she said. ‘Didn’t you hear the bell! Get out here.’
Tracy said, ‘I’m not hungry, thank you. I’d like to be excused.’
The matron’s eyes widened in disbelief. She stormed inside the cell and strode over to where Tracy lay. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are? You waitin’ for room service? Get your ass in that line. I could put you on report for this. If it happens again, you go to the bing. Understand?’
She did not understand. She did not understand anything that was happening to her. She dragged herself from the bunk and walked out into the line of women. She was standing next to the black woman. ‘Why do I –?’
‘Shut up!’ Ernestine Littlechap growled out of the corner of her mouth. ‘No talkin’ in line.’
The women were marched down a narrow, cheerless corridor past two sets of security doors, into an enormous mess hall filled with large wooden tables and chairs. There was a long serving counter with steam tables, where prisoners lined up for their food. The menu of the day consisted of a watery tuna casserole, limp green beans, a pale custard, and a choice of weak coffee or a synthetic fruit drink. Ladles of the unappetizing-looking food were thrown into the tin plates of the prisoners as they moved along the line, and the inmates who were serving behind the counter kept up a steady cry: ‘Keep the line moving. Next … keep the line moving. Next …’
When Tracy was served, she stood there uncertainly, not sure where to go. She looked around for Ernestine Littlechap, but the black woman had disappeared. Tracy walked over to a table where Lola and Paulita, the fat Mexican woman, were seated. There were twenty women at the table, hungrily wolfing down their food. Tracy looked down at what was on her plate, then pushed it away, as the bile rose and welled in her throat.
Paulita reached over and grabbed the plate from Tracy. ‘If you ain’t gonna eat that, I’ll take it.’
Lola said, ‘Hey, you gotta eat, or you won’t last here.’
I don’t want to last, Tracy thought hopelessly. I want to die. How could these women tolerate living like this? How long had they been here? Months? Years? She thought of the foetid cell and her verminous mattress, and she wanted to scream. She clenched her jaw shut so that no sound would come out.
The Mexican woman was saying, ‘If they catch you not eatin’, you go to the bing.’ She saw the uncomprehending look on Tracy’s face. ‘The hole – solitary. You wouldn’t like it.’ She leaned forward. ‘This is your first time in the joint, huh? Well, I’m gonna give you a tip, querida. Ernestine Littlechap runs this place. Be nice to her an’ you got it made.’
Thirty minutes from the time the women had entered the room, a loud bell sounded and the women stood up. Paulita snatched a lone green bean from a plate next to her. Tracy joined her in the line, and the women began the march back to their cells. Supper was over. It was four o’clock in the afternoon – five long hours to endure before lights out.
When Tracy returned to the cell, Ernestine Littlechap was already there. Tracy wondered incuriously where she had been at dinnertime. Tracy looked at the toilet in the corner. She desperately needed to use it, but she could not bring herself to do so in front of these women. She would wait until lights went out. She sat down on the edge of her bunk.
Ernestine Littlechap said, ‘I understan’ you didn’t eat none of your supper. Tha’s stupid.’
How could she have known that? And why should she care? ‘How do I see the warden?’
‘You put in a written request. The guards use it for toilet paper. They figure any cunt who wants to see the warden is a troublemaker.’ She walked over to Tracy. ‘There’s lotsa things kin get you in trouble here. What you need is a friend who kin he’p keep you outta trouble.’ She smiled, showing a gold front tooth. Her voice was soft. ‘Someone who knows their way around the zoo.’
Tracy looked up into the black woman’s grinning face. It seemed to be floating somewhere near the ceiling.
It was the tallest thing she had ever seen.
That’s a giraffe, her father said.
They were at the zoo in Audubon Park. Tracy loved the park. On Sundays they went there to listen to the band concerts, and afterwards her mother and father took her to the aquarium or the zoo. They walked slowly, looking at the animals in their cages.
Don’t they hate being locked up, Papa?
Her father laughed. No, Tracy. They have a wonderful life. They’re taken care of and fed, and their enemies can’t get at them.
They looked unhappy to Tracy. She wanted to open their cages and let them out. I wouldn’t ever want to be locked up like that, Tracy thought.
At 8:45 the warning bells rang throughout the prison. Tracy’s cell mates began to undress. Tracy did not move.
Lola said, ‘You got fifteen minutes to get ready for bed.’
The women had stripped and put on nightgowns. The peroxided-blonde matron passed the cell. She stopped when she saw Tracy lying on her cot.
‘Get undressed,’ she ordered. She turned to Ernestine. ‘Didn’t you tell her?’
‘Yeah. We tol’ her.’
The matron turned back to Tracy. ‘We got a way of takin’ care of troublemakers,’ she warned. ‘You do what you’re told here, or I’ll bust your ass.’ The matron moved down the hall.
Paulita cautioned, ‘You better listen to her, baby. Old Iron Pants is one mean bitch.’
Slowly, Tracy rose and began to undress, keeping her back to the others. She took off all her clothes, with the exception of her panties, and slipped the coarse nightgown over her head. She felt the eyes of the other women on her.
‘You got a real nice body,’ Paulita commented.
‘Yeah, real nice,’ Lola echoed.
Tracy felt a shiver go through her.
Ernestine moved over to Tracy and looked down at her. ‘We’re your friends. We gonna take good care of you.’ Her voice was hoarse with excitement.
Tracy wildly jerked around. ‘Leave me alone! All of you. I’m – I’m not that way.’
The black woman chuckled. ‘You’ll be any way we want you to be, baby.’
‘Hay tiempo. There’s plenty of time.’
The lights went out.
The dark was Tracy’s enemy. She sat on the edge of her bunk, her body tense. She could sense the others waiting to pounce on her. Or was it her imagination? She was so overwrought that everything seemed to be a threat. Had they threatened her? Not really. They were probably just trying to be friendly, and she had read sinister implications into their overtures. She had heard about homosexual activity in prisons, but that had to be the exception rather than the rule. A prison would not permit that sort of behaviour.
Still, there was a nagging doubt. She decided she would stay awake all night. If one of them made a move, she would call for help. It was the responsibility of the guards to see that nothing happened to the inmates. She reassured herself that there was nothing to worry about. She would just have to stay alert.
Tracy sat on the edge of her bunk in the dark, listening to every sound. One by one she heard the three women go to the toilet, use it, and return to their bunks. When Tracy could stand it no longer, she made her way to the toilet. She tried to flush it, but it did not work. The stench was almost unbearable. She hurried back to her cot and sat there. It will be light soon, she thought. In the morning I’ll ask to see the warden. I’ll tell him about the baby. He’ll have me moved to another cell.
Tracy’s body was tense and cramped. She lay back on her bunk and within seconds felt something crawling across her neck. She stifled a scream. I’ve got to stand it