With Love from the Inside

by Angela Pisel

  Kate injected herself into the situation just as Sophie was about to.

  “Let’s go get you some coffee,” Kate said, grabbing Eva hard enough to get her attention. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  “I’m just trying to have a good time. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at parties?” She glared at Thomas, then directed her comments to Sophie. “Stop being so frigid all the time and dance with your husband.”

  Sophie took a step forward before Thomas stopped her. “Not here. Not in front of everyone,” he said. “My partners are here.” He looked around to see if anyone was watching while he pretended to adjust the clasp on Sophie’s pearl necklace. “Please don’t make a scene.”

  Sophie nodded, but not before giving one last long and threatening stare at Eva.

  “Let me refill your drink glass,” she said to her, sweetly enough for those eavesdropping to overhear. She went in for a hug to make sure everyone around thought the two of them were okay. Sophie wrapped her arms around her synthetic friend. She moved Eva’s twisted updo away from her ear so she wouldn’t miss a word. “Go home, Eva, before I do something that will make you incredibly uncomfortable.”

  GRACE

  Nobody in life gets exactly what they think they are going to get. I tried to remind myself of that as Officer Mackey shouted at me from outside my door.

  “Bradshaw, time to go to the infirmary.”

  It was dark outside and infirmary visits happened only during the day.

  I looked out the slit in my door and tried to see if he was alone.

  He stared back at me. “The infirmary called,” he said. “Put your hands through.”

  I did as I was told.

  After the door opened, I said to him, “I feel fine. Stitches come out after the tenth day. Do you know what this is about?”

  “Nope. I’m just following orders.” His words sounded hollow.

  Carmen had had a nighttime appointment a few months ago. I had peeked out my window when I heard her being escorted out of her cell. I heard her crying when she came back. When I asked her about it the next day, she told me to shut up and that it didn’t concern me.

  I was beginning to wonder if she’d answer my question now. My mind told me I should trust Officer Mackey—he’d never harmed me before—but my pulse didn’t. Flight or fight was kicking in, and neither one of those was a viable option.

  Officer Mackey put his thumb up to the scanner outside of the infirmary. At first the scanner lit up red. “Damn technology,” he said under his breath. A series of green lights appeared after he wiped his thumb off for the third time.

  When the door slid open, I could see barely anything. Total darkness except for a small dim light located within the locked medicine cabinet. Six unoccupied gurneys lay eerily empty, waiting for their next patients.

  “Sit down,” Officer Mackey said. He attached shackles to the legs of the chair closest to the infirmary door.

  Was this where Carmen sat before? Sweat dripped through my stitches; the wound started to feel like a bee sting. I bent my head down to wipe the sweat off, but I couldn’t reach.

  I closed my eyes and did the only thing that calmed me when I couldn’t stand this place anymore. I pictured Sophie at nine, chocolate frosting all over the tips of her fingers and smeared across the corners of her mouth. “I couldn’t wait until my party, Mommy. Are you mad?”

  After an eternity of sitting in the dark, the door to the infirmary opened. Warden Richards entered flanked by two male correctional officers. None of them spoke or looked in my direction. The officer on the right flipped on a light.

  “Do you have the paperwork?” The warden flickered his fingers in the direction of the closest officer. He had a shaved head and looked as though he might have been in the military.

  “Yes, sir.” He handed the warden a manila envelope from off the counter.

  I heard the scanner outside beep and the prison physician entered the room.

  “Glad you could join us,” the warden said, without looking up. He licked his thumb to separate the papers from the envelope.

  “I apologize, sir. I was almost home when your secretary called.”

  The warden stopped shuffling and squinted at the doctor. “We need to get this one right.” He then squinted at me.

  “Yes, sir,” the doctor replied. “Mayberry’s veins collapsed. I’ll make sure this one”—he angled his head in my direction—“is well hydrated.”

  “Bring her here,” the warden snapped, motioning to a chair tucked under a table. “I want to get home at some point tonight.” An officer unshackled me and escorted me over.

  “You have quite a cut on your head.” The warden pulled his eyeglasses from his front pocket and put them on before examining the side of my head. “I thought we’d do this next go-around in the infirmary. Might save us a step.” He chuckled at his own humor.

  I did not.

  “Ms. Bradshaw, do you remember me reading the death warrant?”

  I nod. I barely did, but I could summarize.

  “We have strict protocols to follow when we put an inmate to death. Lots of paperwork to fill out, you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck at the enormity of it all. “We usually wait until the execution date is within forty-five days to fill all this out, but you know, with the holidays upon us, I’d like to get this started.”

  He pulled out several forms and lined them up on the table. I struggled to read the fine print.

  “Turn on another light,” the warden barked. Someone flipped one on.

  I didn’t understand the legal jargon. The light didn’t help.

  “Do I need to read all of these now?” The first full sentence I’d said since arrival.

  “Are you refusing to read the documents?”

  “No, sir. I wanted to know if I could go over these with my attorney before I signed?” I made sure the tail end of my sentence sounded like a question.

