison housed not only inmates, but trustees, recognized by their white uniforms, who had earned the right to work the grounds outside the prison gates.

  Goree, the women’s unit established in 1907, had been built four miles south of the city.

  “Hey Allison, is that you?”

  On her first field trip to the women’s unit Allison froze when she heard her name.

  “It is! Allison, hey it’s me…Donna,” she heard someone say from behind one of the large community rooms where the female inmates sewed prison uniforms. “Hey, check this out,” the female voice said. “We went to high school together. Damn, look at her…a college student! Way to go, Ally.”

  Slowly turning in the direction of the voice, Allison’s throat immediately dried up like a creek bed during a ten-year draught, and her eyes bulged like golf balls.

  One of her classmates nudged her. “Ally? She called you Ally? You know her?”

  Allison recognized Donna Sommerly all right, but words failed her on how to respond. They’d had a gym class together, even played on the same softball team, and yes, people in high school had nicknamed her Ally. But never in her wildest nightmare did she ever expect to see someone she knew. Here. At Goree. The state penitentiary for women.

  “Yeah, sorta,” she said to her friend beside her. She raised her hand in a slight wave and quickly scooted past the community room. Although she heard some chuckles from other classmates about the fact she actually knew someone at Goree, Allison struggled with what had gone so wrong in Donna’s life for her to end up in the state prison. She shook her head and sighed, knowing she’d never forget seeing the image of Donna behind bars.

  Along with housing prisoners, death row inmates took their last meals and breaths within the Walls. In 1964, the Texas Prison System switched from death by electrocution (electric chair nicknamed Old Sparky) to a more civilized death by lethal injection. She’d had such unsettling feelings about sentencing someone to death. She struggled with the concept of “civilized death,” but she assumed it beat the alternatives; a firing squad, hanging, or having thousands of bolts of electricity frying your body.

  “I’ve got a lot of doubt about this,” she told one of her professors. “I couldn’t do it. I’d be excused from any jury selection having a deliberation on the death penalty.”

  “Some family members say that the only peace they will ever have is putting the perpetrator to death.” Her professor leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers across his rather rotund belly.

  “I know people do some horrible things…I get that.” Allison crossed, then uncrossed her legs. “But, killing them? Isn’t there some other option?”

  “Of course there’s life imprisonment.” The professor sat back up and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. “But let me ask you a question. If someone murdered, say, your father…would that change your opinion of the death penalty?”

  She studied the flushed cheeks and lined eyes of the man seated across from her. These were ethical questions…questions that, to her, had no clear yes or no answer. However, the State of Texas had made their decision. They had voted yes.

  “But it wouldn’t change anything.” Her eyes moved around the small office cubicle. “Another person would be dead…and so would my dad. He’d still be dead.”

  “You’re a critical thinker, Allison. That’s a good quality to have. We could all do with a few more like you.” The professor stood, signaling the end of their meeting. “Keep questioning. Expand that thought process of yours. Make your own decisions, and then don’t be afraid to change them. Very little in life is black and white. The more you learn, the more you grow.”

  Besides the main building of the prison and the high brick walls topped with wrapped barbed wire, the back of the property held an arena were the Texas Prison Rodeo, started in 1931, was held each October. An ever-growing popular event over the years, the Prison Rodeo provided recreational opportunities for some of the inmates and also brought considerable revenue into the system. Allison had attended several of the rodeos and had been surprised at the turnout. The stands were packed.

