County jail is different from state jail. We have zero choices here. There’s one outfit: an orange jumpsuit. One thing we can do other than sleep: go to the rec room, and that’s only for a few hours a day. It’s boring. Sitting around all day with nothing to do is hard, much harder than working my ass off in the laundry or sweeping rodent droppings out of the pantry.
It’s isolating. We all have our own cells. Small concrete cells that have a steel door with a slot in it. There’s a thick window beside the door, but it’s frosted.
My door only opens for three things: food, bathroom time, or recreation. I follow the other inmates down a long hall into the large open room with tables much like a high school cafeteria. Old televisions are bolted to the wall in several locations. Women are already fighting over what to watch. One gets punched. Blood spatters close to me, and I jump back. A guard intervenes but doesn’t punish the one who took a swing.
It’s loud. Women fight, yell obscenities, put each other down. I try to keep to myself, but there are few places to sit alone. I choose the corner far from the televisions. A slender woman with discolored teeth sits next to me. She looks at my stomach. “When you due?”
I’d hoped no one would notice. “February.”
“They won’t let you keep it. I had my kid, Bennie, in lockup two years ago. His foster parents send me pictures. I was hoping to get him back until my punk-ass boyfriend got me mixed up in selling drugs again. You got someone on the outside to raise the kid for you?”
“Yes, but I won’t be staying long. I didn’t do what I was accused of.”
She laughs, and I try not to cringe at the smell of her horrid breath. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Several other women join the conversation and say similar things. They are all mothers. Their kids are being raised by strangers or estranged exes. Terror crawls up my spine. What if nobody believes me, and I go back to state jail or prison? What if Casey has to spend his first years never knowing his mom? What if Aaron meets someone else, and she takes my place in the baby’s life?
What if all of the hopes and dreams I finally allowed myself to realize are swept away?
Maybe two years wasn’t long enough, and I’m still being punished.
I can’t think like that. I don’t belong here. I get up and move to an empty table, leaving the women to talk about the kids who don’t know them. I stare at the large clock encased in bars. What do they think we would do with a clock? I watch the secondhand tick. I try to calculate how many seconds have to pass until my court appearance. Unlike last time, I will hold my head high when I tell the judge I’m not guilty.
I’m not guilty.
I say it over and over in my mind until I’m interrupted by a guard calling my name. “Devyn DeMaggio!”
I stand. “That’s me.”
“Visitor,” he says. “Come with me.”
My heart soars. Justin said Aaron would come see me as soon as he could. I practically run over the guard’s heels to reach the visitor’s room. He directs me to sit on the third stool. This room has ten of them. Each has a phone where we can talk to the person on the other side of the glass wall. There isn’t much privacy here, not even partitions between prisoners. I’m sad I won’t be in a private room with him, like I was with my lawyer.
I sit for a few minutes and wonder if they got it wrong. Maybe nobody is here for me. Then my stomach twists in knots and dread consumes me when I see who appears on the other side of the window. It’s my father.
He almost smirks as he sits and picks up the phone. “Well, well, well. Looks like you’re right back where you belong.”
“I’m not guilty.”
“The hell you aren’t.”
“I didn’t do this.”
“Doesn’t matter in my book.”
“Why are you here, Ed? Won’t it ruin your precious reputation if you’re caught seeing the daughter you disowned?”
“Oh, quite the opposite. There are cameras outside the jail. Somehow the press found out I would be here. When I leave, I’ll look forlorn. They’ll be sympathetic. I’ll tell them I wish you no ill will. I came here to forgive you. You paid your debt. I’ll tell them I came here to see if I could help.”
His words sink in. He’s even worse than I remember. “Help? Is that what you were doing when you contacted the judge and told him I was harassing Mom? You used me once to get elected. Now you’re using me again.”
“People love a hero, and that’s what I am, Devyn. Someone they can look up to. Someone they can empathize with. An ordinary person who’s been through hell but can find it in his heart to forgive.”
“It’s all a lie. You’ll do anything to further your career, including capitalizing on Kasey’s death.”
He runs his tongue across his upper teeth, saying nothing.
“Do you even miss her?” I ask, my heart filled with rage. “Do you care that she’s gone? Would you bat an eye if anything happened to Julianne?”
“She was my daughter. Of course I care. And don’t go sticking your nose in where you don’t belong. If you ever get out of here, stay away from my wife. Stay away from my house. Stay away from my family.”
“You mean my family.”
“Not anymore.”
“I was your daughter too. Did you stop for one second to think about what I was going through? Do you think I meant for any of it to happen? That I don’t punish myself every single day? I loved her a lot more than you ever did.” I stand. “We’re done now.” I hang the phone on the wall.
Ed locks eyes with a guard and shakes his head. The guard comes over and pushes me back on the stool. “Pick it up. Time’s not done yet.”
“But I don’t want to talk to him anymore.”
He says harshly, “Pick it up.”
I do what he says. “Did you bribe him or something?” I ask Ed.
He laughs. “I don’t need to do that. I’m a congressman. Soon to be a senator if all goes well. That position comes with a lot of power, more than you’ll ever know.”
I stare at the counter. He doesn’t talk. He’s stalling. He needs the press to see he spent time with me.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Like I said, I’m powerful.”
A horrible thought takes residence in my head. “Are you responsible for this? Did you set me up?”
His expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t even flinch. “I’m glad you’re finally realizing just how influential I can be, but no, Devyn, I didn’t do this.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He’s amused. “Do you think I care what you believe? You’re a convicted felon. You can’t even vote.”
“You’re wrong. I can. After my release, I wasn’t on parole or even probation. My voting rights were restored.”
“Until now,” he says, smirking. “And touché for knowing the law. I can’t get one over on you now, can I?” He glances at his watch and straightens his tie. “I think I’ve been here long enough. People are waiting for me outside. Have a nice life, Devyn.” He looks at the orange jumpsuits and the sterile concrete walls. “I hope you’re very happy here.”