He gave me a queer smile, half loving, half exasperated. “As you wish, Donna Victoria of the Rueful Countenance.”

He tapped on the window to let the guard know we were finished. I was searched, the guard spending more time than necessary on my bra, and taken back to the jail wing. Now that I was alone I felt unbearably desolate. I lay on my bunk, a strip of towel over my eyes against the light, which stayed on from 5:00 A.M. until lights–out at nine, and let myself give way to misery.

Chapter 37: In the Big House

37 In the Big House

The next four weeks were the hardest of my life. I hunkered down and tried to learn the ropes at Coolis—how to avoid being beaten up by my sisters in chains, how to butter up the CO’s without having to have sex with them, how to keep myself busy enough that the pervasive helplessness and boredom wouldn’t drag me so far down I couldn’t function.

I wanted to talk to Miss Ruby, to thank her for her help on Sunday, but mostly to find out what she could tell me about Nicola, and about getting work in the clothes shop. I let everyone I talked to know that I’d like to meet her, but except for a couple of times in the dining hall, where the CO’s kept us firmly in place at the table, I didn’t see her after that first day.

Freeman’s visit did bring a material change in my physical comfort. True to his word, he sent his intern out with money for my account, along with my clothes allotment. The intern had a stack of legal documents for me to read and sign. In the middle of them was a letter from Lotty. She begged me to post bail in lines of such loving concern I was hard put to stick to my resolve about staying, but in a postscript she added, I helped Freeman’s secretary pack your clothes and mended various tears.

“She especially wanted you to know about a hole in the waistband to your shorts,” the intern said primly.

Lotty was no seamstress. When I got back to my cell, I surreptitiously picked apart an inch of the waistband seam. Tightly folded bills almost matched the khaki of the fabric. I pulled out a twenty before stitching the seam shut again—it was the safest place to store money, and washing wouldn’t hurt it any.

With my prison trust account set up, I was not only able to buy a toothbrush and soap at the commissary but also some cleanser to scrub out the sink–toilet unit in my cell. The cash I would keep for bribes, once I knew to whom and how to administer them.