Authors: Mimi Jefferson

The Bride Experiment (20 page)

BOOK: The Bride Experiment

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Chapter 37

For the last five minutes, Raquel had been sitting alone at a table and staring at her breakfast. “Hello,” the squeaky voice said. Raquel looked up quickly, wondering how a child got stuck in jail with her. The dark-haired woman looked and sounded like a twelve-year-old girl. She sat across from Raquel in the prison cafeteria.

Noticing Raquel's startled expression, the woman said, “Hi, I'm Sheila, and by the way, I'm twenty-one. I just have a baby face, I guess.” She giggled. “You should try to eat your food. I know it's hard to believe, but breakfast is the best meal of the day.”

Raquel was starting to get irritated by her presence. She had been in the place for over three weeks. She knew this meal of lumpy grits, cold but overcooked sausage, and runny eggs was as good as it got. She had been too involved in her thoughts to be concerned with food.

She was certain someone from her life would have shown up by now, offering some type of help. She wasn't surprised that James wasn't answering her phone calls. But she thought her mom might be concerned with her one and only child being locked in a jail. Maybe even a client or two. They always treated Raquel like she was a part of the family, inviting her and the kids to birthday parties and other family gatherings. Did it matter that she never showed up?

James's cousin told her she had two more weeks to find somebody to keep the kids. She talked to Raquel like she was some sort of child, calling her “stupid” and “selfish.” Raquel just listened. What could she say to the woman who was keeping her kids with no financial assistance whatsoever from her?

Her attorneys were already working to sell her business. But it would take time, maybe months, before she found a buyer. James had emptied the accounts, and even the secret stash she kept hidden from him was gone. Apparently, James knew about her little secret.

She could attempt to sell the house, once she talked to James, but the housing market dropped right after they signed the dotted line. It would be next to impossible for them to make a profit. For the first time in years, Raquel was broke, and she didn't know what to do about it.

“I have some phone cards and cell phones,” Shelia said. “Actually, I have a lot of phone cards and cell phones.” Each day the inmates lined up to make phone calls on one phone. The problem was, the line was usually long. If the person whom the inmate was calling didn't answer, she had to go to the back of the line and start the process over again. Then there was the fact that they had no privacy. Everybody could hear every detail of the conversation. A cell phone and phone cards solved those problems.

However, as far as she knew, cell phones were not allowed. On cue, Sheila said, “If you agree to work with me, I'll tell you where you can go to make your calls, and the guards will not bother you.”

“So what do you want?” Raquel asked.

“I can tell you are new here. I want soap, magazines, cigarettes, and, most important, food that I can actually eat. I want to load up on stuff at the commissary. That's what everybody wants around here. The newspeople said you were some kind of big entrepreneur before you got locked up. So when your people come by with your money, make sure I get some too, and I'll keep you supplied with all the talk time you need.”

That deal sounded good. The only problem was, Raquel didn't have those people. Last week, on
Dana Dillard Live,
a local morning talk show, she saw several of her relatives giving live interviews. A few of them made up stories about coming to visit her and how she was doing well, despite the circumstances. The few women who were watching TV turned to look at her sympathetically. Each knew she hadn't had any visitors beyond her attorneys. Raquel kept waiting for one of the guards to call her name during the two hours they were allowed to have visitors, but none came.

Raquel kept avoiding the fact that she was running out of time. She couldn't put it off any longer. She needed to talk to Joan, and soon. Raquel looked the young woman up and down and instantly switched into the saleswoman she used to be years ago. What worked in front of grocery stores just might work in here. “You have an even bigger problem than your need for soap and magazines.”

“What might that be, Killer Bride?” Shelia said with an attitude. “Sounds to me like you are the one with the problem. I'm getting out of here in a few months. The newspeople say you are going to be here a long, long time.”

Raquel pretended like she didn't hear her. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you could be with that thick, wild hair of yours? Yes, your cornrows are fabulous, and on somebody else, they would look perfect. With your round face, large eyes, and narrow cheekbones, though, they are making you look plain.” Raquel learned a long time ago that each woman, regardless of how beautiful or intelligent, was always looking to be more attractive. If someone wanted to make it in the beauty business, they had to use this fact to their advantage.

“You say you will be stepping out of here in a little while. How about stepping out while looking like a million bucks? Why don't you let me give you a makeover for the phone and cards. I can do wonders with a little heat. You think you could find me a blow-dryer and hot comb and some kind of oil?”

