Mother's Child, page 28
“Okay. This way.” Officer Bill said as he led me to the women’s holding cell.
“Crap! I thought. I am going to have to be in with those two women? Are you kidding me?” As I stopped well short of the holding cell door and several steps behind Officer Bill.
“We’re gonna run your information through the system,” he turned around and looked at me. “Slow day, so it should come back fairly quickly. If everything checks out–no outstanding warrants–you get kicked loose and get a court date.” Officer Bill explained taking note of my reluctance to enter the den of suspected sinners.
When I finally did enter, I turned immediately back toward him with a pleading expression on my face. But he closed the door and locked it, leaving me inside to cope with my two new colorful friends.
I turned around, taking in the cell’s interior, trying to decide if I would just stand there, risk taking a seat on the bench, or find a corner to make my own. What I didn’t want was to make conversation with my roommates, if I could avoid it at all. But, the young druggie wasted no time accosting me. She stood straight up from the wall she was sitting against and quickly walked toward me. At first I thought she might actually attack me because she didn’t stop until her face was nearly shoved into mine.
“Bullshit!” She screamed into my face, exposing her putrid smelling breath to my unprepared nose. I put my hands in front of my face to block her from touching me.
“It’s all bullshit!” She yelled at the officers in their walled-off area.
Then, to my relief, she retreated back to her spot on the floor.
“Don’t mind her. That one’s crazy out of her mind from too much heroin. But she’s mostly harmless.” My colorfully dressed roommate offered unsolicited.
I just looked at her. I didn’t want to be chatty.
“Come have a seat if you want,” she said, unperturbed by my silence. “I ain’t gonna bite you. You gonna be in here for a while. No use trying to stand all that time.”
I thought about it for a moment. Strangely, I didn’t want to be rude to my new companion but, at the same time, I didn’t have the desire to be chummy. I looked at an unoccupied corner where I could sit on the floor before I considered again the bench spot being offered.
I definitely did not want to stand for any length of time. I also had no idea of what nastiness might have been on that floor–so I opted for the bench. I walked over slowly and sat down as far away from my cell- mate as possible.
“So…” she said. “What you in here for? You don’t look like most of the people I meet in here.”
“Oh. Um. I hit officer Bill.” I plainly stated.
“You what? You hit a cop? Ohhh honey. You gonna be in here for a loooong time.” She said with a large laugh.
“It was an accident.”
“Ah huh. Ain’t it always an accident though?” She said continuing her chuckling. “I accidently got caught helping a nice man get some relief and he accidently offered to pay me for my kindness. Now we both in jail.” She said nodding toward the cell containing the men. He must be someone in there I didn’t see when I was first brought in.
“So, have you been through this before?” I asked. Chattiness was going to happen, whether I liked it or not, and I might as well get some information.
“Oh yeah. I’ve had lots of accidents.” She replied with a grin.
“Um, how long does it usually take, you know before they release you?”
“Well, that depends,” she said, scratching a spot on her wig with long, hot pink fingernails. “On a busy night, I might be in one of these cells seven or eight hours before Chester get my ass out of here. Couple of times overnight. And it depends if you got any other crimes they find on that computer or if you on parole…stuff like that. But today, if you as clean as you look, probly not more than a couple hours or less…of course…you did hit a cop…accidentally…so they might want to make some example of you. Might keep you all night.”
I was silent. I couldn’t be here all night. I had to get back to Ernie. I had no way of knowing how he was or if Tim could get him out. Did Dr. Blackwell get back? Did she get to see Ernie? Was Larry back at the hospital arguing for us or preparing a legal case at his office? My mind raced with these questions. I felt despair rush over me from being useless to my little boy who needed me. The beginning of tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I turned my face from my bench companion and wiped the wetness from my eyes with my hand.
“Here,” my new friend said as she slid closer to me on the bench. She retrieved a neatly folded handkerchief from her ample bosom and waived it in my face. “You might want to put some spit on it and wipe those black trails off your face too,” she said referring to the mess on my cheeks.
I hesitated but took the handkerchief. Being this close to her, I could see on her face the wear of a struggle-prone life. She was much older than I had thought. I guessed she was over 40.
“Thanks,” I said and took the handkerchief from her hand. I dribbled some saliva onto the handkerchief and tried to wipe off the dried mascara river from earlier.
“Let me see that. You ain’t got no mirror in here and you just makin a worse mess,” she scolded as she watched me try to fix my face.
There was something almost motherly about her demeanor now that made me soften toward her and trust her intentions. I handed the handkerchief back to my cell-mate. She held it in front of my face and said, “Spit. And don’t give me one of them shy housewife dribbles. Give it a good soaking.”
I filled my mouth with as much saliva as I could muster and then sent it forth with force onto the waiting cloth. What would have disgusted me any other time seemed oddly appropriate here. I was desperate. I was in a jail cell with a drug addict and a prostitute…who was going to judge me other than me?
