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Money Panes

I waited in line for a good forty minutes outside, before walking through the metal detector. After showing my ID, I was given a form to fill out with an inmate number on it. I already had it memorized.

Once I had been checked in, I walked the long path through a courtyard to the visiting area. It was a located inside a large metal room filled with small dividers. Inside each divider was a bullet proof pane of glass and an old school Phone. On the top of the glass, each booth had been assigned a number. I giggled to myself as I searched for mine.

Once there, I took a seat on a cold metal stool and Waited. I watched as people before me talked to their loved ones and left. I grew irritated as I observed people who had come in after me finishing their visits and leaving as well.

We weren’t allowed cell phones inside so I couldn’t check the time, but I was certain I had been waiting in the booth well over an hour. I was exhausted from working all day, and I needed to get home to my kids, but still I waited.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. Another thirty minutes had passed, and I was almost ready to give up when he finally came through the door.

He smiled when he saw me, then pointed to the number and laughed. We both picked up our phones at the same time.

“Look! We got 69!” he said.

“Yeah, I know!”

The Prince looked deep into my eyes, giving me a devilish smile and then licked his lips, before reaching down to “adjust himself.”

I returned his gaze just as intensely, and noticed his cheeks turning red.

“Stop! I can’t even look at you! Oh my God. You are so beautiful.”

“Yeah? You think so?” I asked. “Your ass is looking really hot in your jail issue pants. Even through that ugly shit, I can still see it’s marvelous silhouette.”

“Seriously, you are going to get me in trouble. Let’s talk about something else, anything? How was your day?”

“Aww, are you sure, cause I had a dream about you last night…”

“Asterisk, stop! You are going to make me cum in my pants!” He began scanning the room.

“Okay. I’m sorry. Nothing exciting, just work. I have court in three days for my DUI.”

“You will be fine. You already finished your classes,” he said.

“I know but it’s still stressful.” Immediately I regretted bringing it up.

“You think I don’t know it’s stressful? Look at me! Look where I am.”

“I know I’m sorry. You only have five weeks left, and they always release early. Have you heard anything more about that?”

“No, nothing. Did you look it up for me?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ve been searching online everyday. I can’t find the article. I can’t find any recent articles at all about early releases.”

“That man must have been lying. I should make him pay,” he said.

“Is not worth it. You know that.”

Suddenly The Prince was silent and his gaze was empty. Though he was facing my direction, he was looking right through me.

“Hey, look at me,” I said “I’m right here.” I tried to get him to snap out of it. I needed to change the subject, and fast. “I’ve been researching immigration attorneys…”

That was the wrong fucking place to go.

“What? Why the fuck would you talk to me about that?”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to help.”

“No, no, no. You know I am stuck here, I can do nothing, and you bring that shit up. Fuck it!”

Before I could blink, The Prince had dropped the phone and stormed out of the visiting area.

That wasn’t the first time he had walked out on me, so it wasn’t a huge surprise. I put the phone on my end back onto it’s receiver and headed to the cashier. Even though I was pissed off, I still stood in line for an additional twenty minutes to make the $100 deposit to his books.

After I finished, I hiked back to my car. It was long past dark when I arrived home. I showered and then waited for his nightly call.

I was starting to get fed up with his antics and was debating on whether or not I would even answer it anyways. I’ve never been the most tactful person, but my heart had been in the right place, and I was doing all I could to make The Prince’s incarceration easier on him.

I didn’t have to make the decision, because the call never come in. It didn’t the following night either. By the third night, I had given up and turned my ringer off at 8:00 pm when I went to bed, preparing to be up in eight hours for court.

My alarm went off that next morning, and I snoozed as long as I could. When I finally pulled myself out of bed, I saw that I had missed his call.

Fuck.

My stressful day still had been a little better, knowing that he was at least thinking of me. However, having been in court most of that day, I forgot to turn my ringer back on.

I waited all evening, hoping he would try again. It was starting to get late, so I gave up and decided to take a shower. After blow drying my hair, I picked up my phone to check my messages.

Two missed calls.

Crap.

I turned my ringer on, and waited the rest of the night for him to call back, but he never did.

I watched my phone like a hawk for a week, but nothing came in. I still owed The Prince $500 from the Money his friend had transferred, and I knew he was expecting me to make a deposit.

The money I had spent on phone calls, had caught up to me. By that point, I had already wasted close to $2000 talking to him, I was way over budget and I didn’t have the money to place anyway. I certainly wasn’t going to waste my time on a visit he would probably decline. I thought about writing him a letter to explain, but at that point I was honestly fed up with his bullshit.

I was starting to realize he was just using me, and if he was so stubborn that he had the strength to ignore me while he was in jail, there was no way he would stick around once he got out.

The more time that passed without hearing from him, the more confident I was on my decision to end things. Although I missed the nightly socializing, I was feeling better not having to endure his emotional torment on a regular basis.

Two weeks had come and gone since my last contact with him. I finally received some money in my bank account, and even though I didn’t want to, I decided to go down to the jail and place some cash on his books.

An hour after I got home that night, the phone rang.

I stared at it intensely, debating on what I should do, then in a moment of weakness, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” he replied.

Neither of us spoke. I looked up to the clock on my bedroom wall and started to count the seconds. Neither of us knew where to start the conversation. I finally did.

“I put money on your books today, did you get it?”

“No. I’ve told you, it takes three days to process.”

“Oh, well I thought maybe that’s why you were calling,” I admitted.

“I had to ask my boss to bring me money. He put some on Friday.”

“I’m sorry. I would have put it on sooner, but I just didn’t have it… I didn’t get paid on time and I needed yours for rent.”

“You used my money?” he asked.

“I had to, I was short because of the calls and…” he cut me off.

“I told you, don’t tell me how much you spend on calls. That’s why I’m not calling anymore. It’s too much money. I tried the day before you went to court to wish you luck, you didn’t answer.”

“I turned my ringer off at 8:00 pm that night. You usually call at 6:00 pm.”

“I called you the next night too!” he said.

“Yes, but I still had my ringer off from court and you called at 8:00 again. You usually call at 6:00.”

“I called you twice! Both times.”

“Right, but you called me twice in a row. If you would have called again the second night, even twenty minutes later, I would have gotten it,” I said.

“No, no you were ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I mean, I thought about it but, I wasn’t,” I said honestly. “How are you holding up? Are you okay?”

“I’m the same. No news.”

The conversation died again. I tried to pick it back up.

“Court went well, but I have to go back next month, I still have community service hours to finish.”

“You’ll get them done. Will you come visit me tomorrow? I have to go, it’s time for count.”

“You want me to come visit?” I asked.

“You can come at 5:00 pm.”

“Okay.”

… and just like that, I was sucked right back in.

Vous avez perdu le meilleur.

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This post first appeared on It's Not My Fault. | © Wendi Bear 2016, please read the originial post: here

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