Shelia looked like she wanted to be offended, but she was intrigued about the idea of having a makeover. “I'll see what I can do,” then she moved to another table.

Later in the day, when all of the inmates were sitting around watching TV, Shelia came up to Raquel with a box full of all kinds of hair stuff, curling irons of various sizes, cutting shears, gels, and sprays. Raquel was shocked; some of the stuff was high-end, like the supplies she used in her shop.

“How did you get these?” Raquel picked up the cutting shears and curling iron. “Isn't some of this stuff illegal in here?”

“You see the two guards over there. Don't look up.”

Raquel nodded.

“They collected all this stuff for me.” Sheila paused. “You need to remember something about prison life, Raquel. Everything you buy on the outside can be bought on the inside.” She gave Raquel a devious look. “Remember that, just in case you need a little something special to get your mind off things or maybe just to fall asleep. Miss Sheila can hook you up. I may be young, but I'm resourceful.”

Raquel took a deep breath and went to work with her newly acquired supplies. Everybody, including the guards, couldn't wait to see what she was going to do with Sheila's dull, dry hair. The curling irons and cutting shears were going to make the trendy precision cut, which Raquel had in mind for Sheila, into a reality.

“Ping! Ping! Shoo!” That's what Raquel always said when she handed her clients a mirror after she completed one of her masterful hairstyles. Just as she had anticipated, everyone was mesmerized by her skills.

Sheila pulled her hands through her soft, shiny hair. “Oh, wow! It's beautiful. I mean . . . gosh . . . I look like a model or something.”

Sheila motioned for Raquel to follow her. They went to a room the size of the bathroom. There Sheila handed Raquel a cell phone and some phone cards. “Don't worry,” Sheila said. “Nobody will bother you. I'm sexing one of the head guards in this very room, at least once a week. All these guards know not to bother me in here. Just as long as you stay with me, you will be fine. Go on, dial the number you need.”

Raquel felt like she was going to faint at any moment. Her mouth was dry and her hands were shaking. This was the part when she needed to dial Joan's number. Raquel recalled one more time everyone she knew who might be able to take care of her kids. She tugged at her hair and brushed lint off her clothes.

She had to do it. She knew her mother didn't want the kids. She knew her aunts didn't want them. The women she worked with hated her. Of course, they had their reasons; Raquel hadn't been the kindest boss. Then there was Karen, but she couldn't be on the list either.

Raquel could tell Sheila was starting to get annoyed. She went through the facts again. She wanted to cry, but there was no time for tears. She had to be strong for her children. She dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Joan Dallas.” She sounded like she was answering her work number instead of a cell phone.

“Hi, Joan, it is Raquel.” Raquel bit her bottom lip. She was sure Joan was going to hang up the phone.

“Excuse me? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Yeah, I know I'm the last person you expected to hear from today.”

“You got that right.”

Raquel didn't hear any condemnation in her voice, despite the blunt words. “Joan, I need you to come and see me tomorrow. I need to talk to you about something important.”

“What would that be?” Joan sounded slightly irritated.

“Visiting hours start at eleven and end at one. Please come see me. What I need to say to you, I need to say face-to-face. I guess you know where I am.” Raquel started to cry. She didn't know what she was going to do if Joan refused to come. “Will you come?”

Chapter 38

Joan was reading and journaling from 1 Corinthians 13 at her kitchen table. She had promised herself that the very next time she started to feel fed up with the single life, she wasn't going to go shopping, sit around feeling sorry for herself, surf the Internet, or find something good to eat. She was going to head straight to God's Word.

It was Tisha and her new friend, Harris, who had her meditating on the scriptures all evening. The last few times she had spoken to Tisha, every other sentence started with Harris's name:

“Harris is almost finished reading the entire Bible, even though he just started. . . . Harris and I pray at the beginning and end of each of our dates.... Harris likes sushi.... Harris is so funny.”

Harris . . . Harris . . . Harris!

Joan wanted to call Tisha and tell her about the unexpected call she had received that afternoon. However, she knew Tisha would find a way to insert Harris into the discussion. Joan was determined to be happy for Tisha, but she had reached her quota of “Harris” sentences for the day.