She mushed the wet cloth together before attending to my face with carefully placed dabs followed by gentle swipes down my cheek. After applying the same technique to both sides of my face, she firmly took my chin in her hand and turned my face one way, then the other before declaring, “Good. Now you look like your presentable self.” She handed the handkerchief back. “You keep it. I got plenty of ’em. Girl’s gotta be prepared, ya know?”
For the first time since I was arrested, I smiled. I regarded her for a moment. I saw her now, not as a prostitute in jail, but as a woman: a human being who was kind to a stranger.
“June,” I said and extended my hand to her.
“June, like the month. Now that’s a good name. Always sunny.” She said as she took my hand in hers. “I’m Belinda. But my friends call me Lindie. I don’t now why really. Someone just said it once and it kind of stuck.” She grinned.
“Lindie,” I repeated. “I like it. I have a good friend named Elizabeth but her friends call her Lizzie. I think they call you Lindie because it’s happy-sounding and friendly…like my friend Elizabeth. You make people feel comfortable.”
“Well, I think sometimes they might feel too comfortable if you know what I mean,” Lindie said and let out a big laugh. I laughed with her.
We were beginning to get comfortable.
Before we had finished our shared laugh, Officer Bill suddenly appeared at the cell door. “June Gallagher, you’re being released. Let’s go.”
I immediately brightened. I had been in the cell less than an hour, not the seven or eight hours or overnight sentence that hung over me. I practically jumped off the bench and headed for the door. I stopped just before exiting and looked back at Belinda.
“Lindie. Maybe you should keep this,” I offered the handkerchief back.
“No. No you keep it and you give it to someone who needs it, like I did for you. They call that paying it forward I think.” She said with some pride.
“I hope you get out soon,” I said.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout me Junie girl. Chester gonna get me out of here soon enough.”
And, as her last sentence trailed off, I stepped through the cell door and out to the main area. Officer Bill closed the door behind me.
“Will she get out soon?” I asked him.
“Her?” He asked nodding toward Lindie. Then he shook his head. “These women come from out of town mostly from everywhere. Passing through, usually from one city to another. They don’t stay too long. They stand out too much in a small town and get arrested all the time.”
“But she has a umm, boyfriend, or a…pimp–I hated saying the word in reference to Lindie–that will bail her out?”
“Chester?” he asked. I nodded. “Who knows? He’s a drunk she hangs with. He might show up today, tomorrow. We don’t know. This one can’t come up with the $500 bail to get out so, there she will sit for 45 days. First time we caught her, but there was another one hanging on Chester’s arm last week.”
All of this conversation happened as Officer Bill got my belongings envelope from the police officers behind the enclosure and I signed for them.
“Okay, I’ll walk you out. Your husband is outside near the main street entrance where we’re headed, and he can meet you there if you want to text or call him.”
Officer Bill then led me back through the door we had come in by. Waiting outside, was Sergeant O’Neil and another man who was dressed in a cheap suit. They were having a conversation which our presence interrupted.
“All set, Bill?” Sergeant O’Neil asked.
“Yep. Just walking her out to the street where her husband is.”
“Mrs. Gallagher. You will get a notice for a court date. Make certain you don’t ignore it.” The Sergeant advised me.
“Okay.” I politely answered. I wondered if we were supposed to shake hands or something or if I should growl and act tough, now that I was being released from the big house.
I followed Officer Bill back to the elevator and up to street level. “This is where I leave you, and where your husband can pick you up…out there.” Officer Bill pointed toward the sidewalk in front. He stepped back inside the station, and just like that, my time behind bars was over.
I walked to the sidewalk and peered up and down the street looking for Tim. I didn’t see him, so I called him. He was sitting in the car on a side street waiting to hear from me.
“Hey. You’re out? Where are you?” Tim asked immediately after answering his phone.
“I’m in front of the station…actually just on the side before the main door.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m going to do a U-turn and be there in two minutes.” And he hung up.
Two minutes later, his car pulled up. I ran to the passenger door and opened it but didn’t get in.
“Babe!” Tim said, leaning over to see me. “Thank God you’re out of there. Get in and let’s get going.” Tim looked relieved and guilty.
“Give me your wallet.”
“Huh? Oh crap do you have to pay bail? They told me no.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head and holding out my hand. “Just give me your wallet. Please, I don’t have time to explain now. I need to get to Ernie, but I have to do this first. Or just give me the credit card.”
“You can’t sign my card June…not at a police station. They’ll probably arrest you for forgery or something.”
“Okay fine. Go park the car back where you were and come back. Hurry.” And I shut the door.
Tim gave me “the look,” and then put the car in gear and drove off.
Three minutes later he came scurrying back.
“Okay. I ran back. I had to park further away ‘cause I lost the other space.” Tim explained slightly out of breath.
“Okay. Come on. We have to go to through the front this time. And pay bail.”
“Wait. So, you do have to pay bail?”
“Not mine, Someone else’s.”
“Who?”
“Someone who was in there with me and who has a good soul.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait. You want me to bail out a stranger because you think they have a good soul?”