  “Document that prisoner number 44607 refused to sign.” The metal legs on his chair scuffed against the floor as he stood to leave.

  “Can I take the papers to my cell and read them over?” I asked respectfully.

  He stared at me for a second, glancing first at my stitches, then directly into my eyes, assessing, presumably, the request of a mother he thought wicked enough to murder her own baby.

  “You have forty-eight hours,” he said to me. To the doctor he said, before he walked out the door, “Check her veins. This needs to go off without a hitch.”

  When I returned to my cell, I reread the note Ms. Liz had shared with me. The one thing she wanted her daughters to know before she died.

  Handwritten on the slip of paper were her words:

  Trust your struggles. You don’t have all the pieces yet.

  SOPHIE

  Sophie’s head was in a fog when she woke up the next morning. Eva. Thomas. The party. Her mom. She didn’t know which situation to try to process first.

  “You believe me about Eva, don’t you?” Thomas said as he came back into the bedroom from taking a shower.

  “I don’t know what to believe.” Sophie pulled the comforter over her shoulders and tucked it under her chin. “I know what I saw.” She wanted him to say more or at least repeat the explanation he’d given her last night: “I only want to be with you.”

  Thomas threw his towel on the floor and sat beside her on the bed. “Look at me.”

  When she didn’t, he kneeled down in front of her. “I’ve never lied to you. What you saw at my office and heard at the party was all Eva. Eva being Eva. My mistake was asking her to help plan your party. I didn’t realize she’d read more into it than that.”

  Sophie started to pull away, but the more she looked into Thomas’s eyes, the more she believed him. He hadn’t lied to her before. That was her thing, not his.

  She
studied the shape of his mouth when he talked, the curves in his brow. She scrutinized every feature as she would if she were studying a suspected perpetrator in a series of police photos. All while looking for any discrepancy in his story, anything to indicate he’d been unfaithful. “I’m trying to believe you’re telling me the truth. I should’ve asked you about it weeks ago, after I saw her at your office the first time. I didn’t want you to think I was insecure or suspicious.”

  Thomas kissed her softly on the lips. “You are a little insecure and suspicious,” he replied, picking up his towel and tossing it at her. Sophie didn’t catch it or laugh.

  “Too soon?” Thomas said.

  “Way too soon!”

  Thomas pulled on his scrubs and then checked for messages on his cell phone and pager. Sophie watched his every move from their bed, gauging how empty her life would be if he wasn’t in it.

  He noticed her staring and sat down on the bed beside her. “When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours,” Thomas said with a smile that made her feel good all over, “you’re all that matters to me?”

  —

  SOPHIE ARRIVED AT STARBUCKS EARLY to clear her head before she talked to Mindy. A breakfast, they’d both decided last night, was needed. Sophie wanted a closer friend, but she needed a confidant. While ordering her coffee she contemplated how much to let Mindy in.

  “A low-fat Salted Caramel Macchiato, no whip,” she said to the barista behind the counter. Sophie wondered what this girl’s story was. Working her way through college like I did, or taking a gap year to figure herself out? Sophie studied her as she put the lid on the paper cup. Her name badge had a yellow smiley face on it partly covering up the last of the letters in S-T-A-C. Was it with a y or an ie? Somebody had given the smiley face a mustache.

  “Here you go,” the girl said, handing the warm drink to Sophie. Sophie decided she looked more like an ie.

  She grabbed a table in the corner and pulled out her phone to check her calendar. Something about being organized and in control helped calm her nerves. Doctor’s appointment at ten. She’d almost forgotten. Too much to do. She thought about canceling it, then thought about Thomas (“I’m worried about you. It isn’t normal.”). She decided she’d better go.

  As she continued to idly scroll through her calendar, she realized she didn’t have much time before the fund-raiser. We’re coming down to the wire, she thought as she counted the days on her calendar. It was only eight and a half weeks away.

  And the next day, she realized, as she scrolled through the month of February, is the day my mother will be executed.

  —

  “YOU OKAY?” MINDY SAID. She pulled a chair from the table next to theirs and took a seat beside Sophie. “You look like you’re deep in thought.”

  “Oh, hi,” Sophie said as she tucked her phone into her purse and slid it off the middle of the table. She hadn’t seen Mindy come in or order. “A little tired from last night.”

  “That was quite a party.” Mindy picked up her coffee and took a sip. “Eva sure knows how to liven things up. I’ve never seen anyone so skilled at becoming the center of attention.”

  “She certainly wants to be Thomas’s center of attention.”

  Mindy poofed out her lips, imitating Eva. “That may be true,” she said, puckering and panting, “but Thomas woves you.” Her lips returned to normal. “He planned your surprise party for weeks, making sure I’d be there, asking my opinion on your gift.”

  Sophie held up the blue topaz ring occupying most of her right hand’s ring finger. Your birthstone. And a symbol of love and fidelity. Thomas’s words as he gave the ring to her once they’d returned home from the party.

  “Thomas does know how to buy a gift,” Sophie said as they both admired her ring.