  There was no official parking for the event, so rodeo-goers parked up and down the streets of the adjacent neighborhoods. Some of the best barbeque in the state of Texas could be found for sale at the end of driveways of nearby houses on those weekends. Most Friday nights before the rodeo each Saturday in October, residents surrounding the vicinity of the prison pulled huge barbeque pits to the curb and started the all-night ritual of smoking brisket, chickens, and sausage. Attendees to the rodeo readily purchased the Texas specialty before entering the gates at The Walls. A few links of sausage or a chopped beef sandwich could occasionally still be found from a resident vendor or two late in the afternoon after the rodeo.

  ~~~

  Allison and Regina weren’t particularly close, and she loved reserved Suzanne and Denise, but she quickly formed a bond with Janie, Frannie, and Dena. Especially Dena. The fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants gal was a hoot. Piper could also be considered a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants gal, but more like someone blown off a merry-go-round that had spun out of control. Both had their wild side, but unfortunately, that seemed to be the only side to Piper. Dena was much more grounded, funny as hell, and intelligent, even with her trash mouth. Dena had class, which only made the f-bomb issue more outrageously prolific in her use of the English language.

  The debacle w
ith Kevin grew. Still convinced he was her 100%-for-sure-soul-mate, distance seemed to be the main issue. Trips back and forth from Houston to Huntsville were doable, but then Kevin had the opportunity to transfer and finish his law degree at Harvard. Harvard…the one in Boston.

  “I just….” He’d made a day trip to Huntsville for them to talk face to face. “I don’t think…I can….”

  Allison had exhausted herself tossing around impossible ideas of how to make this all work. She wasn’t a crier, but the ache in her stomach often made her feel she was going to puke. It was happening. It was really happening. He’d worked too hard to pass up going to Harvard. No one passed up a chance like that.

  They sat in his car near her dorm. Using all the reserve strength she could muster, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with the hairband she always kept on her wrist. Biting the inside of her lip and hoping she could keep it together, she turned in the seat toward him.

  “Look—”

  “Don’t. Don’t say look.” He lowered his chin to his chest. “Nothing good ever starts with look.”

  He was right…nothing good ever started with look.

  “Okay.” She breathed deeply. “Kevin, you’ve got to go. You know that.” She reached for his hand. “We’ll try to work something out,” which they both knew was a lie, “but you can’t not go. You can’t!” Damn it if her eyes didn’t start pooling, threatening tears. As the daughter of a military man, she’d trained herself not to be a crier. “Don’t you see? If you miss this chance, there’s no turning back. People don’t get second chances like this.” She paused long enough to swipe at her eyes. “I’d always feel like I held you back.”

  She’d been through this argument with herself many times in the last week. She’d even called a special meeting of the BAGs to bring them in on the situation. Sadly, all that produced were lots of hugs and sad puppy dog eyes. Even Regina had given her what could be construed as a hug. Piper’s sentiments were more along the lines of “what a bummer,” and Dena…well, use your imagination and it shouldn’t be hard to come up with the sympathy package wrapped with a bow of profanity.

  Eventually, the inevitable took place and Kevin prepared for his move to Massachusetts.

  On his last visit to Huntsville, they sat on the hill in front of the Old Main building. Kevin pulled her to her feet and held her so tight she couldn’t breathe, but at the moment she couldn’t have cared less.

  “I won’t say goodbye. I’ll never say goodbye.”

  “Okay,” was all she could manage. She’d purposely decided to meet on the big hill at Old Main. When he left, she knew going any farther than across the street to her dorm would be a stretch.

  In the end, they both made promises they knew they couldn’t keep. And as expected, over time, human nature and distance took its course. Allison still clung to the belief that they should be together. Maybe when they were old and shriveled they’d find themselves spending their remaining days side by side in rocking chairs just like they used to laugh about. It could still happen, she thought, with heaviness in her chest area that ached every day. But the in-between part, the belief they should be together now and forever, began to fade. Eventually, they both started to date other people.

  She’d never forget Kevin. That soul-connection she felt with him was as embedded in her DNA as any part of her own genetic makeup. The Thunderbolt. She’d read The Godfather’s Sicilian thunderbolt scene between Michael Corleone and Apollonia so many times she could recite it by heart. Opportunity, kismet, destiny…whatever you call what happened that day outside the basketball gym in high school, defined for Allison a connection between two people that she knew was rare and practically impossible to grasp, except in the heart. It was not for the mind to decipher, but for the heart to remember…forever.

  Chapter 9

  Frannie – 1972

