Meadow

‘Up! Up! Everybody up!’ A loud, booming voice reverberated through my core. I grunted and nursed my broken ribs. I felt, what I thought to be a foot, nudge me harder than I would have liked and moaned in pain.

 

I slowly turned away from the wall and faced one of the most frightening rooms, with three of the most frightening people I will ever meet.

 

The room comprised of two metal bunk beds, one on each wall, four shelves and a toilet that was suspended in between them.

 

I slowly sat up in what could only be described as a steel slab with a blanket, hitting my head off of the bunk above me. I held my head for a couple of minutes before I placed my feet on the cold grey concrete floor. They were in search of my red, ruby slippers so, like Dorothy, I could clap them together three times for them to transport me home.

 

Instead, I was forced to face my new reality. Out of the three women, one was black. She called herself Veronica. Then there was Chelsea, with all the tattoos, her hair braided neatly. Finally, there was Meadow, a very butch person who identified herself as non-binary. I thought I was up to date with the LGBTQ+ society, but I knew it would take a minute to remember that she is not a she, she is a they.

 

The three of them stood there, watching me as I grasped at my side. That was thanks to Meadow; I had forgotten her pronoun so they hit me, over and over again until they heard the crack that echoed loudly in the tiny cell. That would be something I had to make sure not to do again.

 

I got up slowly, my hand clutching my side firmly, and heard the bones crack and grind together. I cringed in pain. I accidentally brushed against Meadow. They pinned me against the wall and pulled up their fist ready to hit me. I cringed and closed my eyes awaiting a potentially broken nose. I was surprised when Meadow’s fist didn’t engage with my face and opened one eye cautiously.

 

I was astonished when I was met with a grin. Meadow loosened their grip on me and finally let me go. They licked their teeth, one of which was gold, and they were about to speak when the guard banged on the bars of the cell and told us to knock it off, opening the cell door. I placed my filthy feet into equally filthy socks, and crammed them into some second, or third, or forth hand-stained canvas slip on beige shoes.

 

I limped past the smiling Meadow cautiously and tried to proceed to find a proper bathroom; I really had to pee. Meadow however grabbed my top by the cuff of its neck and pulled me back into the cell. They said one word, ‘count!’ It was echoed by the guards shouting ‘count’ loudly down what seemed like a long corridor.

 

I desperately pleaded with Meadow stating that I really needed to pee. They let me go and pointed towards the tiny metal toilet attached to the wall. I was so desperate that I rushed over to it, Meadow watching my every move with the same stupid grin on their face. I was very self-aware of being watched, but at the end of the day, when you need to go you need to go. I sat on the metal contraption and pee came out of me like a waterfall. All three were looking at me, impressed I had held it all in. I quickly wiped and flushed just before a guard walked in with a clicky thing. My guess was they did it to see how many of us survived the night.

 

I hobbled over to my bunk and sat down. Suddenly Meadow grabbed me by the scruff of my top again into attention just in time for a second guard with a second clicky thing to waltz in. ‘Second count’, I heard them say as they licked their teeth again as if they either wanted to kill me or have sex with me, I wasn’t quite sure.

 

‘Breakfast time!’ echoed through the prison. I started to walk out of the cell when Meadow took my hand. That cleared up one conundrum. I was too afraid to pull away and was flattered at the gesture. We lined up outside the dining area, each given a blue plastic tray. I was hoping for cereal but instead was served porridge. It was green and putrid. I followed Meadow to a table where a lot of the butch non binary people sat. The pain in my side reminded me to use the proper pronoun.

 

I sat down and played with the lumpy green porridge when Meadow suddenly got up and moved away. I stayed put however because I didn’t want to offend anyone. They returned a couple of minutes later and took my porridge, placing two ambrosia creamed pudding pots in its place. They smiled at me licking their teeth and for the first time emitted a full sentence. ‘Why are you here?’

 

I proceeded to explain to Meadow, who was much sweeter than in the cell, how I was in for money laundering. They looked at me quizzically. I confessed to them, as I did the judge, that I would receive a bag of fresh ‘money’ every week and all I had to do was buy things in one branch of a franchise and return them to another for a full cash refund. I explained that the kingpin of the operation managed to let undercover police into his ring, so when he was arrested, all the information on me was uncovered. I confessed that the police raided my home at tea time one day and arrested me when they found the money alongside various goods I had purchased with the dirty money, ready to be returned for the clean stuff. I explained that my husband knew nothing about it, it was just me.

 

‘Do you have kids?’ Meadow asked. I could see a twinkle of something in their eyes. It couldn’t be compassion, could it?

 

‘Yea, I have three boys and a girl.’ I answered with tears in my eyes. Once the first tear escaped and made it onto my cheek, Meadow wiped it off with their finger gently. I asked the same question back. The answer shocked me; ‘I was married and had a husband once. When I got pregnant there was complications and the baby only lived for five days. It tore us apart. That’s where all my anger comes from, the love for my baby girl!’

 

I saw tears creep into Meadows eyes and they shook their head and rubbed them with their thumb and forefinger. I was afraid to go any deeper because of the whole rib thing, but I didn’t need to ask what they were in for as they offered the information. ‘I’m in for manslaughter. I hit a guy who pissed me off one too many times and he died two weeks later in the hosdible.’ I nodded my head and realized that you really can’t judge a book by its cover.

 

I heard a ruckus emerging in the far corner and saw the guards rush over to break up a fight that escalated quickly. Meadow told me to stay away from fighting. I thought to myself that that was the pot calling the kettle black, but when they told me that they were especially on edge yesterday because it would have been their baby girls first birthday and that they needed some sort of initiation to see if I’d run to the guards. I smiled as I had passed the test.

 

As more guards entered the room, some diving into the fight, the others ushering the remainder of the inmates back to their cells. As I was walking back, Meadow in toe, someone tried to initiate a fight with me. Meadow gratefully pushed me behind her and protected me. I knew in that minute in time that I might just survive this crazy place.

 

When we were safe in the cell, Veronica and Chelsea were obviously involved in the fight as they were nowhere to be seen, I looked at Meadow. I wasn’t a lesbian, but I had been with women in college, so technically that made me bi. I said to myself that if protection came down to sex that I would choose the protection any day.

 

Over the next three months, Meadow and I got very close. As my parole approached, I almost sabotaged it to be with Meadow..... almost. They were the one who convinced me not to. They wanted me to be free.

 

After I was released, the phone calls went from every day, to every second day, to twice a week, to once a week. Meadow is the only reason I survived prison. I have my life to thank her for.

 

  

 

picture from pixabay