“Yes. Tim, please. Just trust me.” Tim looked at me blankly. “Tim, do we give money to charity?”
“Well yeah, it’s a tax write-off.”
“Okay great. Well we are going to make a charitable contribution. Not for tax reasons but because…”
“…because the person has a good soul.” Tim finished my sentence for me. His expression and tone of voice told me he knew this was going to happen and he just had to accept it on faith. “Okay. Let’s go do it and get out of here.”
And that’s what we did. We paid Belinda’s bail and left. I was sure that Lindie would assume that Chester had bailed her out.
While Tim drove us to see Ernie, I imagined what would be happening inside the jail. I pictured her being ushered out the door, and the officer accompanying her handing over an envelope before he disappeared into the bowels of the police station.
In my mind’s eye I could see Lindie studying the envelope, turning it over several times to look for any writing that might indicate who it was from. She opened it and pulled out a slightly spit-damp, mascara- stained, handkerchief–nothing else.
I could almost hear her hearty chuckle as we sped to the hospital: “Well, I’ll be Goddamned”
Chapter Fifteen
Persona Non Grata
Tim and I drove straight to the hospital. He was mostly quiet during the ride except for the occasional inquiry into my time in jail. But, my attention had quickly turned from my humiliating experience in jail to my concern for Ernie, though truthfully, Ernie was never out of my thoughts. I had little desire to reminisce about my experience and even less appetite for Tim’s attempt at humor. When he jokingly referred to my experience as being “hard time in the big house,” I answered him with silence.
He responded with something else as we pulled into the hospital parking lot.
“June. You can’t go into the hospital.” He said, all hint of humor gone from his tone.
“What do you mean I can’t go in?” I asked incredulously. “I am going to go see Ernie. I have to see him!”
“I know, but you can’t. I didn’t want to tell you while you were in jail and upset you more, but hospital security is under strict rules to not let you in.”
“They can’t do that. I have a right to see my son!” I argued as though it were Tim making the judgement.
“Yeah I know. But you assaulted the guards and a police officer, so they won’t let you in.”
“I defended myself and Ernie against kidnapping! I am going in to see Ernie and bring him out.” I snapped open my seat belt, reached for the handle and opened the door enough to stick my leg out.
“June!” Tim shouted at me and grabbed me by my left arm pulling me back in. “If you try to enter the hospital they will call the police. You’ll be arrested again. Is that what you want?” Tim rhetorically asked before realizing he was squeezing my arm forcefully and released it.
I sat motionless, stunned, and defeated by Tim’s rebuke. Then I began to cry.
“I have to go see Ernie. I failed him Tim. I left him in there and he is all alone and…and he needs me…and I need him.” I blubbered more than spoke through a river of tears.
Tim undid his seat belt, reached across the car and drew me into him as close as possible, my face resting in his chest.
“You didn’t fail him, June. We didn’t fail him. And we’re going to get him back. We’re going to get him back and everything will be okay.” Tim gently assured and kissed the top of my head. I sat up and looked at him while wiping my tears from my face with the palm of my hand. I thought of Lindie and her handkerchief.
“What are we going to do, Tim?” I asked. I composed myself enough to speak quietly and with a marginally clear head.
“For now, I am allowed into the hospital but not to Ernie’s room,” he said. “Ruth elevated the case after…after we tried to get Ernie out and they…CPS has taken over now. But Larry is going to court Monday morning to get us visiting rights and then to challenge CPS and the hospital on keeping Ernie. We need Dr. Blackwell’s help. She’s the only one who can argue in court and to hospital officials about Ernie’s mitochondrial disease. But she isn’t back yet. Hopefully, first thing Monday morning. Her nurse knows what’s going on and will make certain Dr. Blackwell knows as soon as she comes in.”
I felt more helpless and useless as Tim’s explanation of how things would proceed progressed. My child had been taken from me, literally ripped from my grasp, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to rely on a stranger and the courts to get my child back to me.
I looked at Tim with pleading eyes, hoping he might have developed an alternative plan–a way to steal Ernie back. I didn’t care if it meant being arrested again; nor had I assigned any logic to the idea. Tim read me.
“June.” He cupped my limp left hand in both of his. “We don’t have any other option. This time, we are going to have rely on Larry and Dr. Blackwell to get Ernie back.”
After a pause, Tim continued. “I’m going to go back into the hospital and see if they will give me an update on Ernie’s condition. Then I’ll come right back and tell you what they say. Okay?”
I nodded.
“June. Please promise me you’ll stay right here and not try to get into the hospital. Don’t make this worse.”
“Fine. I won’t go in.” I said in a dismissive manner.
Tim hesitated, staring at me and trying to read my face to see if my response was sincere.
“Okay, go.” I said and shooed him with my hands. “Find out how Ernie is. I’m going to call Elsie so she knows I’m okay in case word has gotten out already.”
Tim gave me one last stare, as though he might have something to say, but remained silent. He released my hand and exited the car.