  “Thanks for meeting me here,” she said after a minute. “I’m glad we finally have some time to catch up. I really want to know how you’re doing with Stephen being gone.”

  “I’m not going to lie—this has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. It’s devastating for the twins.” Mindy’s face turned pale and Sophie thought she was about to cry. “Some days, I’m not sure I can make it.”

  This question-and-answer felt foreign to her, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact. “Is there . . . is there any chance for you two?”

  “I don’t think he’s coming back.” Mindy scratched at her empty ring finger. “Stephen hasn’t been happy in a long time. Not happy with me, the way I look, the words I say. He says we’ve grown apart.”

  “If it matters, I think Stephen has lost his mind.” Clearly something one friend says to another when she doesn’t have a clue what’s actually going on, but it was all she could come up with.

  Mindy fiddled with a straw wrapper that had fallen underneath their table.

  “I want to be there for you.” Sophie scooted her chair back, reached over, and put her hand on Mindy’s arm. “I’m not very good at giving advice, but I am a good listener. I’d love to be a closer friend.”

  Mindy put her hand on top of hers, closed her eyes, and nodded.

  “Enough about me,” Mindy said, patting Sophie’s hand in gratitude before reaching for her coffee. She crossed and then uncrossed her legs before asking, “What, besides Evil Eva, is going on with you? You looked quite upset the night I saw you at the hospital.” Mindy picked off a piece of her cranberry cookie.

  All the tables around them were getting filled, making intimate conversation more difficult. A mother with her hair in a banana clip sat in the last open seat closest to them and started feeding her toddler small pieces of her lemon scone. “More, Mamma, more!” Sophie tried to decide how much of herself she was going to reveal.

  “I just had a bad day all around,” she said, choosing to test the waters with the less traumatic of her choices first. “I thought Thomas was cheating.”

  “With whom?” Mindy tried to ask before completely swallowing her sip of coffee.

  “You know with whom.” Sophie handed her a napkin to wipe away the liquid trailing down the side of her mouth. Mindy wiped and then laughed.

  “Don’t mean to make light of your concern, but I know for a fact that is not true. I’ve seen Thomas around her when she ‘happens to stop’ at the hospital while he’s doing rounds. Strictly business.”

  “I believe that now—I think—but when he asked her to help plan my surprise, she took the invitation to mean more than talking to the orchestra about playing me the birthday song.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, Thomas asked me to help him, too, although I’m afraid I wasn’t much help. There were two meetings at his office: one I was late for, and the other I got called in to work.”

  “The meeting he had at his office last week with her—when I came to the hospital crying?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. It sucks, keeping secrets from you.”

  Sophie’s heart instantly lightened. She’d done her best to believe Thomas, but nothing felt as good as having confirmation. “He’s been so busy lately.” She moved her chair closer to the table because the noisy room made it difficult to hear. “Kind of distant.”

  “I know he’s been sick about that little girl’s death. Questioning what he did or didn’t do. He talked to me about it last night.” Mindy exhaled and put her fisted hands in her lap. “I have, too. I’ve lost a lot of sleep over this one. The hospital bigwigs have summoned the charts. I think the family is going to sue.”

  “Oh, no!” It was Thomas’s nightmare.

  “Not that I should be talking about any of this with you,” Mindy said, side-glancing to see if the banana-clip lady was listening. “The board has been meeting with each of us, asking us what we did, what happened, things along those lines.”

  “What did you tell them?” Sophie wished she could take the question back the moment she saw Mindy
’s face. “I mean, do you think Thomas did anything wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Mindy sucked in her cheeks, then blew out. She put the rest of her cookie back in its bag. “I don’t.”

  “The girl was being bullied. She wanted the surgery. Her parents insisted.”

  Sophie didn’t actually know how insistent her parents had been. Thomas had felt sorry for her, but they’d had to sign a consent for surgery, hadn’t they?

  “The autopsy showed the girl died of malignant hyperthermia.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a severe reaction to anesthesia. Rare, but when it does happen it’s usually in the OR, not post-op, like it was in this case.”

  “Wouldn’t the anesthesiologist be at fault, then?”

  “Maybe, but Legal is asking questions to all of us. How long did you monitor the child in the OR? What was her pressure in recovery? Every person who cared for her will be questioned.”

  “Thomas doesn’t miss details like that,” Sophie said, feeling the need to defend her husband from something he may or may not have done from someone who wasn’t the one accusing. “Does he?”

  “I don’t think anyone did anything wrong.” Mindy lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “The anesthesiologist, the surgical post-op nurse; I even examined the patient. This reaction just presented in a way that no one could’ve expected.”

  Sophie slid back in her chair while trying to process what Mindy was saying. “Maybe the nurse should’ve called Thomas earlier, or maybe he should’ve stayed at the hospital longer.” She stopped talking and picked up a napkin. She started rolling it between her index finger and thumb. “We can all second-guess ourselves to death.”

  GRACE

  I didn’t sleep well last night. Every time I’d doze off, I’d hear the warden say, “We need to get this one right.” Then I’d feel cold hands roll up my sleeves while examining my forearm. “This one here looks like the best vein.”