  She’ll always remember that first weekend her parents dropped her off as a freshman. Sending the persona of the person she used to be back to Houston kept a smile on her face for days. They had a blast setting up their dorm room. Janie’s parents had sent up a burnt orange shag rug to match the bedspreads, sheets, the whole bit. And having an area rug to cover the hard linoleum tile was a big thing. Their room rocked.

  “I’m surprised your mother didn’t sneak a picture of Denny into your suitcase.” Janie carefully balanced herself and tacked a bigger than life Butch Cassidy to the wall. She figured a Paul Newman poster would make a great headboard.

  “Don’t even joke about that.” Frannie unrolled the Sundance Kid and centered it over her own bed. She did a fist pump and smiled at her heartthrob. “Perfect. Besides, my mother doesn’t get a vote anymore.” She gazed into the sexy eyes of the man on the poster and pointed. “Now, that…that is a handsome man.”

  “Says you and several million other females.”

  The black and white posters were not exactly on their decorating color wheel, but nothing more appropriate could have adorned the walls of their dorm. They’d flipped a coin to see who got which poster, since they equally adored Paul Newman and Robert Redford. The agreement had been to switch beloved posters at the end of the semester.

  Hours were spent regurgitating lines from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

  “You just keep thinkin', Butch. That's what you're good at.”

  “Think ya used enough dynamite there, Butch?”

  “Not to be a sore loser, but if I don't win—kill him.”

  And their favorite…“Who are those guys?”

  “Hey, let’s set up your record player,” Janie said.

  “It’s a ster-eo.”

  “Okay, whatever. Let’s hook it up.”

  Both girls hoisted the device onto the table between their twin beds. After finding an electrical plug nearby, Frannie pulled her Tapestry album from the nearby cardboard—and for now storage—box, slid the vinyl carefully from its cover, flipped it to side two, and dropped the record down onto the spindle. Flicking the lever to play, she watched as the album dropped to the turntable. Carole King’s voice filled the room. Both girls lay on their beds and sang along with their favorite female vocalist.

  “When you're down and troubled and you need

  a helping hand and nothing, whoa, nothing is

  going right. Close your eyes and think of me,

  and soon I will be there to brighten up even

  your darkest nights”

  “James Taylor.” Dena entered through the adjoining bathroom. “How many times do we have to go over this? It’s James Taylor, hands down.” She plopped down on the end of Janie’s bed.

  Frannie pointed a finger at Dena. “Shh….”

  “Watch how you use that thing.” Dena smiled.

  Frannie pointed again.

  After a serious eye roll, Dena waited till the song ended and Frannie carefully moved the arm off the record and placed it gently on its stand. “It’s not that I don’t like Carole King.” Dena shrugged as if the matter was non-negotiable. “Taylor just knocks it out.”

  “I agree, but it’s Frannie’s record player.” Janie swung her legs off the bed.

  “It’s a ster-eo,” Frannie corrected.

  “Whatever.” Dena wiggled her eyebrows. “Hey, I have a roommate. This could be an interesting semester.”

  Dena, the brave soul, had just met Piper, which completed the suitemate debacle. Across the hall were Allison and Regina, who shared a bathroom, as suitemates did, with Suzanne and Denise. Frannie worried Dena would feel left out with all the prepping she and Janie had done for their dorm room. But true to her sense of independence, Dena could care less. She had her own dark red paisley bedspread, matching sheets, and throw pillows. The girl had her own sense of style and it fit her so well. While the rest of the world hosed everything down with avocado green, harvest gold, or burnt orange, Dena’s favorite color was red. Not a soft, rosy red, but a bold, crisp red. Not many people could pull off the things Dena did. The girl was definitely a class
act. And when Piper had arrived with her stoic parents, Dena’s courteous manner flowed as if she were a hostess on Let’s Make A Deal, trying to entice contestants to choose curtain #1.

  The first week at Sam was freshman orientation. Just the feeling of walking out of her dorm on her own helped Frannie stand a little taller than her 5’2” height. Crossing the street, she, Dena, and Janie noticed a couple of guys standing across from Kampus Korner, also known as KK, the fast food and sundry shop on campus. Obviously not freshmen, the guys eyed the girls all the way up the steep incline to the top where Old Main, the administrative building, stood.

  “Hold…up.”

  Frannie and Dena turned to find Janie, blotchy-cheeked and panting, sitting on a nearby bench. They waited for their friend to catch her breath.

  “Did you see that blonde-headed guy?” Dena asked. “Frannie, he had his fucking sights set on you.”

  “Shush.” Frannie narrowed her eyes in a warning look.

  “What…we’re not in church.” Dena gathered her thick brown hair and pulled it up off her neck. “Damn, even seventy miles north of Houston, it’s still hot as hell.”

  “I mean it!” Frannie’s face turned ashen despite the August heat. “Lower your voice if you’re gonna talk like that.” Living by the rules had always been Frannie’s forte, and she vowed to live by her own now, but some rules were just common sense. “I’d like us to get registered before they kick us off campus.”

  Swatting at Frannie, Dena said, “What do you mean? I always talk like that.”

  Frannie turned back to Janie and offered her hand. “She’s hopeless.”

  Her face color evened out, as well as her breathing, Janie accepted Frannie’s hand to lift herself off the bench.

  “She’s Dena.”