Chapter 12
Mood is a luxury for those who are free and the guards afforded the inmates none of it.
While Isaac heeded Elestor’s advice about not conducting a mass beatdown, the guards were fully attentive and rigidly enforcing each and every rule. The moment lockdown was lifted a full cell search of half the facility was executed, with full cavity searches of the top twenty most violent inmates, with Ian and Darren being at the head of the line. There was nothing like making a man walk naked and bend over in front of another man to kill any delusions of grandeur.
Rumor had also gotten out that Todd was dieting again. During her six months at the prison, Elaine had heard of Todd dieting at least ten times. What made this time different was the appearance of a brand new treadmill in his office, replacing a space that used to be long to at least a hundred books. Phillip told Elaine he was in an awful mood, and most of the guards blamed her, as it was becoming common knowledge how smitten Todd was with her.
Another damned thing Colin can hate me for, she thought to herself as she opened the door on her group. She wasn’t in the mood for more foolishness from the guards, as she had been busily preparing materials for her group session. She had decided to try a poem writing exercise, as another way not only to connect with the more reticent prisoners, but also so messages could be exchanged under the guards' noses. Fifteen prisoners sat before her, Matthew being among them. Phillip was the guard on duty, part of Todd’s attempted seduction. At least, for now, things will be a little easier.
The hours moved quickly, as the prisoners were glad to be out of solitary confinement and socializing again. She heard little reservation as she passed out sheets and told them of the poetry exercise. What they turned in was abysmally bad, but at least there were precious few descriptions of murder or rape among them.
During a five minute break, she explained to Matthew about the meditation class.
“And Todd actually approved this?”
“Yes!” cried Elaine, still a little shocked herself. “Why wouldn’t he?”
Matthew thought to himself. “He is the only one who knows who we all really are. Haven’t you thought of that?”
She admitted to herself she hadn’t. “I guess not.”
“We wouldn’t be here, unless there was someone to watch over us. Todd may play the simpleton, or at least the well-meaning warden, but in reality, he knows everything that is going on here.”
“I can’t see it, when I look at him. I don’t see any duplicity in his actions.”
Matthew chuckled. “It takes a sophisticated mental technology to have done what was done to us. Don’t you think there would be something similar in his office?”
Elaine almost hit herself it was so obvious. “Damned. Then why is he letting us do this?”
“He wants to know how much we have learned. We still need to do this, for it is the only way to make others realize who and what they are. But we must be careful.”
Elaine nodded.
“And,” he continued quickly, “if the chance ever comes for you to speak with Todd outside his office, on territory you are totally familiar with, take it. Only then will you be able to see through his facade, and possibly learn more of his motives.”
“Elaine,” said Philip, as he came over to her, “the break’s about over.”
“Thanks. Alright, everybody, let’s get back to our seats. Now, we’re going to try this one more time, because hopefully you know a little better how to write in this form.”
“What're we gettin' outta this?” whined James, one of the new additions to her group. “Writin' dumb-fuck poems? What kind of cuntselor are you?” James sat back and laughed at his little funny. Philip started forward, but Elaine motioned him to relax.
“Now James, I’m here to try to help you. Everything I do is to help all of you deal with your emotions, deal with the pain that you carry with you.”
“I don’t carry any damned pain,” he cried laughing, “I’m perfectly fine with myself!” He leaned forward, with a menace to his face. “I’m perfectly fine that I killed over a hundred people, that I raped almost thirty women! Ooh, were they sweet, too. I oughta—”
“Shut up?” ventured Ronald, bringing laughter from the group. “We don’t need tales of your exploits. We just want to enjoy some time out of our cells.”
James leaned back, with a knowing smile. “You sweet on Lainey? I heard you liked the dumb ones—and you sure don’t get dumber than that.”
“Enough!” shouted Philip, as he brandished his baton. James cringed back into his seat, as he was never one to actually engage in physical conflict. But after a moment, the smile returned, and the evil from his eyes focused on Ronald again.
“Thank you, Ronald,” said Elaine, a little relieved. “Now, maybe we all can get some work done.”
The last hour of group went quickly, with Ronald helping Elaine throughout. He helped pass out the materials, chimed in with support of her, and was the loudest in laughing at her little jokes. At first Elaine was a little worried that their relationship would become obvious, but as the time grew to an end, she knew Ronald was becoming what most groups had—a facilitator, a ‘yes man,’ who sidled up to the counselor in hopes of better reviews or a lighter treatment from the guards. As they filed out to head back to the cells, Ronald purposefully hung back to be the last out, and even Philip hung just outside the room to allow a little privacy.
“Thanks, Ronald. You know, some of them will hate you from now on.”
“Yeah, I know. Thing is, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the lines are being drawn. And there’s no way I could be with Ian or Darren.” He leaned a little closer. “I miss you.”
Elaine surreptitiously gestured up at the camera. “And I you. I’ll see you at group on Friday,” she said a little louder. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime, Elaine. Anytime. Oh, wait—I’ll see you tomorrow night, at meditation!”
“Yes,” she laughed, “I guess you will.”
Philip walked her back to her office, past the cells filled with prisoners settling in for the night. She had a long day and wanted to just plop in her bed, but still needed to get a few things ready for her meditation group.
“You know, Lainey, there are rumors one of the docs is bringing in contraband.”
“What – how could that be?” In truth she knew it would probably be easier for one of them to supply contraband to the prisoners than the guards. The counselors had private offices, and could request an unsupervised, personal meeting with any prisoner at almost any time of the day. “Who do you think it is?”
“Don’t know. I don’t think it’s you,” he said with a smile, “but it is happening. Isaac’s pissed. He’s leaning on the prisoners hard to figure out who it is. If there’s one thing Isaac protects, is his lottment. He runs any and all illegal activities here, and doesn’t like the idea of someone he’s protecting stealing some of his business. If this guy isn’t found soon, I know things’ll get bad for all of you.”
“Thanks Philip.”
When they got to her office, and Philip stood for a moment, silently, with his head down, dreading what he had to say.
“Lainey, I’m tellin you this, ‘cause I don’t think you should come by for a while,” he whispered, with his back facing the camera. “I mean, I like your treats and all, but if anyone gets a whiff of that, Isaac’ll be on you so hard nothin' could help you.”
“Thanks, Philip.” She made the rare gesture of squeezing Phillip’s arm in thanks, and he instantly blushed, then turned and hurried away. I only wish there were more like him, she thought to herself, as she went into her office. She went to turn on the light, but for some reason, couldn’t flip the switch.
What’s this?
Utter, abject terror gripped her, squeezing the breath out of her. She stood, motionless, gazing into the darkness of her office, squinting to see what could have paralyzed her.
Is there someone here? Someone I sho
uld see?
She held her breath, and opened her mind, trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary, searching with her eyes for the slightest glimmer, the minutest of movements. Her teeth began to chatter, and nothing she did could keep them still.
What is it? What is it?! She could sense nothing, could see nothing out of the ordinary. She was getting more and more anxious, even fearful, at what she was unable to recognize. Why can’t I move? What’s wrong? Then, suddenly, it hit her. It wasn’t just the room, it was everything—her office, her room, her very reflection in the mirror. It was as if the discordant tone that had begun long ago had finally reached its climax, like a warning chime in her mind. It all is wrong. This life is wrong. I am wrong. She flicked on the switch, and saw what was before her in an entirely new context. This is wrong, and I can’t get comfortable. I can’t be safe, can’t indulge my needs for pleasure or comfort. I must be as the vagabond, the destitute traveler, carrying little, attached to nothing, willing to do whatever it takes to get where I need to go. This must be the new imperative, and I must never forget it.