Everyone will be there for her and for that I’m glad but a part of me, an ugly, selfish part, hates that they’re there and I’m not.
If I were home, I’d have decorated the whole house with balloons, and banners, streamers, and twinkle lights. I’d have hired a bounce house. There’d be too much food, overwhelming amounts of gifts, and laughter that made the stress of planning a party all worth it.
As I sit here, in a cold, concrete cell, I’d give everything away just to sit and hold her, let her hear the words “Happy birthday,sweetheart,” leave my lips and press my cheek against hers, soaking in her warmth and softness.
This place forces you to remember the smallest of things are the most important. That every day truly is a blessing with friends and family. Or in my case, just family. The one friend I did have turned out to be my worst enemy.
“Hey.”
Looking up, another inmate stands in my doorway. I recognise her, I know her name is Eve, but I’ve not spoken with her. She was one of the women who helped me when the Six-Nighters surrounded me.
“Go take a shower in cubical three.”
“Excuse me?”
“You should go take a shower if you wanna smile today.”
She walks off leaving me frowning. I’ve been curious about many things during my incarceration but sometimes curiosity lands you in trouble. But she has no reason to harm me. She said if I want to smile I should go. Why can’t people around here just speak clearly. It’s always cryptic messages and most of the time I’m glad not many speak to me.
Grabbing my wash bag and clean underwear, I walk down to the shower block and a few of the women look my way and away again.
My heart pounds as I approach cubical three and look around, finding nothing out of the ordinary.
Stripping down, I hook my bag over the stick that turns on the water and step under the spray. I keep my back to the wall and stare at the dingy shower curtain. Keeping my hair away from the water, I quickly wash taking advantage of being in here when a hand slips through the curtain and holds out a cell phone. Momentarily I freeze. It’s not until the hand shoves forward, urging me to take it. I do, and the hand disappears. I stare at the screen and it’s a video waiting to be played.
I tap the screen and my heart stops. Else-Marie is sat on Marie’s lap at my father’s kitchen table. A round pink frosted cake with one candle sits in front of them and everyone is singing her happy birthday. Sobbing, I push my knuckles into my mouth and bite down to stop myself from making a sound.
She has no idea what’s going on but her dark beady eyes flit around to everyone standing around her and she smiles and tries reaching for the cake. Once the singing stops, the recording stops, and I hit play. I watch it three times before the hand reappears, wanting the phone back.
I hand it over going against everything in me to do so and I jump up to my feet and poke my head out of the curtain to see who it was. No one’s there.
Fuck my hair. Hanging my head under the water, the spray covers the tears I let go. Slapping my hand against the tiles, I barely feel the stinging over my pain.
It’s a daze drying off, dressing, collecting my things and walking back to my cell. The conversations around me are like a faint buzzing as I dump my things on my cot and close them out. Never again am I going to be the pawn of another person’s life choices. I’ve never been so sure of my plan to make Darius pay for my incarceration. He tells me Clare will never bother me again and to not go looking. To just forget about her.
The main question I desperately seek the answer to every single day is how can I love and hate someone so much in equal measures? I remember Darius telling me love isn’t everything, that it isn’t what we survive on. I have to remember that.
Reaching for my notepad and pen, I get as comfortable as I can on my cot.
I can’t write how I’ve seen the video, the guards read everything before it’s sent out.
Darius,
I had a dream tonight that I saw Elsa-Marie blow out her birthday candle. Her smile was so bright it lit brighter than the sun. I woke up crying, filled with happiness. She’s been on my mind all day and it’s driving me crazy I’m not there celebrating with you. I hope you remembered to get the glittery pink balloons. Do you remember the balloon arch Catherine ordered when Elsa was born? I hope she had one today. It kills me to think that I’ll miss her next birthday too. But that’s next year’s worry. I don’t have the luxury of worrying past today.
I imagine she’s tired now and going to bed after a long day, please kiss and hug her for me.
I also want to ask you something. It’s been playing on my mind for a while and if I don’t ask you now, I’ll drive myself crazy. So here goes… what do you see when I get out of here? You’ve said quite a lot in your letters but like before, you never really say anything. Do you see us together? When you write me back, please answer me so I’m not fighting the urge to rip my own hair out. In return, I’ll tell you what I see, even though I have no idea where you stand. I see you, me, and Elsa being a family. Doing everything I’ve written about in my previous letters. I want to fall asleep with you every night and wake up to you every morning. I want to know you’re there for me and I want to feel as good as I used to when you kissed me. I want to be yours and hear you tell me you love me…
“Whispers on the block is you got to see your little girl blow out her candle.”
Tearing my eyes from the paper, my bunkie slips into our cell and jumps up onto her cot, but not before getting a good look at my puffy red eyes.
“Your mind can be your own worst enemy, feeding the monster never helps.”
“I’m not feeding anything,” I mutter.
“No? You barely hang on during the days you don’t have contact with your dad or get a letter from your man, and on the days you do, you disappear into your head. Sometimes I wonder if you’ll come back at all.”
