Riley hoped, the last time Jay got out of jail, that he’d cleaned up his act. He even acted like he was doing better.
I should’ve known he wasn’t borrowing my car just to go to interviews and his probation appointments.
It had been a kick in the gut when she got stopped for speeding, and the cops found the present Jay forgot in her trunk. It didn’t matter it wasn’t hers, it was in her possession. She was fucked either way.
“We better get going kid.” Pépère got out of his recliner.
Riley stood in the middle of the courtroom, in shock, as the bailiff cuffed her.
Five years. Five fucking years, she reeled.
The officer was kind enough to let her hug her grandfather before he hauled her out. They led her through the maze of bland halls down to a van waiting outside. When the paddy wagon door clattered shut, reality started to set in. Riley knew when she pleaded guilty that she was going to jail, she just never thought it would be for so long.
No, not jail, prison. You’re officially a felon.
Riley shivered as she recalled the nightmarish month she already spent behind bars. She refused to call her grandfather for bail when she was arrested. Pépère was on a fixed income. He couldn’t afford to shell out money he’d never get back. But Pépère found out, and sprung her anyway.
Riley spent her last month of freedom wisely. She watched a million YouTube self-defense videos, so hopefully she didn’t get her ass kicked too bad. She sold a bunch of stuff on Craig’s List, then moved the rest into her grandfather’s cellar. And she ate as many fried clams as she could stomach, since the food behind bars sucked.
“So, what happens when we get to the jail?” Riley nervously asked the guard driving the van.
“You’ll swap your clothes and personal effects when you’re processed,” the man replied curtly.
Thanks for the enlightening orientation. That’s what happened when she was first booked.
Riley gripped her necklace. The skull pendant was actually a thumb drive, which contained her whole life. Every photograph she was proud of, was on the little trinket around her neck. It would probably be safer in a little envelope at the prison, than in her Pépère’s musty cellar.
At least the artworld doesn’t care if I have a record. As if that’s what’s keeping me from my big break, Riley bitched, as she rode in the metal cage. Well, I doubt it will be that hard to get my job back at the novelty shop. Riley shook her head, as she thought about the adult book store where she worked between photo gigs.
Riley had fought tooth and nail to get her life together. Granted her apartment had been in a shitty neighborhood, but no-one complained about the smell from the chemicals she used to develop her pictures. And her Nikon camera was top-notch, with all the bells and whistles. It had taken her two years of pinching her pennies, eating pb&j and ramen noodles, to acquire that much. Still, she couldn’t seem to catch a break. Her family curse kept dragging her down.
The story of my fucking life, Riley growled.
Riley’s alcoholic mother drank herself into oblivion by the time she hit middle school. That left her and Jay with their grandfather. Riley was just beginning to think life wasn’t one long nightmare, only to learn Jay had picked up where their mother left off, and was quickly out pacing her. She recalled more than a few nights, lying in bed, listening to Pépère and Jay fight about her brother’s extracurricular activities. Riley spent high school experimenting with ways to numb herself against the shit-show that was her family. It wasn’t until Riley graduated, by the skin of her teeth, that she started to realize all the booze and weed in the world couldn’t solve her problems. By then Jay had already done his first stint in jail. If she didn’t want to follow in Jay’s footsteps, she had to do better. Riley refused to pay back her grandfather with a slap in the face. She owed it to Pépère, to take care of him, like he had her. Jay certainly wasn’t going to step-up. So, Riley picked up the pieces, and got her act together. Then the other boot dropped.
You’ll get through this. You have to.
“What the hell?” the officer declared as he slowed the van.
Riley looked at the snow-covered park, flanking the Charles River. The wind was whipping up the white drifts, making it look like another blizzard. Riley shielded her eyes from the wicked bright light coming from the river.
“What moron is boating in this weather?” Riley asked.
“That’s not a ship beacon. There’s nobody out in this mess,” the guard replied as he glanced at her through the partition.
Riley wondered why he stopped the van in the middle of the road. She doubted being cuffed to a bench was going to protect her, if someone slid into the bumper. Riley was about to make a comment, when suddenly the bizarre light got brighter, turning the whole landscape into a blinding whiteout.