She had been incarcerated only a few days when she first saw her. She was on the three-to-eleven shift. She was aware of her constant gaze, though she tried not to show it. Nonetheless, her eyes followed her everywhere, from the dayroom to the shower room, from the yard to her cell. She looked great in uniform, she had to admit, as she lay alone in her dimly lit cell late that night. The tall, slender guard was of Mexican descent and had intense dark eyes and rich chestnut-colored hair with fiery red highlights that gleamed in the sunlight.
The clank of the metal door slamming shut at the end of the building jarred her from her thoughts. Just then, the third shift guard appeared.
“Let’s see here,” said the guard, “you are Miss Tiffany Knowles, correct?”
“Yes,” said Tiffany, tossing her reddish blond hair back behind her.
“Ok, then. I’ll be back soon to let you out to work,” said the guard as she jotted something down on a clipboard and walked on.
Head count, Tiffany thought. At the start and end of each shift, the guards did a head count. During the night shift, they did regular walks throughout the night, peering into each cell.
The guard soon ventured further away towards the desk where she’d keep watch of the left side of the V-shaped building for the next eight hours. They worked in pairs on first and second shifts, but those assigned to the graveyard shift often worked alone. Particularly in the cluster of buildings in the area where she would reside for the next few months, an area made up of several low-security, V-shaped buildings for female inmates.
The building was simple. The left side of the V was where the twenty cells were located. There were ten on each side of that side of the V, each housing two women. They were set off centered from one another so you couldn’t see into the cell across the hall unless you were at your cell door, which was of steel bars. She had yet to receive a roommate.
The part of the building where the V met at a point was where the guard’s desk was, surrounded by a chain-link fence with a lockable gate for when it was unattended.
The V’s right side housed the dayroom, which was also where the meals were served. To one side of that was the kitchen in which the inmates assigned to work there made the meals, and to the other side was the shower room. In the back of the long dayroom was the door to the rec yard. The rec yard was enclosed by razor-topped chain-link fences.
All inmates were assigned jobs in various parts of either their own building or others. Most worked first and second-shift jobs either in the kitchen or other buildings, like the library or classrooms, but Tiffany worked at night cleaning every part of the building but the other cells. If she had to be stuck there, she couldn’t ask for a better job. She was a night owl anyway and preferred to work alone. She slept when the others had either left for their jobs or were still asleep themselves, and didn’t get up until lunch was served.
She rose from her bed and headed over to the barred door. She caught a glimpse of her distorted reflection as she passed by the metal mirror that was bolted to the concrete wall. The bright orange prison dress she wore was quite a contrast to the dismal colors around her.
She peered out through the bars, which were the closest to the guard station. The guard sat at the desk, scribbling away on a piece of paper. She had never seen this guard before. She was perhaps in her late thirties with a sort of mousy appearance. Her drab, dirty blond hair was pulled back in a bun, and her dull gray eyes appeared tired behind the thick lenses of the glasses she wore. Eventually, she stood up and came to unlock the cell door. “Ok, Knowles,” she said, “you can get to work now.”
She headed to the supply closet where she obtained the cleaning supplies she needed, then proceeded to clean the hallway, the dayroom, the kitchen, and the shower room. Once she was done, the guard inspected her work, nodded with approval, and then locked her back down in her cell. That was another thing she liked about the job she was assigned; it didn’t usually take more than three or four hours to do the work that needed to be done. She was often asleep by 4:00.
Tiffany was like most people who didn’t care for rules that made you feel like you had no control over your life, but she had to admit that she was rather grateful for the rule that went into effect at the start of the third shift. That was the no-talking-allowed rule. You could talk softly with your celly if you had one, but were forbidden to call out to the guard unless it was urgent. They were actually locked down in their cells at 10 PM and given that hour to unwind before the lights were dimmed and the rule of silence went into effect.
They rose at the start of the first shift and had an hour for breakfast and showers, although some preferred to shower after work. At a few minutes before 8:00, those on the first shift were whisked off to their jobs, while those who didn’t have to work until the second shift usually went back to bed.
The following morning, she awoke to the sound of the first shift guard announcing that breakfast, which always consisted of cold cereal, was ready. She ignored the announcement, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
When she got up later on, she spoke to her family from one of the dayroom’s payphones, then tried to lose herself in a book until it was time to go to work.
An hour after the lights were dimmed, she was still engrossed in her book that she never even noticed when the third shift officer did head count and didn’t look up until she heard the key go in the door.
She placed the book down and stood up to find the officer on duty that night was to be none other than the one whose eyes had followed her every move.
So your name is Noréz, thought Tiffany, now that she could see her name tag.
“Hello, Tiffany,” the guard said with a bright white smile.
“Hi,” said Tiffany. “I didn’t know you were on nights.”
“I am now. They just shuffled a lot of us around.”
“Oh,” Tiffany said with a smile.
The two eyed each other a moment. Up close, the guard seemed even more beautiful, but there was something, something about the way she eyed her so intently as if she could see right through her, that sent slight waves of discomfort throughout her. Her attraction towards the woman was much stronger than any discomfort, though, which she wrote off as simply being a case of not knowing her.