She thought about calling Minister Makita or Janet, but instead she went back to the scriptures. When she first became a Christian, she was constantly memorizing scripture that she would write on index cards. She couldn't remember the last time she had done that. She found an old discarded, blank batch in her nightstand and began to write and say out loud,
“âLove is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.'”

Joan recited these words, over and over, until that next day, when she was face-to-face with the woman who had been her enemy for as long as she could remember.

Raquel looked at Joan from head to toe. She wasn't the cutest, but she certainly was working everything she had. She had on a sundress that stopped just below her knees, and her hair was so bouncy and light, it would have been blowing in the wind, if they had been outside.

Her handbag and jewelry looked so unique, it had to be handmade. She showed off her curvaceous legs with a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals. Everything fit together perfectly. Her ensemble of greens, yellows, and browns looked like it had been put together by an expert stylist.

Raquel was in an orange jumpsuit. Her hair was rolled back in a tight bun. Her face was naked of makeup and her eyes looked the way they had since the day she walked into prisonâtearstained, highlighted by dark circles.

Raquel thought about the last time they had been together. “I'm sorry about the way I treated you at Cyclone.” Then Raquel remembered all the threatening phone calls she had made to Joan, and all the angry voice mails she had left on her cell phone. And finally there was the time, years ago, when she and Joan came to blows with James in between them.

They were both silent for a while, meditating on their past altercations and the years they had spent in love with the same man. They were sitting across from each other. The only thing that separated them was a plain black table.

The question left Raquel's mouth before she realized it: “Do you still love him, Joan?”

“I don't know. Sometimes I'm absolutely certain that I'm completely out of love with him. I can go days, months, without really thinking about him. Other days . . . well, other days are different.”

“I see.” Raquel folded her arms around her chest.

“The one thing that I'm absolutely certain of is that I do lust after him,” Joan continued. “I don't like being single and celibate. As a matter of fact, it really sucks. As of recently, I have decided that I'm no longer going to be one of those people that sit around and say how saved and satisfied they are. I am not going to be satisfied until I'm married and having a lot of mind-blowing sex.”

Raquel was intrigued by Joan's response. It seemed as if she was walking into a discussion Joan was already having with herself. “What if God doesn't send you a husband?” she asked.

“If that's God's will for me, fine, but I'm not going to pretend like I'm happy about it,” Joan said. “I'm not that matureâmaybe one day, but I'm not anywhere near that point yet.”

Joan folded her arms in the same way that Raquel had. “Do you love him?” she asked.

Raquel looked at her brightly colored jumpsuit and the cold gray surroundings of the meeting room. “Look at what I did, Joan. Isn't it obvious how much I love him?”

“I'm not sure if what we feel for him is love or worship.”

Raquel looked at her, confused. “I've never heard those two words compared.”

“Up until last night, I'm not sure I would have compared the two,” Joan said. “You know, no man could get to me the way James could. I was happy when he was acting right. I was sad when he decided to start tripping. I could be having a good day, but one wrong word from him and I would lose my footing. âIs he going to call today? Is he going to lie to me today? Who is he with? Where is he going?' It was a constant roller coaster.”

Raquel said matter-of-factly, “Should one person have that much control over another human being?”

“Do you know what the First Commandment is?”

Raquel thought a minute, and was surprised when she realized she actually did know the answer to Joan's question. Watching those religious movies around the holidays had taught her something. “It's about loving the Lord with all your heart, mind, and soul.” Raquel sank down in her seat and silently recited the words back to herself.

“So my problem is that I was worshipping James instead of Jesus,” Raquel said as she gave Joan a fake smile. “And all I have to do is start to worship Jesus, and everything will be okay, right?”

“Wrong!” Joan shook her head. “It's not easy to switch loyalties, at least not for me. Part of me just wants to find a two-hundred-fifty-pound all-muscle personal trainer and have my way with him.”

Raquel laughed. “So what's stopping you from running to the gym for that personal trainer?”

“You know when I was at my happiest . . . ?” Joan suddenly stopped speaking.

“Go on and talk.” Raquel knew Joan stopped because she didn't want to hurt her feelings. “You are speaking of the time when you, James, and James Jr. were all living together in the same house.”

“Yes. I thought everything was finally going to fall into place, that I was finally going to have my peace. But it still wasn't enough. There was this nagging, gnawing thing that wouldn't go away.” Joan paused a few moments and then asked, “Do you know what I'm talking about, Raquel?”

