When I first was placed in
jail, I was so emotionally distraught, I could not believe people could even
smile or laugh while there. It took about two weeks and the spirit of a young
woman named Kyla to make me laugh for the first time. She was my cellmate for
only four days but she made the stay seem possible. Kyla was physically
beautiful: dark red hair, fair skin, lovely smile. Very clever and funny. She
had been arrested because her and her partner had gotten into a physical
altercation with a young woman but had various other offenses. She was a heroin
addict so was going through withdrawal but handled even that with grace and
acceptance. We talked nearly the entire time we were locked in our cell
together which is a lot of hours. She told me about how her partner was
physically abusive and how they robbed tricks to make money for drugs. Her
deepest sadness was her son, living with her mother, as she couldn’t take care
of him. She so obviously loved him and was so proud of him when she overheard
him ask for “two pieces of pepper”’. We laughed about the fact that we were so
bored in our cell, we would simply try to pee to break up the monotony. We were
in hysterics one night while talking about another woman there who had a
prosthetic foot. The guards had refused to give her the foot. When Kyla asked her
about it, the woman had said she didn’t understand why she couldn’t have it as
she hadn’t “used it as a weapon since 1997”. The worst part was she was okayed
to have a pair of street shoes while in jail. And they let her have both shoes
and no foot.
I was transferred to RJC and
left Kyla at the downtown jail. About three days later, Kyla was transferred to
RJC along with two other women. Kyla introduced me to Maria, whom I was not
sure about at first. She became my greatest friend, protector and all-around
goofball. Kyla and Maria were connected in a terrible way. Kyla’s abusive
partner had also beaten and raped Maria one night when Kyla was away. Maria was
a heroin addict as well but was on methadone. Unfortunately, she was arrested
on a Friday which meant she probably wouldn’t get her methadone until Monday.
Maria had once jumped off the second tier of the downtown jail and broke her
back as she was going through heroin withdrawals so badly. She was a force in
itself.
Kyla was transferred out the
following day but Maria and I ended up eating together and talking. She was
tiny and goofy and clever. She would dance and laugh and make jokes about
people. There was an annoying woman who constantly asked for food as well as
pointed out how soon she would be leaving. I told her if she said it one more
time, I would stab her. Maria said, “You’ve just made the nicest person in here
mad. ”
and I knew I liked her. (Maria would also be the one to later say, when someone
woke me up, “You’re really nice, until you’re not.”) Maria kept me sane and
kept me calm. She also kept me laughing which is so helpful. She referred to me
as her “Bottom Bitch” which I thought was an insult. Actually, it means you’re tops
of all the bitches. Go figure.
Jennifer was another of my
favorites. When she first arrived at RJC, she kept to herself. She would go
outside to the courtyard and walk around and around in an endless loop. She
didn’t speak to anyone. She was very pretty with a beautiful smile and a
certain innocence to her. She had a tattoo on each earlobe that I later found
out she had done herself. Maria began speaking to her and she soon joined our
little group of misfit toys. She was a crack addict and had struggled for years
with that demon. Her children lived with her mother as well. I believe she had
a Bachelor’s Degree from WWU.
Jennifer introduced us to
Nykia, who was only at RJC for a week or so. Jennifer and Nykia had been at RJC
together previously and had been in a relationship. Nykia knew what was up. She
was funny, smart as a whip with street smarts to match. She knew the guards and
took liberties with them I could not imagine. But, man, did I laugh while she
was there. She also could talk to anyone as well as spot whoever came into the
jail “holding” drugs. I don’t know how she did it, but she always knew. She had
us laughing at one of the tables one evening and we got sent out to the
courtyard for being too loud. (Truly, one of the only times I got into trouble
and if that’s the worst thing I did in jail, so be it.) She stood at the
window, looking at the guard, signaling. “Five minutes, Botay?” for the entire
thirty minutes. We were hysterical, all of us.
There were a couple of times
I lost my temper and each time my girls had my back. They may have teased me
about it later but they were right there. The first time was when I kind of
lost it on a woman I considered to be a bit of a sexual predator. I simply got
tired of watching her take advantage of other women and brag about it. We were
all in the courtyard; walking, talking, laughing, flirting. I don’t know what
set me off but before I could stop myself, I was in the woman’s face, yelling
at her. The girls told me later they all looked at each other, incredulous I
was the one yelling. But then they were right there behind me. While I was
never in any real danger, it honestly feels good to know you have back-up. They
teased me incessantly afterwards about how they felt badly they had made me so
mean and “street”. The only other time I lost my temper was when someone cut in
front of us for the microwave. Yeah, we had a microwave, vending machines and,
seriously, a (bad) cappuccino machine in jail.
Of anyone, Maria always had
my back. She worked in the laundry and brought me back new items of clothing as
well as the much-desired soft, V-neck uniform tops. She shared everything she
had with me and me with her. If one of us ran out of conditioner, the other
hustled some up. We pooled our commissary and made nachos and “dope fiend”
cookies which are a combo of cookies, candy bar and the marshmallow from cream
pies, all melted together in the microwave. I can still see her dancing in the
courtyard. We pinky swore we wouldn’t use drugs again once we were out. We both
failed that promise.
I heard recently from Maria,
after much searching. I am very happy to be in touch with her and hope one day
she can find some peace in this world. She’s a good soul, an old soul, a
damaged soul. And while my day wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination,
I hope one day she can have a day like I had today: sober, happy to be sober,
walking around in a city in high heels feeling just a little bit sassy and a
little bit more like my authentic self. Bottom bitch indeed.
Fantastic memoir, Wendy. That was such a pleasure to read. You should really write a book. Have you seen the movie or read the book, "Wild?" I think you'd really like it. I found myself revisiting my old life while reading the book and watching the movie. It was truly inspirational. Anyway, keep writing. This was so fascinating.
ReplyDelete