For Noréz, there was nothing but red-hot lust along with the hopes of the petite strawberry-blond turning out to be her kind and easy to control. At thirty-two years old, she was tired of one hopeless romance after another. They were either not attractive, too tall, too unfeminine, or they simply turned out to be true assholes at heart, so when she learned that this one would be out and about cleaning at night, she was more than delighted. She would take her time, though. She didn’t want to scare the girl if she stood a chance. She didn’t want her just for fun either. She wanted a wife. One who would live with her, cook for her, and do all the things wives do. For now, she would bite her tongue and not ask so many questions despite the overwhelming curiosity and desire she had to get to know the girl and what she may be up against. If she ended up liking the girl more than the girl did her, at least she wouldn’t have much of a challenge cut out for her. Not when the girl was the inmate and she was the cop.
“Ready for work?” Noréz asked.
“No, but I don’t think I have a choice, so yeah, I’m ready,” Tiffany answered with a slight smile.
Noréz chuckled and held the door open for Tiffany to step out of the cell. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“No, not really, I suppose. It could be worse.”
Noréz’s gaze burned through her as she passed by her and into the hall. They headed for the supply closet.
“So you’re twenty-four, huh?” asked Noréz.
“Uh-huh.”
“And what are you in for?”
“Being stupid.”
“Being stupid? How’d you manage that?” Noréz asked with a laugh.
“I got desperate and dumb, and so I wrote a couple of bad checks.”
Noréz shrugged as if to say that wasn’t such a big crime after all.
“Can you believe they gave me 90 days? I mean, being my first offense and all, I really thought they’d be a little more lenient with me.”
Noréz laughed. “Honey, this is Texas. Nothing’s lenient in Texas.”
“That’s true. I suppose I should’ve known better.”
“Perhaps, but you live and learn, and as they say, life isn’t so much about not making mistakes as it is trying not to make the same ones over again.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Noréz smiled as they approached the supply closet, which she unlocked. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here any more than I am.”
“No, I’m from Wyoming. My family and I moved here when I was nineteen. Where are you from, or am I not supposed to ask?”
“No, it’s ok. I’m from Michigan.”
Tiffany set out to work. Every now and then, the two exchanged smiles when she was working within view of Noréz. She wasn’t sure what to make of her. She liked her, and she sensed the feeling was mutual, but still, something told her to proceed with caution. It was a very subtle, underlying feeling, but it was there nonetheless.
She was mopping the shower room floor when she suddenly sensed a presence behind her. She abruptly turned to find Noréz leaning in the doorway.
“Sorry,” said Noréz. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s ok.”
“I was just wondering if you were going to be done soon.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m just now finishing up. Mopping’s the last thing I do.”
“Oh, ok. Then just come to the desk when you’re done and have everything put away.”
“Ok,” said Tiffany.
Noréz winked, turned, and left, leaving Tiffany with a slight warm tingle of delight forming in her most private areas. Doing her best to ignore it, she finished up and headed for the desk.
Noréz didn’t look up until she was in front of the desk. “All done?” she asked with a smile.
“Mmm hmm.”
Without bothering to inspect her work, Noréz then stood up and led her to her cell, which was only about thirty feet from the desk. “Isn’t this nice, you being the closest one to my watchful eye all night?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Tiffany said with a laugh, not sure what to make of that one.
When Tiffany stepped inside the cell, she expected Noréz to leave and resume her post at the desk, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked questions about the picture she had on the small metal table leaning against the painted brick wall. “Are those your kids?”
“Yes,” Tiffany said, picking the picture up with a proud smile. “This is Josh. He just turned two. And this is Greta. She’s four.”
“Cute. Who’s the other woman?”
Tiffany hesitated a moment, then said, “My ex-girlfriend. She just moved back out of state.”
“Oh,” said Noréz, a spark of delight and hope igniting within her. “Don’t go with men much?”
“Just long enough to conceive these two.”
“And where’s daddy now?”
“Who knows? Everyone wished me good luck when I said I wanted to find someone to have kids with, saying that not many men want to have kids, so when I met Eric, who told me he’d love to have them, I thought Wow, I really lucked out. But I saw a lot less of him once Greta was born, then Josh scared him off for good. I rarely see him anymore. Last I knew, he got some dumpy place near downtown, and that’s that. You know men – they have no problem making babies, just supporting them.”
“Some can’t even do that,” said Noréz. “My sister’s ex demanded that one of them get fixed before they got married, but she told him to go to hell.”
“The kids and I were living with my mom and dad, so at least they didn’t have to move anywhere when I got sentenced.”
“That’s nice that they have someone to stay with while you’re here.”
“Yes, my folks are great with the kids.”
Noréz put a finger to her lips to signal for her to talk softer, then asked, “What do you do for work?”
“My best friend has a daycare business, and so I work with her. Things are tight, though, so she can’t pay me much, but I’m determined to get by just fine without Eric, the kids' father, when I get out of here.”
“You never know,” said Noréz. “You may meet someone special who’ll want to take care of you and your kids.”
Tiffany laughed. “Lesbian or straight, that only happens in books.”
“You never know,” Noréz said again as she turned to leave. “Sweet dreams.”
“Good night.”
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