“That's why I wanted to get married to James,” Raquel said. “I thought when we were all legal and everything . . . well, it would go away.”

“Well, that's the answer to your question,” Joan said. “That void . . . incompleteness, that's what's been keeping me from that personal trainer. I know that he would only be a temporary high. It will be fun for the moment, but after it goes away, then I will have to find something else to make it go away again.

“Some days, I'm completely filled with the Spirit and enjoying every moment of God's presence,” Joan continued. “The last thing on my mind is a man. And other days, I'm so frustrated, I could cry. On those days, it is the hardest thing I have ever done.

“The only thing I have going for me is knowing that my soul is saved and that I'm not going to the hell I deserve to go to.” Joan put both of her hands in the air. “There will be a day when there are no more tears, no more pain, and no more sorrow.”

“I don't want to be one of those that find Jesus in jail,” Raquel said. “You know the type, âMy whole world was in chaos until this missionary came to my jail and told me about Jesus. I know that He has washed all my sins away. Now my whole life has changed since I let Jesus into my heart. These bars don't bother me because one day I know I'm going to be free with him in heaven. Hallelujah and praise God!'” Raquel mocked.

“I don't think it's funny that people find Jesus in jail,” Joan said. “People in a crisis situation can't help themselves, so that's the only time they are open to it. My pastor says you can't find an atheist in an emergency room or on the front lines of a war. When things get that bad, everybody is ready to pray to Jesus.”

“Why don't you think there are any atheists in the emergency room?” Raquel asked.

“I guess on your deathbed, it doesn't seem so unlikely that an all-powerful Savior came to the world to save you from your sins. You no longer are filled with pride about what happens in the afterlife, knowing you will be there in a hot second.”

“I'm going to be in jail a long time, at least ten years.”

Joan tried to hide her disbelief. “I would say that's a crisis situation.”

“But I still would be surprised if I ended up being a Christian.”

“After today, I don't think anything would surprise me,” Joan said. “I mean, how long have we been talking and you still haven't asked me to keep your kids.”

Raquel pushed her seat away from the table in shock.

“Your attorney called me this morning and explained the situation. We have a hearing with a judge to grant me emergency custody. If everything goes well, the social worker could drop them off at my place as early as next week.”

Raquel started to cry. “I can't believe you would do this for me.”

“Well, of course, I was shocked. I'm still shocked,” Joan said. “But I'm not looking at the world the way I used to. I want to get married to a man who loves Jesus so much, he wouldn't dare touch me until our wedding night. I want more kids. I want to sit around the table and eat fabulous family dinners, followed by prayer sessions. I want it all, the two-story black-and-white house, with two golden retrievers in the backyard in a beautiful neighborhood with top-notch schools. Not to mention great sex, and godly friends to endure the storms of life together. In other words, a life filled with passion, purpose, and laughter.”

“But until then?” Raquel asked.

“Until then, and if âthen' never happens, I want whatever God wants.”

“You believe God wants you to keep my kids for me?”

Joan paused and looked up to the ceiling. “Yes, I have peace about it. Me and you? We aren't enemies, we were just suffering from the same disease. We made a man our god and suffered the consequences.”

“You know, most of the women in this prison are here because of something they did to a man or because of a man, or right alongside a man.” Raquel pushed her chair back to the table. “Joan, I don't want my baby girl to grow up anything like me or the women serving time with me.

“And on top of that,” Raquel continued, “I don't want her living her life through other people's eyes, like I did. I want her to get the First Commandment right. Caring what other people think, trying to manipulate their impression of me, and making a man my god is what got me here.

“I was so desperate to get their approval that I lost it, and now . . .” Raquel stopped and slowly let the words flow from her mouth for the first time. “I shot two people . . . dead. It wasn't an accident. The gun didn't just go off in the tussle. I fired and shot. And you know why? Because my gods had failed me. I was worshipping the wrong people and the wrong things. They hurt me, left me, and treated me badly, and I retaliated in anger. Those gods can't be trusted. Tell me, Joan, the God you serve, can He be trusted?”

“With all of your heart, your mind, and your soul.” Joan stood up to leave.

She gave Raquel a small bag filled with a leather study Bible and a journal. “No pressure. I understand you have a lot of free time on your hands.”

BOOK: The Bride Experiment

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